Book Club Update

Well Sir, here's how it went...

We reviewed The Life of Pi, a book I was absolutely enchanted by. Here were some of the comments from other club members, which ties in nicely to my "Why do I join book clubs!?" theme.

Of course I gave my opinion and then nodded politely while everyone else gave their totally wrong opinions on the book. But here's what I was thinking...

1. "I hated it -- it was too pretentious. I felt like the author had saved up every clever and deep thought he ever had and them dumped them all into this book."

Suburby says: (please read that like "Survey says...", from the Family Feud! Thank you!) WRONG!

2. "I am not religious at all, so I could not see anything at all religious about this book"

My verdict: WRONG AGAIN!

3. "I prefer to read "lighter" books."

Inside my head: Quelle surprise!

There was then some general discussion about how badly zoos suck and bad 80s fashions. Oh, and curling. All of which was riveting.

If anyone has read The Life of Pi, please weigh in with your thoughts on the book.

I am so cranky today, look...

Who else is sick of the goddammed internet? I am so tired of reading crap like this " "Martha Stewart, ex-con and domestic diva..."

Is there a more hackneyed expression nowadays than "domestic diva"? Does every journalist have to write in that wretched combo style of half cutsey/half sarcastic? And why do things have to be done to death, and then pursued into the depths of hell?

Who else is sick of hearing celebrities complain about "the paparazzi"? After three years of Cameron Diaz bitching about it I am now rooting for them.

Regis Philbin: You can't sing.

Jamie Oliver: Dude, your tongue is swollen or something. What the fuck is going on with that?

Bill O'Reilly: It freaks me out to think that sometime post Sept 11th I found myself really liking you. You and Rummy. That tells me something about the frame of mind of the people who think you make sense.

Too...
cranky...
to...
continue

Bad Idea Redux

I have joined yet another book club. I belonged to one a while ago and quit, for some very good reason that I forgot and now suddenly someone asks me to join one and I am all "Oh book club! Great idea! Yes! I am in!" like a dork.

The book choices are lame (like Danielle Steele novel-lame) unless they are my books which I know are not lame because I have already read them. So the only non-lame books in the club are books I have read. Now I will have to force myself to read these ridiculous waste of time books so I can have something to say about the attractive female executive who fights the glass ceiling by sleeping with her boss.

SHATNER VOICE: Why-do-I-do-this-to-myself? Is there no way I can blame my husband for this? No way at all?

Mayonnaise

What is up with the people who don't like mayonnaise? (As I type this I know some of you American readers are pronouncing it man-aise, which is to my Canadian ear terribly exotic sounding. In Canada, we pronounce it mayonnaise, and now you probably just did it again...anyway...).

Why is it that people who do not like mayonnaise dislike it so intensely? Their dislike is so intense it seems to be expressed in degrees of revulsion. They are all "UUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH Mayonnaise!!". While you sit there with your tuna salad sandwich suddenly feeling like you're eating the contents of a military hazing bucket. It's eggs and oil, peeps. Egg yolks and oil. I think there's a psychological component at play in the mayo hating and I will leave it at that.

Personally, I do not like the taste of cilantro; I find it tastes a lot like soap, which if any food should rate on a revulsion scale it is something that tastes like something that is, well, inedible. But au contraire, cilanto dislikers just say "I don't like cilantro." We don't make Mr. Fresh Salsa consumer feel like he is drinking someone else's vomit by indulging in it.

The Horror, The Horror (and I do not mean the existential horror of man's existance

I am going state right up front that I am not crazy about using other people's bathrooms and even less crazy about people using mine. Someone pops into the bathroom and if I am not hearing the sounds of handwashing within about 30 seconds, I start to get nervous.

So, last week a visitor to my bathroom actually clogged it up, Al Bundy-style. And if that's not horrifying enough for someone like me, actually waited until the water tank had refilled itself and then, when the water level was at its absolute maximum height, flushed again (!) so that water et al began pouring out onto my bathroom floor, down the heating duct and out into the carpet in the hall. The old ball 'n' chain actually had to get out the carpet cleaner to suck the water out of the heating duct. Incidentally, I have a new name for the carpet cleaner now and that's the "no fucking way will I ever use that machine again" machine.

