ABC is the work of the Devil

I watched my first Desperate Housewives episode tonight. What the fuck is with all that God-sin-Bible drivel? Project it onto a bunch of white/might-as-well-be-white housewives, and what do you get? The most transparent pandering.

Stigmata

What a dumb movie. A Pittsburg atheist starts getting these crucifixion wounds which, historically, have only been experienced by very religious people, like St. Francis of Assisi. You're wondering for what mystical reason the stimata have chosen to afflict this non-religious person.

The answer? It's not a mystical selection at all, but a regular old possession. A stigmatic priest dies and on that same day occupies the body of the atheist woman. They even find out his name: Father Almeida, from Rio. If this is the story they're hustling, why did they even throw in that stigmata angle? Right, because of all the soul's characteristics that are going manifest during a possession, the ultra-rare stigmata is the one that this dead guy passes on.

Recap on Maui

Monday - Drive to Hana. Wonderful break for shortboarders. Waterfalls, coconut/pineapple/banana bread stands along the drive.

Tuesday - Snorkling at Molokini and Turtle Town. Awesome! Weather was perfect, water was warm, turtles were numerous. Got a number; shit hit the fan. Some longboarding.

Wednesday - Shit still on the fan. I had to return my board, but since I couldn't drive the rental car and I was in bad graces, I had to walk the 10 blocks to the surf shop. Luau in Wailea.

Thursday - Haleakala (volcano), beach in Lahaina, return home.

Wedding Crashers

Mediocre movie, and not very funny. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was much funnier.

The Shit Hit the Fan

It turns out that I WAS still pissed off and irritable because of that unresolved argument I had with my parents about the curfew. I chose to revive the discussion at an inopportune time because that chip on my shoulder was so big it was starting to bug even me.

To skip to the end, my parents think I'm a filthy whore because I asked if I could go out for say 2 hours with someone I just met in Maui. I probably should have known better than to ask during a vaction, but I still maintain that concerning the principle of the debate, I'm not as morally bankrupt as they seem to think I am.

If your name is Rex's Brother, they may be appealing to you for an opinion. You may sell me out if you like; but first consider that you happen to have a bit of a Madonna-whore complex. How could you not, with your upbringing?

Vacation with the 'rents

I'm at Maui right now, the most beautiful of the beautiful Hawaiian islands. Truly a paradise; and yet, I must vent. I'll try to make it quick since I'm paying for this bit of internet.

Perhaps it's because I'm still pissed at the ideology of having a midnight curfew, but vactioning with my parents is becoming well-nigh unbearable. I thought I'd be able to drown it all out, but it's proving more difficult than I imagined.

I'm having one of those moments when a grown-up child has to realize that his/her parents might not be all that and a bag of chips, or at least all that they used to be. Several times today I was assaulted by the thought that my parents must have adult ADD, or a slight onset of early senility, because they never seem to listen the first time and demand that the same information be repeated over and over again. It's a subtle thing: sometimes it's hard to distinguish it from their habitual stubbornness, chauvinism, or rudeness - in short, their total conviction that they are always right and everyone else is always wrong - that made them such strong people when I was growing up. But then it occurred to me with horror: is this the beginning of them becoming Old People? Everyone knows that Old People are difficult and unreasonable.

By the way, we went to Hana today.

Am I Wrong?

I was hanging out with some locals tonight. One person was talking about how a certain fraternity got kicked off some campus because "they hazed this black guy." The storyteller happened to be someone who had previously told a very bad racist joke, and evidenced some stiff homophobia several times. So I had to say something:

"Look, can you tone down that racial rheteric a little? I'm starting to get offended."

Suddenly I was bombarded with, "How is that racial?" and, "What? The guy was black." It numbs my mind that these people could even THINK that this was a quibble about was he or wasn't he black! I mumbled something about how the guy's color didn't contribute anything to the story, and then I got kind of confused, and started feeling bad for crashing this party and denouncing its members, so I shut up.

