Does This Roll of Fat Make Me Look Fat?

As I near Q's nine-month anniversary of birth, I contemplate the jelly roll two kids have left behind. The adage on pregnancy weight is nine months up, nine months back, but it could take a little longer over here, even if I continue to say that this spare tire is composed entirely of excess skin. I took umbrage at a stranger asking me when I was due last week, but then tonight Liam asked, "Do you have a nudder baby in there?" Time to make an April Fool's Resolution to get a gym membership.

I need to address a couple of other issues as well. For those who are just joining St. Scobie's, here is my post on the origin of the name of the blog. I invite you to begin at the beginning, and partake of bed races, Jack Roberts and all the haggis in a can you can possibly eat.

Congratulations to rockstarjenny for winning St. Scobie's Mock Brackets. If I ever have Smile Rockridge! T-shirts printed, you'll get the first ringer off the screen press.

Finally, thanks to Pat for bringing the Hilltop Legos Interdiction to my attention. It seriously out-Berkeleys almost anything I have heard lately. Suddenly the confiscation of my kid's aircraft carrier photos by a Broccoli Montessori teacher, sans deprogramming efforts, seems reasonable. I don't have the mental power right now to process all the soul-crushing bullshit in that article; attacking its wrongheadedness would be like shooting monkeys in a barrel (metaphor intentionally mixed). Can you imagine the world we'd live in as conceived of by these teachers? This is why places like AZone and college exist; it keeps all the "thinkers" together, away from young children.

Actual Irony

Ms. Morissette has completely redeemed herself with this:



It helps to see the original:



God, I hate Fergie. Fergie is the new Alanis, and Alanis rocks.

By Way of Explanation

That last blog post is, admittedly, incoherent. But its not because I was drunk or anything; I was typing it on my Blackberry (tm) in the dark, in a moving car, while trying to hold a conversation with a from-out-of-town friend ("JW"). As a reader to this blog, JW wanted to contribute, as all readers to this blog should. Thus the urinal dilemma, to which I have no valuable response, other than to again express discomfort with the notion of what happens in mens' bathrooms w/r/t the urinals. But I can't actually answer his question.



Another contribution of JW's was to ask to go to a rotating tourist bar in SF. While The View Lounge at the top of the Marriott does not technically rotate, the carpet will make your head spin. Or maybe its the all-over corniness of the place. Or maybe its vertigo-curing windows. Anyway, the place sucks, and demonstrates anew why SF is such a half-assed city. Even our worst tourist bar is just too lame to enjoy.

Guest blogger!

Okay, technically J W is not a guest blogger, since I'm writing this for him. But I will pretend to be him for the purpose of this post, I will pretend to be him.

When you go into a men's room where there's a urinal and a toilet but no divider, do you lock the door? Or do you ask they guy what he needs to do and let him in if its compatible? (AL- compatible is my word, not J's.)

Now we're going to either Sky Bar or a red sox expat bar, depending. This is live blogging at its blandest.

I Leave You With This

Before you go enjoy your weekend, I thought I would spoil it with a few things. Barack O'bama, heating it up Beach Babe-style.

And then prepare to kill many minutes and brain cells enjoying all the different name generators at Rum & Monkey. I like the Mormon Name Generator, but I think you'll also enjoy naming your penis, or the Damned Hippie Name Generator.*

If I were going to write a Name Generator, it would be a Jam Band Name Generator, but it would go like this: Pick any combination of the following words to name your jam band: Funk, Monkey, Cheese, Sandwich, Brothers and All-New. By the way, do they still even have jam bands anymore? Man, I hate jam bands.

* Jane Stillwater's name is Peace Juniper, by the way.

Good Times, Good Times

Up is down, left is right, hip hop is not cool anymore.

First of all, there's Karl Rove rapping. Sheesh. I'm not embedding the YouTube version because its too damn long. Second, I heard Gangsters Paradise on NPR this morning. Hunh?

Well, since Michelle Pfieffer is in the Coolio video, I guess its not that cool.

And speaking of embedding, a 64-year-old woman from Berkeley is flying to Kuwait with a sleeping bag this week to try to find a military unit to embed with. It's like Cindy Sheehan without a plan (or even less of a plan). Imagine yourself in that army unit, on the prowl for insurgents, and there's a Berkeley hippie lady in your Humvee. How psyched are you? Probably she smells a little like the pee-pee she refuses to flush*, maybe has her cat with her, definitely wearing a patchwork quilt item of clothing, eating peanut butter sandwiches. The most presumptuous and annoying part:

Money for Arabic translators? Unnecessary. "I've been all over the world," she said, "and you always find people who speak English."

Oh, no, wait. Maybe this is the most presumptuous part:

She's tired of getting news from TV journalists who throw on a khaki vest for a few photo ops before flying home first-class.

Umm, how many journalists have been killed in Iraq? 97

Journalists kidnapped in Iraq: 45

That doesn't include the injuries, or the media support people who have been injured or killed in Iraq. I am sure they'd be offended by her ignorant assumptions, if they weren't too busy doing legitimate reporting from the frontlines.

Bozo.

* Sorry to be gross, but this is based on an actual BHL that I know of.

I Know

In my heart of hearts, that its not okay to make fun of people, so I won't. But if you want to, email me and I will send you the awesomest blog I have seen today. I don't even want to post a link because I think the blog may be able to trace it to me, and I really don't want these people to think I am making fun of them, even though, in my heart, I am.

Overheard

Sitting in a bagel shop, listening to three electricians discussing the times that they, like Tony LaRusso, have fallen asleep at the wheel driving drunk.

"I was up at the club drinking hella hard mixed drinks, get out in my Impala and damn if I don't get up to the last light before my house and fall out. Wake up when a dude behind me wants to make a left. Look in the 'meer' and ohmigod if I was Tony LaRussa, I'd be in jail."

So uplifting.

Fresh Disappointments.

It's only Monday morning and already this week is full of disappointment. UNC is out of the Final Four, hurtling me to the middle of the bracket. My mother sent me "the article" about how day care destroys the minds of our next generation, hurtling me to a mental place of anger, disappointment, guilt, non-guilt, blame, self-loathing, and yet also, to work.

Finally, and possibly the most disappointing thing that I have learned in a long time:

Sammy Davis Jr.'s Candy Man is not a double entendre.

Sundry Thoughts

First sundry thought: blog entries are very hard to title.

Second sundry thought: Okay, bracketeers, there are some basketball games tonight, so stop pretending to concentrate on that Purchase Agreement or Modalities Matrix or whatever it is you are pretending to concentrate on, and browse incessantly over to the NCAA Men's basketball scores. Sheesh. Why am I the one who always has to remind you? Oh, right, because I am The Commissioner. If I needed any evidence that I need to remind people of things, the fact that my own husband didn't do any picks is Exhibit A.

Third sundry thought: Is Edwards caught in a Presidential catch-22 or what? The guy has decided to stay in the race, despite the fact that his wife has stage 4 cancer of the. . . body . . . and has 2 tiny children to love and care for. This makes him seem like an unelectable lout. So what's the only way he could overcome that, and seem loving and electable? If he drops out of the race. The only way to be winnable is to not run. Which is Al Gore's strategy, obviously. But how many people can use that and still (not) win?

Happy Spring!

I was just reading Natalie Angier's column about the vernal equinox - the crux of which is that the equinox falls sort of between March 20 and 21 this year - and I thought What would Zsusanna Budapest think about all this?

The answer is: Zsusanna is pretty certain that the VE falls on March 21. See The Holy Book of Women's Mysteries, v. 1, p. 80. How to celebrate is more complicated. Those assembled at the Bridgeport Holy Temple of Womanhood in March 1998 may recall that it involves string and beer, and possibly grass clippings (actual, not marijuana) and candles. Oh, excuse me, I mean, "Grounds and circle cast, purified with water; admittance in order of age; consecration with fire; corners of the universe evoked; and unifying as usual."