You haven't really lived until you spend your afternoon, running out of "rag" towels and having to revert to using your actual family bath towels (gah!) to clean up someone's overflow. As these situations tend to go, this one just kept getting better with caulking around the floor moulding disintegrating, linoleum bubbling up and water (ahem) stains being left on the ceiling in the garage. Witnessing this damage the person (who, by the way is notoriously cheap) then says, "Oh well, that's what insurance is for!"

I tell this story and my father-in-law tells me that he saw a news report that said the toilet bowl is far cleaner than the kitchen sink. Dudes, I do not know what you are putting in your kitchen sinks, but I can maybe make a few suggestions about what not to put in there, if you need some.

Moral of the story: Please don't ever use my bathroom.

wtf?

In reading these comments it is so encouraging to me to see that I am finally recognized for my contribution to the fields debt consolidation, portable air conditioning and perhaps most significantly, my huge contribution to the field of driveway alarm systems.

I cannot tell you how tirelessly I have worked to bring you, Dear Reader, the most up-to-the-minute information in these important fields. Finally someone, (Bless you chimes&alarms) has taken the time to recognize it.

The Thin Edge of the Wedge

If there is one thing I cannot abide it is intolerance. In any form. I am intolerant of intolerance.

And you people who are lactose intolerant are not excluded. Substitue the word Japanese for lactose and the problem becomes clear. "But Subbie," you may say, "that's different. One is bigotry and the other is simply a description of a physical condition."

Oh, that's what you'd like us to think, isn't it?

Some thoughts for the cast of Big Brother 6

For Kaysar:

Dude, you're not Lex Luther. Please stop talking about "your plan".

For Sarah:

Your boyfriend seems a little devious, plus you look so much like Posh Spice!

Maggie:

While loyalty is a trait I personally admire, you seem to be taking it to a weird level. Please see Kaysar's remark re Lex Luthor and remember it's a game for money not a battle of good vs. evil.

Janelle:

Breaking up with your boyfriend from the Diary Room of BB6 was one of the creepiest things I have ever seen on tv.

Howie:

"Boobies" is a word best left for eleven year old boys. Even then it's borderline.

Ivette:

You're some kind of crazy genius inventor! The coaster game! The ghetto slide! Bread pudding! Checkers!

No One Likes an Enabler

I can understand wanting to know how many unique hits one's Blog gets. I can understand having an interest in where those visitors are coming from, who is referring them, and even, albeit marginally, at what time they are visiting. What I cannot understand is the need to know the other stuff. I am trying desperately to see some way that the other stats might be relevant to my life...

Me, picking up phone to call friend. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep (that's me dialing)

Friend: Hello

Me: OH. MY. GOD.

Her: What!?

Me: OMIGOD!

Her: Whaaaat!?

Me: You are not going to believe who has JavaScript enabled!

Or, you think you know a person, then you find out that he has his screen resolution set at 800x600. And you're forced to get all "I don't even know who you are anymore!" on his ass.

And do not even get me started on the people who are using proxy. Do they not have any standards at all!?

How about, "You know I have to be honest, I wasn't sure about you at first, when we first met. I was concerned that maybe our values were too different to really establish a firm friendship. Then I saw you were using Mozilla, and well, that changed everything!"

I am going to assume that this is like Physics; I just don't even know how much I don't know. And I will leave it at that.

Unless you are one of those mofos who enable cookies, in which case, I don't even want to know you.

I Love The Brits!

I can't even try to be funny today.

I have been thinking so much lately about the bombings in London. I so admired the British "FUCK YOU." response to the tube bombings. The "You will not win."

I loved it and I still do. The British people rock.

Then I found out that the bombers were second or third generation British citizens. Betrayal makes it even worse.

The bombers' victims were the people who go to work every day to make the money to pay the taxes that paid for the education and the health care and the protection and the social safety net that the bombers and their families benefitted from every day of their lives. Salt in the wound.

I'll say this, too. I haven't heard a whole lot of "British people we stand behind you" support, and that almost bugs me more. So, for the record, British people, we stand behind you! And we should all look to you for how to behave when evil people do horrible things.

