other pages that are fun
Angela's Pita
Chris's Pita
UnknownNews
rule4080
more good stuff
ad critic
the hunger site
Thursday, August 31, 2000
5:25 pm i know, i suck for not updating sooner. but things get in the way...like work. isn't that awful? i'll try harder tomorrow and ever after.
i'm all psyched because the real world is coming back to nyc. and i really think it's gonna be in harlem, baby. as a soha resident, i say shun those damn downtown yuppies (yeah, you know who you are, even if you refuse to believe you're that) and go uptown. plus, maybe i'll finally try out like i've been saying i'm going to for years.
i love that people are still so shocked by susan's tirade. it just cracks me up. what did you expect though? she's a friggin Wisconsin trucker. but it's no surprise to me that she later apologized, sent a letter, and now is even contributing a dollar to Kelly's Send-A-Buck Fund. i wanted her to win, but i find it so silly that people are starting a fundraiser for this girl. hello....people are more motivated to give some employed former criminal $1 million than to donate the same amount to end world hunger or find a cure for cancer or AIDS. this world is damn crazy.
all this stuff going on in zimbabwe today. looky here: the finance minister fesses up that the country can't afford to fight in the congo. Plus: the government cans the editors of the two leading papers. they say it's because their circulation has dropped so much. no duh. maybe because the people aren't buying their propaganda bullshit. mugabe sucks, man.
yay! could it be? talking dolphins? maybe someday.
i knew it: people do sense pheromones! okay, that's not exactly what that article says, but close. i mean, they're hot on the trail of the pheromone mystery, i swear. but the fact is, i often smell certain nasty scents from people who turn me off. that's why i wear vanilla oil--to jam people's pheromone radar. because the fact is, no one can resist the smell of baking cookies, even if something else is telling them to be unattracted. ker, maybe this is somehow tied to the whole mint-repulsion thing. maybe mint doesn't hide or enhance pheromones very well, but rather blends with them and comes off smelling something nasty. maybe that's why it's supposed to turn guys away.
here it is, my new favorite magazine: offspring. it's written by the same folks as smart money, my other favorite magazine. what's happening to me? am i just becoming practical in my old age? no, no, no. they're actually entertaining and smart. and sassy even. what do ya know.
how can you not love disgruntled housewife's "the dick list." it cracks me up that women can get on there and just totally bitch about guys who have loved them and left them, or who are just outright dicks. and each entry is there for all to read. and believe me, there apparently are plenty of dicks in this world. aren't you shocked? who woulda thunk? wow. blew me away. okay, i'll shut up now.
tonight's a movie night...maybe. i'm hoping to see "steal this movie." does anybody else know who abbie hoffman is? i feel like absolutely nobody knows...unless you lived in the '60s. i guess i'm just a big radical. yippie.
hey, time to archive tomorrow...finally.
Wednesday, August 30, 2000
11:10 am plenty of news surfing this morning, so you folks who get so happy when i do the work for you and filter filter filter will be elated.
this piece about how some silly high school wanted to make their yearbook super millenial by adding dot-com to its letters and titling the yearbook just that, learned the hard way that ya gotta do some research to see if such a site happens to already exists. um, yeah, it's a french porn site. ha ha.
those damn scooters that little rodential children are always nearly running me over with in the park and on sidewalks may be on their way out of trendiness. i never did understand what their point was anyway. they just seem like a whole lotta noise (if they're motorized) or a whole lotta effort (if they're not) for such little added speed.
i'm quite sad that this writer thinks web journalism is going the way of the dinosaurs. sure it's "too elitist and too complicated for users to access to attract the national advertiser" but damn it, i like it. hell, i still have hope that people will turn to their computers more for entertainment, news, and intellectual stimilulation. i guess that's why i'm still here....
i just discovered the pigdog journal today, and i must say that i was rather impressed and instantly attracted to the (brief) article about prince's goofiness-turned-righteousness, as he now defends napster on his website and dubs the entire recording industry "intellectual slavery." prince is just so misunderstood. i mean, the whole "my name, a symbol" thing: was it because of the contract? will we ever really know? does anyone besides me and holly care about this?
so richard was on the today show again this morning, acting like he's all buddy buddy with matt. "how goes it?" he said. puhlease. he's so gross, trying to be an biz insider one week after winning $1 million. and now he says he's investigating film and tv offers. and inside>/a> does not need to be encouraging him, as it does in this piece. man, get over yourself.
so, apparently aggressive, even violent, men have an edge over the rest of us normal folks in the form of a greater immunity. damn them! maybe if i get really mad i can get rid of this friggin sickness! i hate germs! i hate sneezing! is this doing anything?
does anyone get this maureen dowd column about moats and octopi? i don't. i think she's lost it. email me if you can decypher it. otherwise i may have to call the authorities.
so i ran past a dead, stiff-as-a-board pigeon on my way to the park this morning. so gross, not in a gorey way, but gross nonetheless. and it had me worried that it had died of west nile. then i read this article about water fountains in our parks and was grossed out even more. who the hell would ever drink out of a nyc public water fountain? ick.
Tuesday, August 29, 2000
3:30 pm um, often after i go off on tirades like the one below, i come back with something amusing or at least distracting to read.
i haven't found anything yet.
but i found this, a review of the book "My war gone by, i miss it so," by anthony loyd, which sounds amazing and terribly depressing as it chronicles the time he spent in Sarajevo as a correspondent for the british press. reading this makes me think, damn, how silly i am to get all worked up about this shit. plus, why the fuck am i at this job and not doing something so much better?
but i do like this analysis of big al's make-out fest with tipper at the convention. (thanks, holly.)
11:15 am yep, having another fabulous week. i swear, what have i done to deserve all this bullshit? was it that mirror i broke back in july? did i run over someone's karma or something? this is just getting ridiculous. i mean, yes, things could be much, much worse, but goddamn, give me a friggin break. as one dear friend of mine said, "your life is like a movie." no kidding. like a john hughes movie--like "sixteen candles" and everyone forgot my birthday and the guy i had a crush on found my sex note and this total loser dork showed my panties to the entire freshman geek squad and my grandparents felt me up and my bimbo sister got married to a sleazy bohunk--but without the cheesy happy ending so far. let me just tell you about my dad's wedding, briefly:
he got married saturday to this childless woman my sister suspects is going to brainwash him that he never had children and use him to fix up her house. rumors have it she's a "maneater," whatever that means, and isn't it so nice that people would feel they should tell me such rumors? as the happy couple walked down the aisle, my grandmother, sitting to my left, said, "oh, isn't this great, isn't this great? aren't you so happy for him?" and my cousin, sitting to my right, said, "wow, this must be awful. i bet this is so hard for you. isn't this so hard for you?"
to make matters worse (or better--you decide), it turned out to be one of those days when, no matter how much i drank, i could not even get a buzz. how does that happen?
plus, the nasty DJ decided i was the one he wanted to harass. since i wouldn't tell him my name, he started calling me "D2" (daughter #2), "complimenting" my song requests by saying i had "very mature" taste, and repeatedly poking me in the side while i looked through CDs. thanks, buddy.
on top of all this, the bugs persist: yes, found another one on my wall last night. when will the fuckers die? the lease-holding roommate refuses to stand up to our landlord and demand that they take care of the problem and the costs ensued from having to chuck our couches, rugs, and one bed. grossest of the gross: kentucky katie got bit down there. that's one thing i can be grateful didn't happen to me.
oh, yeah, and i'm definitely getting more radiation than i need.
Monday, August 28, 2000
6:15 pm yep, so surprised. took catherine's emode personality test and found that i'm a hippie chick:
The '60s are over, but their legacy of peace and love lives on in you, a genuine, granola-loving Hippie Chick. A fan of flowing skirts, Birkenstocks, and all-natural organic foods, you probably wear your hair long and loose so you can always go with the flow. The rhythm of your life is definitely laid-back and groovy. Genuine and unpretentious, you're a free spirit with a big heart. A Dharma looking for her Greg, after winning your guy's heart, you'll take him on a pilgrimage to Woodstock and make him wear flowers in his hair. And he'll love every minute of it. All in all, you've got just the right mix of idealism and social conscience to keep any guy trippin' over you, right into your arms.while i am the child of hippies, adore dharma, and may have spent lots of time with long hair in flowing skirts and birks in the past, i'm not really a hippie now, which is interesting. but was glad to see that they got one thing right: i still love a guy who's a goofball.
since we're on the topic of emode's tests, i would like to offer up two other tests that i believe some people i know could make use of: Are you a fair-weather friend? and Are you a grudge holder?
11 am yes, the liberty lost and the comets won. again. read it and weep--just as i did. i mean, yay for cynthia cooper, but damn, new york, do you gals know how to win? i've seen ya do it. but geez, when it really counts.... anyway, had to laugh at the wnba poll:
What do you think Cynthia Cooper should do next?
a) Return for a fifth title run.
b) Become a TV commentator.
c) Coach in the NBA.
d) Buy a basketball team.
why, you ask? because, hello, only one of them (b) even has a remote chance of happening, unfortunately. and you would know that if you'd been reading our coverage of the wnba on lifetime. because we've covered the fact that, at 37, coop's had her fill of ball playing and team turmoil. and women won't be getting the opportunity to coach in the nba for quite a while. as it is, there are more male than female coaches in the Wnba. and coop sure hasn't gotten paid even close to what jordan did so how the heck would she be able to afford a team? freak shows, man.
and for those of you who read the pita last week and were peeved enough at my unqualified statement that the comets would be the only pro sports team to win 4 consecutive championships, i suppose this should make up for that (from the previously linked times article):
The Comets' four straight W.N.B.A. championships are the most consecutive titles in professional sports since the Islanders won four National Hockey League Stanley Cups from 1980 to 1983.happy now? sheesh.
