In Which I Read the News and Tell You the Good Parts

 A weekly roundup of all the news that was somehow fit to print.

Day-dreaming Gets Me Through the Day

Katie is gracefully ceding her forum to me today (see her master plan for internet domination here) so I can broadcast on a subject near and dear to my heart: the importance of having a rich fantasy life.

Taking Over the Internet and Other Things I Will Do Today

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The same thing we do everyday, Pinky.

Speaking of Books and Nerds

Don't know if anyone out there ever reads SF Signal (probably not, sigh), but they came up with a pretty great flowchart to navigate NPR's list of the Top 100 Science Fiction novels of all time.  No Young Adult allowed, so no Harry Potter, but pretty fun nonetheless. Click on image below for expanded chart.

In Defense of Book Nerds

I  listened to a Henry Rollins monologue on dating the other day, and it troubled me.  

"So what are you reading?" he asked expectantly. 

"Well I'm in the middle of this Harry Potter-" 

"Don't be an adult woman reading a fucking children's book in my car, get out!"

This is not going to be a defense of Harry Potter.  Statistically speaking, most people who are reading this blog probably are already Harry Potter fans, so I don't need to go down that road.

The Weather Girls and Other Liars

It's just water.

When I was little, I had a pretty healthy fear of the dark and couldn't sleep without the bedroom door open and a nightlight on.  I was pretty embarrassed about the whole thing until my mom told me The Story of Daddy's Nightlight.

"Go on, get out. Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."

"Either this wallpaper goes, or I do!"
Wilde, Oscar (1854-1900), famous last words

Because I am somewhat morbid, I’ve decided that my guest posts to The Famous Last Word should include, well, a few famous last words. Needless to say, except for transitions’ sake, death is the ultimate downer—but if you can face even that with a bit of humor your outlook on life is one I respect…or maybe I’ve just attended too many Irish wakes.

My dad, with his brother and friends, causing trouble at his brother-in-law's funeral home.

Points are Never Pointless

My battery never has that much of a charge left at 5:02.

It has recently come to my attention that I'm incredibly easy to manipulate. A brief(ish) illustration.

When they said 'sit down,' I threw up

I recognize either the irony or the obviousness of posting something like this on my birthday, but in my defense I've been gathering it together for quite some time now.  

Maggie: oh my gosh, katie, sometimes i just wish i could be back in college, suuuuuch easy access to everyone i loved

Maggie: and I never had to wear pants

Bre: i hate being a grown up

Me: what's up, buttercup?

Bre: just looking at your status

and am reminded of times when maggie didn't have to wear pants

Left to right: Bre, Amanda, Maggie and me. Brown's Philosophy of Life class.

Jose: cause [college] was paradise, a perfect haven for us 
Jose: you could do anything and everything was alright. there was an unspoken code, a way of life 
Jose: it was an ancient time, a gentleman's game played by monsters

I hearby present to you: 

We Are Not Grownups Yet, An Annual Reinforcement Of What We Already Knew

How it works: Everyone's been whining about how they hate being an adult, blah blah blah.  In what on television would be called a "cop-out montage," I hereby present an annual review of proof that we are still as immature as the day we met:

You're Welcome.

Danish: the very start of the video

Danish: where his fat little knuckles mimic the sun

Danish: that is my fav part

--------------

Danish: hahah, they are fat yet little though, no? he has a gravity to him not unlike Tony Soprano

AC/DC/TC

Getting all political with this blog is the last thing I want.  However, I needed to share this bit of my Tuesday morning reading:

An Open Letter from the DC DMV to All New DC Drivers

Dear New DC Driver,

Welcome to DC!  We invite you to explore our neighborhoods, our monuments, our rich diversity, and our mediocre lunch options.  Then, at the end of your day-- or at the beginning!!-- we encourage you to forget everything you have ever known about driving.

Remember, in DC, a turn signal functions as a right-of-way.  Turn it on and then blindly swing into your lane of choice!  After all, you have the right of way!  The only exception to this rule is if someone in that lane actually leaves room for you to go.  In that case, continue slowly driving next to that car with your blinker on, not acknowledging the space they have provided.

And speaking of driving slowly next to someone!  You were probably taught in some "state" that the left lane is for passing.  Not in DC or the surrounding area, it isn't!  No, the two lanes are just two random lanes, and you should choose to drive in whichever lane at whatever speed you choose.  You'll know you're doing it right when you can go at the exact same pace at the person next to you!  You ARE the best driver, and therefore should be able to dictate the speed of every other person on the road.