But then I got home and thought, I wasn't wrong was I? Was I overreacting (due to my intense irritation at having a curfew)? Or was it true that this cavalier attitude toward race and its objectification was itself offensive? I know I've been guilty myself of casual racial language sometimes, but I feel that the crucial difference is this: I KNOW where the line of offense lies, and I try to steer around it. For example, I would never make a blanket statement about, say, Asian people unless I were addressing some Asian people, or unless I had some very good Asian friends in the room.

This may sound like a counterintuitive thing to do, but it's one of those things that (IMO) show a degree of sensitivity, which after all is the important part. I once had a conversation with Marcus F about whether it's okay to get displeased at someone for using incorrect nomenclature (like Hispanic instead of Latino, or colored instead of black), when this person has the best intentions, but simply does not know. Marcus agreed that it's a tough call, but then added: "But part of the offense is the fact that they AREN'T aware."

In the end, it was in bad taste for me to denounce a guest at someone else's party, and I should have shown more respect toward my host. Nevertheless, it was a moment when I was overwhelmingly aware of how conservative this area is, and how different I've grown from the people here. It was a mistake for me to put myself in a situation where I lacked this important political sympathy with my company; I should either choose not to get offended, or if I am offended and must say something, I should be ready to engage in a calm and clearly supported debate (and risk never getting invited to another party).

But I need you all, my friends, to tell me this: was I wrong in feeling offended?

Curfew

I have a midnight curfew. It sucks balls. Thinking about it has filled me with so much ire that I can't even have fun when I'm out. I'm going crazy.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Excellent movie! The humor was well-timed and (I think) sophisticated. The musical numbers were wonderfully hammy, and for all its weirdness, the movie never lost sight of its heart-warming themes.

The Seventh Seal - I think I just got something I didn't get before

I was puzzling over this: what is the deal with the squire's girlfriend? And then it hit me...

Mary Magdelene!...?

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Watching Marilyn Monroe in action makes you think, "I see what the world was crazy about." She doesn't have the most beautiful face in the world (if you compare STILL photographs, Jackie O definitely had the upper hand there), but when you see the whole package - and when you see it in motion - there is nothing more seductive or more mesmerizing than Marilyn Monroe. She's magic. It's almost like she's not even a real human being, but just a jar of plain Sex. Admittedly, this can get annoying when you see it put into a personality, like in the acting/dialogue parts of the movie. But when performed in song and dance? The woman is a dream come true. I don't deny the (probably superior) talents or the beauty of Jane Russell, but even she paled next to the classic bombshell, at least in the musical numbers.

The Seventh Seal

A Bergman. Weird movie. Kind of funny. But mostly weird. I'm pretty sure I didn't get it.

LA, fo shiz

I just went to a punk show that was 100% LA. The dirty, rabid, angry, poor collection of people that I always sort of knew made up the LA music scene, but had never really witnessed it for myself (for a hint of pop has always been my comfort zone). The venue - called the Smell - was the most ghetto thing I've ever seen. First of all, it was in the downtown area, and not the nice part of downtown either; I was in a sweat about my safety and the safety of my car. And speaking of sweat, the Smell has zero ventillation, something like 90 degrees and totally airless (note: and it wasn't the crowd; there were only about 40 people there). The building is a narrow alley between two brick buildings, over which they put a heat-absorbing roof that traps all that is miserable about a heat wave like today.

Having said all that, I had a good time. Some of the music was ho hum, and a lot of it was barely punk, but it was entertaining, and very, very down-to-earth. "What does that even mean, down-to-earth?" There was something exciting and fun about the unprofessionalism, like me and everyone else were a part of the show.

The bands?

Year Future - definitely would see again. Thrash-brand punk.
Federation X - basically metal.
Business Lady - noise. Would never buy their cd, but I might be persuaded to see them live again. Their frontman has this androgeny + weird thing going on, which you know I'm all over.
Nudity - psychadelic. Boring!
The Pope - also thrashy, but too much for me. I draw the line at the Cookie Monster vocals.