A relatively easy ritual - no foot washing, corn cakes, tamborines, or Dittany of Crete. Just sit back and enjoy the "green flora" and the "maiden aspect."

So mote it be.

Good stuff

"If I wanted something your thumb touched, I would eat the inside of your ear." - Lucille Bluth

Heh heh.

Thursday, Liam told his first riddle. I will retell it in a condensed version:

Q: What do you call a seagull that lives by the bay?
A: A bay-gull

In fact, the real conversation went more like this:

Q: why do seagulls live by the bay?
A: Because they eat fish.
Q: But why?
A: They just do.
Q: Can you call them bagels?
A: Oh, yeah! That's funny!

Multiple Choice

Who is in a three-way tie for ninth place?

A. Joe Lieberman
B. Hoops Hack over at Mock Brackets
C. University of Chicago

The correct answer is C. The University of Chicago was ranked 9th (tied with Dartmouth College and Columbia University) among undergraduate programs at national universities, according to the 2007 rankings list produced by U.S. News and World Report.

Crescat scientia, b*****es.

Let the Games Begin!

Woohoo! It's tip off time! Or whatever the euphemism is for the beginning of a basketball game. Did I get it right? Woohoo! There's already some trashtalk going on over at St. Scobie's Mock Brackets. In addition to several apathetified participants, we have one who is In It To Win It (tm), and she's taking the former professional fantasy sports maven* head on. Quite a match-up. Almost as good as the Terps vs. Gators game we all anticipate. I look forward to kicking all y'all's butts. See ya.

*No joke, Winning Brackets haha built a small empire on her Fantasy Football winnings, while she was a day trader. Never bet her in anything, and never bet against her in charades.

W'sup.

The brackets close tomorrow, peeps, and the shittalk is already flying. You do not want to miss this Community Event. I may make up Smile Rockridge! T-shirts to give out as prizes. They'll say 94618 on the back. They'll be hott.

We Work for You

As you can imagine, while "labor humor" is not exactly an oxymoron, it's close, but I got this clip today, and it made me chuckle.



Enjoy.

Lazy Summary

For some reason, I have no original or interesting thoughts to impart this week. But a few things:

First of all, today's the last work day to register for the St. Scobie's Mock Brackets March Madness Extravaganza! Meet your fellow Scobites! Make wildly baseless predictions about a sport which you either don't like or don't care enough about to dislike! Or beat those of us who are making baseless predictions! Brackets can be done starting on Sunday, so I will harp on about this again, but go do it now, so you can be sick of it by next week.

From a source (Chronicle, I think) that I don't feel like finding a link to, about a favorite topic of mine:

One law enforcement source told us, "The San Francisco guys were saying, 'Don't mess with us, we're 415' -- and the Yalies were saying, 'Yeah, well, we're 212.'
"All of them trying to act like they were from the hood,'' the source said. "Heck, the only hood any of these guys had ever seen was the hood of a Mercedes-Benz."

Heh heh. B asks: "Is there a lamer area code than 415?" Probably 650 or 778, but you know what he means.

Curt Schilling started a blog.

But for some really good reading this week, check out Rangelife.

Thank God.

Acapella singers can sleep soundly again, now that these two have been charged. Of course, the San Quentin Singers now have something to fear. Soon, they'll be buying smokes from Scooter Libby and sharpening their lacrosse sticks into shivs. Watch out, prison, here they come.

What's Up With Me.

Not much really. I discovered LibraryThing today (via the NY Times) and its a very satisfying hobby, even if it lasts only until I reach the "free" limit.

Also today, I read the best court order ever, at least until the brouhaha over Anna Nicole settles:

“Petitioner shall pay child support in the sum of $75.00 per month per child. In addition, Petitioner shall supply to Respondent all beef, cut and packaged, reasonably required for consumption by the two children.”

Excellent.

Best Headline of The Day

Swiss Accidentally Invade Liechtenstein

First! Ever! Community! Event!

St. Scobie's Mock Whiskey is proud and excited to host its first ever community event. And since it's March, you know what time it is. That's right. Madness. March Madness. Join St. Scobie's Mock Brackets today. If the link doesn't get you there, shoot me an email and I will hook you up with an invite. The password is fakenose. This is the fantasy league for those who (a) hate sports; (b) hate basketball; (c) lack hand-eye coordination; and/or (d) believe that the economics of college basketball are cruel and exploitative. We feel your secret shame.

More of What You Want, Part II

If you feel the need to get really creeped out right now, watch just a few minutes of this video. Scary mime!! With Enya-like music! It's truly terrifying.

What else? This morning I overheard my 3-year old engaged in this brief dialogue with himself, while playing with his airplanes on the aircraft carrier Grandpa made for him.

Airplane 1: How was your mission?
Airplane 2: I will burp on you.
(Airplane 1 flies away and then back)
Airplane 1: That was a good mission.
Airplane 2: I fart on you.

Finally, good news for fans of The Wire (read the comments too) and Penthouse. Mmmm, good.

Just a Lot Going On

First of all, apologies for my failure to Live Blog (tm) the Oscars. There was just too much going on in our house. My mom's visiting, and she couldn't decide between the Versace and vintage Chanel. She can be really tetchy that way.

Just to get back on the BPN tip, here's one from the Advice Wanted:

Finding a santeria house-------Hi, this is for all the santeros/santeras out there. I know, it's kind of an odd posting, but I need help. I've been somewhat involved with the religion for a few years, and I feel that I REALLY need to move forward with the process, but how do I know who's and where's the right place for me? People just say, ''you'll know'', but I DON'T know. I'd like to connect with some people that went thru this process, and who'll be willing to talk to me and tell me what it was like for them. If any one out there has the time and is willing please send me an email. Thanks. Child of Obatala

And in a possibly related note, I heard a Taco Bell ad on the radio today that was so inexplicable, I cannot even piece together meaning. It involved a carne asada taquito arguing with a woman who was running a spelling bee about whether he could enter the spelling bee. WTF? Fred Kovey was off his rocker on that one, to be sure. I worried that possibly I had gotten accidentally high somehow before getting in the car.

The famous Kate Costello was so inspired by my last post that she created a sculpture of Angela Davis. Dig it.

Hmmm. Anything else? Not really. Send me cool things.

Quick Post

This is a quickie just to update you on a couple of things annoying me today, and one thing that is not annoying me.

First, I heard a woman from Emily's List on NPR say yesterday that they are all psyched because Hillary Clinton is the first woman running for president. This is gallingly untrue. Viva Pat Schroeder! She even ran after Emily's List was founded, so, in theory, they already should be over their first-female-candidate jones. That's so 19 years ago. Also, I am not a big third party type, but the Commies and the Greens and so forth have been fielding females for awhile. Angela Davis was the VP candidate on the Communist ticket twice. No love.

Sorry to be all third-wave feminist, unimpressed with Hillary's non-groundbreakingness. It's just too annoying.

More annoying, however, is the current "back to the land" discussion being waged at the Berkeley Parents Network Advice column. It's too wordy to share, but let me summarize. The initial poster wanted to know if she was crazy for wanting to go off the grid, in response to her fears of global warming. Instead of answering, "Yes," people gave her "on-the-one-hand, on-the-other" responses. But no one pointed out that 1 person, or a family of 4, living in the middle of nowhere, can make a bigger negative global impact than living in the city, where you can walk places. I read somewhere (and possibly I will try to find a link later) that Manhattanites leave the smallest "global/environmental footprint" of anyone in America, because they can walk everywhere, and energy costs are lower because everyone is functionally huddled together, sharing heat, etc. You get my point.