The last such run in baseball was put together by the Yankees, who won five titles from 1949 to 1953. In the National Basketball Association, the Boston Celtics won eight straight titles, from 1959 to 1966. There has never been a National Football League team that won four straight championships, although the Green Bay Packers won three straight, in the seasons from 1965 to 1967.
so i was home in jersey this weekend. for those of you who still think that my home state is just a compilation of interstates, garbage dumps, and pollution-spewing factories, let me explain that i'm from the pretty part of nj, the quaint-country-small-town-horse-farmy part of what we still call (ironically or otherwise) the garden state. an area where bovine fecal entertainment remains popular and starbucks hasn't yet reared its ugly head (for the most part). speaking of starbucks, i think this guy read the pita, agreed with my stance on the evil corporation, and then wrote a nice piece for yesterday's washington post all about it. hmmm....
did you know that today is leo tolstoy's birthday? did you just read that and say "lee-o tolstoy-eee" like i do? have you actually read "war and peace"? if so, you rock and could very well be my soul mate. but anyway, yes, it's true, the man was born on this day in 1828. i think it's funny that my cocktails 2000 desk calendar told me that. it also told me how to make a cossack: 1 1/2 oz. cognac or brandy, 1 1/2 oz. vodka, 1 oz. lime juice, and 1/2 tsp. sugar. yum yum. and at such an early hour.
did you hear about this 120-pound 3-year-old? so sad. so bizarre.
i've been somewhat out of the loop this weekend, and thus just found out that clinton is in africa. yes, i know it's shocking but hell, you probably didn't know either. i was a little concerned that chelsea was accompanying her dad since she'd due back at stanford any day now, no? therefore, i would like to offer up myself as a volunteer replacement. bill, come on, she's got her studies to think about. i, meanwhile, just have too much work and a bug-infested apartment to deal with. plus, she's looking pretty lame with that royalty-esque wave thing she's been doing lately--something i wouldn't be caught dead doing. and i've got some knowledge about the continent, not to mention experience with some african cultures and languages. clearly i'm the better selection here. give me a ring, man.
this salon piece on a feminist who wants to get breast implants is annoying. and all too familiar. not that i ever would get them, but the idea of it has crossed my mind. why why why? i don't know. i think it has something to do with wanting to be that modern-feminist-superwoman-type who can turn on different personalities whenever she wants. be the kind of woman who earns respect and come ons at the same time. it's that pressure that many women today feel that says that everyone should "be happy with her (kick-ass) body." hmmm...lots of caffeine-permitted thinking on this wonderfully foggy and rainy nyc monday morning. more on this later, i think.
yay! an article on bela karolyi and gymnastics! have i mentioned how much i love the sport? um, yeah, no doubt you'll be hearing more than your share about those cute little girlies.
also, i would like to contribute that i find it quite funny that, had i been accepted into the nyc marathon back in may, i would have run 18 miles yesterday in central park. instead i just ran six, very slowly, in the country, and accompanied only by my mom. and then i went swimming and felt no pressure that i would have to run 26+ miles in just two months. ha ha ha. see, i'm no sucker.
Friday, August 25, 2000
1:45 pm so i'm sick today, which totally sucks. thank god for sudafed. and yay for summer hours--while they still last anyway. i can't believe next friday is our last day of summer here at lifetime. that sucks worse than being sick. because, what the hell happened to my summer? my time to run around barefoot and go camping? it's totally gone. that week in turks and caicos was really all i got. squandered, man. wasted summers: that's how i know i'm getting old.
but still, i'm psyched for fall. as long as it lasts a while and we don't have to deal with nasty, bitter, new york cold too soon. there's something about being able to wear long sleeves and sweaters though not necessarily having to that makes me really happy. oh, and the park is pretty damn beautiful in autumn too.
okay, so i'm happy with my night last night, all things considered. i mean, yes, new york lost, but the comets didn't play all that well anyway and the crowd was awesome. plus, afterwards, i got to go to reggie miller's 35th birthday party/the wnba on lifetime wrap party. reggie and i hung out, did a few shots called janus joplin's legacy (no idea what was in that but damn) and chatted about the pros and cons of haphazardly mixing various kinds of alcohol. no kidding. he even gave me a hug. felt kind of silly staring at his midriff in the process, but hell, a hug from reggie miller....
plus, i got to see a whole bunch of wnba greats and hang out with my writer/our broadcaster fran harris, who used to play for the comets. it's funny how you can know someone and think they're pretty normal and then you go out in public with them and people are like, oooh oooh, are you fran harris? i love your work! you're awesome! can i have a picture? can i get an autograph? it's kind of eerie. those folks wouldn't believe how good an impression she does of the singing lady from saturday night live. she can do her high-pitched singing of "all star" like a pro. she cracks me up.
hanging around all these somewhat famous people makes me feel kinda funny. and then my horoscope has all these high hopes for my own fame, it seems:
You could build a stronger public reputation by gathering accurate information that will benefit many people. You may need to be identified by name so that people will want to know what you think and feel about a particular situation. Be willing to do your research, take on a leadership position, and let more of the spotlight come your way. You'll benefit by increased group interaction and a greater source of income. Grab the brass ring and hold on tight.that's cool. as a writer, i guess that's what i'm hoping for, huh?
sorry, no news updates since i gotta run to get home for my dad's wedding this weekend. wish me luck.
Thursday, August 24, 2000
5:00 pm yet again, i fail to update early and how lame is that? i know, it sucks. and then people lose interest. but it's been overwhelming, all this stuff to sort through about survivor. the numerous and lengthy articles, the differently angled analyses. and now i don't know that i even care to talk about it.
who are we kidding? of course i want to talk--no, bitch--about it. um, richard sucks. "least objectionable" my ass. and the whole turn out of the show did leave me feeling quite sad. i mean, what are we saying, that the jerky, conniving, bossy, arrogant guy should always beat out the emotional, confused, caring, ethically-torn girl? that's awful. i have to say that i related more to kelly than to anyone on the show. i don't doubt that had i been in her situation i would have ended up caught in the very same quandry, between the protective yet evil, plotting alliance, and the cool, young, care-free folks. the old buzzards knew what they wanted--and they got it. but i still think they were nasty.
p.s. bryant gumbel, in my opinion, is actually the richard of morning tv. he's awful. snotty, chubby, nasty, self-important, arrogant. essentially, a loser that other people cater to because, for some reason, he's got power. that's reason #1 why the wrap-up show bit it. reason #2 was, hello, can you say "jerry springer show"? nearly indistinguishable. and of course susan fit right in.
if you've somehow remained clueless about the whole thing and don't care to read every single bit of news out there about it, well, congratulations, but read this. it'll suffice.
so what will i do now without survivor to dwell on every wednesday night and thursday morning? well, i guess maybe we can go back to our wednesday night drink nights? and thursdays? well, maybe then they'll be devoted to nursing hangovers.
as for the rest of the time, shockingly, there are plenty of other things going on in the world. i said i wouldn't promote ironminds anymore, and i won't, but should you want to read a somewhat amusing review of other oh-so-interesing tv programs that may just fill the void that the survivor finale has left, then go find it your own damn self. but let it be said that i actually sometimes enjoy "the antique road show."
despite the fact that this article about smelly folks climbing the appalachian trail came from fox news (employer of the ex), i am going to plug it because it's funny. and because damn it, i want some random ass nickname too. i don't get them often. marco just calls me "Leeeeeeaver" or sometimes "Leave" or "the Leave." ker invented "linbird," though it hasn't really stuck for anyone but me. nan sometimes uses "lin" or "linny." my family calls me "nea." but the only really odd things i've ever been called consistenly are in relation to running. after a photo of me hurdling in a college track meet appeared in my school paper with the title "Leaping Lizards! Linnea Leaver leaps over hurdles and blah blah blah...," my coach started calling me a number of variations on that theme: leaping lizardly linnea, leaping leaver, or he'd just announce, "Leaping Lizards! It's Linnea Leaver!" whenever i walked into a room. i don't mind such references so much, although i minded it from him at the time, the loser. but that's a whole other story.
do you ever think about how people often say "that's a whole nother story?" i love that.
onto more worldly (and gruesome) happenings: go read today's Unknown news. there's some crazy stuff on there about chinese officials killing a healthy baby in front of its parents, among other things.
this site, terrapindream, is pretty cool (thanks, chris). tamim just said to me the other night that he didn't know how i could just tell people all the stuff i tell them. well, a) how many people are actually reading this? not many. b) most of those who are reading this already know me pretty damn well. and c) i really only share stuff i'd share with people anyway. but i like how this person--this artist and writer who's been through so much--explains about his very, very personal and open writing there on the web for all to see,
this all may seem so 'jerry springer' to people i suppose - the telling of the intensely personal. but whatever you may think of it, for me it's been a way to testify and sort of formally declare all the secrets that shouldn't have to be secrets.honestly, tim, i don't share as much as maybe you think i do. check out his site and you'll see what i mean.
this article about plastic water bottles being used for good makes me happy and almost negates the worries i had about them a few weeks ago when i read that drinking out of the same plastic bottle over and over again might be bad for you. i posted it here. 'member? yeah, third world recycling.
yes, i'm a dork, i love new scientist. they send out the spunkiest nerdy emails ever and they have re-instilled in me my childhood dream of being able to fly. helicopters for everyone, man.
um, can i be in a masturbatory experiment? i mean, can't i get paid to get off?
very psyched to go to the comets/liberty game tonight, as you might expect. love how spoon and cooper are such good friends. that makes me very happy. but rest assured, if i see spoon slacking off on her at all tonight, just because they're pals and just because the 37-year-old comet is retiring, i'll be giving her hell. yes, have no doubt of that, kids. and, sure, i'll say hi to reggie for ya. yep, hanging with the stars man, that's my life here at lifetime, television for women. ha ha.
