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July 15, 2008

Damn it Clive Owen

Damn it, Clive Owen. I just watched your film "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead." I'm planning a 300 person conference for work, so my free time? Severely curtailed. Spending 102 minutes over the course of two evenings (did I mention the minimal free time?) was an investment of sorts. An investment squandered.

Clive, your clean-shaven face on the DVD promised me the handsome visage I've grown accustomed to watching in superior films like "Children of Men." This? You have a scraggly awful beard. I kept shouting at you, "Shave it off! Please? Shave it!" You obeyed when there were but 10 minutes left in the film. I endured Malcolm MacDowell (ew) and some of the worst dialogue ever for a last minute physical transformation? No.

Damn it, Clive Owen. I know you didn't write the awful script, but when you read it didn't it strike you as a bit stilted? Slow? For a thriller didn't the story seem short on thrills? And I know, I know, it was supposed to be broody. You brooded the hell out of it, really you did. But, um, brooding alone does not make a film. A story usually helps. You know, a story that holds more water than most colanders?

Don't do anything like this again, okay? You deserve better. So do I.

June 20, 2008

Got salt?

Good news!
Mom is out of the hospital!

Turns out the salt levels in her blood were critically low. Salt? Yes, salt. Lack of salt can lead to extreme fatigue and mental confusion, and the longer it goes the worse it gets. Not cool. Seems one of her blood pressure meds was to blame. Oy.

Having spent the first night in the hospital with her I can assure you that hospitals are no place to get any sleep or rest. It's a wonder anyone gets better in those places. I did overhear some amazing (and depressing) stories while there.

The highlight? Aside, of course, from Mom getting well, was using the ear thingy. You know that lighted scope doctors use to look into your ears? For years (truly) I've wanted to use one, but you can't use it on yourself, and I hesitated to ask my doctors if they'd let me look in their ears. For some reason I always suspeted the mere act of asking might lead to a psych consult. Anyway, while Mom reclined on a stretcher I asked if she'd like to indulge my dream. She agreed. Turns out ears look kind of pink and not very interesting. But still...I got to use the ear thingy.

And Mom is well. Huzzah to the nth power.

June 16, 2008

Technical Difficulties

Due to family issues? problems? trials? I've been incommunicado. Trust me when I say that I wish this were not so.
My Mom is quite ill, and so the blog may go without updates for a bit.

But for being such troopers I will share with you a birthday LOLcat that Andres (one of my grad students) made me.

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I got a ton of personalized LOLcats plastered all over my office door and wall. They were amazing and all the participants: Annina, Adam, Karen, Ingeborg, Ellen, Noah, and Andres deserve mad props for the joy they brought me.

Here's hoping Mom gets better and that I'm back in the blogging saddle soon.

June 09, 2008

Coffee!

So despite the MBTA fire problem (just one of many this month) and the fact that I had to walk half of my commute in 90 degree sunshine and despite the fact that I worked until almost 8:00 PM and am still working (writing) I'm not tired! Not remotely. I think I know why.

I had three coffee drinks today. Usually I have one. Today I had three. That's two more than most days. And wow, I'm not sleepy. Not even a little. I'm a little scared that I'll never be sleepy again. Or that coffee will be my gateway drug to dieting pills (don't those have speed or am I remembering my after school specials wrong?) and then to real speed and then to cocaine and then to rehab and then to my triumphant career comeback on Dancing With the Stars. Oh man. That sounds sad.

Maybe I'll just have one coffee tomorrow.

June 01, 2008

Notes to Spammers

I get lots of spam comments on this site, as I'm sure most boggers do. Spammity spam, oh my is there a lot of it! Now most of the spammers are probably looking to make money through links . But maybe, just maybe, they are looking for something more. Perhaps they want a conversation. So, in the spirit of generosity, I'm going to answer their calls into the wilds of Internet. Here goes!

This one begins "Asteropeus discharged they cut". Ah, Homer. This is a classicist amongst spammers. Sadly, the story gets interrupted by a lot of cheap-drug links. To you, dear spammer, I say, "Yes, the cost of prescription medications in this country of ours with poor health care coverage is indeed criminal. You are a pioneer for calling this important issue to my attention. Now that you have done so, return to The Iliad, good sir. May the bloody tale of battle inspire you to continue on in your quest to bring low-cost medicines to the people!"

Then we have "Viagra relaxes muscles and increases blood flow to particular areas of the body." But what areas? And which muscles? Dear spammer, you have left me without crucial information. How can I know if I want this, how you say, Viagra? If you will not tell me more of its promised properties I will have to turn my attention to...."free sexy girl cursors." Huh. Imagine that. Sexy girl cursors. Now if you'd said "sexy girl cursers" I would have told you I'm all full up. Me and my sexy girl posse swear like sailors (when we're not busy sailing). But cursors, huh? That seems...distracting. I think I shall pass.

And that's all the spam I have time for today. My apologies to all those spammers kind enought to contact me that I simply don't have time to respond to with the sort of stabby personal attention I wish I could devote to them.

May 28, 2008

House lust

As a woman I've heard lots about the 'biological clock' that's supposed to be ticking inside me like a bomb. You know what? I've never heard a tick. Not once. Not even when I've been in the presence of uber-cute, precocious babies. Nope. So either my clock is broken or missing or the whole damn idea is a myth. But lately, I've been experiencing something else in a profound must-have, want-now, can't-wait way. House lust.