Camping

This morning I got up early and did the thing everyone does just a day before a camping trip: come on, yell out the answer if you know it! You've been camping, right? Yes! exactly, I went shopping for new bras. I tried on over 20,000 and bought two. Camping strength.

Then I stopped by the patio furniture section of the department store. They had an outdoor room set up with a comfy, cushioned furniture, a coffee and end table set, a bar, a portable air conditioner and a patio heater. There was an electrical generation station of some kind so one could plug in a television. And some smart dinnerware. And this was all enclosed inside one of those screen rooms, which had a zippered door and some hilarious employee had added a battery operated door bell to the outside. I sat at the bar and ordered a Mai Tai. Which, apparently, they didn't have.

I thought to myself what these people really want is a basement. I mean truly, like aren't there some sort of essential requirements that make one's stay outdoors actually be outdoors. How about "no doors" for one.

I'm a stickler!

Punctuating on the Internet

Five question marks after a question:

One question mark -- perfectly clear!

Two? Maybe a tremor.

Five? As near as I can tell, five is meant to convey incredulity.

Like this: Did someone actually teach you to punctuate the English language that way?????

Or is that something you came up with that on your own?????

For Hyper Sensitives Everywhere...

It has finally happened to me.

The thing I have waited for, since childhood, has finally arrived.

No, I am not talking about the Secret Agent beebee gun I send a dollar twenty five for to an address in the back of an Archie comic book in 7th grade. That has still not arrived.

But something far more wonderful has.

No, not my period. (That gift of womanhood was highly overrated by the way.)

I have finally reached the stage of my life that has been promised by many women, mainly Oprah, but she's every woman, or used to be until she turned in Oprah Van Houten, anyway.

It's here. I have come to that wonderful phase of my life where I no longer care what people think of me or my choices.

Sensitivity can be a very good thing; it makes you kinder, more compassionate, more considerate of other people's feelings. It alters your behaviour, for the better because it's unbearable to feel the guilt of having hurt someone, or the shame of not helping when you were able. But sensitivity has a price. It makes you sticky. Every little unkind word, every injustice, every sad story sticks. And it's hard to live like that. Ad no matter how hard you try, you just cannot brush it off. You can say you don't care, but you do. You can try to forget, but you can't. You can even decide not to be affected, and you will be. Because even that decision will have its own cost. And really, who wants to be an asshokle anyway.

What I chose to do was just live with it. I finally accepted that I was a sensitive person, and stopped apologizing for it. I stopped getting so angry at myself for letting things affect me, and simply accepted that they do. Instead of being angry with myself for being too sensitive, I decided to see it as a good thing.

And then a miracle! By age or by choice or by Divinity, I know not which, the dream of the sensitive person everywhere materialized in my life: it occurred to me that I don't care, not in a self-esteem affecting way anyway, what people think of me anymore.

But, and this is the miracle part, I can feel this way while still caring about other things. I get to keep the good parts of sensitivity without all the bad.

I wish the same for you.

Americans, We Need to Talk

I am just going to come out and say this directly because there really is no other way: your iced tea sucks. It's basically cold tea and ice.

For the love of God people, what part of "iced" and "tea" do you not get? (The the sickly sweet, high viscosity, artificial lemon flavour, with zero percent tea content, like we drink it in Canada, is implied.)

I saw..

Mr. Street Cred, Carson Daly on tv the other day. He's so diminutive and he's lost so much weight that he is like a leprechan now!

I'm telling you it's hard to keep the hate going.

Cats Vs. Other Things As Pets

Cats are independent!

Hobos are also independent. They ride the rails all day; and they pack their own lunch in a bandana and then tie it to a stick. I have never seen a cat do that.

Cats are really clean!

So is my mother-in-law but I haven't seen any of you attempting to take her as a pet.
And, let's be honest -- this is a very liberal interpretation of the word "clean". Cats lick their little paws and then wipe their fur with their cat spit.

Oh, but cats poop in a box! (like that's a good thing!)

And that brings us right back to hobos.

Cats are self-reliant! They aren't all slobbery-loving-all-over-you like dogs, rather they are only sweet to you when they want something.

Is this really so special, do none of you have husbands?

So far, I remain unconvinced.

Some tips for those courting fame

Tip number one: Take it from the celebs, fame is hard! And someone should warn you. So I am doing it.