Another Funny Deja Vu

Once, in my Shakespeare discussion section, our section leader had us do some kind of a game-show-type contest, in which one half of the class competed against the other half. She told us to pick Shakespearean names for our teams, citing the previous section as having picked the Beast with Two Backs and something else that was far less clever. The opposing team in my section said, "Hey, that's good; we'll be the Beast with Two Backs, too." Great, I thought, they picked the best one; how are we going to beat that? And then, out of nowhere, came this spark of inspiration: "Let's be the Codpieces!" I said.

A codpiece is a jock strap, I seem to recall...and if I may say so myself, it's even more clever than the Beast with Two Backs! I remember I was searching through my head for various slurs used by Falstaff; I still don't know why "codpiece" came to me with such clarity.

Isn't it a wonderful insult? It's like in Grease, when Danny asks Sandy about his rival (played by Lorenzo Llamas), "So are you still going out with that jock strap?" I will be sure to call someone a codpiece in the future.

Registered for Classes

I'm taking a class this fall with a professor who is red-hot!...at 9am.

I wonder how cute I look falling asleep and drooling on myself.

From Conan's Monologue

It is rumored that Jennifer Garner is pregnant with Ben Affleck's child. If true, this would be Affleck's first successful release.

Comedy in Action

Boasting that his threat to hold back failing third and fifth graders had spurred record increases in reading and mathematics scores, Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg said today that he would extend the policy to seventh graders.

The move is part of what the mayor called an intense new focus on middle schools, which have long been viewed as a Bermuda Triangle of American education...

But the threat of holding back failing seventh graders has serious implications that are not seen in the younger grades. Some studies have shown that while older students may be motivated to try harder to avoid being left behind, those who are left behind are at high risk of dropping out of school.

Moreover, keeping seventh graders back raises the eventual possibility of 15-year-olds in the same hallways, cafeterias and locker rooms as prepubescent 11- and 12-year-olds.

- nytimes.com

Old Crush

Yesterday I met up with an old crush from elementary school. I hadn't thought about him in years and years and years, but out of nowhere one day I got this deja vu. Long story short: google search, email "hey, remember me?" (survey said: average rating of 8 out of 10 on the creepiness scale, 10 being restraining order), met over a beer (and diet coke) last night.

I remember that I totally wasn't even thinking about going through with it when this idea first hatched itself in my mind, but once again, my mentor Andrew WK came through for me. It was his "I ain't got nothing to lose" that made me think, oh what the hell. And the conclusion? I'm SO GLAD I did it. It was a ton of fun, and not half as embarrassing as I thought it would be. The thing we forget as adults, I feel, is that our skin is thicker now and we're much more prepared to face childhood insecurities with a teeny bit of grace.

For those of you who are about to ask, the dude is already dating someone. But fortunately for me, I'm exceptionally good at being a comfortable friend, never awkward or inappropriate, when occassion and conscience demand.

Chronicles of Andrea J

My friend has a kid sister named Andrea who is a hoot and a half. Andrea is 14-years-old, a nice kid, and perhaps even a bit dorky at one point; freckled and average-looking; the youngest of three siblings, and close to her mom and her sisters in a way that would foster empathy, you would think. But here's the pisser: she recently inaugurated herself into the "popular" group. The consequences have been dire: now she spends all her time at the mall with her friends, is rude to her family, is totally spoiled in her material demands (cell phone, designer clothes, etc.), and pretends to like "cool" movies like Napoleon Dynamite.

I'm fascinated by this character because she's so typically shallow (she actually uses the phrase "popular group" in self-designation), and yet conflicted. The result? Non-stop hilarity! That is, for a casual onlooker like me. Here are some of the recent stunts she's pulled.