I want a house. I want a roof and windows and nice wooden floors and a fireplace. Please, please, a fireplace! I'd like a wee yard too because it's hard for me to conceive of 'house' without a bit of land (blame my semi-rural upbringing.) I want to fill the house with furniture I bought and decorate it with colors I like and bake masses of cookies in the kitchen (but not for future children--still no ticking!)

I've been perusing the Sunday Real estate section and browsing Craigslist for properties for sale. I'm getting familiar with the real estate lingo. Cozy=frigging tiny. As is=major work needed. Just gut renovated=expensive. Most of the listings don't stir me from my Goldilocks inspired criticisms. Too small, too big, etc. But occasionally I see one that makes my heart go pitter-patter (and then I remember I have an erratic heart beat so I discount that). But once in every two thousand listings I see one for sale that makes me wish I had money with which to purchase said house. Then I go look at my savings account in the hopes that the money has somehow gotten infused with rabbit-DNA and has begun breeding! (That hasn't happened...yet.)

But until then I have hope and house lust.

May 20, 2008

I'm tired

Damn, I'm sleepy. I could curl up in bed right now, only it's not even 9:00 PM. Long day at work. Oy. Then I came home and ate dinner and watched Jeopardy. The funniest bit was when I yelled, "What is ebony?" when the correct question was "What is ivory?" Damn you Monsieurs McCartney and and Wonder for confusing me!

Next, I tried to read an article about robotics. That didn't go over so well. It had a lot of...words. While generally I'm a crackerjack at the whole reading thing, it seems that exhaustion is able to render me stupid, even in the reading arena. Note to self: don't operate any heavy machinery in the next hour before bedtime.

But I realized I hadn't posted any new material for all five of may faithful readers and I felt guilty. (I majored in guilt with a minor in self-abuse. True story!) And instead of giving you fun stuff to read I'm telling you how tired I am. I just yawned. It's official. I'm boring myself.

Anyway, to reward you for reading this and to keep me from having to type any new thoughts (there aren't any--ha!) I'm going to post some links. Follow them at your peril or leisure or both.

The Office writer and actress Mindy Ephron has a blog called Thing I've Bought that I Love Enjoy!

Winona writes about fashion, but funny. My favorite feature of Daddy Likey is when she polls her three brothers, father and boyfriend on their first impressions of an outrageous fashion item.

I'm semi-addicted to design blogs because they're so fucking pretty. I browse them thinking "that would look lovely in my future home," forgetting that it's hard to fit real furniture into a cardboard fort. Anyway, DesignSponge is just one o fthose blogs I drool over.

Okay, that's three links. I think I'm done here.

May 15, 2008

The Way Back Machine

When I was in fourth grade our teacher read to us from a book called Z for Zacahariah, by Robert C. O'Brien. He also wrote Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Z for Zachariah has nothing to do with rats. What's it about? Um, a post-nuclear war survivor named Ann who is, as far as she knows, the only person alive in the world. So now I remember why I spent much of my childhood waiting for the missiles to blow us up and dust the landscape with deadly radiation. Thanks public school story time! Now here is my therapy bill.

As it turns out, I still remembered the book enough to want to read it again (sort of like picking at a wound ). The book, published in 1974, is no longer in print, but there are copies for sale through second-hand book sellers.

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Here's the cover. You can tell some bad shit is about to go down.

Ann is our sixteen-year-old post-apocalyptic survivor. The novel is told through her journal entries (the style of the prose is a bit sparse for that age and gender, but no matter). Ann has mad skills. She farms, she can shoot a gun, she knows a bit about how to take apart and put back together stoves. Basically she can survive in a world without people (or electricity!)

Allow me to insert a plea here to YA authors of today: please create amazing, strong female characters like Ann. They have existed! They are appealing! Girls AND boys will like them. They don't need magic or credit cards. Okay, end rant.

Ann's less than ideal world grows more complicated when a person dressed in a green plastic radiation suit approaches. Suddenly she's no longer alone in the world. But surprise! That's not necessarily a good thing. Mr. Loomis, Adam to Ann's Eve, is a scientist who happens to be a bit of a control freak. He also thinks that novels are frivolous (novel haters=the evil). He tries to molest Ann. Again, why did they choose to read this to us in fourth grade? Had we been acting up? Okay, so the attempted assault scene is brief, but um, fourth grade....Hell, reading it now still gives me the jibblies.

Ann, however, proves a fearsome contender. She didn't survive for over a year on her own because a house elf was helping her. Ann is terrific because while she's practical and clever, she's also vulnerable and has dreams that she realizes will not come to pass given her situation.

Here's a sample paragraph:
And I thought: what would it be like, ten years from now, to be up here gathering greens some morning with children of my own? But that made me feel lonesome for my mother, a feeling I have tried hard to avoid. So I stood up to change the subject. I got out my pocketknife and cut a bunch of apple blossoms.

Damn I love that sentence, "So I stood up to change the subject." I can't tell you how much I wished I'd written it.

If you're less than terrified by post-nuclear scenarios and you're older than ten, consider reading this book. It's the sort of thing you'll remember two decades later.

May 06, 2008

Pet peeve, the first

People who use the term "quarter life crisis."

Most of time they are referring to someone who is age twenty-five having a crisis. That's a quarter century crisis, friend. We're not all going to live to be 100 years old.

This also seems to be a way of making it possible to have a crisis prior to a mid-life crisis. How many crises do you want to have, people? I'll happily settle for one.