Not annoying: Get your war on is funny again today. The second two in particular.

Adding insult to injury

Pumping is embarassing and awful enough without being accosted by little old ladies that "the handicapped restroom isn't (bang bang bang) for make-up!" I now hate old ladies.

Jury Wardrobe Coordination is Justice Denied

I still haven't figured out if T&A Lady is serving on the Scooter Libby jury, but if she is, I hope that's her on the end, wearing black. Because it is SO corny for the rest of the jury to wear red on Valentine's Day, together and in solidarity for (what exactly?). T&A Lady, why did you hold out? The corniness? Or do you see a mistrial coming that you can't avert?

Question

Is T&A Lady on the Scooter Libby jury? If not, where has she been all month?

Good Night

This is the obligatory post-above-a-post-with-photos, quirk of Blogspot.

Some Random Thoughts

My three-year-old now walks around singing, "It's just like a mini-mall, it's just like a mini-mall." God knows what they make of that at school.

I found the mother lode of mascot costumes. Clearly it's Plushie Heaven. By the way, if you don't know what a Plushie is, don't google it. You will be sorry. Ask me directly and I will tell you. But you can probably deduce it by visiting here, (you pervert).

Fathers 4 and 5

This article is too good to pass by. Read the whole thing, as it raises the possibility that J. Howard Marshall II was the posthumous father of Danielyn. Or is it the Bahamanian Immigration Minister? Or is it Daniel, Anna Nicole's son? That last spector is too gross to count as an actual possibility, even though the insinuation is out there.

Thanks for Visiting

There's been a real uptick in earnestness among some of my readers that I wanted to bring to the attention of some of my other readers.

First there were two, two!, members of the Toledo Boosters Club or Junior Chamber of Commerce who weighed in to unnecessarily defend Toledo. I say unnecessarily because I wasn't actually offending Toledo. At least, I didn't think I was.

And then there is the Maria Callas fan who felt the need to reiterate what had been my essential point - that Mary J. Blige is not, despite the hyperbole of the Grammy writing staff, Maria Callas. "Sarah" of The Maria Callas Defense Fund has 21 of her own blogs, and none of them devoted to Maria Callas. Coincidence or oversight? You be the judge.

Is my writing style too subtle? And are there more people out there who troll for Toledo references in blogs so they can take a swig of Franzia and type a rousing defense of their adopted hometown? And by using the word Toledo four times in this post, do I invite their wrath?

10:04

I am burned out. There's too much awfulness. The baby is crying again. Is Imogen Heap related to Uriah Heap or just trying to make it seem that way? And what does that "say" about her? That's it for me. This was good practice for the Oscars, Feb 25, and for when I quit my job to blog full-time. Thanks and good night.

10:01

Imogene Heap is the rat's nest head. Go Fug Yourself is going to have a field day with her when they get back from fashion week.

By the way, the ugly rat's nest pictured is not even the one I am referring to at the Grammys. It's a different one. She's decided to substitute wacky millinery for actual talent, I presume.

9:57

This is hell on earth. It's that other Eagles' song. You know, "they had one thing in common..."

Life in the fast lane.

This blond chick is in her negligee. Who is this hideous guy she has to sing with?

Are the Eagles getting a lifetime achievement award too? Is this a catch-up year, so they can honor decent bands next year (Grammy's 50th Anniversary) and not have to answer why they aren't honoring the Dead or the Eagles?

9:52

ARGH. I was okay with the Bob Wills tribute, because, well, I like Bob Wills. But this crappola Hotel California. ugh. I prefer Tom and Scott's version. Tom was my boyfriend sophomore year of high school, and my birthday gift that year was a tape he and his best friend had recorded of themselves singing Hotel California, The Rose, Dust in the Wind and I can't remember the other song. Anyway, I am only now getting over my mordification from it. He gave it to me with a rose, and the letter accompanying it called me, "my darling". I think I need to go into therapy just recalling it.

double ugh. Desperado cover. The Eagles are, with hindsight, emerging as the crappiest band ever to have recorded an album.

While We Have A Break

I have to admit that I did something really dumb the other night. It's not what you think. Or anything like that.

Liam has been complaining about a ghost problem lately. I made the mistake of telling him that my breast pump is a ghost machine that sucks ghosts out of his room and holds them. It was a Ghostbusters-inspired moment but now I am going to have to bring the pump in there every night to detox the room, because the other options* don't work now.

* The other options are: (1) denying there are ghosts, (2) putting the ghosts in "time out", (3) teaching Liam that ghosts are afraid of a mean face and (4) kicking the ghosts out by holding them out over my foot and making a kicking motion towards the door.

9:41

Portia di Rossi looks great but Ellen DeGeneres has a wierd scarf on. Not a good look. Very aviator, and not in the good way that Cee-Lo pulled off earlier.

I could have forgiven the DixieChix if they had tipped their hat to Willie but that little "heh heh" remark just sucked. F*** you. The whole country hates the war in Iraq now. You do not have a monopoly on dissent and you aren't interesting or articulate. So now we all hate you, the red staters and the blue staters. Or at least, I do.

9:39

Mandy Moore looks like Xena. Leann Rimes' breasts have gone missing. Luke Wilson is just bummed that he couldn't find Kanye before he came on stage.

I hope Willie Nelson wins whatever category this is.

He didn't.

God I hate the Dixie Chix.

9:37

Okay, I concede, MJB has some pipes. Maybe not Maria Callas, but she's got the pipes.

9:34

It's a wee bit of an overreach, I think, to compare Mary J. Blige to Maria Callas. Sorry, Terrence Howard, I know you didn't write that line. But why didn't you point out that you have no connection this year to music, that Hustle & Flow was last year, and you have something new happening, so give that line to someone else. Like Common. Or Karl Lagerfeld.

9:24

Kanye smoked up. Just pot though, so don't worry mom-in-law.

Common's transformation into Isaac Hayes is complete.

9:19

The Grateful Dead don't have a Lifetime Achievement Award yet? I mean, until now?

Gnarls Barkley. I like. What's with the pilot uniforms? It's awesome.

9:16

This Chevy ad stinks. The Hot Pockets ad, on the other hand, rules. And here's why: After the family gets the hot pockets from dad, they all turn towards eachother and laugh. I love when that happens in a commercial. I also love when that happens in my real life.

9:12

The Dixie Chicks don't actually make me want to support the war in Iraq just to spite them, but I am thisclose.

Did you like how Seal had to appear with Karl Lagerfeld?

9:05

Shakira is wearing some wierd-ass gold breastplate. And I don't mean gold-covered. I mean solid gold. Her sole talent is belly-dancing. Not that I am casting aspersions, since i can't even do that.

Wait, is this Indian? Egyptian? Latino? What.is.that? The back-up dancers have a certain Gladiator look to them, with their gold-plated bellybuttons.

Wyclef sucks so bad I can't even think of anything funny to say. His belt is gold and he possibly has some sort of Palestinian prayer cloth around his neck. Not sure. Or is that a flag from Shakira's fake-ass Egyptian-Hindu-Spanish country?

9:00

I am almost certain that John Mayer thanked Jim Jad-wee-zee-ak. AKA The Bagel Miser. Who is AWOL from ROTC still, as far as I know.

8:55

Wow, this whole medley is just unlistenable. I don't really like John Mayer but there's gotta be better material in his repertoire. I bet Jessica Simpson thought he would go for her. She's seen too many make-over teen romance movies. You know the routine: popular kid remakes nerd, nerd gets popular, ditches popular kid, who has fallen for nerd. She thought she could do that. But she mistook what kind of nerd he is. He's the kind of nerd who can get the kind of girls he goes for, girls who are applying to graduate school.

8:57 - Poor Nelly Furtado. She has to appear with Pussy Cat Dolls to give an award. How the might have fallen.