If you get famous, here's what might happen:

(Please note: If you get to the level of superstardom, where you're making $20 million dollars or so per movie, or your albums are selling millions of copies, then the likelihood that these things will happen to you increases exponentially.)

Photographers will probably hound you and take pictures of you in your fat pants, wearing no make up (maybe even no fat pants -- meow!) and with you hair looking bad.
A big old box of Krispy Kremes tucked under your arm. On your way to drug rehab. If you get arrested, they will show pictures of you in handcuffs. And your unflattering mug shot will be everywhere.

They will pay more for pictures of your cellulite, or any tummy fat hanging over the top of your $4,000 bikini bottoms. They will actually want pictures of you when you are drunk and in your red-nosed, slobbery faced, "let-me-tell-you-another-thing" glory.

Comedians will make jokes at your expense. And comedians are usually relentless and sometimes mean.

They will take pictures of your kids. Even though your kids didn't ask for this life!

People like Diane Sawyer will ask you very personal questions like "Why did your marriage end?" on national television. (Even on local telly that would be uncomfortable!) And you'll have to be all indignant about it. The audacity!

And they WILL take pictures of your kids.

You might, like many have, attempt to hold others responsible for your predicament by blaming the people who buy the magazines that publish these photos. But Enquirer buyer, Mrs. Josephine AdminiClerk, has enough crap to deal with, what with working full time and cleaning her own house, cooking her own meals, and taking care of her own kids, and she doesn't really have time to worry about you. And even your best celebrity shaming techniques aren't going to work on everyone.

Everyone's job has some component that is not enjoyable; that is why people get paid to do it. The photographer probably hates the waiting 15 hours in the bushes to get a pic of a famous person part of his job, but he does it to get paid.

So please consider yourself warned. I don't want to hear you complaining about this stuff from your compound in 10 years. I don't want to hear "I didn't sign up for this!" because you know, what? You kinda did.

Umm

There was another plane scare the other day; something about an errant hijack code. So the plane was diverted to Canada.

So, if I am following this, the policy seems to be if there might be a bomb aboard a plane that is destined for the USA, send it to Canada!

As a Canadian, I have to tell you, I am not really crazy about this policy.

Would You Marry Yourself?

I am reluctant to write this post because it involves admitting that I sometimes, I said SOMETIMES watch "The View". But, since I am a humanitarian all the way through to the bone (haha I said bone), I am going to admit that I watched it today. And one of today's "Hot Topics" was about some attention seeking wanker who has alerted the press that he intends to marry himself. The fact that the press found that sufficiently newsworthy is probably the real "hot topic", but I digress.

So "the ladies" asked each other: "Would you marry yourself?"

I don't remember what any of them said. (Except for bizarre Meredith)

Then I thought about it for me.

My answer?

No.

Frankly, I think I could do a lot better.

Things I'd Do if I Were a Feller

1. I'd write my name in the snow. But I wouldn't stop there. I'd also write my name on the side of my old high school, and maybe, if I could track him down on a certain former boyfriend's car. And my local Starbucks. Then probably on some sort of prison document because with all that public urination that is where I would be going. Bummer!

2. I'd grow a moustache because a) I could and b) because no one is wearing them these days and I like to be different.

3. At children's soocer games I'd announce my presence with a loud "Hellllllo Ladies!"

4. I'd shop at Mr. Big 'N' Tall because even if I weren't, it seems manly.

5. I'd adress my male friends as "bitches" because it's what all the kids are doing, and if you do that as a woman, it is always followed by a very uncomfortable silence.

Everything that is wrong with the internet

Overwhelming Searches: Type nearly anything into Google and you will get a search result of over a million hits. Well newsflash, Al Gore, I am a stay at home mom. I do not have time to follow more than 500,000 of those links before I have to haul my ass of the computer to watch Oprah. Or shop for a zippered fleece vest and another pair of high waisted Calvins at Costco. Or call up my friend and ask what she thinks of Michael Douglas's face lift. The point is, I'm busy.