Wednesday, August 23, 2000
11:00 am man, i was so psyched to read this article about how the houston comets are the best team in sports. i mean, i was all jazzed because, despite the fact that they'll be up against my team, the liberty,
1) should they win the wnba championship next week, the comets will be the first pro team to ever win 4 consecutive championships,
2) swoopes, thompson, and cooper are amazing,
and (3) the wnba totally deserves the same respect any other league gets.
so i was all pumped that this guy, slate's "sports nut," would say all this. and then, happy happy, i scroll down to read the readers' comments. the first one raised a good point--that the coach, van chancellor, has done a good job. and then there was the second one. god, there is nothing i hate more than an articulate sexist. the asshole writes:
In many sports, such as Olympic-level gymnastics, track and field, swimming, and alpine skiing, girls and women can be as exciting to watch as their male counterparts. Because they are in a sport women can do well at, and are facing the world's best women opponents. But women's basketball is horrible. And their "championship" trophies are glorified doorstops.a) a sport women can do well at? what sport can't women do well at? the gender barrier in athletics has been repeatedly shattered, including recently when women were finally allowed to compete in the pole vault, an event previously considered "unhealthy" for women to participate in because it would hurt the uterus. duh.
b)the wnba does feature the world's best players of women's basketball. if this loser knew anything, he'd know that great players from all over the world come to the u.s. to participate. plus, american women are awesome at the sport--go to any foreign country with a pro women's bball league and you'll realize that they are typically the stars of those teams.
c) women's basketball is actually really competitive and good. and just as many sports fans have turned to college basketball to see good ball playing since the NBA is so damn lame, many have turned to watching the WNBA for the same reason. even without dunks and all the selfish, showy moves, the league features some fabulous players with some great skills. talk to most pro male players and they'll agree. why the hell else would reggie be broadcasting at the games? cuz he needs the money? no.
d) this loser's just an idiot--most of the girls in the league could outright kick his ass--on or off the court.
okay, woo, that was feisty for the morning, eh? some other stuff going on:
ah, poor djibouti. for one, no one knows about the miniscule african country. for two, it's capital is djibouti, djibouti. for three, it had a meager amount of money raised for the olympics stolen. can i call it djibouti booty?
again, maureen dowd's column is disappointing. why do i keep reading them though?
yes, i'm excited for tonight's finale of survivor. but, god, what's going on? sean hits it bigger than anyone else? i mean, granted, he may be more book-smart than any of the others, but damn was he dumb. thank god i don't watch "extra," the show he just got a job with. it sucks as it is but i think it just sunk lower.
i also think it's quite funny that richard is scheduled to host his own talk show. i mean, that man is horrendous and so incredibly fake. but he's exactly the kind of person who could do a talk show. i bet he could be pretty competitive with jerry springer. ugh, i really hope he doesn't win. nope, i'm thinking it's rudy. anyway, i don't care, really. i'm just psyched for catherine's survivor drinking game. we should all be pretty sloppy out in astoria tonight.
this salon bit--a compilation of reader-submitted 5-word political statements--is hilarious. well, okay, some of it. like the cynical "My middle name is different," the random "Check out dubya dubya DUBYA!" and the appropriate "Won't screw up economy, interns." ha ha.
Tuesday, August 22, 2000
5:17 pm sadly, just now got the chance to sneak something up. i know, it's late. you won't be getting any breaking news from me at this hour. but still, if you haven't read gail collins' column today, go do it now. she cracks me up. and has heartily won me over to her fanbase from maureen dowd's. does anyone else think that maureen has simply lost her kick? she's so lame now. i can barely get through her columns any more. it's really disappointing. i mean, every wednesday and sunday i get all psyched to read what pop cultural and political comparisons she has to make and blend, but then i'm like, yeah yeah yeah, heard that, thought that, saw that analyzed on the maclaughlin group, whatever. for instance, her column "stop the canoodling" about all the smoochin' at the democratic convention came out two days after my pita posting on the same topic. yes, she's held to only being able to get her column up on sundays and wednesdays but, damn, it was old by then. just watch, though--tomorrow she'll end up having some crazy stellar column.
i'm a little annoyed that a hurricane is coming. but probably not for any reason you would guess. rather, it's all about spite. no hurricanes means no fun for the surfer ex-boyfriend. but now that one's on the horizon, he (and the new/old girlfriend, no less) will actually get some good waves. well, mother nature was on my side for a little while, right? i guess she's waited her obligatory 3 weeks. that was sweet of her. or something
man, what's up with anne heche?
this is an odd bit about a mood ring-like greek toy called the virginity meter. while i don't give a damn whether you're a virgin or not, i think it would be fun to have a similar tool called a maturity meter. a woman could point this tool at any man and it would rate the individual, from fucked-up-mama's-boy to fuck-and-run-fun to lovable-master-of-his-own-domain to super-ready-to-settle-down-fella. i really believe this could be helpful to women not on a boy hiatus like some of us. because boys are weird and while you may very easily be able to differentiate from a mama's boy and a super-ready-to-settle fella, all the varying degrees in between are difficult. and confusing. and why waste your time on anything but what you're looking for? but then again, i guess i don't know any boys who are anything other than the first two options anyway. otherwise, maybe i'd be better at spotting the good-for-me ones. not that i'm looking now anyway.
Monday, August 21, 2000
12:03 pm oh my god, you gotta love this stuff from the times' coverage of the liberty/rockers game yesterday. (um, yeah, the one i was at that i can't stop talking about.) it was so fabulous, seeing 6'7", 19-year-old, pale white belgian anne wauters getting in the short and super muscular and so amazing teresa weatherspoon's face. check out spoon's response:
Weatherspoon said Wauters was staring her down, walking toward her as if to antagonize her.
"I'm not going to back down from anyone," Weatherspoon said. "That's not my style. If you're in my home, too, for a youngster to walk in my face, I'm not taking it from anyone."
Weatherspoon practically challenged Wauters to spar, which resulted in a technical for the Liberty guard.
ah, it was worth it. as my nephew said, "that tall girl is crazy! no one steps up to spoon, man!"
9:40 am how can i not be totally happy today? i had the best day yesterday. first of all, it was beautiful out in the woods of jersey, then i drove into the city with my nephew to see the awesome liberty game (i'm so psyched: we won and he bought a weatherspoon t-shirt!), then drove back out, went running, had a yummy dinner, and watched gymnastics (yay amy chow & dominique dawes!). i mean, few combinations could make me more thrilled.
not that there aren't some sad and crazy things going on in the world that do make me stop and ponder my good mood. such as all the russian sub guys being drowned, the sparks losing, and that northwest airline pilot dying of a heart attack mid-flight. oh, those are tough headlines for a monday morning. sorry to bombard you with 'em so early.
but, hey, you gotta laugh at that girl trying to strip down for clinton after he signed her shirt and gore's son getting busted for going 97 in a 55 mph zone. eeeedyuts.
on a different, more analytical note, i'm glad the times brought the issue of modern rock up. i've been thinking lately about how all the cool classic rock stations i used to listen to in high school have changed so that all they seem to play is limp bizkit, kid rock, and that californication song by the red hot chili peppers. i mean, come on. i hate that stuff. give me some jefferson airplane, yes, and the who over that stuff any time. or even pearl jam, r.e.m., and smashing pumpkins. or all of those combined. just don't force-feed me metallica (which, okay, i have been known to enjoy on occassion) or call your station "adult contemporary," which to me means michael bolten, carly simon, and vanessa williams. which is garbage.
time for a psa: please note that i will no longer be linking to ironminds or any of its writers. while i have been known to promote--even over-promote--said site in the past, have no worries because that is a thing of the past. therefore, if you like to read it, go check it your own damn self (and no, i will not give the url now) because you will never see it mentioned here again. unless a good friend of mine goes to work there, then maybe. thank you.
Friday, August 18, 2000
5:52 pm why am i still here, you ask? can't you see: the re-re-design. this is it. for now. i'm worried about the colors though. email me if you hate 'em and they actually offend your eyes so much you can't bare to look. they're growing on me. no, it's not calm and peaceful or anything but i like orange and hell, when am i ever calm and peaceful anyway?
i gotta share that i'm quite psyched that catherine has been linking to me on occassion and that now i'm even in her links box. i also really like the back and forth convo that we sometimes get going on our pages. quite fun indeed.
so maybe you won't be so surprised because i already told you that i'm apparently a closet new agist (according to select smart), but i bought tarot cards last weekend when i was in new hope, pa. no, i wasn't there because i'm some frigging manhattanite who wants to go somewhere quaint and quirky out in the country, but because i actually grew up pretty close by. i hadn't been there in ages and was missing it. the place was so packed though which sucked. but i walked around in the rain a bit and decided to buy some tarot cards. how fun. i chose the tarot of the spirit because the cards were attractive and came with instructions. but when i got home and took them out i realized that the instructions were pretty lacking. and i had questions: how do i really interpret the cards? aren't there more than 2 configurations i can use? how do i develop my fortune telling skills? no idea. so i think i'll have to buy a book or try to learn online, here or here. i'll let you know how it goes and when you can start signing up for readings. u-huh.
1:30 pm okay, i didn't see gore's speech last night, but i did see one snippet of it this morning on the news that grossed me out so much. i mean, love what the man stands for (at least to some degree) and i plan to vote for him and all but, come on, do not make out with your wife on national television. that kiss (go here and click on "photo gallery" and it's the 5th shot) was one of the sloppiest, most intensely awkward and uncomfortable kisses i have ever been privy to--and boy, have i been privy to (read: experienced) plenty of foul smooches (yes, more support for the boy hiatus). and i just love how the ny times--apparent prudes that they are--hold off and call the encounter "a robust bearhug." ha ha. more like "a robust slobbering all over the democratic candidate for first lady." gross, man.
all you druggies, get thee to canberra, australia. the first heroin injecting room has been approved.
my horoscope for the next week asks some very silly questions. check it out:
"Your clout has swelled in recent weeks. Your chutzpah has ripened nicely and your cajones have...uh...grown more impressive. Now you stand at a crossroads. Will you use your new authority to cultivate a rich consensus? Will you diplomatically curry favor so as to build your popularity, thereby making your power more useful and enduring? Or (Goddess forbid) will you throw your weight around with reckless insensitivity, like an ancient Greek hero in the thrall of raw hubris?"
duh, i mean, come on. i'm a scorpio chick getting no sex and living in a bug-infested apartment. what do you think? of course i'm kicking ass and taking names, man. no question. sometimes i really wonder about the wisdom of the fortune tellers. sometimes. and then sometimes i think about marco's grandma telling me things she could have never known. and telling him "FUCK YOU!" and then i think, nah, sometimes they're right on.
but still, thanks to marco, i found out that shit continues to go down in zimbabwe. they need a coup like you wouldn't believe. any one up for joining me? just send a shout out email and we'll be on our way.
does anyone else care that the wnba's website is totally biased against our very own liberty? they don't even feature last night's game on their homepage. i mean, granted, they lost, but why does everything have to be houston houston houston? well, screw houston. i'm rooting for the sparks. and i don't even care that sheryl swoopes has the cutest little son in the whole wide world. bitch makes like at least 10 times as much as me.
okay, yes, i'm a little feisty today, but someone started (and continues) the day by accusing me of trying to get with their roommate. ahem. i won't even utter the phrase but you all know where i stand on issues related to boys and getting with them, no? maybe someone should remind her.
but, on a different, happier note, go check out pbs's "a walk around brooklyn" site. it's a great, great program. love that historical neighborhoody stuff, as i've already mentioned.