8:52

Or maybe its just that she's saddled with one of the worst songs I have ever heard.

8:49

I am not one to talk but this child here is flat. I have never heard of this person. Corinne something? With John Mayer and John Legend? We'll call her Girl John. She's lame.

8:46

According to the crawler, the Flaming Lips won something. Best Engineering, Non-Classical for At-War with the Mystics. Hmm, sort of throwing actual musicians a bone there. I suspect the remaining Doors would have preferred their lifetime achievement award be delivered by the Lips, but we can't always get what we want. (I guess that's a different 60s rock band).

The stage is hideous. Like its left over from a VH1 Best of This Week Awards show.

The baby is crying AGAIN, so I may need to stop. Plus I am not sure that even I can keep up this frenetic pace.

oooooh, Stevie W. looks uncomfortable up there by himself.

8:40

The woman behind Beyonce has a nest of sticks and leaves on her head.

Oop, MJ just won another thing. Blige that is. Michael Jordan does not appear to be nominated for anything.

8:37

Justin again. This is so embarassing. He has a little penlight camera that he's holding in front of his face so his song is sung like right up in the camera and his nose looks prominent and it just sucks.

8:38 - Oh, Pink is the best they can do to honor The Doors. Fuck you very much, say the remaining members of the band.

8:33

Justin Timberlake just looks scuzzy. Sorry, but it's true. Lose the, uh, coffee cake crumbs on your face.

Live! Grammy Blog!

In order to keep my attention on the Grammys, I thought I would live blog it.

8:24 - Mary J. Blige. Why does she need a Grammy when she's already arrived? And by "arrived", I mean "sitting in front of Prince." Her thank you list was exhaustive but I suspect she'll be back. She already thanked J.C. so I guess that leaves us The Father and The Holy Ghost for best R&B Female and best R&B Duo.

Why is the plural Grammy "Grammys" and not "Grammies"? I guess that sounds like "grandma" and "nummies", which is NOT something I want to conjure.

8:31 - Idris Elba sighting. He was choking on takeout Chinese take-out in the ad for the new Tyler Perry movie. He still looked hot.

When the Dust Settles

How many daddies will little Danielynn Marshall Smith Stern Birkhead van Anhalt have? And wouldn't it make a hilarious movie? Zsa Zsa's husband could be played by Tom Selleck, and Howard K. Stern could be played by Ted Danson, and Larry Birkhead could be played by, umm, the other guy.

Shhh, Don't Tell Him

Here's the Valentine's gift I have picked out for Mr. Scobie:

The sad part is, our bathroom is nowhere near large enough for this get-up. Ah well, a girl can dream. By the way, that's the Roto-Rooter Pimped Out John.

New Data!!

New evidence has been discovered of humanity's innate corniness! Proof that Valentine's Day pranks are the new rage! That teenagers have been "intimate" since before Jesus!

Restore NASA's Budget

When astronauts have the time to don wigs and diapers, embarassing themselves and our space program in the process, it's time to dig between the cushions of America's couch for some spare change to restore NASA's budget. Send them to space, or don't, but just keep them busy enough to stop them from engaging in sophomoric stalking, writ painfully large.

Finally

Props to Brian Schwartz of Toledo, OH, who, unlike Alanis Morrisette, understands the meaning of irony.

It was so cold that Toledo, Ohio — 5 above zero at noon, up from 4 below — even closed its outdoor ice rink. "The irony is not lost on us," said city spokesman Brian Schwartz.

If it weren't so bitter-ass cold, I'd say Toledo seems like a good place to raise children, teach them how to to ice skate, and how to properly use popular literary devices/modes of collegiate humor.

It's Just Like a Mini-Mall

This is the first song to push Irreplaceable out of the permanent Muzak in my brain, finally.




Thanks KML and thank you, God, for the day you brought video technology to Alabama.

Too Lazy to Blog

I haven't written anything this week because I have been just too lazy to blog. I've even had good(ish) ideas, but been too lazy to even search for links to support them. How lame is that? There's nothing lamer. I am too lame to engage in even the lamest blogging. But I will give it a shot.

The thing that's been on my mind this week is all the good new words and phrases I have come across in the past few days. For example, this New York Times article concerns French government efforts to fight "banalization" in French culture. Apparently the French are up in arms (or s'insurger, as the case may be) that mega-stores are taking over the tonier parts of Paris. Great word. What took them so long? But my question is, is banal a French word? Mon dieu! I believe that the French word for banal is poncif. That would make this trend "poncification". La voila! Double Mon Dieu! Poncification means "to pronounce a word is a deliberately poncy/french way. Target, a crappy superstore becomes t'argey." Pretty tautological, as problems go, no? So to make banal is to make French. Good luck, Mr. Chirac, coming up with a governmental solution to this problem. Still, banalization = good word.

Elsewhere, I read this: "vomiting from places other than your mouth". It's in Please Read Before Suing, in the Shouts & Murmurs column in the New Yorker. I laughed out loud when I read that, possibly from disgust and surprise.*

In my laziness, I cannot remember the other great words I read this week. Sorry.

One other thought on the use of words. This week, T&A Lady sparked quite a discussion about what a gal should call the man she marries. I even outed her, umm, dude as a, umm, guy. Anyway, it reminded me of a good rule of thumb, generally applicable: Would you be able to call someone by that name to a federal judge? This was the gauntlet question to my own dude back when he wanted to name our first child Buckaroo. Mr. Scobie acquiesced, and the rest is, well, whatever it is. My "husband" admitted he couldn't introduce his child as Buckaroo to a federal judge. So, T&A Lady, how would you introduce your fella, if you had to (again), to a federal judge?

* Also in The New Yorker this week is a piece by Ryszard Kapusciski. Kapuscinski died recently, but I had been thinking about him. In college, I read Shah of Shahs, the Emperor and The Shadow of the Sun in rapid succession for no reason other than they were among the best books I had ever read. I swore I would never forget them, and then I did. Any time I hear about Hallie Selassie or the Shah of Iran, I have this vague feeling I once knew something about them. But how often is that, right? Anyway, read one of these books.

Eye Boggling

Despite all the "outrageous" colors in this picture, I thought it would be easier to endure than the one in the last post. All the grammas were clamoring for some shots of the Q, so I hope this satisfies.

Do Not Try This At Home

Rangelife suggests the following game: plunk any random letters into Google Image search, and wacky hi-jinx ensue. Beware, however, as mkjd yields this:

Overheard

"I try to make all my Powerpoints tongue-in-cheek."

Woman eating in Boudin's in Macy's at Union Square, 12:43pm, Jan. 29, 2007

Classic

I know the window for blogging about this closed long ago, like before the house was built, but Alanis Morrisette's Ironic, is due for a better-late-than-never ass-chewing. I also don't think I ever even listened to it all the way through before this morning in the car. But not one single metaphor in the whole song is ironic. Is that the ironic part? I'm amazed that this song is as galling today as it was 15 years ago, or whenever it came out. God forbid Alanis and Live Aid ever collaborate, is all I can say.

Two Examples of Twue Love

Stalled as I occasionally become for blog topics, I asked my dear husband to find something for me to blog about. He did. While I believe his courage and sacrifice in this task were great, they fall slightly behind the ass-kicking that Nell Hamm gave that mountain lion to save her husband. I am sure that Brook would do the same, if a mountain lion comes to Thomas Avenue.*

*Between this story and the story about James Kim, there is pretty much no chance I am traveling north of Sausalito ever again.

Hidden Gems of Print Advertising

For the first time in six years of living in Oakland, I opened the Wednesday mail circular called PennySaver. I never knew what a treasure I was throwing away every week. Here are a few of the things on offer:

2 Pigeons - $14/both

Collectors Plate – “Baby Raccoon” excellent condition $18

Collectors Plate – “Koala” excellent condition Hamilton collection $18

Cemetary/Funeral: Double Niche – Indoors, Chapel of the Chimes, Hayward, priced for quick sale. $7500 obo.