Blogrolls: After countless hours of surfing the internet you happen, as if some miracle, upon a blog that is not only well written, but hip, and funny! And oh how you laugh. Ah haha! You then notice that this clever, charming, witty one-in-a-million has some links. You think, well, this has got to be some good linking because this person knows funny! So you click on one of their "must reads" or "Super faves" or whatever it is they call them, and find that hmmm, it's not so funny. Not to worry you think, try another. Same problem. Then it hits you: cliques! The blogroll is a tool for internet-style nepotism, and yet another way Al Gore has devised to waste my time.

Snarky or Let-Me-Tell-You-How-It-Really-Is comments from people who are not really in a position to tell me anything except maybe How to be a better asshole: I have had a number of those and I just keep them there. Let your assholism ring I say. I don't know how other people handle them, but they annoy me when I see them on others blogs, too. Nasty commenter and/or pedantic commenter, you're bringing down the room.

For the Love of God, People, It's

LIE down.

Please stop saying "I am going to lay down".

It's lie down, mofo. Lie.

Let's...

change the name "blogosphere" to "margaritaville". It just sounds way more fun!

Nosy parker: "Where were you for the last three hours?"

You: Margaritaville!

Then you can change your name to Chad and start giving people high fives and making that shooting gun move people do with their hand because you're a dude who hangs out in margaritaville and no one would expect anything less from you.

How To Tell If You Are Really Crazy

As I roam the vast halls of the internet, I come across many sites where people identify themselves as "crazy". I believe this to be a misnomer, and suggest that instead of being "crazy" what those people are is either a) "zany" b) "kooky" or c) "whacky".

But, in case you are still wondering, here is my definitive checklist for craziness.

Does the communication in your romantic relationships fall solely into the category of "telepathic"? (Not unlike my love affair with Johnny Depp who sends me life telepathic affirming messages like "You rock" "You are an excellent driver" "Your ass looks totally excellent in those pants").

Do you think that, and I am not committing you to anything here, but, do you think that there's a really good chance that you are the next messiah?

Do you have more than 21 cats?

How about zany hats? Do you wear a lot of those? (Bonus point if your hat serves a dual purpose like being super fetching and also filters out any kind of harmful rays or if the hat is made from an aluminum pie plate).

In enclosed areas, do people stand as far away from you as possible? (But that could also be B.O.)

Do you mumble angrily to yourself and then stare intensely at people nearby? (Deduct one point if you are the computer dude at your place of work)

Man, the internet is really pissing me off today.

No, it's not just the internet, it's the Blogosphere. First, I hate that I had to type that word, because frankly I didn't think I could hate a word more than "'blog" but lo and behold, turns out I can, and that word is "blogosphere".

But anyway, here's what's bugging me right now. Links. You heard me! I have to read three goddam sentences of some description of something and then I have to click a link to go elsewhere! You gotta make me work for it, don't you, you bastard? It leaves me bitter and resentful.

Some people set their introductions up as "teasers". Like "OH, this is so interesting! You HAVE GOT TO SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT!!!" Dot, dot, dot hypertext!Frankly, the three exclamation points should probably tip me off, but I am an imperfect woman. Nine times out of 10 it's a picture of a cat wearing a hat or smoking a cigar or something else that I am not interested in seeing.

You know who I like? The people who post the pictures right up front on the main page, on the blog. And of course I am not interested in seeing them either, but at least I didn't have to do anything.

Picture posters, here's what I want to see:

1. Bigfoot
2. Johnny Depp

English People*, We Need To Talk

That is, if anyone of us can understand what the hell it is you are trying to say!

Yesterday I was enjoying a leisurely scroll (my God, where else are you going to get a quality pun like that one. Not since The Family Circle!) through the Blogosphere (normally wouldn't use that word but need it to keep the dazzling metaphor going) when I happened across a weblog called Whateva Sista that illustates my point about the British vocabulary exceptionally well. You should go check it out.

The whole language is practically porn.

1. "Feeling a bit peckish". Sounds dirty

2. "Toad in the Hole". Sounds really dirty and not particularly flattering to either the toad or the hole.

3. "Popped in". Again, dirty sounding.

4. "Sausage roll". As a noun, unappealing. As a verb, dirty!

Let's get it together, Brits!