May 05, 2008

Notes from a morning commute

Overhearing a person talk about her new diet (into her cell phone, naturally): not so interesting. Listening to someone talk about all the food they cannot eat makes me want to run across the parking lot of Porter Square, into Dunkin Donuts, and stuff a donut into my mouth. Really. The mere concept of food deprivation gives me carb cravings.

April 21, 2008

Happy Patriots' Day!

Today is Patriots' Day here in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts (also in Maine and--oddly-- observed as a public school holiday in Wisconsin). Patriots' Day is celebrated with obscenely early-hour reenactments of the first battles of the American Revolution in Lexington and Concord. It's also the day the Boston marathon is run now. It's a day off from work few other people have, so it feels special. Today, to celebrate the consistent warmth of the past week I'm taking the insulating caulk and plastic off the house's windows. Nothing like fresh air! Of course, every year when this happens I expect a cold snap, just to teach me not to expect spring to show up anytime before mid-May. We New Englanders are a cautious lot when it comes to weather.

I have the day off from MIT. I think I might go for a walk later, but for now I think I'll do a bit of writing. Nothing affords the chance the get work done like a day off!

April 18, 2008

On cats and engineers

I like cats. I don't happen to own one in part because the landlord says I can't and in part because my current level of pet commitment is fishsitting. But I like cats. I've had kitties as pets in the past and what everyone says about them stealing your breath and hating you and being less than stellar pets is a pack of filthy lies. But I think dogs tend to be a little easy with their love, so go figure.

I also like engineers. Probably because I'm surrounded by them and they've worn down my defenses over time (clever engineers!) But also because many of them are funny, smart people who can solder something for you if you need something soldered.

So today I found 'An Engineer's Guide to Cats.' Huzzah!

The video is a bit long, but the cat 'art construction' at around the 3.00 mark is well worth the wait.

March 28, 2008

Bitches need not apply

To the woman who brings her dog into the ladies' room at work,

Knock it off! That is no seeing eye dog and thus has no place sniffing at my stall door. You dig? It's not restful to find a canine in my bathroom. I'm pretty sure Emily Post has my back on this.

Teed off,
Stephanie

I'm thinking of posting a sign on the door. Maybe, "Must have two legs or fewer to enter this space" or "No Bitches," though I'm guessing the latter might get me sent to Human Resources for a chat.

March 26, 2008

Saddle sore

I'm back, and I am saddle sore. Riding a Clydesdale and then spending six hours the next day confined to a plane seat is a recipe for sore thighs, friends. Don't say I never taught you anything.

So riding a Clydesdale horse through a beautiful canyon was definitely a highlight of my LA trip. Others included the weather (sun! heat!) the smell of the air (ocean! jasmine!) and the places we visited. The Gamble House in Pasadena was extraordinary. If I thought I could have succeeded in obtaining squatter's rights, by gum I would have tried. The Getty was lovely, though I was underwhelmed by the Getty Villa. I would have happily spent a month exploring Huntington Gardens. Even the books I brought to read during the journey were beyond the usual enjoyment. Paul Auster's The New York Trilogy? Oh, man. The intro to City of Glass had my arm hairs all on end.

All in all, an amazing trip to a part of the country I'd never been before, and that I enjoyed far more than I'd anticipated. Now, I just have to adjust back to cold temperatures and overcast skies. Boo hoo.

March 16, 2008

Easter

Easter is coming! Easter! Unlike Valentine's Day, I feel warm and fuzzy toward Easter. Not because it's more legitimate or anything. Not at all. But because it involves adorable baby animals and candy. What's that you say? Something about Christ rising from the dead? Yeah, that's not why I love Easter. Baby bunnies! And the success of advertising!

Truly, Easter reminds me of two things. The ad for Cadbury eggs that had a clucking bunny "laying" candy eggs and the jingle about brown eggs that played, as I recall, constantly throughout my childhood. The jingle went "brown eggs are local eggs and local eggs are fresh!" It doesn't sound like much, but trust me it was catchier than most STDs. Anyhoo, the brown eggs thing always comes up around Easter because growing up I only ever ate brown eggs. The local brown egg marketers had some amazing stranglehold on this part of the country. So, as a consequence, I thought white eggs only existed around Easter and were some sort of 'special' egg. Truth was, if you didn't buy your white eggs in a timely fashion then you were screwed because brown eggs may be local and fresh but they do not dye well. And dyeing eggs is part of the holy Easter experience.

So yes, to sum up. I thought white eggs were only produced in late March or early April. I am a sucker for candy and baby animals (and oddly, pastels, at this time of year). And I will be dyeing special eggs sometime soon! But not eating them afterward. Fresh or no, I don't much like eggs (unless they're chocolate).

March 12, 2008

Plague

I have the plague.
Sore throat, achy, no longer reliable sense of temperature, ouchy lower back and my eyes hurt too.
Did I mention the exhaustion and stupidity? The part of my brain that remembers words or concepts has been sacrificed. For what? Fuel? Its white blood cells? Dunno. Just know that I need to go back to bed now. I've been awake a whole half hour and am thus wiped out.
I hate being sick. Expect more posts after this plague passes and let's hope it's fast-acting plague, shall we?