Health Care: Awesome Deal – Large Adult Undergarments, Liners, Pads, Diapers. $30/all

That’s a lot of good value for $7,566.

Admittedly, I don’t have a lot going on right now, so my judgment may be skewed a bit.

By the way, Undercover Black Man has the second half of his David Simon interview up.

Please Don't

The second story in SF Chronicle's Matier & Ross column today concerns the fact that downtown SF parking meters bring in, on average, less than an hour's worth of time each day. Got that?

Believe it or not, the average collection last year for a meter in San Francisco's parking-packed downtown was only $2.61 a day, according to a new report from the city's budget analyst. And that's for meters that charge $3 an hour.
In other words, on an average 9-hour business day, the city wound up collecting less than an hour's worth of coins per meter in the downtown last year.

Okay, so that isn't the biggest scandal to rock aught-seven. But here's what I am getting to:

"Heck, if we got it up to a 50 percent collection rate, we could offer free massages on the buses,'' (Supervisor Jake) McGoldrick said.

Yuck. Please. Don't. Go. There.

You Go Girl!

The other day, a friend with certain political involvements sent me an email that had the title "Why I Am Supporting Hillary Clinton for President in 2008". This email included my friend's personal thoughts on Clinton, and attached an email from a former White House staffer (high-ranking) that had the same subject and gave several reasons for this support. The final reason is "Fourth - and most personally - I like her". The writer, a woman, says:

Like so many of you who have supported me throughout my life or periods of it, she worries about me, about my family, tells me I'm working too hard, has me over to dinner, calls me just to check in, and enjoys some of the things I enjoy – from reading a great book to shopping for a great bag (like me she has a weakness for a good bag). We talk about our families and friends (okay, I'll say it – gossip about who's with whom and how's that possible among the folks we know). In short she is real. She is the girlfriend you want in your corner because she tells you when you were wrong, nd still loves you despite your frailties; she also relentlessly champions your successes like only your mother usually can do. She lights up a room with her laughter, she is incredibly warm and engaging – something some people only experience when they meet her personally (and then it's always enjoyable to listen to them say how different she is than from what they imagined or had read in the newspaper – that she really is warm and genuine and embracing).

I'm going to cut to the chase here and say it: This annoys the shit out of me. If Hillary wins the primary, or Obama implodes or Edwards explodes before then, then I am all for Hillary. Woo-hoo, Hillary. 'Til then, I am not looking for a new best girlfriend or even a new man to swoon over. I want a leader, not someone who can win just by calling in years of favors or by making promises of bipartisanship or local corn subsidies. I think Hillary is a great senator. She seems to be doing a good job, working on hard issues, understanding the nightmarish procedural mechanics of our second-least democratic institution. But she doesn't motivate me. And saying she'll be a great Girlfriend-in-Chief doesn't do anything for me. Oprah already has a strangehold on that position. I want a great President.

And who is going to buy this marketing pitch? I just don't want to be so cynical as to think that women are going to support Hillary just because she likes a good bag and cried during Steel Magnolias. Maybe I need to be that cynical. Maybe those women will go for Hillary because they can't decide if Edwards is cuter than Obama or vice versa, and know Hillary would totally understand how hard it is to choose between two cute guys.

Or is this the first pitch of Soft Hillary? Now that its okay to be anti-war, she can put on those beat-up slippers and sip General Foods International Coffee Viennese Chocolate Cafe' and talk about the spat between Rosie and The Donald like she doesn't have a care in the world.

I was even ready to not blame Hillary for this email. But the fact is, "her people" know it went out and the author is no doubt inner-inner circle. I can't blame them for trying, I just wish that it didn't pander so mercilessly to the idea of What Women Want. And I am very scared that this is indeed What Women Want.

Ignore This Post

This is for the two or three of you fellow Wire fans. The rest of you should check in later for a rant on a different topic.

First of all, David Mills has this interview with David Simon on his blog Undercover Black Man. I haven't read it yet but I will update after I read it.

Second, I've started watching season 1 again.

Third, here's my list of the five most annoying characters on the show.

1. Orlando
2. Ziggy Sobotka
3. Mrs. (Jenny?) Carcetti
4. The Johns Hopkins Professor, tied with the School District lady who hates on the season 4 corner kid project.
5. Officer Walker

I will now waste my whole day revisiting this list.

Not Inexplicable Enough

There is lipstick on the cold water spigot on the water cooler in my office. The thing is low enough to the ground that you’d actually have to lie on your back to drink that way, but to each her, and let’s hope it’s a her, own.

Ok, I Can't Not Comment

The whole thing about Yale having 15 a capella groups suggests they might be sliipping in the World Domination department. And no, I'm not one of those University of Chicago people who didn't get into Yale.

Aside: I just saw a van with "Maui Mike's Lip Balm" painted on the side. What niche does this company fill? Isn't there lip balm brand saturation at this point?

Years of Good PR Work Undone By A Single Leprechaun

Every since I moved to Alabama in August 2003, I have tried to be an ambassador for the state, particularly since moving back to California a year later. I tell everyone: "The people are so nice, and the food was SO good, and I really loved it there, except for the fart smell from the paper factories. They do have Democrats, and liberals, too, if only people would get to know them!" How often have I said that? A hundred times? A thousand?

Now all my hard work is undone by a single leprechaun.



Damn you, Leprechaun of Mobile, damn you. Or is that you don't want to share the beautiful Heart of Dixie, so you bring shame to its residents?

Aren't We All Guilty? Part Deux

I reprint from the SF Chronicle, without comment:

As Yale University students went back to school Tuesday after winter break, the usual conversations were overshadowed by reaction to an extraordinary event that happened 3,000 miles away: the beating in San Francisco of members of the Baker's Dozen, the school's renowned all-male a cappella singing group.
"People are shocked," said Wookie Kim, 20, a sophomore, outside the Yale Bookstore, where portraits of the university's famous alumnae look out over the floor. "I couldn't believe that anyone could do that to a Yale student."
…
[M]any Yale students said the beating was more than an act of violence against a student singing group. It was an assault on an essential element of the campus culture of this Ivy League school, whose 15 a cappella groups are often likened to Greek societies on other college campuses.

The Making of a Ski Champ - Year One

Clearly, we need to regard as a victory getting Li into skis at all this year. And getting a smile, weird as that smile may be, as well.

He got on the skis on actual snow once. It was hellacute. Winter 2008 is the Year the Champ Ventures Forth, especially now that he knows ski school kids get lollipops.

Aren't We All Guilty?

The story of the Baker's Dozen beatdown is so obviously bloggable, I didn't bother. You could write it yourself. Specifically, Mr. Scobie could write it himself. I even offered to let him guestblog the damn story. But no. Instead, I have succumbed to intense lobbying to speak about this issue.

First, a recap. A second-string Yale a capella group got jumped by a group of "sons of prominent San Franciscans" after singing the national anthem at a party in SF. The word "homo" may have been used. Pretty girls may have been flirted with. What's not in dispute is that one guy got his jaw broke, and no assailants were identified to the SF police, and thus, no arrests were made.

Now the "Yale network" are beating the drum against the SFPD for failing to make any arrests. They claim that the assailants are too powerful and important in SF to be arrested. These are ELIS claiming that they are the powerless underdog here. Maybe they feel that way because they are in Baker's Dozen and not Whiffenpoofs. Maybe that makes them oppressed - I'm not sure. Anyway, Gavin Newsom and Heather Fong are scurrying like chipmunks to seem on top of the situation, even though it seems the Baker's Dozens guys couldn't ID their assailants. But its just the old "All St. Ignatius/Sacred Heart graduates look the same to me, officer" problem.