* Suddenly angry English people who feel like commenting about what an idiot I am and how much I hate English people, let me tell you this. Of course I hate English people, but that is only because of Hugh Grant; and I already know I am an idiot because I have the English 121 paper about Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" in which I refer altogether too much to the "existential horror of man's existence" to prove it. So don't be thinking you're telling me something I don't know. And if you're still tempted to email me, I'm just kidding. Honest. But not about Hugh Grant.

Yes, I Watched the Academy Awards

and that is three hours of my life I will never get back.

A couple of things I learned:

Sean Penn not only has no sense of humour, he is also a world leader is the ancient art of Buzzkill. I am pretty sure he stole that title from my elementary school librarian who had a one-two-three punch that would instantly and simultaeously shut you up-make you feel guilty-bring down the room. KAPOW! Sean Penn, you make Mrs. Olmsteader proud.

Seeing the "lesser" awards being handed out made me realize that somewhere in the world people are still doing that cruel thing to fat kids in gym class, where they have to stand up in a line and wait to be chosen, only to discover they never will be. But now they do that in front of a billion people!

Beyonce is the now only singer left in the whole world, oh except for that other singer, (!?!) Antonio Banderas.

Hillary Swank is married to Chad Lowe!

Words I Have Never Really Been Comfortable With

1. Boogie

2. Lover

3. Whimsical

4. Ponderings

5. "Mr. D.J."

Bad Decisions I Have Made and the Reasoning Behind Them

1. In High School I refused to take typing because I "didn't want to be a secretary". What I failed to see in all my 15 year old wisdom was that it's not just secretaries who type.

2. I took a specialized archaeolgy course in Human Osteology because I thought it "sounded neat". By the time I discovered it was more "really hard" than neat, it was too late to withdraw.

3. Bought Beanie Babies as "an investment".

4. Made friends with the weirdo girl no one wanted to be friends with because I felt sorry for her. Turns out there were reasons no one wanted to befriend her.

Hey Blogger by Google, Want Some Tips For Improving Your Service? Well, Here You Go

1. Find a way to get my computer to dispense soft drinks. That way, instead of cursing your asses when my blog takes 20 minutes to load, I will just sit back and sip a soda. Win-win!

2. Modify your search engine so it can find my keys. That one's just for the people.

3. Make a Google Time Machine. And when you do, man am I going to use that. (First stop, go back to the 80s and stop myself from trying to sign up for the Robbie Neville fan club, like a dork!)

I await my thank you note.

Delicious and Suspicious

I do not like sushi, largely because of its unpleasant taste, and also because in some ways it makes me think of "The Emporer's New Clothes". And the people I know who say they love sushi, always say it like this : "I loooooooooooooove sushi!"

And I say, "the rice, with the seaweed and the raw fish?"

And they usually add something like "Well, there's also cucumber!" They seem defensive about it, which adds to my theory that people only pretend to like it.

Then I weigh that theory against the fact that it is the number one snack food in Japan, and that it seems unlikely that the entire population of Japan, who to the best of my knowledge I have not met, not to mention hundreds of thousands of people all over the world are only eating it to prove me wrong.

But you never know.

Scrappy!

I love the Simpsons, but that Poochie episode, come on! Despite what The Man (yes Simpsons writers, that is what you have become!) tries to make you think, Scrappy Doo was a cute, no, super cute puppy, who wise cracked! What's not to like: a puppy, plus a wise ass, it's an unbeatable combination! Why can't the haters see that?

Here is something that has been bothering me for a long time

Why was my girlhood idol, Veronica Lodge, so totally obsessed with Archie Andrews, when Reggie was right there in front of her? WHY!? Reggie was way better looking, plus he has that cool sports car, and Archie was driving around in a jalopy for God's sake! Archie was also two-timing her with that insipid Betty Cooper. Betty Cooper! Really, the idea is preposterous. Uh, did Betty Cooper's parents have a pool? No, they did not.

It just blows all the Archie Comics credibility.