March 09, 2008

So bad it's good

I love to read. Ever since I mastered the whole phonetics thing and basic reading I was good to go. Rarely since has a day passed since then that I haven't been involved in reading. Except when I'm reaching the end of my first drafts, as you know. Well, this weekend I'll confess that after editing a lot of chapters and a 72 page story for a fellow writer I didn't have it in me to read. It sounded too much like work. Instead, I plopped myself down on the sofa and engaged in that most noble of exercises: channel surfing. Last night the cable gods offered me little satisfaction, but today, praise heaven, they gave me just what I wanted.

The Wicker Man. Specifically the 2006 remake starring Nicholas Cage. Sweet manna, was the movie terrible. I loved it. I only saw the last 40 minutes, and I think it best. After all, I got to see this scene:

Nicholas Cage, in bear suit, punching a woman in the face. Oh, cruel Academy for overlooking the subtle art evinced in this scene! (The music in the video is obviously not the same as in the real film clip.)

I spent most of my viewing time muttering, "This is horrible! He just keeps yelling his lines! God, it's awesome!" Sometimes, when one has been wandering the lush gardens of prose, one needs a chaser of Hollywood schlock. Palette cleansing! By the time the movie concluded I felt as though my brain had returned from vacation. Thank you, director Neil LaBute. Some might have argued the 1973 version didn't need a remake, but you, kind sir, boldly ignored that advice and created this masterpiece that shows what can happen when ladies run a society. (Seriously, what woman turned LaBute into public misogynist #1?)

I'm reading again. I feel up to it, and honestly I'm not sure it could endure another masterpiece like The Wicker Man.

February 22, 2008

Enviable grace replaced with not-so-enviable clumsiness

Hey all, do you remember when reviews of My Summer of Southern Discomfort first came out? No? It wasn't quite the thrilling event on par with say the day you got a free slurpee? Fine. That's okay. I remember. I especially remember the Booklist review because it said I had rendered my main character's problems with "enviable grace." This was at the forefront of my mind last night when I found myself stuck half-in, half-out of my bookcase. The other half was stuck on a stability ball.

Picture of stability ball:
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Looks pretty harmless, no?

I was trying to perform a side crunch. My hands were on the floor, in push up position, my belly was on the ball and I was twisting my legs to the side, when I rolled and got my feet and legs stuck in the lower shelf of my bookshelf. A lot of thoughts went through my mind, "How do I fix this? I hope my books are okay! I can't believe I'm stuck. I can totally believe I'm stuck. Oh hell, I have no leverage. How do I get unstuck?"

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This woman loves her ball. It has never tried to kill her.

I started laughing and then calling "Help" in a very small voice because I didn't want anyone to find me in that position. Not to mention, there wasn't much anyone could do for me. Eventually I had to settle on gently falling off the ball to the other, non-bookshelf side.

You know what? After that fitness fiasco, I have to say my editing went well last night. Perhaps my writing's grace is inversely proportional to my physical grace. In which case I say, "Bring on the bruises!" It's all about the writing, sugar. I'm willing to take a few hits for my art.

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Objects d' torture? Or aides to art?

February 16, 2008

Men's clothing: part the coats

Today the very handsome boyfriend and I went shopping at the bigger-than-most-towns Natick Collection. (Seriously, place is huge.) We were inside Macy's when I made a beeline to the men's coats, which puzzled the vhb. I told him I was looking for him because his handsome winter wool coat had several holes, courtesy of hungry moths. But as I surveyed the racks I realized something crucial: men's winter coats are boring. Good god, the monotony. Gray, gray, black, gray coats with three buttons.

"They're like blankets with buttons!" I cried in despair. Where was the variety? The frippery? The interestingness that continues to make me adore (and buy) winter coats.

"Most men's clothes are blankets with buttons," the vhb said.

"That's tragic." And it is. So take note designers of men's clothes. You can design a handsome jacket and still make it look better than a blanket with buttons. In fact, I challenge you to do so. And if you can make it resistant or offensive to moths, so much the better!

February 13, 2008

An Open Letter to Valentine's Day

Dear Valentine's Day,

Please go away. Please? Look, I enjoyed you once, long ago. When I was in elementary school and celebrating you involved cutting out construction paper hearts and adding glitter. It was nice to stuff cards into the little envelopes set up in front of everyone's school desk, fun to see what creative interpretation everyone put on you. (Though I have no doubt, this involving elementary school children, that insults were exchanged and tears shed out of class). But since those days, I admit, my attitude toward you has changed. I don't like you.

I curse when my email inbox is filled with last minute exhortations to buy roses or chocolates or anything for my sweetie (you assume I have one and that he wants such things). I have a strong desire to sweep my arm through the oh-so-red-and-white display at my local drugstore, knocking items onto the floor, spilling forth candies from your gaudy beribboned hearts for the single, engaged, and married alike to consume.

They've managed to attach chocolate to you as a lure, but you know what? The genius fuckwits of holiday marketing have decided to begin deploying Easter candy insanely early this year, so I can turn a blind eye to your rather red-light charms and select a bag of mini-Cadbury eggs. You know I always prefer bunnies to armed, naked cherubs.

I'm tired of your gender-specific assumptions that women demand jewelry or roses as tokens of love on a day chosen by advertisers to push more of this merchandise. You know what? I'm not a big fan of roses (not the red ones, especially). And you can keep your frickin' tennis bracelet. What I want is your absence. Go away, Valentine's Day. Go away. And take those creepy naked babies with the crossbows with you.

Goodbye,
Stephanie

February 12, 2008

Mornings

I was out of my bed at 6:30 AM this morning. I do not intend to repeat that action for quite some time, as I am a cranky person before 8:00 AM. I'm actually cranky after 8:00 AM but the levels of hatitude/whininess drop.