In her junior high, there are three levels of English classes: honors, regular, and "stupid" (not my terminology; this is how the story was related to me). Much to her family's disappointment, Andrea didn't test into the honors class, but rather the regular class. However, all the popular boys had tested into the "stupid" English class, so Andrea insisted that the regular English class was too difficult for her, and that she must be moved to the "stupid" class. (Note: the popular girls were in the regular class; so Andrea one-upped them.)

Andrea's mom was thinking about moving the family from the Midwest to California. The other siblings all would have finished high school by then (in two years' time), so the only person the mom feared would put up a fight was Andrea. You see, when a teenager is that attached to her friends - and moreover, has worked so hard and sacrificed so much to reach her social status (which is so dear to her definition of selfhood) - you would think that said teenager would be reluctant to lose everything and start over. Much to everyone's surprise, Andrea expressed that she couldn't wait to move, and that she wished that the family could move immediately, instead of waiting two years. Her sister's interpretation? "I think Andrea is secretly sick of her friends and just wants to get away from it all. She can't work up the nerve to blow them off, so she hopes that moving will give her escape."

Isn't she a riot? More to come; I have a hunch that this will be an ongoing saga.

A Moment in Loveline

A guy calls in to ask how he might persuade his girlfriend to let him video tape her masturbating. "I have a tape of a guy jacking off; would that help convince her?' Adam said, "You need therapy." "Therapy?" corrected Dr. Drew. "I'd say more like psychiatric care!"

Did that reaction seem a bit strange? Apparently, their guest host thought so, because he asked them to elaborate on their diagnosis. Dr. Drew said that the guy is probably gay if he has a video of a guy masturbating; and, he suffers from empathy failure because he thinks that his girlfriend would agree to star in this home-made porno instead of screaming and running away.

This surprised me. First, to say that gay is in need of therapy seems totally inconsistent with show. Second, I don't think it's too crazy to imagine that a guy would want a video of a girl masturbating - and therefore it doesn't seem that a girl would be as freaked out as Loveline says she would (insulted, maybe) to hear this request. The sheer volume of pornos on this theme confirm both hypotheses, I think. She might be a little concerned about his sexuality, but again, I don't know that a bisexual boyfriend is that freaksome. I feel like a lot of women would rationalize: "Well, as long as he's not driving stick NOW...maybe I can permanently swing him to our team."

It was a puzzling moment.

In the Year 2000

"After getting in touch with his feminine side, Mr. T will open up a beauty salon, and name it 'I Pretty the Fool.'"

Misquote? Self-parody?

"We're considering all kind of people," Mr. Bush said after a Cabinet meeting today. "Judges, non-judges. Laura gave me some good advice yesterday, which is to consider women. Which, of course I'm doing." First Lady Laura Bush said she would be pleased if the president nominated a woman to fill Justice O'Connor's seat.

(nytimes.com)

Brothers Karamazov

I finished my book last night/this morning. Way, way over-written, if you ask me. Dostoyevsky devoted something like 100 pages near the end to summarizing the 900 pages that came before it. I realize that he has an interest in court rhetoric, but the closing remarks from the prosecution and defense struck me as pretty dispensable.

How Russian was the conclusion! Though it was cast in spiritual light, I couldn't help but think that Alyosha got the ass end of life. His one brother is exiled for a crime he didn't commit, his other brother is on his deathbead, his mentor is dead, and his girlfriend is a hoochie. All he has to comfort himself are a passel of little boys, and even that's sad because one of them has died. Love and brotherhood, redeeming our sins by teaching our children - these are the lessons that Alyosha learns, but still, it would take a true optimist to appreciate them when he's left with nothing but a lot of grief.

There were some good parts, though I must confess I found a lot of the book boring. Most of the beginning was entertaining: Fyodor Pavlovovich is comic gold in description. In dialogue, he becomes more irritating and less funny. The chapter about Ivan Fyodorovich's conversation with the devil was simply brilliant. The devil's rhetoric is masterfully crafted, and I couldn't get enough. And finally, I was thoroughly moved by the ending. True, the depressing circumstances were less than satisfactory, but if we must have the Russian ending, that was the most powerful way to do it.

