accessory of the year

You may have heard of Segatoy Japan's iDog, a speaker for you iPod or other audio device. Now there is iFish.



iFish is capable of changing its feelings from happy to angry by waving its body side to side and by changing the color of the LED lights.

Watch iFish's Little Video. It's mesmerizing. And it makes you have to pee.

iFish is the source of all things good and beautiful.

attack of the estrogen

I blame the warm whether last week. It has kicked my hormones into hypermode and caused me to act like a cat in heat, except instead of wanting to hump everything in site, I have the overwhelming desire to act out my stereotypical gender role. And I don't mean the missionary position. I mean shopping.

Symptom #1: Obsessive reading of girlie blogs like Dress a Day and You Knit What?? The latter is pretty hilarious, especially since I started to knit a few months ago and finally feel like there is a wise, cranky voice to explain the preponderance of horrible knitting patterns in the world. In searching the archives I also happened to find a nasty critque of a pattern I had been planning to make, and now I'm thanking the gods of snarkiness for showing me the True Way.

Symptom #2: Relapse into fashion obsession. YES, I ADMIT IT, I CAN'T FUCKING HELP BEING BOURGIE. Sometimes I feel like acquiring a wardrobe that consists entirely of amazingly utilitarian clothing like the classic work jumpsuit, and then I start reading something like Dress a Day and my love for things like clean lines and pants with lining is rekindled. And then I visit the Ann Taylor Loft website and want to spend all my money on a tweed front slit skirt and I just feel dirty.

leave me alone!

What is it with people interrupting me when I'm trying to read at lunchtime? To me, burying my nose in a book sends a clear message: "I am a rude, antisocial bastard and have procured this reading material to avoid having to talk to you, because you are boring and tedious." Apparently the people who work at Gentrified Tobacco Warehouse think of reading as the sort of activity that doesn't even require an "Excuse me, can I talk to you now?" kind of courtesy. They launch into the small talk with no warning.

"That a good book?"
"Yes, it's quite a happy coincidence when my social interaction avoidance device also provides entertainment and/or intellectual stimulation. Unlike this conversation."

Today I was sitting outside on some large brick steps leading down to a fake stream running through the complex, reading. A woman I've never even met before walked right up to me, stood there for a second, and asked, "Aren't you afraid you'll fall in?" WTF? You interrupted a complete stranger's private reading moments to ask this? I'm sitting on a FLAT, SOLID SURFACE.

In retrospect, her question might have been some kind of threat, or maybe the concerns of a person who, like prime time TV show characters who see dead people, has visions of unsuspecting readers tumbling head first from their seemingly stable seating into bodies of water, moving traffic, or cabinets of expensive crystal.

But you know, maybe I don't want to be saved. I just want to be left alone.

i want to spenddddddd

Recently at College Radio Station we received the Galaxie 500 Peel Sessions CD, and upon playing the excellent first track, "Submissions" (which turns out to be a Sex Pistols cover) on a radio show, I downloaded the CD to my iTunes. Now I'm obsessed with the band, odd because I usually can't stand shoegazer stuff, but this has just the right amount of psych to make it good. I'm so obsessed that I've developed a jones for the Galaxie 500 box set, which can be procured on half.com used for around $60. It's still out of my music=buying budget, and far down the list of things I should be spending my money on. Alas.

In the meantime, I've had my eyes on even more expensive luxury items. I've lusted after my own a Pentax 67 medium format camera since I used one as a photography student in college, but the $2,000 I could easily shell out on one has never entered into the realm of financial reality for me. Since experiencing the joys of casual photography with a digital camera, and pondering the inevitability of learning digital photography on a more serious level, I've started thinking about investing in a digital camera.

I know a little about film cameras, but digital cameras are a mystery to me. I'm afraid of making the mistake I made when I bought my first 35mm film camera: buying a "nice" new camera from a mall camera store that cost about $350, a Canon Rebel EOS. When I started to learn about photography, I realized that these cameras are a total ripoff. Once you learn how to adjust the aperature and shutter speed to get a good exposure (which is really freaking easy), you dont need all of the annoying presets that come with this kind of camera. You can get a great used Nikon 35mm at a decent camera store for around $150 and spend the extra $200 on a nice tripod and cable release - enough to take photos as nice as you'll see in a museum.