Observations: Not a lot of people on the road at 7:00 AM though at 7:25 it is a zoo, especially near the school by my house. Which reminds me: parents who park your giant ass SUVs at the end of the drive so that I have to step into busy traffic in the early morning: I hate you. Oh, and you're a terrible role model. Also, it's quieter at 7:00. That I like. But it's darker, which doesn't help my internal clock much. And it looks like the only time of day that my grocery store is not full unto bursting with people.

Tomorrow I am going to sleep until 7:50 AM as usual and Heaven help him if the teenage boy downstairs wakes me up before it's time to go-go. Honestly, how hard does he have to slam his dresser drawers to get them to close?

Thus concludes today's cranky update.

February 05, 2008

Fitness

I did something recently I've never done before. No, not that. Get your minds out of the gutters, y'all. Honestly. I joined a gym. It's not that I'd never considered it in the past but usually two things stopped me: 1. The idea of working out around other people and 2. The whole paying money thing. But my wallet and my lone-wolf ways have taken the hit and I have learned several valuable things since joining my gym.

The bicycle program will not start until you pedal. Oops. I assumed you programmed it before pedaling. I was wrong. Working out in the afternoon doesn't give you more energy. At all. In fact, since my new workout routine began I return to the office looking wet and exhausted. It's not so much post-workout hair that I mind (though someone pointed this out to me) but the exhaustion. After my workout and lunch I just want to sleep for several hours. And I can't because I have work to do. However my new routine does insure that when I get home I have more time than I used to have to do things like writing and watching The Wire (I finished Season Three) and reading and eating ten times the amount of calories I burned at the gym.

And please someone tell me that the calorie counter on that bicycle was broken today because I pedaled fast and hard and my calves hurt and according to that machine I burned as many calories as are in half my Kashi bar. And I never eat just half. Wouldn't be polite.

January 30, 2008

Making lemonade

I had a bad day yesterday. A very bad day. Someday I'll tell you why it was bad but not today. Today I'm going to tell you how to survive a very bad day. These tools may help you in the event of a painful breakup, unexpected baldness, or post-apocalyptic survival in which you discover your only companion for the rest of your days is David Spade.

When life hands you lemons, add these to the mix:

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Pandas. No matter how bad the day, knowing that evolution gave you pandas to enjoy makes the world a slightly less hellish place.

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Bret and Jemaine will make you laugh through those tears! Especially if you listen to "I'm not crying" in which Bret sings, "I'm not crying. I've just been cutting onions. I'm making a lasagna...for one." It's the delivery. Genius.

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Rereading old books you adored as a kid. My pick was Beverly Cleary's Fifteen. Holy Moses, how I loved that book and pitied poor Jane because I thought her last name, Purdy, was awful. And the clothes that she hated (Peter Pan collars?) sounded so fascinating! Plus, this book totally prepared me for Macbeth, with a Birnham Woods advancing reference when Jane brings her too big bouquet to Stan at the hospital post-appendix operation. Though I hate the new cover they gave the book. The cover pictured is the one I had. Now it's an illustration of a milkshake. Feh.

I must give props to the ladies at Jezebel for turning me on to revisiting old books. They have a feature called
"Fine Lines" penned by Lizzie Skurnick that revisits classics such as Then Again Maybe I Won't by Judy Blume. The book that taught me about puberty in teenage boys. (Man did I feel badly for boys after this--wet dreams? Uncontrollable boners? Eww!)

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Rosie's Bakery. When life is bad, cupcakes are good. Hell, when life is good cupcakes are good. Mine had bits of Heath bar atop the chocolate frosting. Yum.

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South Park. If laughter is the best medicine, then these guys dosed me. The episode I watched featured a boxing match between Jesus and Satan. Good stuff.

I hope all of you are having fanfreakingtastic days and don't need any of the above-listed tools to keep you from drinking liquor. I mean more liquor. I mean...enjoy!

January 22, 2008

Baby it's cold outside

I just took a peek at my favorite source of weather information: wunderground, to see what tomorrow has in store for me. I like to set out the clothes I intend to wear to work tomorrow on my chair the night before. This happens about 30 percent of the time. I said I like to do it; I didn't say my attempts ever make it past the thinking stage. Anyhoo, I see that tomorrow is forecast to be cooler than today (wunderground is always anxious to tell you whether tomorrow will be hotter, cooler or nearly the same as yesterday--would that all parts of my days could be this predictable). It's going to keep getting cooler until Saturday when the predicted high temperature is 37 degrees. A number, that, when I first saw it, made me exclaim, "Now that's what I'm talking about!" It's sad what will excite me in the dead of January in New England. As for tomorrow's outfit I'm thinking pants and a sweater, just as I've been thinking every day since November began (except for that freaky warm stretch around Thanksgiving when I might have worn a long sleeved shirt instead of a sweater).

Hey, Global Warming, want to help a sister out? Yes, yes, I know you'll want something in return, like the sustainability of my planet. You're so greedy that way.

January 20, 2008

Miracles happen! (Sort of)

The very handsome boyfriend and I recently traveled...to Connecticut. We visited the Mystic Aquarium where we saw lots of things including the inside of a beluga whale's mouth. I have to say, I found the arrangement of its teeth surprising: two vertical, parallel rows. We also visited the Submarine Museum. Oh boy. Was the very handsome boyfriend excited about going inside a submarine! Though he later admitted, "I forget I get claustrophobic until I'm inside a small, cramped space." The thing I love about submarines is how they maximize space, which, I believe, is the very thing I would hate about a submarine were I ever forced to live in one. I mean, six bunks in a space smaller than most closets? No thanks.