All in all, a dynamite grasp of character, though perhaps too mathematical at times (eg, Ivan = sinful, conscience-free father + holy fool mother = tortured intellectual who wants to be progressive and reject God, but can't).

* * *

"'Yes, yes, two heads are better than one,' impatiently supplied the public procurator, who was long familiar with the old fellow's habit of talking slowly and at inordinate length, unembarrassed by the impression he made or by compelling everyone to wait for him but, on the contrary, greatly savouring his own slow, potato-like and always joyfully self-satisfied German wit."

Potato-like! I wonder if that's a common Russian idiom. If it isn't, this was a moment of inspired insight.

Long Break

Whew, I've abandoned by blog for quite some time. It's a symptom of nothing happening in my life, and not of me being neglectful.

Finished the rest of Sex/City 6. Great episodes! Am I the only one who thinks that Carrie should have stayed with the Russian? One little bump in the road, and she bails. It just goes to show that we can't forget the one who abused us, no matter how good of a lover we meet later in our lives.

Speaking of abusers, I think it's safe to say that I'm over my asshole. I had a brief relapse, but I've been good now for a few weeks, which seems like it's safe to say I'm through. This may also explain why I've had so little on my mind lately. It's the serenity - something I haven't had for the last 20 months.

La Dolce Vita, Again

"One should live outside of passions, beyond emotions, in that harmony you find in completed art works, in that enchanted order. We should learn to love each other so much to live outside of time, detached... Detached."

This quote struck me because it was the third time, in a relatively short space of time, that the universe repeated that same message to me. I thought maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, until I concluded that the message itself is actually rather trivial. It's a cool thought, that's all.

(It may also be worth noting that there's something quite Girardian about the idea, which might explain why it arrested me in the first place.)

"I came to recognise that, apart from her own kinsfolk, the sufferings of humanity inspired in her a pity which increased in direct ratio to the distance separating the sufferers from herself. The tears that flowed from her in torrents when she read in a newspaper of the misfortunes of persons unknown to her were quickly stemmed once she had been able to form a more precise mental picture of the victims." - Swann's Way

"I have never been able to understand how it is possible to love one's neighbor. In my opinion the people it is impossible to love are precisely the ones near to one, while one can really love only those who are far away." - Ivan Fyodorovich, The Brothers Karamazov.

La Dolce Vita

I remember having a conversation with a friend a long time ago, in which I observed that a lot of people like to say that The Great Gatsby is their favorite book (clarification: a different set of people than the ones who pretend that Moby Dick is their favorite book). I said, "I don't see how that can be. Most of us read that book when we were in 11th grade, which is way before we would have been able to understand what is profound about it. I think everyone just liked the fact that there were a lot of rich people and parties."

My friend, who's a writer himself, said, "Of course. Whenever you have a story that's so-so, make the characters rich and your story will be good."

Facetious, but true. That's the card La Dolce Vita is playing, I believe. The decadence, the glamour, the mansions and cars; the crazy amounts of anonymous sex that goes down, or at least gets suggested. I suspect La Dolce Vita failed to captivate me as it should have largely because my reaction is revulsion, not fascination, to most of this stuff. I mean, I love a wild party as much as the next person, but I've never found stoners to be much fun, and I've certainly never felt the need to see my friends in their birthday suits at parties. Perhaps most importantly, I've stopped associating "rich" with "glamorous" a long, long time ago. Rich to me basically means "Republican" and "asshole-cocksucker-fascist" - making them the last people I'd want to fraternize with.

With that, a lot of the glister to La Dolce Vita just got killed. This would explain why I appreciated the episodes I did. It also means that I got the message - aha! The movie was preaching to the choir, so to speak.

Two Fellini

and I realized that what I love about Woody Allen movies aren't their Fellini-like moments. What I love are the Marx Bros-like moments...so I should just explore that influence, right?