Thursday, August 17, 2000
1:15 pm hey wow! chris isn't talking about sex! no, instead he shocks me by blogging ironminds before me for once. PLUS he's got some very insightful, interesting, and even controversial things to say about dating today. i say controversial because one might think that, to read how he would prefer a girl to take him out and pay for his dinner, chris is just being cheap. but no, he's not really. it just seems that way. (it's a joke, dear, don't take this personally. yep--too late, i know.)
but seriously, i agree with him. why the hell shouldn't a girl pay her part or more? i'll tell you one reason why: in general, guys get touchy about it. i mean, clearly not chris but other guys. especially really macho guys (or at least guys who like to think they're really macho). especially in early dating scenarios. they get all weirded out if a girl is "modern" and tries to switch around the gender roles. you'd understand if you'd ever bought a guy flowers or offered to take him out for dinner when it wasn't his birthday. sometimes they freak. it's a slippery situation. one that you'd obviously never be in with chris but would be with many another man. i swear. i've been there and done that (note aforementioned break-up). and will continue to do it, of course, for the simple pleasure of torturing the male species, thank you very much.
12:30 pm i remembered one of the things i was going to mention! the ny times' circuits section discussed this really, really great site, mr. beller's neighborhood. mr. beller is both an author and a new yorker (what combination could be better, really?) so he put together this site that shows an aerial view of new york which you can zoom in on and find and read about the settings of lots of different great writings. i love that kind of stuff. unfortunately there's not much in my neighborhood to read about but oh well. i'm sure you cooler folk can find plenty in the village and soho and other such places nearer to your own homes. damn you.
11:55 am ooooh, i hate that. i just had all this stuff written and my netscape crashed. balls.
anyway, how ya like the new design? i know, the scrolling to the right totally sucks and i'm trying to work out why that's happening. email me if you know.
yay! kelly wins immunity and lives to see another day on the island! not that i think she should win, per say, but i just loved seeing evil richard and susan squirm when their plans to boot her off were squashed. duh, stupid ass sean finally gets that it's a game involving tactics and strategies and of course is shown the door. man, i'm embarrassed to even say he's a fellow new yorker--oh, right, he's not, being from longuyland and all.
this joe lieberman guy is really starting to grow on me. who doesn't love a jokester? but damn is tommy lee jones looking old. still, i quite enjoying picturing him and big al hanging out in their freshman dorm during their harvard days, drinking shitty beer, staying up til all hours talking about stupid stuff, and probably smoking some weed while they're at it. yes, enjoy that quite a bit.
thanks to ker-dog, i heard about this guy who walked into a london courtroom totally nude. i'm with ya, man, let's all just walk around neckid!
my sister, a step-mom herself, wouldn't like this article about how kids living with step-moms get less health care and education than birth children. sorry, nene. but, i have a feeling there are other factors involved. i mean, don't step-kids deserve less of that stuff? just kidding. afterall, in just 9 days i'll be gaining an (evil) step-mother of my own. how fun. sympathy cards welcome.
even though i've been bashing germans an awful lot on this site for no apparent reason (it's actually the media, not me, i swear!), i must do it again because i just love the title of this article: German Party Poopers Do Their Best to Ruin a Celebration. ha ha. i mean, it's not the most amusing article within itself but it still cracked me up.
i hate the taliban. are we not living in the 21st century?
damn, i know there was more i'd set out to say but i've forgotten everything else. except this: it's absolutely gorgeous in new york city today! so anyone who's reading this who does not live here but should (um, dan, nancy, etc.), take that. and get your asses here. that's all for now.
Wednesday, August 16, 2000
5:05 pm oh no! scrappy john mccain has been diagnosed with malignant melanoma! thank god for CNN's Breaking News Updates. geez, what if he'd actually been the republican nominee for prez at this point? weird stuff.
4:55 pm maybe you were disgusted before when i brought up Heart. if so, you'll be even more thrilled now because i would like to remind you all of Lita Ford. no recollection? well, then you might want to go to her track listing page which names all the tunes on her obviously critically acclaimed "Greatest Hits" album. who knew that this self-described "metal diva" and "guitar goddess" sang anything other than "kiss me deadly" and "close my eyes forever"? and wasn't that last one with that hunka hunka man, ozzy ozborne? sorry, that even grossed me out. i'll stop now.
4:00 pm okay, some ideas for the title of my very own (below-mentioned) prime-time show:
Linnea: Part Dominatrix, Part Exterminatrix
The Girls' Guide to Boy-Bashing and Barbecuing
Linnea: All Luscious, All the Time, in Lebanon Township
Linnea: Losing It Out Loud
Linnea: Live, Loud, and Lackluster
okay, obviously my ideas aren't so good. that's why you have to email me with yours. look to the left! it says "email me!" do it!
1 pm i was all serious this morning with my news updates and all, so now i'm feeling a little fiesty. thus the following: recently, i was a bit concerned to learn that two of my co-workers loved the band Heart--but only when it came to their old stuff. yes, it's true, they actually turned their noses up at superior '80s classics including "these dreams," "never," and "alone." i know, i couldn't believe it either. but they claimed that i was a wacko for liking the wilson sisters' music from their high-hair days. maybe--afterall, i am from jersey--but i expressed my strong beliefs that others do appreciate Heart for all their great works, not just the older tunes, like "barracuda," "magic man," and "heartless." thus, even if the results do end up shattering my little fantasy (and making my site super heavy), i would like to introduce this poll. (and all you people better vote this time because i know you're reading this and just not casting your ballot, and nothing pisses me off more, damn it. thanks!)
10:45 am NEWS BONANZA!!! wow, is it starting out to be a crazy day. first of all, russian officials say there are no signs of life on the stranded submarine. how awful! nuclear-enabled former communists or not, that's 116 guys possibly asphixiated at sea?
then, horror of horrors, american high gets canceled before i even get to see it. and i kept hearing that it was one of the better "reality tv" shows going. you gotta love this quote from one of the show's "stars":
"It's really disappointing," he adds. "All I got were compliments about the show. You don't get paid anything, but you figure, 'at least I got my face on television.' It sounds kind of conceited, but I kinda hoped I'd get commercial out of it, or a spot on Letterman or Leno."
it's funny how now everyone thinks they're entitled to 15 minutes of fame. like being on a prime time, nationally televised series is an everyday occurence. in that case, i think i deserve one, too. i'll be spending part of my work day trying to come up with a title. email me if you think of one. off the top of my head i like "the girls' guide to hunting and fishing"--since, afterall, i do both, and so well at that--but i guess that's been taken already, huh? shucks. maybe then "the girl's guide to bug exterminating and pimping" or "the girl's guide to slacking and picnicing" or something along those lines. i'll have to think about it. you do too, okay?
ah, but i digress. onto more news.
zimbabwe's back in the times...finally. it's so easy for that country--make that the whole continent of africa (oh, wait, africa is a country in the eyes of americans, no?)--to fall off the times' radar. anyway, this time it's actually good news...i think. turns out, mail-in ballots from the obviously biased military now serving in the congo will not be voted in the presidential election. if you're still reading this, you'll be happy to know that this may translate into mugabe finally getting ousted. may, i said. but most likely the ruling zanu-pf party will void this election anyway and mugabe will stay in power. ha ha ha. love that zim democracy.
not on the newsfront but equally important: if you haven't yet read any or all of the nytimes' articles on "how race is lived in america," start now. each one i've read has absolutely blown me away.
hello? hello? why are you still here? get reading. go on now.
okay, back now? more news, then: did you know that there are protesters other than those silly PETA members rallying outside the democratic convention? i didn't until i read this. now i feel much better about them. i was like, hello, there are other issues to think about besides fur fur fur, but it turns out people actually know that. other issues on the ralliers' platform: gay rights, the playboy mansion fundraiser, and the death penalty.
and, oh dear, that evil richard (do i need to say from survivor?) gets front page of the times' art section. damn him. i feel like he must be part of dr. evil's empire. and i have this terrible feeling that he wins. especially since, while we viewers see his extraordinarily nasty and conniving comments, the other islanders do not--and apparently they think he's pretty nice. nice???? oh dear. but, i gotta admit, it's got me hooked to see if he wins. fucker.
is it totally bad that i would prefer to stay in and watch survivor and young americans tonight then go out drinking with friends? i'm officially a tv junkie.