I'm trying to avoid a similar experience with the purchase of a digital camera, but internet recommendations are usually made by professional photographers, i.e. assholes who take dull pictures of sunsets and are really into useless bells and whistles. I think a high-end consumer digital SLR like this might be good, but what I really want is something with around 6 megapixels that allows me basic manual controls without those useless "portrait" and "close-up" modes or the (also useless) ability to take a 5-second digital video. Does such a thing even exist?

Oh, right, it doesn't matter, because I don't have the money to pay for it anyway. Whew.

next time take the sidewalk

You know what really gets my goat? People riding bicycles against traffic. I encountered such a person on my drive to work this morning. Now, the people I've seen do this aren't really the hardcore cyclist. In fact, they usually seem like they don't really know why they're on a bicycle in the first place, though it probably has to do multiple DUI charges. Thus, not only is there a bike coming towards you on a busy city street, but the person does that pseudo-slalom move, since people who haven't ridden a bike in 30 years have trouble going straight.

I'm not really sure what makes someone think riding against traffic on a bike is somehow a good idea, when driving a car against traffic (which, by the way, I also witnessed today)is generally a sign of mental defeciency. Most of the time I'd be the one to say that motorists' behavior around cyclists needs to be better enforced, but in this instance the person on that bike should have been slapped with a big ol' fine.

dan savage strikes again

Just as the common noun definition of "Santorum" gets press for being mentioned in "The Economist" (albeit in fantastically prudish fashion), Dan Savage takes another stab at repurposing the name of a politician.

From this week's column:

Confidential to everybody: "Pearl necklace" is out. "Cheney" is in. Pass it on.

I like it. Both a nod to the conservative lady's preferred accessory and Cheney's recent "neck spraying."

Re: the phrase "pearl necklace," how did the ZZ Top song of the same name ever get past the FCC?

a good cranky rant

I am cranky this morning.

For one, I am poor. This isn't usually the case, but I stupidly spent over my budget the last two weeks, and consequently I had to delay paying a big bill until this next paycheck, out of which I also have to pay rent. The result is a depressingly small amount left in my checking account until payday next friday, which I am trying to budget the maximum entertainment (i.e., beer) I can afford and still be able to eat meals that contain protein and vegetables for the next ten days.

Also, I'm really sleepy. Usually, anything more than 8 hours of sleep makes me feel more groggy than rested. For the last week or so, however, my body seems to be demanding something around 9 hours of sleep. And I'm not so much a snooze-hitter as I am a go-back-to-sleep-while-the-alarm-is-still-playing person, which means I've been getting out of bed an average of 9 minutes before I'm supposed to leave for work.

Once I get to work, I'm still falling asleep at my desk, so I go for some of the complimentary office coffee. The office coffee is utter shite. I mean, it's amazing that 300 people drink this crap every day without rioting. I wish American coffee companies would take a hint from the French and at least burn the cheap ass beans they use until you can no longer taste their inherent, terrible flavor.

Oh, and then there's this.

recent events

This past weekend Dick and I took a trip to Baltimore City.

Q: Business or pleasure?
A: A little bit of both.

Dick was conferencing while I spent some time furthering my quest to ensure that my future involves even greater poverty than my present, i.e., selecting MFA (that's Mother Fucking Arts) programs to which I would like to apply. Apparently, I come across as even more square on first impression than I initially thought. The faculty dude I met with, after 30 minutes or so of discussion, asked me earnestly, "Are you sure you'll like being at art school? There are a lot of weird people around here."

Now, in my estimation, the top three weirdest people out there are a) fundamentalists christians, b) swingers, and c) carnies. I think if I ever met a fundamentalist christian carnie swinger my head would explode, and the more I think about the more likely it seems that people like this exist. They probably live in the midwest. This is one reason I never go to the midwest.



My point is, art school kids are a lot more annoying than they are weird. And since when was artistic talent or merit indicated by how wacky you seem to be after half an hour? Anyway, I don't really blame the guy, as in interview situations I tend to revert to stick-up-the-ass prude-woman behavior that I learned from my uptight parents. I remember when I was interviewing at colleges the admissions officer at Bard reacted the same way to me.

sotu

Tonight George II will be giving his 6th State of the Union address, which I will be using a an opportunity to drink. I have vaguely fond/fondly vague memories of partaking in a State of the Union drinking game with htrouser and lady mctrouser in the past, but since they've fled for the Big City I've been searching for my own drinking game.