La Dolce Vita:
When I was done with this 3 hour epic, I said, "I don't get it." Then I watched the commentary that came with the DVD and said, "Nevermind, I DID get it." It's just that most of it didn't mean anything to me. The opening scene with the Jesus-helicopter; the ennui of the rich; the quest for tail; yeah, I understood all that. But I don't see how any of this can hold a fascination for us unless we are inherently fascinated by the rich and glamorous. More on that later.

A few episodes that I thought were really powerful. The Sylvia episode, of course. Who can not relate to that dream of falling in love with a magnetic, elusive person one can never have and never understand, and yet spend one magical night with? The Trevi fountain looked exceptionally beautiful, as did Anita Ekberg. The Madonna episode: merciless, cynical, an incisive portrayal of modern hope. The night out on the town with Marcello's dad: thoroughly uncomfortable (realistically so), but deep in pathos and full of yearning. And finally, the last scene with the girl from Umbria. That was the one time during the movie where I was able to say, "I get it!"

Satyricon:
NOW I was able to say with confidence, "I don't get it." Whereas I found the individual scenes of La Dolce Vita to be coherent - even though I couldn't stitch together any meaning from the pieces - with Satyricon, I sometimes couldn't even figure out what was going on. I'd say I'm pretty well primed to approach that film; as a classicist, all that stuff about ancient pederasty, courtesan culture, orgies, and recreational violence is old fucking hat. And yet, when I was watching Satyricon, I was thinking the whole time, "I got NO frame of reference." If it weren't for the movie Gladiator, in which the same thing happens, I wouldn't have ben able to figure out why Encolpio gets captured as a slave. Note to self: never fall asleep in an unknown place, because you're sure to wake up a slave. There are many other wherefores, however, that I couldn't figure out. Why does that building start crumbling? Why is Ascilto friends with everyone? Why do they decide to kidnap Hermaphrodite?

As for the strengths... Actually, I can't think of any off the top of my head. I guess that part about art/poverty vs. hackery/wealth was kind of neat. Encolpio and Ascilto were very handsome (my preference still for the brunette).

Favorite Sex/City Boyfriends

Let me preface this by saying that I'm aware this blog is turning into an exclusive discussion about one tv show. This tends to happen when, say, you have no life. But today was a great day: my Prince Hits 2 came in the mail (approval from you know who you are). I may or may not write about that later. I actually have a good amount of good blog material in my head right now, but I happened to be too exhausted to tackle any big subjects.

Anyhoo.

Years back, before I had seen too many episodes of Sex and the City, I remember sharing with a friend a certain grievance, that the show is primed to showcase hunks (4 new love-interests per week), but somehow refuses to deliver: most of the boyfriends are kinda plain and/or fug. Even the ones who are supposed to be great for other reasons (Trey, Big [sorry], etc.) are basically wankers. To this my friend (male, straight) said, "I like Steve. He's so cute." Well, okay...I can get behind that.

It seems like the show got better at writing men and/or women's fantasies later in its career. Here's my top 5:

1. Harry
2. Smith Jarrod
3. Steve
4. Aidan
5. Robert Leeds

* * *

I'm sorry, I should probably say something about the tragedy that happened today in London. Terrible, terrible thing. Oh, who am I kidding? Mostly, I'm just relieved that it didn't happen to my city; beyond that, I almost don't want to know what happened. Maybe if it were closer to home...or farther.

New Types

So season 6's Smith Jarrod is HOTTTT! Notice, not just 2 t's. I'm reevaluating my "types." Blond surfer dudes; I never used to like blonds...but I stand corrected. And Asian guys; the original ones are really original.

Sex/City

Season 6 is Fabulous! And what's the deal with season 5? I didn't know it was only a half-season.

This is going to irritate me to no end, I can tell. First, season 5 sucks teabags (to use the parlance of our times), and when I hope there's more to redeem it, nope, that's it. Then season 6 is gripping, and I find out that I only rented half of it! Am I even going to be able to find the other half? Ugh. I may have to join Netflix just for 3 stinking discs, because I'm not sure I saw them at Hollywood.