Tuesday, August 15, 2000
10:40 am we're caulking, we're caulking, we're caulking.... okay, well, we're not now, but i was last night, in an effort to seal all bugs either into or out of my apartment so that the exterminator could kill 'em all today. i don't know if my caulk work will help but, hell, at this point, it couldn't hurt, right?
let me tell you: when it rains in nyc, boy do the freaks come out. this morning when i was running in the park, i saw a jogging woman wearing a shower cap--no joke. then there was this guy who looked just like richard from survivor, i swear--but he didn't have a chubby child in tow so i figured it wasn't him.
now that we're on the subject of the park, i believe i've figured out some kind of theorem for park toilage: it's as though the slower you move, the more space you believe you're entitled to. i mean, the walkers always take up at least 3 feet in every direction, and since they're typically accompanied by several other walkers, this constitutes a veritable road block.
then there are the joggers, and they typically weave and roam, but almost always stay to the left of the path. the LEFT? the LEFT? i have no idea where this logic comes from. of course you must stay to the right, people. come on.
then there are the runners who, i must say, more often than not--particularly if they're fairly serious about their sport--stay to the right and keep to themselves. rarely do serious runners run in groups or pairs and if they do, it's a steady single file, baby.
continuing on down the spectrum, there are the roller bladers and bike riders. while i've seen my fair share of unruly members of these groups in the park (particularly out-of-towners and sport newbies), these folks typically speed along in their proper lane and rarely get in others' ways since they're so quick and able to weave in and around the lanes of traffic.
anyway, that's my run-down. right now i'm a little worried about this guy that i let into my building when i was leaving this morning. he was carrying a huge bouquet of sunflowers and begged me to let him in so he could put them in front of stephanie's door. i have no idea who stephanie is, and though, in his khaki shorts and white t-shirt, he looked relatively harmless, i instantly had a vision that he was one of those scary, abusive fraternity-type boyfriends and that stephanie was hiding out in her apartment, not answering her buzzer because this guy was stalking her in an effort to apologize for his terrible behavior. and flowers are always a sign that a guy's done something wrong, no? hmmm....
so i watched the clintons' speeches at the democratic convention last night. hillary is so plastic, it's scary. bill is so seemingly real, it's even more scary. i loved gail collins' op-ed in the times today. and it got me thinking a lot about the bush/gore fight as part of our "reality tv" obsessed culture. i mean, think about it, if dubya and big al were on big brother together, who would you want to get rid of? al's kinda cozy and athletic, but he seems a little righteous and stern. dubya at least is a party guy and able to stir up some controversy. and that's one reason i think he's gonna win. sniff, sniff. i mean, although gail says,
"We're moving into new territory. The old order passed last night with Bill Clinton's farewell speech. The next president, whoever he is, is not likely to shock, appall, mystify or interest us the way this one did.
We're gonna miss the big guy. Just you wait."
i think the man who would most shock and mystify the american public is georgie boy. and i think that's what we're looking for right now. well, okay, not me but some of you.
um, yeah, and i just love this times piece about snooty manhattan drivers who adore the traffic on the way to the hamptons cuz they just adore their cars. check this tid bit out:
"But for [Henry Larsen of Manhattan, traffic lost much of its sting when S.U.V.'s came out. At 4 p.m. on Fridays, he and his friends head out to East Hampton in the roomy leather interior of his silver 1999 Jeep Cherokee.
He said he coped with the traffic by using his six-CD changer and cell phone, and a laptop computer plugged into the dashboard. Mr. Larsen, 28, a finance coordinator at an employment agency, said he made dinner, movie and weekend reservations online from his Jeep.
One feature he rarely uses on his Jeep is the four-wheel drive.
"No one really needs an S.U.V.," he said. "People get them for the comfort zone. You're up higher, and it's a way to stay above it all.""
Monday, August 14, 2000
4:50 pm so today has been very shitty. what the hell happened, man? here, a brief rundown.
4 am one of the previously banished and excrutiatingly annoying and awful bugs attacks me in my sleep.
7 am can't get my ass out of bed to go running.
8:15 am alarm goes off. open eyes. close eyes.
8:30 am suddenly jump out of bed when realize that didn't get up when alarm went off.
8:33 am get in shower and realize desperately need to shave though haven't much time for it. find painfully itchy and swollen bug bite on achilles tendon. scratch it. yell at nothing and no one in the shower. drop soap.
8:45 am return to bedroom to get dressed and suddenly become overtaken with need to search out and destroy guilty bug. strip bed of sheets. find one bug. try to mush it. it won't die. mush it again. it runs away. finally grab it and mash it into pulp. hope it's dead but don't trust it so flush it down the toilet.
8:52 am fuck, i'm late! put on cute, new skirt in an effort to start the day off well (failing to realize that, ha ha, it's too late). make self up and decide that hair now officially looks like shit and must either be cut or hidden while it grows. decide that will probably not decide on a hair option for a while and should just forget about it.
9:10 am realize that the temperature is only in the 60s and that a tank top will not suffice although it's fucking august. put on three-quarter sleeved semi-sweater white top. realize my jacket's at the cleaners. realize won't be picking it up today. say fuck three times. stand watching the show, homepage, that now follows the today show. think about how glad i am to never see jodi applegate's face at 9:00 am again.
9:20 am consider making toast. stand weighing the pros and cons of making versus buying my breakfast. also ponder whether my coffee standards are dropping now that i'm actually willing to drink the shit they have in the office. try to find anything in my apartment other than bread that i can eat for breakfast. nothing. realize i'm now very late.
9:30 am hurry out of apartment.
9:39 am catch C train to work. read shitty vanity fair article about gwyneth paltrow entire way. wonder why the hell some people are so damn gorgeous. consider growing hair out again. wonder if i could ever get my hair to curl as gwyneth does. think probably not as she doesn't even do her own hair i'm damn sure.
9:48 am order banana nut muffin, with much regret, at coffee shop. decide to opt for the shitty office coffee. what's my world coming to?
9:58 am get to desk. mull through emails.
11:08 am get stuck in stupid meeting in which everyone must speak and make us sit there for too damn long hearing about things we don't care or need to hear about. start scribbling "bullshit bullshit bullshit" on notepad. realize what i'm doing and turn page.
12:30 pm now faced with all the work i was supposed to do in morning. can't though because now must focus on what other people should have been doing all morning.
1:30 pm freezing cold. why the hell did i wear a skirt today?
3:30 pm get one roommate email after another freaking out about the re-emergence of the bugs. get pissed. want to move. a lot.
4:30 pm finally finish morning's work. time for lunch.
anyway, feeling much better now. got some warm food, got some ginger ale, now i'm fucking around with the pita. was a little concerned to find that young americans has a really weak web site. no, ker, no explanation of why "jake" dresses up like a boy. it only eludes to her "dirty little secret." what's more: the damn thing doesn't even give much info about the cast members. just these crappy interviews about shit i could care less about. "what would you be doing if you weren't acting?" duh. "I'd probably be graduating from some state school I hated and not really know what I was going to do." no shit. gotta say, the funniest thing about all this is that i've never even seen the show. ker-dog just talks about it incessantly and thus has me intrigued. not unlike survivor, which i've only seen once. i actually followed it on the web for the whole season up until two weeks ago.
now that we've come to the two-week anniversary of The Break-Up, i want to share with you dear readers one of the musical mixes which have gotten me to this lovely point. it is called the Guys Suck Mix and i made it back in 1996, while i was getting over my senior year of high school boyfriend during the january term of my freshman year of college. there are currently two volumes, but the second is actually not yet complete (email me any suggestions songs, please). still, i feel the first volume is superior since it does such a wonderful job of making me feel mad, righteous, and kick-ass for a full 90 minutes. read the list, embrace the songs, make the Guys Suck Mix your own. and then utter the words "Really," "A lot," "Totally," and "No doubt" and you will be free of his bullshit.
here, my recipe for the boy banishment blues:
Volume One
side a:
you oughta know--alanis
my lovin'--en vogue
kiss off--violent femmes
barracuda--heart
fuck & run--liz phair
respect--aretha
if--janet jackson
one way or another--blondie
i'm the only one--melissa etheridge
express yourself--madonna
precious things--tori amos
side b:
breakin' up--violent femmes
i will survive--gloria gaynor
can't cry anymore--sheryl crow
witness--cyndi lauper
all i really want--alanis
tramp--salt & peppa
hanging on the telephone--blondie
straight up--paula abdul
go your own way--fleetwood mac
everybody knows--concrete blonde
zombie--cranberries
ooh child--5 stairsteps
Friday, August 11, 2000
2:00 pm i guess, to be honest, i'm a little perturbed, first of all, that anyone would criticize When Harry Met Sally, one of my favorite movies of all time; second of all, that this man (clearly a little paranoid and lacking confidence in his sexual prowess, or--dare i say it--he's just "never had great sex") would suggest that the orgasm is "actually a display we put on for others -- to reassure them that we have been pleased? A kindness, a mark of good manners?"; and third of all, that someone would believe that the orgasm is "too private" or "too far beyond control or description" to be discussed openly, and, yes, polled. kids, i could not resist. thus, i created the following poll.
when sally fakes it right there in the restaurant, she's doing what every woman who, yes, FAKES it would do. she doesn't "give away something she does -- some squeak, some groan or prayer, or something far more unexpected" because she's trying to as closely imitate the faking woman as possible. no faking woman in her right mind is going to just randomly break out in song or (horror of horrors) just let rip a fart because, hello, this is not an honest moment in any way, shape, or form, and god knows the reason she's doing it is probably so she can get the whole fucking experience over with, so why the hell would she get creative now? take that, david thompson.
the irony of this whole thing is that i was just explaining to ker-dog and marco last night that i am quite fine being without a lover right now--and do indeed feel that i could go on for quite a while like this. let me tell you why: it's all about recall. the sexual experience is a lot like eating, or remembering faces, or some other kind of sensory experience (except maybe smells--i think smells are pretty long-lasting, no?). once you've left the scene, your memory instantly begins to fade. you can recall little things--oh, he touched me here and i really liked it, i think--but mostly it's a big blur which you can't distinctively pinpoint. now, what is my point? my point is that if your last sexual experience was phenomenal, you'll remember that it was phenomenal and want that phenomenalness a lot and again and again. but, alas, if your last experience wasn't so stellar, it kind of leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth. thus we get to my current state of mind regarding sex. and don't even get me started talking about unfulfilling Project ventures. but the truth is, sorry to say, boys, often being alone is more satisfying than being with someone else. case closed.
now holly's making me go look at mattresses. gotta run.