But perhaps the most amazing thing to happen during our trip was at the least expected place: Saks Fifth Avenue Outlet. While I was browsing the dress rack I found it: the red silk Marc Jacobs dress I had been coveting for over a year. Periodically I would look online to see if it had been discounted by 90 percent. Sadly, that never happened. But here was the dress. Before me! In my size! Deeply discounted (though not by 90 percent). I grabbed it and ran to the boyfriend, exclaiming, "Jesus is real!"

Here's a picture of said Jesus-is-real-proof dress.
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The very handsome boyfriend, once he got over the fact that I'd been stalking a dress online for over a year, agreed that this was exciting. He shooed me toward the fitting room where I discovered that the dress of my dreams didn't flatter me. It made my breasts look like pudding, and while I like pudding I don't want to resemble it. Then I had a time getting the fitted dress back over said breasts. Not fun. So then I decided that if Jesus is real he's got a mean streak or a funny sense of humor. Either way, I no longer need to stalk that dress. Thanks Connecticut!

January 13, 2008

Five things you may not know

I was watching a few YouTube videos recently featuring folks I like (including YA author Maureen Johnson) who spoke about five things that are unique or less well about themselves. And I'm too damn lazy to think of a good topic for today's blog, so I'm going to steal the topic.

1. For someone who injures herself routinely, I have a real lack of broken bones. In fact, I think the only thing I've "broken" was my little toe, two years ago. I stubbed it on a coffee table. When the doctor looked at my foot, he said, "Coffee table?" before I'd said anything. He explained, "About ninety percent of these injuries wouldn't exist if we didn't own coffee tables." So, in the interests of saving you, my readers, I share this. Avoid coffee tables! They just want to break your feet.

2. I used to have a sizable gap between my front teeth. A little less than say Lauren Hutton, but sizable. My dentist told me throughout childhood that when I was a teenager my wisdom teeth would show up and push my front teeth together. So I waited and waited and waited. Nothing. My wisdom teeth didn't show up in my teens or my early twenties. Finally, at age twenty-five they were erupting and I looked in the mirror and realized my gap was almost gone! It was sort of freaky, to have something there no longer be there. Now I have no gap at all. And I can get food stuck in my front teeth, which still fells really novel and annoying.

3. I didn't have many young girls in my neighborhood so I grew up playing with boys, boys who had no qualms about tackling girls during football games. As a result, I learned to throw a mean spiral curve and I thought girls who thought boys "played rough" were sissies.

4. For many years I wanted to be an astronomer. I watched stars at night and learned the constellations names. I knew a girl who went to Space Camp the summer after sixth grade. I was so jealous. Space Camp! I got worried about my astronomy prospects when I began failing Calculus, so I stopped saying I was going to be an astronomer or thinking I would be one. I still try to catch the Perseid meteor showers each summer, but it's tough living in a light polluted city.

5. When I was young I didn't believe adults when they'd say things like "It's safer to be inside a car during a lightning storm" or "You create more heat waving a fan in front of yourself than you would if you'd just sit still" (an old teachers' standby). Because I felt safer inside my house, and I felt cooler with a little breeze on my face. So you know what? While technically I concede their points, I'm still standing by my arguments. Aren't safety and coolness perceived anyway (or can be)? Yup. Still arguing.

January 11, 2008

That girl is poison...

Dear Shape Magazine,

In this month's issue of Shape you solicited reader feedback. Well, here it is!
One of your tips on how to look your best was: Botox before wrinkles! You say that if we, your readers, start injecting Botulinium Toxin into our face before wrinkles begin we can stop them. See, injecting Botox makes your face freeze, for all intents and purposes. You can't smile or frown. Therefore, you're preventing wrinkles with facial paralysis. Only, see, here's the thing. I LIKE smiling. I even like frowning. I appreciate that people around me can interpret my facial expression as an indicator to my mood. I don't like the idea of not being able to move my muscles.

Also, I have some startling information for you. Whether your face is smooth as Silly Putty or wrinkled like a Shar-Pei, you are still going to age and die. Really. You can have a face that looks twenty years younger than your age but that will not save you. Nothing will. Just thought you should know.

Also? I am frowning at you right NOW. Can you see it? Good.

Stephanie

January 09, 2008

Totes Environmental

I hate plastic shopping bags every major supermarket and drugstore hands you. Hate them. Not just because they are environmental destroyers but because they suck. If they're weighted down with anything heavier than one pound they bite into your skin as you carry them so you have a red, angry groove on your hand when you get home. I try to bring a tote bag with me when I go shopping, but when I'm coming straight from work I don't have it on me and it doesn't pan out. Until now!!!

Introducing, Envirosax!!!

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My bag looks a bit like this, but is not this one. I couldn't find a picture of mine. This tote is awesome because if you're not using it you can fold it up into a wee bundle the size of, um...a pack of smokes? Yeah, about that size. And unfolded it holds some serious goods. I carried groceries,a magazine, and a book home in it last night. Plus the bag itself is so lightweight that it doesn't add to the weight of your good. Unlike my beautiful red leather bag.

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I love it, but man alive will this bag misalign your shoulders after heavy usage. (It would probably help if I carried less junk, but that's another issue for another day.)