In our heart of hearts, we all know one thing: "It could have been me." And in this case, "It" is "I could have yelled derogatory comments and thrown a punch at an a capella rendition of the Ol' Stars and Bars after downing a few Pelositinis and groping the girl from my high school trig class who then flirted with a dude in a bowtie who THEN GOT UP TO SING WITH NO GUITAR." And by "me", I mean, "you and me and all of us."

God Spam

This is not my new band name or anything. It's a new trend that I've noticed. A lot of the spam I get is Christian or religious or something. I got one today, subject heading: "Have you been saved?" Often they are just rambling End Times garble. I don't open them so I don't know if they are actually religious or whether they are supposed to appeal to my inner-sinner-in-need-of-redemption/conspiracy theorist, and then when I open them, its just another V1a6ra pitch.

I (heart) Art!

I just want to pimp my girl's show over here:

Kate has this piece (now I've gone and ruined it for you) in the Obscene Soft Sounds show at Wallspace Gallery, 619 W. 27th Street, NYNY.

It opens Saturday, I think. Go. Act like you want to buy it, and then scoff that it isn't priced high enough. Promise to come back later with more money. If there's a little sign that says, "Sold," ask: "Are there more? This is lovely. Who is this ingenue?"

OR, act like you cannot believe that the reclusive Kate Costello has finally agreed to put another piece on the market. Compare her loudly to Salinger. Say, "Well, it certainly was worth the wait!"

Fres-Yes! Correction

It has been graciously pointed out to me that the correct term is Tule fog, not Tulare fog. This helps explain why I had the nagging feeling that the fog had something to do with elk. I had attributed the association to the road weariness but it turns out, I'm not crazy. Thanks, Dee-Dub.

A Very Dangerous Innovation

I have figured out how to post to my blog via email. This is probably going to result in many random, no-so-funny postings sent from my blackberry. Lucky you. It’s a good thing for me (and probably you too) that I don’t drink heavily, so there won’t be too many/any drunk-blogging episodes.

 

I don’t have much to say today; I just wanted to bring you current on my technological righteousness, or whatever this is.

Emporium of Prosthetic Noses

Do you think Nancy Pelosi and Courtney Love meant to get the same nose? Was it on sale?

Courtney Love is such a mess here, with her face sliding all over the place, that it may be hard for you to see that the tip of her nose is notched in the same exact way as Cryptkeeper-I-mean-Speaker Pelosi's. Just trust me.

If we can put a rover on Mars, and create babies in a test tube, how come we cannot invent a realistic-looking fake nose? This shows there's a market out there for them.

Fresno? Fres-Yes!

What was the best part of today? It was a day just bursting with candidates for the part:

Was it:

• That moment in the shower at 5:40 am when I thought Am I a Supermom. . . or a fucking idiot?
• The terrifying Tulare fog* that engulfed the highway between Los Banos and Chowchilla at 7 a.m.?
• The dog on the road stripe on Kamm Ave in Kingsburg, just lickin' his butt and making it seem all the more Children of the Corn than it already felt. Although Children of the Raisin would probably be more appropriate.**
• The mouth-watering, buttery sweet donut I ate while waiting to settle this arbitration I had today? . . . Oh, wait, that actually was the best part.
• One-handed pumping at 70 m.p.h?
• Taking Q to the doctor again for some other ailment-that-has-no-treatment (aka A Cold) while I also breathe in short wispy half-breaths that sound like Arthur Digby Sellers*** in The Big Lebowski?

What the hell am I talking about? It should be obvious now that my brain is totally addled from driving to Fresburg at ass-o-clock this morning, only to settle a case in literally 20 minutes, hang out for another hour and then driving back. I can't even think straight but I've got many things to say.

Do you know how many "homes for hip-hip and R&B" there are between Oakland and Fresno? Many. But not as many as there are Spanish language/Christian/Spanish Christian radio stations. If you set your radio on AutoScan, you can hear Jesus' name once every 4 seconds. It would make a great drinking game, if one weren't driving in the car. Drink once for Jesus, drink twice for "the Low-erd".

I wonder whether we bombed any actual Al Qaeda terrorists in Somalia or whether they were just the "Islamists" blamed with destroying Somalia's government, that Somalia's government shrewdly sold out to the U.S.? What role did the U.S. play in helping Ethiopia roll into Somalia to oust the aforementioned Islamists? Ethiopia is in the Coalition of the Willing.

Glenn Loury: smart person. I listened to News & Notes this afternoon, and the discussion was very interesting and news-based, and then the topic turned to questions about the suicide of "Wash" Washington, the popular black mayor of a predominantly white town in Louisiana. One of the other panelists was willing to go off about racism and a culture of fear about bad investigations (based on CSI or something), but Loury was just so annoyed that this news was being played as scintillating and gossipy. On one hand, Loury seemed genuinely upset that this man's death was being chewed over like celebrity gristle; on the other hand, he was swift to point out that racism exists at a deeper level than just this one Lake Charles coroner, and wanted to know why this story was "the racism story" as opposed to a thoughtful discussion about prisons or welfare or other arenas where real news happens but NPR (or other media) isn't particularly interested in highlighting. Anyway. My recap here is taking longer than the segment lasted but I just wanted to give Loury credit for his analysis and for the actual emotion he invested in it.

If I had any other thoughts, they are gone now. I'll leave you with three footnotes. Sorry if you already read them. Go ahead and re-read them; they will help you feel nostalgic about the original post.

* This link does tulare fog no justice. "Tulare fog" is a NoCal term of art, and I am not sure of the origin. It's a dense, very low fog where visibility is limited to probably under 500 feet. On winter mornings, they settle onto the highway and make driving very difficult. It eclipses the sun. It's very End Times, just like the rest of the Central Valley. This doesn't stop the locals from going 70 miles an hour.
** Selma, CA, or possibly Fresno, is the Raisin Capital of The World. The Whole World. All seven continents. That includes every US territory, protectorate and the ENTIRE former U.S.S.R. Also, New Zealand. That's the Sheep Capital. And it's a good thing they are far apart, because, can you imagine the damage all those sheep could do to all those grapevines?
***The guy in the Iron Lung, folks. Larry's dad.

I'm Sick

I really don't feel well tonight, and my bloggahrea has abandoned me. Sorry about that. I might experiment with mobile blogging so I can share my innermost thoughts all the time. Note to self: Learn mobile blogging. That can be a New Year's sub-aspiration.

Isn't it interesting how quickly the good new year cheer wears off? Last week, I said Happy New Years to everyone. Today, I was taken by surprise when someone said it to me. It's like 2007 is already played out.

Isn't this a funny picture? He's actually way cuter than this; I just think this is hilarious. It's sort of how he takes the world in. Life can be so startling when you are tiny.

Not About The Wire, I Swear

Okay, it really is, but only by way of Homicide: A Year On The Killing Streets, which I finished last night. David Simon spent a year "embedded" with the Baltimore Police Homicide Department and writes it up as a noir-ish march through a year of crack war murders. If you ever watched the TV show Homicide, you recognize plots almost verbatim in the book. How does Homicide (the book) compare to The Wire? The way almost all of Don Delillo's novels presaged Underworld. I happen to think The Wire is tighter than Underworld, and better written, and more. . .

I can't find the right word here. Underworld, despite traveling to former Soviet republics and back in time, seems a little provincial in its themes, compared to The Wire.

Anyway, the reason I started this post was to extol The Wire, and David Simon, for a different reason, which is, the ways in which The Wire pays homage to real people who might otherwise be lost to history. In Homicide, near the end, one of the detectives oversees the autopsy of a two-year old boy who was beaten to death by his mother's boyfriend. It's apparent from the autopsy that there was sexual abuse as well. I won't get more graphic than that. The boy's name is Michael.