Sadness

Until recently, it used to be the case that if you googled my name, two of my short stories were the first items to be listed. They've been doing some work over there at Google, because now I'm wiped off the face of the web. Tear. My short stories, however, are still there.

Sorry, Friends

for not writing. Slight case of violent illness.

Sorry if you liked Batman Begins

but I thought its badness exceeded even my most dire predictions. Half the time I was giggling/stunned with disbelief, and the other half I was bored out of my skull.

San O

Because the guy at the surf shop said that he only had 8-footers, I didn't pay attention when he handed me a 6-footer. So, I went today to San Onofre, a beautiful longboarder's paradise with easy, even waves...and I had to learn how to shortboard. I got up, at least. Now I know I can do it, even on relatively little waves. Though I'd rather be longboarding. I still maintain that I'm too old to learn too many new tricks. It's like why I refuse to learn how to snowboard: I'd rather just have more fun (skiing).

Musical Silliness

I realized that I have no ear for musical silliness. When I recognize that a band I like is silly, I judge it by the lyrics. For example, everyone will tell me that Judas Priest's music is silly, and I'm okay with that, but do I sincerely agree? Not really. However, I can immediately sniff it out in the lyrics. There's a nice little caption on the back of the Screaming for Vengeance cd that says it all:

"From an unknown land and through distant skies came a winged warrior. Nothing remained sacred, no one was safe from the Hellion as it uttered its battle cry...Screaming for Vengeance" (ellipses in text)

Likewise, I've sort of suspected that Depeche Mode is a little silly. Because the lyrics totally suck. "Feelings are intense/Words are trivial." I mean, come on. But I love the sound! Yesterday, my brother picked up the cd and started listening to it. "This is a great example of technology meeting art," he said. "It's like some guy in the eighties just figured out how to use a synthesizer and went crazy. Look, they even put synthesizers on the vocals."

"Oh yeah," I said. "I guess it is pretty silly."

Unfortunately, there isn't much I like that isn't stupid or silly. Honestly, I really love this stuff. I'm not trying to be kitsch or anything; because if I had a choice in the matter, would I really choose to like Skid Row?

The K-Man is a Swimmer!

I was so proud of my little guy! He learned to swim today. It took a while for him to stop running away from the waves, but he was in there paddling after about half an hour in the water, which doesn't seem too shabby a learning curve.

Then he decided to poo right there where the tide was coming in - while I stood by watching it wash away, helpless, horrified, and humiliated - and I decided right then that it was time to go home. The ocean is pretty gross...now.

Awesome day. Blew off my asswipe of a personal trainer, woke up, ate, went to the beach, showered, ate, watched Sex and the City (first half of season 5). This season is not that great. A slight case of Nothing Happens. Except Charlotte, surprisingly. Her thing with Harry is sweet.

Notable quotables (what did I rip that off from? Jeopardy?):

"Stanford: ...you have to promise not to judge.
Carrie: Do I judge?
Stanford: We all judge. That's our hobby. Some people do arts and crafts; we judge."

"I[Heart]OCGOP" - vanity plate I saw today at the beach. God, could you embrace a stereotype?

OMG, this is terrible!

O'Connor resigned - what was she thinking? I don't see why this couldn't wait another three years. Retiring is entirely within your control; dying is not, and who knows if some of the other guys (Rehnquist) will last until the regime change?

"Democrats warned President Bush not to try to appoint someone whose views they consider extreme. Republicans, meanwhile, signaled that they were girding for a fight."

So moderate/centrist views are too much to ask. The Republicans KNOW they're taking advantage. OMG...

Great Horoscopes This Week

Cancer: (June 22—July 22)
You lack initiative, which means that you usually wait until someone yells "Get funky!" before you get funky.

Leo: (July 23—Aug. 22)
You won't listen to the many people who tell you that your lover is bad for you until it's too late and you're almost completely finished devouring his corpse.