A Google search for "State of the Union drinking game" yields no less than 16 million results. Unfortunately, the pickings are actually quite slim. Most links point to this game at drinkinggame.us, which is kind of your typical drinking game with far too many rules for an increasingly inebriated person to keep track of. The other drinking game dominating the Google results isn't so much a drinking game as a satire, by Will Durst. It's reasonably funny, but not really meant to actually be enacted, though I'd like to know how many lefty political nerds try. Wonkette has a couple of additions to the drinkinggame.us one, which provide some much-needed cleverness. Overall, a disappointing selection. But this is the sort of lack of cohesiveness and direction we've all come to expect from the Democrats.

Maybe this year my drinking game will be "Drink constantly during entire speech."

mmmm, donuts

I've never been to Portland, but now I really want to go.

(They also do weddings: The service is performed by ordained ministers beneath the holy doughnut and a velvet painting of Isaac Hayes. )

bag obsession

I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions, but after getting some nice lights and street tires for my bike for xmas I've resolved to bike-commute to work more. I live only 2 miles from work, so it's hard to argue against biking. I used to bike more often when I only worked at my current job part-time, but I discovered that my inherent sweatiness was a problem with my biz-casual attire. Plus carrying all my crap to work - laptop, lunch, etc. - is a bit of a pain in the ass.

About a week ago I found a website that provides instructions on commuting to work. Apparently, non-bike fanatics like me have problems commuting to work because we're silly enough to think it doesn't require some change in routine. The advice I found most helpful is to not wear your work clothes while biking to prevent that unpleasant sweaty shirt syndrome and to get some panniers to transport your crap. Backpacks make your back sweaty, raise your center of balance, and are uncomfortable on you neck.

After some searching, I've located the dream bag for bike commuter made by an English company called Carradice. Carradice has been making bags for bikes for over 60 years, and I figure if anyone knows how to keep your crap from getting wet it's the English. Now I'm lusting after their bike bureau, which is a shoulder bag with laptop pouch made out of cotton duck fabric (nice and old school) that clips onto a rack on your bike. It has loads of brilliant features and looks good enough to carry around work.

If I had the funds, I'd add a rain cape and some rain spats to my shopping cart, because I'd love to be able to say I commmute to work in spats and cape.

blogger of slackness

Apologies for not blogging in a month, but I have been extremely busy eating cookies.

The highlights of my existence of late have been twofold:

1) A brownie consumed minutes ago, acquired from a plate of the same located in the break-room provided by an anonymous co-worker. These brownies had nuts in them, which is ok, but ultimately nuts in brownies are wack. For some reason, however, almost all recipes for brownies call for some sort of chopped nuts. What is up with that? Are brownie recipe-makers in denial about the general lack of enthusiasm for nutted brownies? Is there a secret deal between the chocolate industry and the nut industry? Regardless, the maker of these brownies was too easily tricked by the attemps of the recipe-maker to make him or her include nuts in the brownies.

2) The Elements of Style Illustrated, a Chrismtas gift from Dick. In the last few months I've hardly read more than five pages of anything, excepting the optics book I finally started only to discover that I have to learn calculus first to undertand any of it. Having attended a small Catholic school that paid its teachers so poorly that some of them qualified for food stamps, the quality of my education was highly variable. I learned how to write from my 11th grade English teacher, who was kind of nuts but passionate about literature. In 12th grade AP English my teacher was an ex-southern belle. Her husband had left her, and she spent our classes telling stories about the days when she was young, thin, and wealthy; about how she had never paid bills before her 40's; about how she was part of an organization of young women at Clemson in the 70's that helped recruit football players by joining them for dinner in a uniform of white miniskirt and orange go-go boots. "That is not selling sex," she claimed, "it's showing school spirit!"

Where am I going with this? Oh, right...so I never actually had to buy, read, or use The Elements of Style in high school, and at college they expected that I already knew everything there was to know about that sort of thing, so this is my first encounter with Strunk and White's little book. And it's great. It reads less like an instructional book than a manifesto and reminds me a great deal of Ezra Pound's ABC's of Reading. I like the illustrations in themselves for their sort of childish surrealism and in the book becauase they are completely gratuitous in a text about grammar and language usage. It's a wonderful piece of simple, aesthetically pleasing bookmaking.

hurl in this

Last night around 10:30 I was doing some yoga. Bonnie the cat was walking around the room and jumped onto a chair next to me. Just as I was doing Upright Prancing Dog or whatever Bonnie said, "This is what I think of your yoga," and projectile vomitted across the chair, carpet, and yoga mat. Then she jumped down from the chair and looked at me with an expression that said, "Hm, how about that."