Simon's memory is so long, and his imagination is so broad, that that fact leapt off the page and smacked me. Unromantically, Simon imagines, in The Wire, who that boy might have become, if he'd lived. Similarly, there is mention, in Homicide, of a soldier/killer named Dennis Wise. In The Wire, Simon imagines who Wise might have become after his incarceration, with more hope than Simon is usually credited with having about human nature.

Homicide was the methadone for my Wire-withdrawal I had hoped it would be. I might need to go back and re-read The Night Gardener. One influence I think Pelecanos had on The Wire was to reel in the personal drama of Kima and McNulty. I think these characters were brought down to earth to reflect Pelecanos' idea that not all cops are hard-drinking, hard-fighting assholes. In The Night Gardener, Gus Ramone is a good detective with a loving home life who tries to be a good father. It's that simple. But he's still a compelling character. I don't think McNulty is going to become McNutty again next season. I think Simon realizes you can have great characters who don't have monstrous problems.

Anyway, sorry to those of you who don't care about this show. I just gotta get it off my chest every now and again. Check back later for more non-Wire frivolity.

My New Addiction

Check out Etsy. I only found it a half hour ago and I have already bought two things. I found it via The Kim Family Benefit Auction (Thanks Seamus) which also has many beautiful things for a good good cause. If you sign on to Etsy, tell them alaiacona referred you. I don't actually know what will happen if you tell them that, but I am interested in finding out. Also, I think Dan McAdam and Andy Gregg and possibly others should sell through Etsy, so, dear reader, if you talk to one of those guys soon, tell them I said so. Or you can just go to their websites and buy directly.

Brain Dump UPDATED

A few things I have been thinking about:

1. It really annoys me that Kanye West often uses the same word at the end of a "rhyme", rather than trying to actually rhyme it with something else. He does this all the time, at least on his first album, and I find it really distracting. Here are a couple of examples:

From Through the Wire
How do you console my mom or give her light support
When you telling her your sons' on life support

From Family Business
Somebody please say grace so I can save face
And have a reason to cover my face

And you don't wanna stay there cuz them your worst cousins
Got roaches at their crib like them your first cousins
Act like you ain't took a bath with your cousins

From We Don't Care
Scratchin lottery tickets Eyes on a new house
Around the same time Doe ran up in dudes house

I recognize that the second to last word is different, but then so are all the other ones. It just annoys me.

2. Driving in the Safeway parking lot near our house gives me perspective on how people in other countries, particularly underdeveloped countries, manage to drive when there is lax enforcement of laws affecting motorists. You just do what you have to do to get out alive. It's actually safer than driving anywhere else in the Bay Area, where drivers don't seem to care if they get out alive. For example, in Berkeley, I have often seem people floor their car backwards out of their driveway into traffic. I hate these people.

3. Although the window for end-of-the-year giving has passed, I have been thinking about how there are very few charities that exist that can actually make social change. Because of tax laws, and other reasons, charities can only be geared towards treating symptoms of social disease, and can never address the underlying problems. Given the total clusterf*** that most charities are, I would not necessarily leave social change in their hands. But when deciding who should get a donation, I feel like I am buying Tylenol and chicken soup for a problem that needs antibiotics or even chemotherapy. On a related note, I found two interesting websites: Charity Navigator and Trent Stamp's Take, which pleasingly holds back no punches on individual charities. Becker-Posner Blog talks about this stuff today too, so I guess Judge Posner and I were both doing our end-of-the-year checks this past weekend.

Okay, now that I have all that out of my system. . .

4. New Year's Resolutions. Did you make any? I almost never do. I consider it as sign of my own honesty to myself. I am probably not going to change very much, and certainly not in a substantial enough way to satisfy something as specific as a New Year's resolution. I have some New Year's aspirations though. I would like to blog more. Here's a reach: I would like to join the Y, or at a minimum, start doing some crunches so that my baby belly bag starts to go away. I would like Quinn to start sleeping through the night. I would like Liam to stay in his own bed, quietly all night. In other words, I am going to make New Year's resolutions for other people, whom I am legally permitted to make resolutions for.

Serious Retrofit

Just before Christmas, we had a series of small-but-scaryish earthquakes, centered at the Hayward Fault, which runs probably 75-100 feet behind our house, or thereabouts. California natives might pooh-pooh our east-coast squeamishness about these 3.7 quakes, but I just want you to see what it did to our gingerbread house: major cracks in two walls, and liquifaction in the stucco near the front door. Luckily we had lots of icing and mini-marshmallows to shore up the foundation, plus Liam ate the whole thing the next day, but still, it was serious.

This Just About Sums It All Up

From today's New York Times' Science Times article on free will:

A bevy of experiments in recent years suggest that the conscious mind is like a monkey riding a tiger of subconscious decisions and actions in progress, frantically making up stories about being in control.

Put aside the illogic of that metaphor and just bask in its Truth.

Berkeley CA - Taint of the East Bay

Sometimes I go out looking for reasons to hate Berkeley - reading the Parents Network Advice newsletters, actually going to Berkeley - and sometimes the reasons just come to me.

The other day I read Rats, by Robert Sullivan, an enjoyable read by a writer I like. So good, I breezed through it.* Anyway, in the Afterword to the paperback, Sullivan talks about his book tour, and how he repeatedly had to reassure folks that his focus is wild rats, not "fancy" rats, i.e. pet rats, and that he doesn't hate fancy rats, in fact, he just isn't concerned with them. But you know that Berkeley people need to take this to a whole different level. He's too polite to say it, but it's clear that when he came to do a reading in Berkeley, nine people actually showed up to protest his book, believing (without reading even the subtitle of the book) that Sullivan hates fancy rats and wants them all eliminated. It's just so embarrassing what they'll protest over there.

* Full disclosure: Robert's mom was my high school English teacher. She was pretty much my favorite teacher, and I have been a big fan of Robert's books, starting with Meadowlands, which I think is his best, but that's possibly for sentimental, New Jersey reasons.

Alert for California Parents

I hope everyone had a happy holiday. Before you settle in to enjoy the quiet week before the new year, I wanted to bring to everyone's attention some legislation that was slipped out of committee before the CA state legislature went on vacation. California parents may have already suspected that this legislation was in the works but it looks like its headed to a vote in January. Here's the summary:

Bill Number: AB: 1103
Introduced by: Assembly Member Dooley

An Act to Amend section 2003 of the California Family Code, relating to the welfare of children

AB 1103, as introduced, Dooley. Sibling non-proliferation

Existing law provides that parents are entitled to undertake the duties and responsibilities of conceiving and bearing children at a number to be selected by the parties. This bill would enact the “Sibling Non-Proliferation Act”, and its companion legislation, SB 731, the “Birth Order Preservation Act.” These bills codify and authorize the natural tendency of existing offspring to undertake any means to prevent the conception of other offspring, or the practice thereof. This bill is an appropriation, in that it authorizes spending on research and on the acquisition of existing technologies to implement the mandates of AB 1103 and SB 731.

Some of you may not mind this bill; however, the disturbing part of the legislation is that Senator Q. Dooley has managed to get "practice thereof" added to the bill. Hopefully, Schwarzenegger will catch this, as it does apply to him. But Arnold is laid up from a skiing accident and if he's not back to his desk within 30 days of passage, the bill will go into effect. Please call, write or email your state representatives now to object to the Q amendment to this bill! Thanks!

Thanks for Visiting

I was in the mood for another round-up to see what brings y'all to Mock Whiskeyville. It turns out raw bloodlust for The Big Lebowski draws a lot of new readers.