Anyway, the point is when you're not using the Envirosax you can carry with you: in a pocket, in another bag, in the crotch of your pants if you like to stuff and I'm not saying you do.Then when you need said bag you unfurl it like a banner to your environmental righteousness and use! Chicks love that. I swear. Just don't let them see you reaching into your pants to retrieve it.

January 07, 2008

My Sports Franchise

I have the best idea for a new sports team. It all started when I first ran across the name Mehitable. Not a name you see often these days, but it enjoyed use, if not popularity, several centuries ago. I am crazy for it. Ma-hit-able. Awesome. So. The idea is this: start a WNBA franchise called the Formidable Mehitables. Our logo will be the woodcut profile of a seventeenth century woman. I can envision our championship banners now.

Any investors?

December 18, 2007

All I want for Christmas...

is not my two front teeth, though there was, in fact, a holiday season when I was sans two front teeth. I'd say it was adorable, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. What's cute about a gaping hole in your mouth where your teeth should be? Ick.

Anyway, the other day my mother pointed out that I hadn't made a gift list. So savvy me turned the tables by saying, "You didn't ask for one this year." But she trumped me with some mother's guilt, for the win.

So this blog post is for you Mom. Though I honestly meant it when I said I didn't need anything. The items below should prove that.

Here's the book I mentioned, of animal photographs.

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I also want a solar jar. I told Lesley this but then she asked me what size top I wear, so I'm sort of doubting she bought me one. You can order this through RedEnvelope. Their phone number is 1-877-733-3683 because I know you don't shop online. Ever.

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It's on sale for $32.00. And yes, it's a jar that captures solar energy and then glows. I told you I didn't need anything.

What else? I like fancy ass cocoa. In fact, I have a hard time drinking less-than-stellar cocoa. What's best, though, is that your darling daughter will corrupt a $6.00 cup of fancy ass cocoa with Fluff if you let her. Awww, remember how Lesley and I used to climb the kitchen counters to eat Fluff straight from the container and it made a mallowy ring 'round our cherubic mouths? Yeah, we were adorable.

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So fancy ass cocoa from Vosges would be good. Their phone # is 888-301-9866. Really, anything from there is fine except white chocolate. Bleh. White chocolate isn't even chocolate. (Tell that to my Philistine sister, Lesley. Remember how she always wanted the white chocolate bunny at Easter? Gross.)

Oh dear, that image isn't very large. The cocoa pictured is La Parisienne Couture Cocoa. I know how you like to speak French. See how generous I am? Giving you a chance to parlez-vous francais.

Yes, truly, never was there a more loving daughter. You should probably buy me all of these things. Or. Better yet? On Christmas take all the gifts with Lesley's name on them and give them to me and say, "Here. I think you deserve these more." That would be hilarious, and priceless. Not that I want her gifts or anything. I mean, she likes white chocolate. Ewww.

December 15, 2007

Off to see a man about a turducken

Hello friends!
I'm getting ready to attend a holiday party at which I will finally witness the glory of a turducken incarnate. My friend Cheryl's husband, Chris, actually deboned all the birds himself and sewed them back up with stuffing. A chicken inside a duck inside a turkey. The very handsome boyfriend is very, very excited. He's been talking of creating a turducken for years and I've been doing my best to rain on that particular parade. Just the idea of handling all that animal flesh gives me the squicks. But the boyfriend persists in his desire, and, I'm afraid after tonight I may not be able to check his turducken desires. Unless Chris tells him it was godawful to create. Hmmmmmm....I bet Chris isn't immune to bribery.

In fact, when I first mentioned that Chris would create a turducken for this party here's the conversation that ensued between me and the very handsome boyfriend.

VH Boyfriend: If Chris gets to make a turducken, so do I!
Me: Ummmmm.....
VH Boyfriend: I mean, Chris cut open his leg with a chainsaw!
Me: You see how that comparison doesn't work in favor of your argument?
VH Boyfriend: Right. Well. I want to make a turducken!
Me: (mumbling through drink)
VH Boyfriend: What?
Me: I want a pony.


December 14, 2007

Where is the Middle East?

My geographic knowledge is laughable. My public school education required no geography curriculum. How I wish it had! I break out in a sweat if confronted by a "Where is that country (or state) located?" question.

So when I tumbled across this learning tool I was intrigued. It's a puzzle map of the Middle East (and more). You click and drag the name of the country to the spot you think it belongs. You get a bong sound when wrong and a happy noise when correct. The puzzle aspect helped me by engaging me more than staring at a map would. For all of you with similar geographical shortcomings who would like to know more about the region of the world from which many a news story is generating, try it out.

December 12, 2007

The Internet

I never get tired of watching this.
Gabe and Max's How to Get the Dreamlife of Your Dreams Using the Internet.

Bing bong! You've got emails!

December 10, 2007

Open Letter to RCN

Dear RCN,

Here's a thought. When I press the button on the automated menu that sends me into the "my internet is not working at all" section could you disable the phone message that keeps telling me all the options available to me using rcn.com? Because, you see, as I just told you, me internet is down. Not working. Incommunicado. Got it? So a message in my ear every thirty seconds extolling the virtues of your website is not what I want to hear. Nor do I want some employee in Bangalore telling me to recycle the power to my modem (did that) or plug in an ethernet cable to the modem (after I had explained all of the computers weren't working, not just mine). When both my cable tv and internet are down it's clearly the RCN connection, no? Oh, and thanks for not coming to my house until tomorrow. Really, that's swell.