Sometimes, the cosmos just don't want you to do yoga. They want you to clean up cat puke.

white house sez: blah blah blah!

This morning, the prez at Annapolis: Who needs a new speech? Let's just feed them the same line about how the Iraqi soldiers are being trained blah blah blah.

Later this morning, Lynne Cheney on The Diane Rehm Show: Deny everything. In response to a listener's questions about suggestions of the president and vice president tying 9/11 to Saddam Hussien: "I'm not really sure what you're talking about..."

Blah blah blah. Why do they even bother? Bullshit is to be expected, but this isn't even half-assed bullshit.

southern metropolis recap

After Thanksgiving, Dick and I took a trip to visit Htrouser and Lady McT in Southern Metropolis. It was all kind of a blur of drinking, amazing large southern lesbian-made breakfasts, public transit, and Grand Theft Auto.



And the ass peach. In fact, it was such a blur that I can't remember what I had at the Flying Biscuit save the biscuit that came on the side and the totally fucking amazing grits; after waiting for an hour to be seated, all I recall is an intense feeling of joy and contentment as my hunger and hangover were conquered by deliciousness.

Thanks, HT and LMT, for the first class hospitality!

can we start a grant for this?

You know, sometimes I'm astounded by the things that have yet to be invented. I hear many people, especially those who grew up with the "Back to the Future" movie series, complaining about the delayed appearance of the flying car. The flying car is crap.



What I need is a bandaid that will actually fit over the top of my finger. Tip-of-finger injuries must abound, what with the hazards of occupational paper-shuffling and bagel-slicing being what they are. And once you get a boo-boo there, it keeps hitting everything, because it's the fucking tip of your finger.

Of the many shapes bandaids come in, not a single one easily stays on a finger without modification. I mean, what we need here is, like, a bandaid thimble. Doesn't sound so tough to me. And there can be bandaid finger puppets for the kids.

Then you can start on the flying car thing. But don't expect me to buy one. Cause they're going to be a bunch of crap.

thank fuck

Penn Jillette of Penn and Teller tells the world (well, at least the NPR-listening world) that he believes there is no god. As a member of the segment of the population happily and openly unburdened by belief in a divine force, it's a fucking relief to see someone publicly taking this stance. I particularly like, and agree with, Penn's rejection of atheism's non-belief for a belief in there not being god. I remember some similar discussion of this belief on some fellow blogger's blog a few months ago, but I don't remember quite who/when.

I've had an oddly difficult time writing this post without the use of religiously-rooted expressions. At first the post's title was "amen, brother", and I kept wanting to write, "thank god" in response to Penn's essay. But in this context I realized how weird it is for someone adamantly opposed to god-belief to use those expressions: if anything good happened, it sure as hell didn't have anything to do with, as Penn puts it, some "imaginary friend."

I imagine in the UK, an English-speaking society that seems to have a stronger and longer-standing relationship with secularism than the US (a.k.a. the land of Christian bullyism), they've developed linguistic alternatives to god phrases. I mean, maybe if I incorporated the words "bloody" and "sodding" into my speech I wouldn't need to rely on "goddamn" and "jesus christ" so much. Or, I could simply replace every reference to god or jesus with the word "fuck." For example, "Thank fuck I didn't burn the cookies!"

Fuck, now that's something I can get behind.

yet another reason to buy records

I've done a considerable amount of record-buying lately - at least, considerable for me, as I've always been a bit behind the curve of average record collector purchashing. But I attended the annual WFMU Record Fair in NYC and the grand opening of a new record store in Southern Ex-Industrial Town on consecutive Saturdays, and the result is a pretty good stack of vinyl.

I'm sure glad I didn't waste my money on CDs, especially those recently released by Sony. It seems the clever people at Sony included in their CDs software that secretly installed a rootkit that both alowed Sony to spy on users' online activities and created a weakness hackers can exploit. Story here.

Also, an extensive discussion some years ago resulted in the conclusion that records are a superior weapon to CDs when slung, frisbee-style, at high velocities.

oh shit

This is one of those days I'm prompted to make sure my passport is up to date.

Bush nominates Alito to Supreme Court

Meirs "God tells me to hate baby-killers" isn't nearly as frightening as the "Satan tells me to regulate every hormonal activity of a woman's reproductive system with my court decisions" of Alito. "

mark e. smith interview

Mark E. Smith, on BBC television.

In the words of Harriet Miers, OMG OMG OMG!