Here are a few recent searches that have brought people to my blog lately:

1. cocaine Hawaii - While not actually a Big Lebowski reference, it might as well be
2. Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man.
3. sam's bbq montgomery
4. freezer whisky -tape - huh?
5. I see you rolled your way into the pull the trigger till it goes click - They don't exactly nail it, but you get the point.
6. matrix name maker
7. "jen lav" - I think someone might have an admirer, heh?
8. deos mio man
9. lyrics to i said it's either me or the whiskey
10. sam turano blog -I think someone else might have a French admirer, sil vous plait?
11. aporkalypse - Mmm, yummy.
12. for all you haters
13. Marjorie payne file this please - In this case, I think someone is googling herself, don't you think?

So, except for the lovelorn seekers of FOS (Friends of Scobie), I am a little despondent over the "types" I seem to be attracting. Big Lebowski and Matrix fans? Nerd alert! Maybe I should blog endlessly about The Wire (which I not so secretly wish to do), just to attract a minutely broader audience.*

I can feel a New Year's resolution forming. More John Roberts? Cher? Are the masses really clamoring for Jen Lav and Sam Turano? I will give the people what they want. This is a democratic blog.** More on this later, while I mull my topical options for '07.

*I recognize that essentially invites others to stop reading this blog, so I won't do it. I am just admitting the self-control has been difficult to muster.
** Other than the self-restraint w/r/t The Wire, no, it actually isn't democratic. But people love "democracy" so, you know, give the people what they want.

A Brand New Day

Sometimes, in the darkest night, there is nothing to blog about. For example, Monday, December 18, 2006. That was a dark dark night. Take your toaster to Hawaii? What's wrong with you??(The wedding toaster is not going on vacation with us because it caught on fire two years ago, and Brook was never happy with its toasting capabilities anyway. It's been replaced.)

And then sometimes, you wake up and there is a story that offers so many angles that you don't know where to begin. For example, Miss USA Agrees to Rehab to Preserve Reign. Miss USA, aka Tara Reid, oops, I mean Tara Conner, has agreed to go to rehab so that her crown will not be passed along to Miss Photogenic, or whoever. She is going to rehab, despite the fact that, "'I would not say that I am an alcoholic,' she said, though at times, she said, she was unable to resist drinks offered free to her."

Frankly, the headline was more enticing than the Girls-Gone-Wild-but-only-on-Peach-Schnapps-and-Appletinis sense you get from the article. I was hoping she was meth freak or something. The New York Times, in dabbling with trash journalism, are being a bit demure, I think. If you're going to do celebrity gossip, attribute "occasional cocaine use" to a "social friend" of the subject. Make it worth the compromise in your standards, please.

Another thing: If you were going to have an intervention, and you could call one celebrity in to help, would it be Donald Trump? Why is he involved here? And what kind of democracy is the Miss Universe contest if he can fire and hire Miss Universes at his leisure because they're doing a bad job? Maybe if all the prior Miss Universes got together and said, "Oh no, sister, do not tarnish our crown!" I could see that, but what does The Donald have to do with this.

And then there's this sad ass shit:

Ms. Conner thanked Mr. Trump, her family and others, and noted that she had made a recent promotional appearance at a Target store. “I have wanted this
since I was 13 years old,” she said.

No wonder she's hitting the bottle. If her dreams do not even permit her to transcend Target openings, why stay sober? It's better to black out, and not dream at all.

Ruminations

Here are some things I am chewing over - like this stale gummi bear in my mouth - before I go to bed:

1. Do you think that's just a persona that Pauly Shore created, to get attention? And that actually he's a pretty mellow, calm and normal-speaking guy? Is he related to some other famous person?

2. My Christmas tree ornament collection has accrued in spurts. 1978 was a big year, so was 2002. One sub-collection I have is of ornaments made by my "crafting" aunt; you can tell which years she hit the sauce before she made the ornaments. 1992-94 and 1996 are definite in that category. They are all little hearts painted with violets. Why do I continue to place these on the back of the tree, rather than in the garbage?

3. 2002 was the year we got married. Brook joked today that we should take our coffee maker on an anniversary vacation with us next year. What other wedding gifts could I bring with us? Maybe I could try to fit in my wedding dress and then wear it every day of the vacation, like Ms. Haversham on holiday.

4. I really need to go to bed. One of these days, I promise I will read or do something that warrants a post that is not a stew of discombobulated thoughts. Til then....

More of What You Want

The Readers are clamoring for more artisanal marshmallows. What are they? You say. And Why didn't Mr. Scobie even notice them at the wedding?

I'll answer the latter question first: He was too busy waving his hands in the air like he just don't care, is why. It was a regular dance party, people, and you know he has to get his groove on.

I don't have much to say about artisanal marshmallows other than "delish" and that they sort of look like tofu from across the dance floor. But others have weighed in, including CandyBlog, Angry Chicken, and AAA (scroll down). Yeah, that triple A, so they aren't really a big secret, it turns out.

Update

Hey, folks, sorry I haven't blogged in awhile. We were in NYC all weekend and before that, I was in panic attack mode for no discernible reason. Here are some disconnected thoughts from over the past week, in no particular order:

1. There were follow-up suggestions to the placenta question, but I had a reader literally call me on the telephone to tell me, "Stop with the placentas." So you're on your own now, research-wise.

2. Here's something you wouldn't think needs repeating, but I will say it anyway: Just because your fanny pack is made out of a really cute material does not make it acceptable. It's still a fanny pack and you look like an idiot when you wear one.

3. I saw a T-shirt that said Slacker on it that I bet cost about $140, and the guy wearing it has never slacked at anything in his life, I am sure. Except possibly self-criticism.

4. Season 4 of The Wire is over.

5. I went to a wedding this weekend that had artisanal marshmallows at the reception. Who knew? Anyhow, they were "delish" (as is my son, per a woman on the flight home).

The Placenta Q & A

Q: How many placentas are out there, getting freezerburn?
A: Isn't one too many?

Q: No, really, how many?
A: Not sure, but possibly a lot.

Q: What does it "say" about the people that live here that they bring their placentas home but then don't eat them?
A: It "says" that they are either (1) smarter than they initially seem or (2) sheep, willingly following the dumbest hippie advice at its first whisper, and then, when the whisper has been carried off by the wind, ashamed enough only to seek anonymous help.

Q: So what's the advice on dealing with a placenta that's been in a freezer too long?
A: It's a real grab bag of stuff you'd expect and one you might not expect.

Q: Are you stalling because this isn't funny anymore?
A: No, I just want you to savor this. And that's not a pun about eating placenta, although that is one thing you can do with it.

Q: What else can you do with it?
A: You can return it to the hospital. You cannot return it the hospital. You can bury it in the park in the dark (where it may grow into Clark, from One Fish Two Fish). You can bury it at an organic farm, or a friend's house, or at your house. And then plant a tree over it, and have the buyers of your house send you a picture of the tree every few years. You can donate it to a high school science teacher. "Science teachers love that stuff!"

Q: Anything else?
A: Yeah, you can just leave it there and forget what it is and every few months, someone in the family can pull it out and everyone groans and gets grossed out and in it goes again. In this case, you just write sympathetic posts to other placenta-keepers. The only OTHER thing to do with it is write a song about it. That sound would have these lyrics:

yeah babe i just gotta tell ya
wanna eat your placenta
it'll make ya feel like a tiger
and looks like brownschweiger...

Which is the best idea yet.

Thomas Avenue Crime Spree

There have been a rash of thefts from the front yards on our block. APB out on the following items:

1. a metal yard chair from the 50's painted purple, fun & whimsical from a front yard

2. two cement "balls" from a porch

3. bonsai tree from a porch

What is the design aesthetic of this thief? And how do we thank him/her?

Up the street, there's an art school, and I have strong suspicion that someone's fall semester final sculpture project will feature a whimsical purple chair, two cement balls and a bonsai tree.