Assessing Famous People's Suitability for Potential Matrimony

John Travolta:

Tends towards the chubby side, sure, but that tells me he is always going to be up for ordering a pizza late at night. Extremely convenient for air travel. Not going to embarass you with the "dance moves" at your cousin's wedding (not mentioning any names but looking casually, but decidedly at my present husband). Overall rating: B

Brad Pitt:

Duh! He's Brad Pitt. On the negative, his fondness for architecture and design could lead to too many annoying home renovations. Extremely unlikely to order a pizza late at night. Overall: B+

Tom Cruise:

Also a looker and a humanitarian! Could be tiresome with the Scientology tips. May get lots of phone calls from Rosie O'Donnell. Excellent driver. Overall: A-

Michael Moore:

Would probably know his way around a kitchen and likely has a good repertoire of easy-to-make snacks. Constant bitching about politics could bring a sister down. Overall: C

Sigfried:

Loves cats. Very fancy dresser. Matrimony may come with built-in job as magician's assistant. Could be on the rebound from long term relationship. With no known last name, may have to refer to oneself as "Mrs. Sigfried". Overall C-

George Cloony:

Purported laugh-a-minute prankster. Animal lover. Boyish grin. Accustomed to bachelor lifestyle so could have lots of parties with the Ocean's Eleven gang, leaving den frequently covered in potato chip crumbs, and he is probably not much of a vacuumer. Overall B-


Interactive Section!

I got an email from a very nice lady who wondered why I had not mentioned Prince Harry, or as she put it P. Hizzo, which cracked me up. So without further ado,

Prince Harry:

On the plus: Lots of youthful vitality, opportunities to attend many charity balls, marriage would come with title other than "Miss Thang" (or less polite variants). On the negative: seems to find the evil Third Reich "kooky". Extremely poor judgment. Overall: F

Dear Barista

I would like to apologize to the Starbucks employee who had the bad luck to get me for a customer this morning. When I said "May I have a non fat latte, please", I wasn't even thinking about how taxing it is to be an urban hipster at a suburban Starbucks. So I totally understand why you had to glare at me like that. Then, when I added "Grande please", I wasn't even thinking about how already occupied your mind is with thoughts of, well, contempt for one, but also your own goatee and piercing management, or the beat poetry you may have been writing in your head at the time. My behaviour was simply beyond the pale when I added, "Not too much foam please", so mea culpa, and I see now why you had no choice but to sigh heavily when I presented you with my Starbucks card. How thoughtless was I to even buy one of those!

By that time I wasn't even thinking about you at all; I was just so obsessed with the idea that you may get some of your existential angst on my sweater (which, in my own defense, is a real bitch to get out of cashmere).

So, Mr. Barista, I am sorry. The next time I go into your store, I will not be so worried about getting myself a cup of coffee, and instead, I will, you know, show a little respect for the guy who has to interact with moms in velour track suits all day.

Dear Pepperidge Farms,

Now that Tucker Carlson is no longer with Crossfire, I think he'd be great in one of your commercials.

He already has the bowtie.

And he could give the old commercials a bit of that Carlson fire. Like say one guy picks the Milano and Tucker would get all "ARE YOU TOTALLY STUPID!? THE SAUSALITO IS BY FAR THE BEST, AND IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A STUPID, STUPID LIBERAL YOU WOULD KNOW BETTER. SHAME ON YOU, STUPID LIBERAL!. AND THOSE PANTS MAKE YOUR ASS LOOK FAT".

I could really see that.

Brad 'n' Jen

I read the news story, thought to myself, "That's too bad" in the sense that I don't wish bad things for anyone, well, except for maybe an old boyfriend from years ago, but that's a side issue; and I was fully prepared, prepared-a-mundo, to just let it drop until I came across the section of the announcement that said "for people who follow these things". That's what set me off. For people who follow these things? Do you, Mr Brad Pitt's publicist, mean the people for whose benefit you send your carefully crafted press releases? The people who make it possible for you to have a job? The people who buy the movie tickets so Brad Pitt can make 20 million dollars a pic? Do you mean, us, the Great Unwashed Public? Is that to whom you are referring?

I am trying really hard not to dislike celebrities, man. But they are making it really, really hard.

Sometimes 30 seconds feels like a long time.

You "blogexploders" know what I'm talking about.

Sometimes I am at a blog, that I am, let's just say, not really enjoying, and I think to myself, "Damn it, Suburby, just click away, forfeit the half a point!"

But then shaking my fist in the air, I think, "I cannot-- for I have already invested 14 seconds in it!"

Time, thou art a cruel master.