Tbumbs up, Grover!

I'm from Connecticut, and so can you.

Being offered a podium by Katie, I've felt compelled to use it to promote a cause very close to Katie's heart, Connecticut.*
*Cause is not actually close to Katie's heart.

If you're a woman in Connecticut, Slaughterface will kill you.

I have a new angle on this joke that is so adorable, it might just be acute.

I basically have the sense of humor of an 80-year old dork.

Have you heard the one about the chicken?

Live every week...

When it comes to approaching the ocean, there are two types of people in this world: those who love the water, and those who saw Jaws at far too young.

Story time: I used to waitress at this seafood restaurant on Shark River in Belmar.

Fun fact: got fired.

One day a southern gentleman came up to me and asked why the body of water was called the Shark River.  I immediately launched into what I thought was a ridiculous story, all about how Jaws was based on shark attacks on the Jersey Shore and how sharks had swam upriver and killed a young girl.

Luckily the photographer was there.

Turns out, the story was not that far-fetched.

You hear the cops finally busted Madame Marie for tellin' fortunes better than they do?

Cat and I went to the Asbury Park Oyster Festival this past Saturday.

Not me.

They were charging $3 at the door, and we lied and said we were just walking through, because Cat's cheap and I never saw a requirement I didn't want to get out of.

You're gonna need a bigger boat.

I have an outstanding speeding ticket in the state of Maryland, which I am contesting in traffic court at the end of the month.  It's my first ever speeding ticket, and I'm not pleased about it.

Until that's resolved, it's obviously not the best time for me to get pulled over.  I was more careful than usual on both the drive up and back from Jersey this weekend.

But I got a little lazy when I hit Salem County, about 3/4 of the drive up from D.C.

Both labels are accurate.

Never, under any circumstances, say, "I'll be right back."

Back before David and I were married, I had my own Netflix account.  I started using Netflix solely to watch this:

Is there anything I can say other than "The President rode his bike into a tree?"

Which for some reason led to this:

I killed Jenny Schecter.

You probably think this post is about you.

When I was in high school, I once claimed that my only requirement for a friend was that he/she be justifiably arrogant.  That was it.  And I meant it.  As a result, my rag-tag group of friends from that era are an absolutely amazing group of people, incredibly smart and talented and also completely ridiculous.

Play ball, motherfucker.

Please don't bother trying to find her, she's not there

A Gchat Campaign, in Several Parts

Me: i think we should start a campaign to get Bre to go as strawberry shortcake for halloween
Éamonn: I'll support this campaign.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

I once had a paper due on The Wasteland.  We were given a choice of three topics, and I chose one. Nooooo problem, I said.  I love Eliot, I said.  I know The Wasteland like the back of my hand, I said.  This topic is easy, I said.  It'll be done in an hour, I said.

Then Jose asked me what new angle my paper was going to cover.

I froze.

 Before he asked me, I wasn't concerned.  The paper would get done on Sunday night, no problem.  (And by Sunday, I mean Monday about 5 minutes before the English Department closed.  I was queen of the 4:59 pm sprint across campus.)  But now, I was worried.  So I hiked over to the library on a Friday night and then proceeded to spend the entire weekend in the library reading critical essays on sexuality and rape in Eliot's work, all about the Grail myth.

I would never have had to do this for Mufasa.

Happy Labor Day, folks.

Six years later you find yourself singing "Surrey with the Fringe on Top" in front of Ira

Let's talk about coffee tables.

David and I need a coffee table.  Specifically we need one today, because David is hosting a fantasy draft (read: I am hosting a fantasy draft) party (read: gathering where guys stare soundlessly at their computers while eating food) and there is no place for the food and laptops to go.

I tried to get a coffee table.  I wanted one like this:

You may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done!?"

Okay, I'll let you in on a not-really-a-secret: I hate being online.  Don't get me wrong, I love being on the internet, secretly, stealthily searching through all the news, blogs, and pictures without leaving a trace of myself.  I don't Facebook.  I don't tweet.  I certainly never blogged.  And I'm not saying this with pride.  I could tell you that there was this big academic reason about sense of self, of seperation from a cyber existence.  I could preach about privacy.  I could just say that Facebook is creepy (which it is, but so am I).

Kerry: do you have facebook?
Me: haha no
Kerry: me neither
Me: i boycott that stuff
Kerry: it's stupid, i don't get it
Me: i do, however, know maggie's passsword
Kerry: i do, however, know theresa's