Thursday, August 10, 2000
11:34 am the past couple days i've been feeling like i needed to reach some kind of catharsis, particularly regarding The Break-Up. i'd been waiting for a quirky, sexy column from jami at ironminds, and when i read it, a piece about the 5 things women really want in a man, i thought, this is good, funny, interesting, but not what i need right now. so i sloshed through the rest of today's issue and then found this, an article about a two-month-long relationship. it's amazing how closely this relationship mirrored my own. everything from him smoking pot and watching tv with his single friend john to the bottles of wine they'd drink every night to the excitement and sureness they both felt after just two weeks to his being without a girlfriend for three years to her realization that they were so utterly different. the one thing she had that i didn't: she got to finish it off. i think that's okay now, though, because two nights ago i dreamt that i finished it, walked out, and drove away without even looking back. and did it ever feel good. ah, love the catharsis.
now, on to sillier things, please. if you've tried to quit smoking and failed (um, ker-dog) or just know you should kick the habit but have no strength, read this. it was witty and entertaining, even for a non-smoker, and it addresses the ever-pervasive "i have a drinking problem that makes me smoke" issue.
though many of you may not know this since my undying love of coffee veils any dislike for any particular coffee provider, i used to detest starbucks. yes, it's true. back in the day, it was mostly because the company was becoming a corporate behemoth and terrorizing the tiny, family cafes in my college town of amherst--not to mention the innate snobbery of each and every friggin starbucks product (yes, including my favorite chocolate-covered graham crackers, holly). but now, alas, i have another reason to hate the evil empire: they're raising their already exorbinant prices. and here we go again with my starbucks boycott, though with one on every block in nyc, it won't be as easy this time around.
though i can't honestly say that i am a die-hard fan of televised men's sports, i did laugh a lot over this article from slate about why professional league coaches wear what they wear. just the simplicity and honesty of
The less stylish sports, football and baseball, are more or less for rednecks.
and
Basketball coaches may favor suits because they project
authority. Teen-age millionaires are predictably unruly, but they might still be young enough to look up to well-dressed elders.
was refreshing. so go read it and be refreshed. hey, wow, maybe i should do some work today.
Wednesday, August 9, 2000
1:20 pm now all girls reading must go here. this is one of the best articles i've read about sexual desire in a while. when i started reading it i was thinking, "what's this girl's deal? i have NOTHING in common with her. i mean, enjoying dry spells? huh--what's that?" but then she hits it big and "ka-blam!", as she says, she wants it all the time. i love that. i also love her guy friends' reasoning about why her man just wasn't into it as much as she was (since i've heard it many a time): "He’s gay. Latently gay."
11:57 am so few people are actually in the office today, it's kind of nice. everyone's "working at home" after attending a party co-sponsored by lifetime called, of all things, "sin city." i mean, really, don't sins and cheesy television for women--golden girls and all--just fit like hand in glove? sure.
i was so pleased to see that ad agencies now consider us young, single women able to "become involved in a wide range of activities and enjoy a full social life." thank god for that validation because i was so worried that all my partying and independence was really an indication of my destiny to be a downtrodden old maid.
last night, while scouring my maybe-still-bug-infested apartment with bleach, ker-dog, kentucky katie the roommate, and i were talking about window ledges and how they get so nasty from the nyc air. kentucky katie said (in full southern twang, please), "uhgh, weeer breeethin thaat?" ker-dog then was so kind as to offer up the statistic that living in new york is equivalent to smoking three packs of cigarettes a day, to which kentucky katie said, "oohmagod!" anyway, it turns out we're probably dying earlier because of all that crap, too. and we don't even get the benefit of a nicotine buzz, damn it.
everyone around me is freaking out about orthodox jew joe "my wife calls me joey" lieberman being chosen as big al's VP. particularly all my jewish friends. now, it's time to tell me what you think. (aren't you excited?)
now, if you think joe & al are not a winning combo, just go and read about why everyone hates (or, at least, should hate) Dubya. i must say though that this article made me realize just how much i really have in common with GWB. case in point:
"W reportedly drank a lot, sometimes a whole lot. He put in his time hugging the porcelain pony, as they say."
i mean, aside from all that stuff about him not giving a rat's ass about the environment and being born again and oh, well, he's kind of like jimmy stewart and i love jimmy stewart.
Tuesday, August 8, 2000
6:31 pm this is the kind of information that my ex-boyfriend does not need, since he apparently believes he's perfected the art of making the board-short plumber's crack look sexy. note to all other surfer boys out there: he was wrong. it's impossible. and it doesn't matter how gorgeous your eyes are. after all, we're talking bout yer ass.
on a related note, i was quite happy to see that i've been going about this whole break-up thing in the right way. you know, training for a marathon, immersing myself in a good book, spending a lot of time at work, drinking too much, vowing not to date boys ev--oh, not those last two, i mean.
okay, enough goofiness with ehow. thank god for this site, though, because otherwise i'd never know when my turkey was done.
last night i had a dream that i was a bat. i, of course, looked it up in my favorite dream decoder site. here's what it said:
Bat
The augury is dependent on how you reacted to the bat. If you were frightened by it, you should avoid indiscreet discussion of your affairs; but if you were not afraid of it, you will be offered a new proposition which will be profitable.
being that i was not afraid of it, but rather was it and was quite cozy and content with being it (fangs, black fur, wings wrapped around myself, lurking around with no eye sight and all), maybe that's good. maybe i should apply for my dream job at Jane that i saw the posting for on mediabistro but which i am totally underqualified for. but even if it's a good omen, i still find the dream odd. not disturbing, just odd. write me if you have an alternate interpretation, s'il vous plait. or if you just think i should apply for that job anyway. merci.
4:52 pm if you're anything like me and have a grand dislike of organized religions as you know them, you've probably wondered many a time whether any religion actually exists that you could ever associate yourself with. well then, have i found the perfect site for you (and me). (thanks for the blog, mizuonna.) it turns out that i'd make a great New Agist. who knew? well, okay, some of you guys who know my parents were hippies have probably been suspecting this all along, but i was kind of surprised.
this girl is a spaz, yes, but she had some good things to say about Who Knows You Best?--one of the only game shows i've ever wanted to be on, and it's not just cause i work at lifetime--and a quote of the week about dylan mckay that i really appreciated (even if i don't appreciate Making the Band in any way, shape, or form.
11:25 am i've been thinking about going camping, and thank god i found this article about how bears can probably smell you menstruating. cuz i really needed that image in my head.
10:22 am though it's not even 10:30, today has already been quite productive for me in both good and bad ways. first, i got my ass out of bed and went running for the second consecutive humid morning. and somehow it actually felt okay. then, i showered, ate something, sorted laundry, got dressed, and set off not one but TWO bug fogger bombs in my apartment. i even got to my building and bought an iced coffee, a banana, and a plum before 10 am. so all seemed good, and i was quite proud of myself walking down the office hallway when all of the sudden, my bag of purchases ripped from my hands and my iced coffee spilled all over the hallway and my plum went a'rolling. sigh. and so my real work day begins.
i was hoping to cheer myself up a bit after that with a nice column from jami on ironminds. but no, jami's still MIA (apparently working on her own site for a bit). so instead i found rachel weiss's the men i meet and quite enjoyed her bitter rundown of birthdays past. though i've been fairly lucky in the birthday department, it reminded me of my new year's eves past. here's a brief rundown:
high school:
freshman year: hulking boyfriend gets in fist fight with friend in drunken stupor, begins looking for ex-girlfriend under bed. "amy? amy? are you under there?" will forever be burned in my brain.
sophomore year: with no boyfriend to make plans with, hosted a big girls-only party in my house. requested that everyone come decked out in formal wear; ended up being the only one decked out in formal wear. had to deal with a highly annoying girl named kjersten.
junior year: as was dating an older guy named rob, attended a college party where i felt extremely out of place and uncomfortable. saw an ex-boyfriend there who was actually my age and the brother of the host. was very weird but otherwise unmemorable.
senior year: spent the better part of this evening trying to get my boyfriend to forgive me for messing around with another guy BEFORE we even started dating.
college:
freshman year: found out that ex-boyfriend (whom i'd slept with just the night before) had been lying profusely and actually had a girlfriend. dear friends suggested calling the girl and singing,"is that your boyfriend? is that your boyfriend? if that's your boyfriend, well he wasn't last night"--a tune which will also be forever burned on my brain.
sophomore year: now with a real, grown-up boyfriend, tried for the typical romantic new year's eve: dinner, flowers, wine, dancing, stripping. kind of a let-down, really.
junior year: opted for the nyc scene with my best friend. it sucked. vowed never to do that again.
senior year: opted for the stay-at-home and chill with the fam, boyfriend, lobster, et al. new year's eve. was bored mostly.
real life:
year 1: had the best new year's of my life, oddly enough in cape cod, though i was now living in nyc. decided that it took me way too long to realize that the best new year's eves are spent with a highly select group of only your best male and female friends in a remote location. i think it also helped though that we were dressed like hookers, drinking plenty, and hoping for a millenial catastrophe. but who knows.