Hoping you choke on holiday cheer,
Stephanie

December 03, 2007

How did I miss this????

I was inside a Williams-Sonoma store yesterday, fondling the baking supplies and somehow I missed this:

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How? How did my donut radar miss this? At $49.95 it's a good deal cheaper than the Sky Mall maker.
Ohhhhh, it's an Internet/catalog item only. That's how I missed it.

Well, it's on my radar now.

November 21, 2007

Great gift ideas: part the third

Usually, while browsing the Sky Mall catalogue during flights I am struck by the extreme crapiness and craziness of the merchandise. Usually. But ummm, this may have made me a convert. Ladies and gents I present to you the Dough-Nu-Matic!

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It makes mini-donuts!!!! In less than a minute. Ack.

I I have a strong supposition someone is flying in an airplane in the skies above me now, leafing through the Sky Mall catalogue, saying, "Who needs a mini-donut maker? That's ridiculous." And to that person I say, "Me and Homer Simpson."

November 06, 2007

Great gift ideas: part the second

If, like me, you live in a century old home with inadequate heating you spend much of winter fantasizing about being warmer. Some of that time might be spent on the couch, covered by a blanket that's not quite large or warm enough but which you're truly reluctant to relinquish when say nature calls or you need a cupcake from the kitchen. (When DON"T I need a cupcake from the kitchen?)

Fear not friends! For there is now the Slanket! As described on the product's site the Slanket is "a gigantic fleece blanket with sleeves."

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Attractive? Hell to the no! Comfy? No doubt. Oddly, this represents almost exactly what Tracey was describing some months ago when she was thinking of the "perfect" winter body warmer. There may be one in her future.

If, like me, you have "ice hands" come winter, hands you have to warn people about before you shake theirs and they still yell, "My God! It's like you're dead!" when they touch yours, well, I'm sorry. But also: gift idea! This one's been around longer than the Slanket, and has a similar name: the Smitten. It's a mitten for two!

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See? It kind of looks like a heart. But no matter. You put one hand in and your honey or friend or very obliging stranger puts a hand in and screams, "Dear God! Your hands are like icicles!" But now you have their warm hand next to yours! You win! Huzzah!

To round out my trifecta of winter gifts I have the Rick Owens Lilies Padded Funnel Neck Coat. I know, it doesn't have a ridiculous name that begins with an "S." Sorry! And it's not funny looking. It's bee-yoo-ti-full.

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This image doesn't do it justice. Trust me, it's gorgeous. And as a coat connoisseur (or addict) I am in the know.
At 520 pounds sterling it's pricey, but did I mention how pretty it is and how it's made of an angora/cashmere
blend (ooh, soft)? And how stunning I'd look inside it? I know how to work a winter coat!

So there you have it, more gift ideas perfect for the cold-as-the-undead friend/family member/author you all love.

October 31, 2007

Writers' blogs

Many days, when I should be writing or blogging I find myself reading other writers' blogs. It's a whole lot easier, plus entertaining and informative!

Here are some writers' blogs I enjoy. You may too.

Maureen Johnson, YA authorwho pines for a pink taser.

Meg Cabot, another YA author who has a wee obsession with my former boss, genius Marilyn vos Savant.

Tess Gerritsen, bestselling thriller and mystery author who I keep missing at local readings (damn it!)

John Connolly , mystery, thriller, fairy story author who has prompted in me book cover envy (see the cover for The Book of Lost Things--awesome, no?)

I like these blogs because they're often funny (especially the first two) and they impart writerly advice, wisdom, or just in-the-trenches tales to which I can relate. Maureen provides beautiful photos of Cary Grant regularly, which I appreciate. Plus she has a pet stuffed monkey. And Tess just dropped a tip the other day on how to check out how many copies of your book your local Borders has ordered (useful!)


October 29, 2007

From the Department of Misheard Lyrics

I always thought Jamiroquai was singing "I've got candy in my heels." It sounded like fun. Apparently he has "canned heat" in his heels. Oops.

You know, I think I'd still prefer candy. Canned heat sounds as though it might be a euphemism for athlete's foot.

October 23, 2007

Dear Kashi

Dear Kashi Bar makers,

First, let me say, thank you for making a product I enjoy that appears to be good for me. It gives me protein, which is great, because although I am not a vegetarian I often live like one. I prefer to let other handle my dead animals and cook it for me. So yes, protein, good. And fiber. They say you need fiber. And chocolate chips. You managed to include chocolate chips into my healthy snack. Well done.

Your portable treats have also made it possible for me to make it to the next meal without killing someone and I think I can say that my companions during those low blood sugar moments appreciate your product too.

Ahem. HOWEVER. Today's bite into my Chewy Cherry Dark Chocolate bar met with a sharp cracking noise and a horrifying moment of resistance in which I thought I'd broken my molar (or a piece of it.) Those seconds spent very carefully moving the half masticated granola bits about in my mouth were truly fearful. I didn't want to swallow tooth bits. Moreover, I didn't want to visit the dentist. As I gingerly spat the remains of the bar into a tissue and poked around said bits (yes, yes, ewwww) I looked for tooth. Remarkable how sesame bits and granola look like tooth.

Kindly fate seems to be on my side (except for the horrifying snake nightmare I had this morning and oh, yeah, tooth scare thing). No broken bits of tooth.

But, in the future, could you ease up on the crunchiness?

Sincerely,
Stephanie Gayle