Monday, August 7, 2000
1:52 pm this weekend was quite a trip, fully packed with hills and valleys. i was able to cap off week 1 of my boy hiatus with a hangover-from-hell- and thus drinking hiatus-inducing night out at fun, this crazy chinatown spot that was supposed to have dancing but somehow did not. do i recommend it? hmmm, depends what you're looking for. and, quite honestly, i'm probably not the best person to ask since, after haphazardly mixing beer and rum and cokes, i was in a state that can only be called incoherent. still, i must say that for being in such a state, i had a fabulous sense of humor. i recreated myself (read: lied my ass off and accredited multiple characteristics to my life and self that are so far from the truth, it's appalling) a full five times without getting caught. with each approaching boy, i became someone new: a furniture designer, a sculptress, an op-ed writer for the new york times, a naif from small-town georgia, a web designer. it was all quite amusing. i think, anyway, i barely remember it.
still, the funniest thing about this weekend is that, now that i am in full-fledged boy hiatus, the male species seems to find me irresistible. i swear to you, i go out to bars a lot--okay, almost every day at times--and boys NEVER speak to me. honest to god. i have never gotten a guy's number at a bar and i have only given mine out once. all my friends get hit on left and right, but me, no. i really, i don't think i'm hideous or anything. they just don't approach me. go figure.
but, as i was saying, give guys a girl on a boy hiatus and all things change. suddenly my friend's roommate (who, by the way, boy after my own heart, is reading the very same book i am, angela's ashes)is trying to snuggle with me. boys are practically fighting to talk to me at bars. men are coming up to me on the street. no kidding. it's scary, really. it's like they smell the disgust and they love it. they only want someone who doesn't want them. ah, boys. sometimes they're so much like girls. but alas, the boy hiatus rides along. (even despite meeting reggie miller on friday night at the liberty/miracle wnba game and later cavoring with him and his posse at joe's pub.)
before all that hullabaloo on saturday night, though, i took a cab downtown and had the loveliest cab driver i've ever encountered. this gentleman was originally from Niger, though he lives in the Bronx now. it took probably 20 minutes to get from my place on Duke Ellington down to ker-dog's on Thompson, and during that time, he and i chatted about africa, his native land, how he feels about nyc, my time studying and living in africa, and how america is terrible when it comes to knowing about africa. it was one of the best conversations i've had in a really long time. the sweetest thing happened, too: he turned off the meter at $10. he wouldn't even let me tip him. i was almost crying with happiness when i finally walked into ker-dog's apartment.
today, though, i'm admittedly a little perturbed that, due to worker strikes, my cellular provider, Verizon, will be hanging on to my in-need-of-repair phone, as they have for over 3 weeks now. and though i do not like the loaner they gave me--and nor do countless manhattanites who mock it whenever i am forced to take the brick out in public--i, nevertheless, want to show support for the workers and say, Keep my damn phone! it's probably giving me a brain tumor anyway.
Friday, August 4, 2000
1:11 pm have you ever been to club med? if so, you probably have a very distinct feeling about the experience. maybe you loved it. but i didn't. what i did love was just hanging with my friends, a good part of the PG (peanut gallery, our goofy nickname for ourselves--almost like 90210, no?): ker, nan, marco, moi. we had fun together, some of us even hooked up. i did not, actually, nor did i have any interest in any of the boys there whatsoever. but, that said, there was this one guy who kerry did her absolute best to keep me away from. let's call him raymond, yes, as in everyone loves. he was funny, tall, dark--um, no, not handsome. this, kerry, says, is really the main reason she wanted to keep me away from him. she said that she'd determined that, not unlike jerry seinfeld, he was the kind of guy who thought he was funny enough to get good-looking girls. and she really didn't think he was worthy. well, ker, you'll be so delighted to know that he just called me and he's in town and we're having lunch! you can kill me later. but, don't worry. yes, i'm on a boy hiatus. it's all good.
11:35 am so is anyone else fucking relieved that the humidity in this town has finally dropped away--at least somewhat? i really thought i was gonna die last night, in my slowly sobering sleep in ker-dog's bed. so i opted for the couch at 4:30 am, and when i finally awoke again at 8:15, it was almost chilly. how refreshing. especially when followed by my nice little morning routine, which has developed after just one week of living in soho: i stop in the little corner shop, grab a peach, a coffee yogurt, and a coffee. each day i have to say to the cashier, "can i have a spoon, please?" because she never seems to remember one--or even napkins for that matter. or maybe it's just that she doesn't want them to waste money giving me one if i don't catch her and make her. she did, after all, give me a dirty look when she saw me take 2 cups for my coffee. but what do you want me to do? scald my hands? paper does not stop the transmission of heat, folks.
anyway, kerry likes to make fun of my little routines. but there's something incredibly comforting about them. it absolutely brightens my day when i have a relationship to count on--even with a store, a food, a cup of coffee--first thing in the morning. no, i'm not a fuddy duddy, but some things just make me smile, and that's exactly what i need before coming to this job some mornings--particularly mondays, thursdays, and fridays. mondays, well, you know, but thursdays are tough because that's when i have to bust my butt to get our WNBA coverage up, and then fridays suck because if anything's incomplete or altogether not working, that's when i have to bust my butt to get it all fixed. this morning was particularly great because my boss didn't do her job last night and decided to blame me and my dear partner in crime joe for her fuck up. i love that. okay, i'll stop bitching.
i've been having a lot of bad dreams lately. very violent and real dreams. lots of arguments, mostly with the person i just broke up with. when i checked my favorite online dream decoder, it told me that, contrary to my belief that it has a lot to do with anxiety and feeling frustrated that i can't tie up loose ends and tell this guy he sucks, the dream actually only signifies good things. huh? here's what it said:
Fight: The basic meaning in a dream of fighting is change. For a business person, it signifies a change of enterprise; for an employed person, a change of job, etc. The degree of success or failure you may expect from the change was forecast in the outcome of your dreamed fight. If your dream concerned others fighting, it is a warning pleasure.
what the hell does "warning pleasure" mean? but also,
Screams: A sort of dream of contrary in that to hear the scream of others signifies that you are likely to hear distressing news; however, to dream of screaming yourself is considered a fortunate omen for all that concerns you closely.
but then again, maybe there is a grain of truth in this: the fact that i'm yelling at him in my sleep and not in real life translates to a "fortunate omen" of some sort for him.
and once again, i turn to bizarre sexually stories that often speak to the terrible traits of males to cheer me up. for one, i now know exactly why i'd never date a german. also, here's a great story about a guy trying to run around the world who keeps getting mugged and shot at. and people say terrible things when they hear i run in central park.
i suppose i should say something about last night, but i don't know what that would be. as i've said repeatedly, i'm on a boy hiatus--quite happily, still, too--so that means that i will not hook-up with boys. and that means cute boys, hot boys, friendly boys, ugly boys, average boys, mean boys, new boys, old boys, young boys, and, again, old boys. that's what a boy hiatus is. a hiatus from boys.
that said, i also believe that it's important, once you've gotten over someone, not to go back and rehash and/or re-start the whole thing, especially when that person has hurt you, kicked you when you were down, and refused to be a good friend all for the sake of finding some new fucks. what can i say? that's how i feel. to say that the above-mentioned behaviors were all done with my best interests in mind is crazy talk. i'll look out for me and i'll decide what's best for me. thank you very much.
the fact is, though, in retrospect, i must admit that what happened was for the best and for some reason a trial by fire kind of break-up was really the only way it could go down. but, even if i do accept that, it does not mean that i am willing--or will ever be willing--to forgive those behaviors and get involved with the person who acted that way to me then in the way that i was before then. i'm not dumb. and i hold grudges. and if someone who knows me well doesn't know that yet, their heads have been in the clouds for a full 13 1/2 months.
i love my friends, i'm deeply loyal to them. but there's a reason they're my friends and not something else. and that's because i love their weaknesses and i love their strengths and i love their eccentricities, but god damn, i will not go to bed with them. not again, anyway.
Thursday, August 3, 2000
10:30 am this morning i took the C train uptown (since, due to the bug infestation [see explanation below] i am staying with my dear old friend and razorfish designer, ker-dog--thanks, man), and saw at least one intriguing thing: a woman actually using a Chinese paper fan to fan herself. i swear, i haven't seen one of those things probably since i was 10. and at that time, it was gathering dust on my wall or shelf along with 5 billion other completely unnecessary knick-knacks. i really didn't think anyone ever used them for the purpose of fanning. quite interesting.
it's true that i'm a bit perturbed today about the bug infestation of my apartment, but, fortunately, one thing has already made me laugh: this article from ironminds (yes, there i go again) by steven sehori regarding myths about the country Canada. one of my favorite myth/fact sequences:
Common Belief: Canadians often use the colloquial term ‘eh’ in lieu of such expressions as “don’t you think?” or “Are we not in agreement on this issue?”
Fact: In reality, Canadians make a point of ending most sentences with the popular catch-phrase
‘Yeah, who’s got the spinach dip now, Professor Skippy?!’
Wednesday, August 2, 2000
10:40 pm reformatting, (thanks built to spill)is kind of like therapy. but you have to go in thinking that, unlike i did. i was just like, oh, funny little phrases, i'll fuck with them. you can do that too but i think you'll get more out of it if you actually contemplate them. take some time and try it. (you can bookmark it somehow but i just plugged on. it is, after all 10:40 pm.)
can i say how gross it is that i only had popcorn for dinner?
9:35 pm i realized tonight while i was running in the park that i haven't really been thinking much about running while doing it lately. people are always saying to me, "how the hell do you run so much? it's torture to me," but i guess what gets me through it is not really thinking about it. and tonight there was plenty of stuff going on around me to keep me occupied.
first of all, running up to the park is quite a trip. i have to dodge people right and left on the sidewalk all the way up 8th ave. (you wouldn't believe how many people just stare skyward while they walk--or walk slower than hell.) once in the park, there seemed to be an awful lot of guys out to prove themselves tonight--you know, they zoom by you huffing and puffing and then you see them a little while later practically keeling over on the side of the road. i love that.
about a mile and a half into the run, i saw this guy and this girl running together. she was dressed in pretty new looking running gear--you know, actual running shorts, a cropped sports top, clean shoes--while he was dressed in typical sporty guy regalia--old crappy t-shirt, old crappy shorts, brownish shoes. they were going at a decent clip, but she looked a lot more comfortable in it than he did. still, they were chatting, and though she seemed pretty happy, i couldn't tell if he was just being the strong but silent male or if he was winded or annoyed or both or whatever.
suddenly i found myself thinking, oh, how cute, how nice to have a guy to run with, how great would that be? she turned to him then and said, "why didn't you eat something before?" he replied, "well, maybe i didn't fucking want to. maybe i didn't fucking have a chance. maybe i was working my fucking ass off and just couldn't."
and then i remembered why i've decided to take a boy hiatus. guys suck, man.
to remind me of more reasons i don't need boys in my life, here's a cute article from Ironminds (watch out, that link won't let you come back) about sexual mishaps. cute, funny, disgusting all at once. what could be better?
5:30 pm in an effort to get over my recent break-up, i have been researching the cancer male. some things that i've found have made me quite happy, including the fact that these individuals really just want a woman to mother them (won't do it) and need constant encouragement (won't do that either). we'll just ignore the fact that cancer men are supposedly masters of "intercourse with no hands" and "manual clitoral manipulation." aren't you so curious, though? email me and just maybe i'll tell you if it's true. but seriously, i'm not bawling my eyes out over this so what do you think?
10:00 am the photo on this washington post page of the philladelphia protest is intense. if it wasn't for the girl's sporty clothing, running shoes, and backpack, i'd almost think she was straight out of the kent state protest. she actually looks somewhat like that girl who was photographed squatting down next to the body of that one guy killed at kent state. that photograph was--and continues to be--so moving--her one hand raised to the boy next to her, her other hand about to clench in defiance, her face crumpled in horror and grief--but the fact is, she wasn't even a student there. she was some local 15-year-old. i always found that so interesting.
on a lighter note, i found this article on male masturbation quite funny. do people really still believe that you shouldn't do it? this i actually find more apalling than the image of my male co-workers, friends, and relatives rubbing one off. i mean, are there people out there who don't do it? (if so, i don't think i know them. write to me if you're one, okay?) but to all you masturbatory males, beware, because your toys can break.
watch out! if you're anything like me and get a thrill out of re-using your giant poland spring water bottle for weeks at a time, read this article. and then chuck yours and get a new one. ugh, how inconvenient though.
4:00 pm follow-up as catherine made a comment about her quite different interpretation of the above mentioned water bottle warning, i have this to say: yes, it said there isn't all that much to worry about but it also said that since everyday poland spring-type bottles are not meant to be used repeatedly, they break down quicker and thus should not be used more than once, really. plus, maybe i have a more sensitive palate but i do indeed taste the plasticity after a few uses (though i try to ignore it).
Tuesday, August 1, 2000
i nearly laughed out loud (no, i refuse to say LOL) when i saw the title of this APA news article. "It's a bad time to be a boy in America," intones Christina Hoff Sommers in her book The War Against Boys.
damn, straight. the day after linnea gets dumped is always a bad time to be a boy in America.
but seriously, this paragraph is both hilarious and deeply sad and shocking:
Michael Gurian, in his book What Stories Does My Son Need?, tells the story of the mother of a five-year-old who had been playing the video game Apocalypse. "He gave me his usual goodnight kiss, saying, "Good night, Mom, I love you. See you in hell!'"
kids are fucked these days. my nephews are infatuated with instant messaging and WWF. put the two together and you have kids growing up with abusive attitudes and relationships and thinking they're normal for it. but then again, when you think about it that way, not much has changed. most grown boys i know are that way anyway. (LOL! ugh.)
America's Boy Problem
Tuesday, August 1, 2000
i love this: two young producers over at big brother were totally bored with the show (good to know we're not the only ones) so they decided to plant some false news stories in the house's yard to get the cast all worked up. they succeeded, the cast freaked and started spewing their anger at the articles, and then the real big brother put his foot down and told them the stories were fake. i gotta say, that was more excitement than we've seen in the entire season. i love that kind of stuff.
Big Brother actually gets funny
Tuesday, August 1, 2000
Gross Biting Things Infiltrate My Bedroom
i was completely skeeved out yesterday--not because i was dumped by a loser but for a totally different reason: bed bugs. yes, i discovered them, many of them, attached to the seams of my beautiful, orange 2-month old comforter that i looked so hard to find. i was so happy to read, now, belatedly, about the wonderful "welts" that these things have been leaving on my skin ("must have been bitten by some feisty misquitos," i'd said). fortunately, though, contrary to popular belief, bed bugs have not been charged with spreading diseases. ah, yes, read this sweet fact sheet all about how the nasty things came to suck my blood in the night, just so they could lay their eggs, 3-4 a day, and populate my room with disgusting little foul-smelling offspring. my skin is still crawling.
Tuesday, August 1, 2000
FOX NEWSFLASH!
guess who just got broken up with?
um, yeah, that would be me.
colin: um, so i saw my ex-girlfriend this weekend. she's a terrible girlfriend but she's been telling me all these things about wanting to get back together and stuff. and we surfed together.
me: oh.
colin: you're really great and i love hanging out with you and she's really terrible and goes to bed early.
i don't know what to do.
me: huh.
(extremely long silence)
me: well, no, i'm not a surfer. so i'm just not "your type"?
colin: um, it sounds dumb but something like that.
me: you know what, if you don't know what to do, then i think the decision has already been made. (pause) but hey, it's fine, really, but honestly, you've been pretty shitty towards me lately anyway and i haven't been so thrilled about it.
colin: um, yeah, i know.
me: okay, well then, have fun, take care. bye.
colin: um, okay, bye.
boys suck man.
why is it that they are such incredible wimps? and why is it that i haven't been heeding my female intuition? i mean, i so knew there was something going on, but i couldn't just confront him and get the fuck out. i tried to accept his excuses for his shitty behavior and was prepared to put up with it at least for a couple more days until i solidified my decision to dump him on his ass. people are always telling me that i'm too suspicious and paranoid and that i overanalyze things, but man, follow your instincts.
i gotta say, the one thing i'm gonna miss is his cat.
FOX NEWSFLASH!
Monday, July 31, 2000
That pagename tag is a pun, actually. Though not meant to be a mean pun. The people in this Washington Post photo gallery are all disabled and some are mentally imbalanced, and yet they're all amazing. I was really blown away by the ones on one woman named Spitfire:
Spitfire displays her prized handcuff earrings. "You want me. You cuff me. You carry me," she says, describing her attitude towards the police when participating in acts of civil disobedience for disability rights. "I go away 60s style."
Crazy photo gallery
Thursday, July 27, 2000
This salon article (stolen from Catherine's Pita--or rather, just The Pita, as Holly and I say)is reeeediculous. This is why: The only people who actually use courtesy titles (you know, Miss, Ms., Mrs.) are kids. School kids talking to their teachers and kids talking to their friends' parents. Most of them have no idea what the difference between any of the titles is, and if they do, they usually just say some "M...s" noise because they know they have to--it's an authority thing. When they mess up and call you the wrong one, it's not in protest of calling you a supposedly feminist title, it's just a mess-up. Duh, 5-year-olds can't process the conservation of volume, they're not going to get your explanations for not being called Miss or Mrs.
Besides, only older people ever even get this treatment. I mean, the only reason I ever have to declare my loyalty to Miss or Ms. is when I fill out applications and assorted other forms. (I choose Ms. over Miss because I was taught to associate it with being a self-respecting single woman with a feminist leaning and I used to read Ms. magazine.) And hey, if it has nothing to do with me, it's not an issue. Ha Ha.
But seriously, what it comes down to is that it's not really an issue, at least here in NYC. I mean, maybe in the Midwest where this writer gathers some of her support for her claim it is. But with all the different lifestyles this city has in its tiny 5 boroughs, you can't even stop to think about this categorization.
Who the heck cares what your courtesy title is?
Thursday, July 27, 2000
re: your email
hey carole,
it's funny that you guys are doing this this piece on central park secrets for TONY. i have been thinking a lot lately about finally writing this piece (for what, i wasn't sure--maybe the new york road runners club magazine, since i've been a member of the club since march) about the running community in central park, a kind of rules of the road piece.
now that i've been running there almost every day since january, it's pretty easy to tell the different kinds of people apart: the pros, the wanna-be pros, the easy-going yet dedicated masters, the plodding novices, the obsessive exercisers, the intense i-bankers trying to get their once-a-week workout in (and sprint past everyone in the process), etc, etc. you can always tell who's experienced with park running by how they react to situations when someone may be hurt (typically, the newbies sprint away and the more confident frequenters hang around and talk to the person and each other). but people look out for each other and clearly stick by the safety-in-numbers rule, even if they don't know you. (runners, afterall, typically consider other runners trustworthy. it has to do with the age-old runners' bond. anyone crazy enough to make an activity that other people consider torture their hobby can't actually be crazy.)
and as for the rules, well, it's one of the only places i've found in this city where you can actually look people in the eye for extended periods of time--and, shocking, even smile and say 'hi'--without feeling weird about it. other things, like protesting vehicular traffic and 'duh, bikers stay to the right' sentiments, bond the CP running community together, as well. and no matter how many people visit the park everyday, you start recognizing faces (contorted in pain often, but no less recognizable) and even develop relationships with people--though, they're typically silent.
anyway, let me know if you have any interest. hope all's well with you.
take care,
linnea
My Central Park Secrets Revealed!
Wednesday, July 26, 2000
Rachel Weiss has got me just wanting to chat chat chat away about boy issues. I suppose this could get me in some trouble should any one of them eventually see this page (i won't flatter myself and say they actually will, but hey, maybe some day i'll actually think it's decent enough to show to others...maybe). But I'm a big fan of pseudonyms. One thing that's been on my mind lately is the way that sex can differ based on the time of the day. I mean, maybe people are really different when it comes to when they prefer to get some, but I feel that night time sex (though, yes, traditional) tends to be pretty hot. Morning sex, on the other hand, can't ever really be. I mean, there's not that build up. There's not enough time for flirtation and foreplay. Afternoon sex can be great--especially if it's totally out of the blue. And can I add that prime time sex is just outright annoying? The idea of humping with the TV in the background (glance, glance, ha ha, funny line on Seinfeld--ugh) is nasty. And just an ex-boyfriend's speed. My favorite: Middle of the friggin night. How sexy is it when your man wakes you up--or you wake him up--by fondling and caressing, kissing and rubbing? What could be better? I guess those of you who are more interesting in sleep than sex would disagree that this is best (um, yes, i know who you all are, don't even try to deny it--LIES!), but then you all just suck. Or rather, don't...enough.
Let's talk about b