August 2003 archive

(88 entries)

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August 31, 2003

Can't stand still while the music is playin'

I really expected Saving Silverman to be just like all of the other gross-out buddy movies that are churned out every year, all of which seem to star Seann William Scott*. And yet it stood head and shoulders above the crowd of buddy movies. And why, you may ask? I can tell you in two words. And if you've already seen the movie, I think you know what those two words will be:

NEIL DIAMOND.

I don't think I ever would have thought to watch this on my own, but I got it as a birthday present from Robin. Five seconds into the movie, I could tell why and I declared it the Greatest Film Ever Made. The movie is about a trio of Neil Diamond-obsessed buddies. It is clearly the story of my life, although there was some argument in the family over which role corresponded with which of my friends.

One of the trio (Jason Biggs) finds himself engaged to an evil bitch of a woman and his friends (Steve Zahn and Jack Black) have to rescue him from ruining his life and their friendship by kidnapping the fiancée and redirecting his attentions to a more suitable partner. It's actually a lot funnier than it sounds and it features the main characters' Neil Diamond cover band, Diamonds in the Rough, their enormous Neil Diamond memorabilia collection and a very important cameo by The Neil himself.

If that hasn't turned you off already, I will tell you that the movie also features Jack Black in a Neil Diamond wig doing a very bad imitation of a mime having sex. Run out and rent it now!

–––––
* who is cool because he has double letters in all of his names

Unconscious Mutterings

If you wish to delve into srah's subconscious, you may do so in the extension.

read extended entry... »

August 29, 2003

srah's quotes quiz

I've run out of musicals. Or maybe I haven't. These are quotes from all kinds of music and movies. Identify them or perish.

When he's underwater, does he get wet? Or does the water get him instead?
Maids like me - I'm neat. I like maids - they're neat.
1: You know carpentry. Can you do anything else? 2: Whacking. I'm hell at whacking.
1: This sausage is moldy! 2: Shut up and drink your gin.
My friends would think I was a nut, turning water into wine.
We're living in a material world and I am a material girl...or boy.
1: But why are you wearing these clothes? 2: Because I just went GAY all of a sudden!
The computer has the evidence. No need to abort.
Pretty eyes, pirate smiles.
Just think of it as you're being let go, that your life's going in a different direction, that your body's part of a permanent outplacement.

And they rode on in the friscalating dusklight

After two days of orientation, I am completely discombobulated. Half of me is unbelievably stressed out by meeting people and making small talk. This half has had enough of hysterically funny conversations where you laugh and laugh and laugh but are constantly stressed that you're going to be the one who drops the ball and makes the other two people in the conversation stop and look at their watches. The other half has gotten used to the orientation lifestyle and doesn't know how she's going to last from Thursday to Tuesday without seeing all of the new people she's met.

The first half doesn't want to talk to another human being for as long as she lives, but the second half wants to go out and socialize socialize socialize. So far, the first half is winning. I came home last night looking forward to painting my toenails, eating pita chips and very garlicky hummous and watching The Royal Tenenbaums. Unfortunately, I was kidnapped and forced to leave the house, but I made myself useful by making cookies, speaking only when spoken to and trying not to make people laugh and start another of those stressful vicious cycles of hilarity. I was still so knocked out by the day's socializing that I came home, tried to finish the movie, and fell asleep in the middle of it. Shame on me.

Marking your territory

Have you ever been friend-infatuated with anyone? Have you ever met someone and been so attracted to them upon first meeting them that you want to declare YOU WILL BE MY FRIEND and mark them with a Post-it® so that everyone knows that this is your potential friend-to-be and so that you won't lose them later?

No?

Uh... me neither.

Trawling in Tree Town

On the way to the dentist's office this morning, I had a conversation in my head with fellow SI students about What To Do in Ann Arbor.

Well, I explained to them, if you're looking for a really good cheese selection, I'd try Zingerman's or Big Ten. But I guess you're probably not. I'm better to ask about practical things like that than, say, which clubs to go to. I'm not really into going out and wiggling around in a little tiny top, trying to drag all the mecs.

This seemed like a perfectly normal thing to say until I realized I'd said mecs instead of guys. And once I'd realized that, I realized that I'd said "drag". What? We don't use that word that way in English. What I'd meant was draguer. And now, several hours later, I can't think of a good word to translate draguer.

I think it's a really good word for the situation, though, because it sort of reminds me of trawling - the idea of a fishing boat dragging its nets and trapping everything in its path. That's sort of what I meant, in a figurative way.

Deedle dee dee dee dee dee dee dee

You can't tell, but I'm singing the banjo song from Deliverance.

I quite like this video, although I'll warn you that it's over ten minutes long.

[sort of indirectly via RoboRanch]

August 28, 2003

Highlights of Wednesday's orientation

Overheard:

Student 1: So how did you spend your summer?
Student 2: Two words: Tae-bo and crosswords.

I was happy because the dean of the School of Information actually got up and said he didn't know how to describe "Information" to people who ask, either. It brings together all of the groups of people in information professions and acquaints them with the issues related to information while training them for those careers. I am actually quite excited for my mandatory Foundations courses, which everyone in SI has to take. I'm interested in learning more about all of the other specializations (Library and Information Services/Archives and Records Management/Information Economics, Management and Policy) and the way they overlap. The dean says that one of the advantages of SI is that overlapping responsibilities and issues prepare you for ambiguity.

Alrightythen.

So I'm pretty excited about SI in general, even though I can't get into any of the classes I want at this point, but I shall triumph!

August 27, 2003

Orientating

Tired. Too tired to blog. Orientation is much better than workshops, even if the class sessions I want are all full. Best of all, now I have friends and am super über charming and everyone loves me.

I am happy.

August 26, 2003

All aboard the Ace Train

The Real World was really lame this week. It's always lame, but this week it was lame in that I don't even have anything to say about it. Ace's girlfriend (or not?) came to visit and he got in a drunken fight with a taxi driver.

On the bright side, next week brings about the Revival of Adam, the forgotten Worst Character Of All. He will bring home some chick no one likes, get mad when she won't kiss him, and take his sexual frustration out on the world by inflicting another of his famous raps on the viewing audience.

A note of thanks

Muchas gracias to Richard for the lovely birthday picture!

How I spent my birthday afternoon

Seriously, do not click here (requires Flash).

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh!

What do you get when you fill a classroom with librarians, archival librarians and computer-interacting librarians?

Silence.

I'm not exactly Miss Chatty, but once someone takes the first step, I can talk an ear or two off. The problem is, no one talks. Or they whisper. The silence is accablante.

I don't want to make friends. I just want to have them already.

Another family conversation

(watching You've Got Mail)
Dad: Is that Meg Ryan and her mom dancing?
Me: No, it's... uh... the devil. And Noah Webster.
Mom: That's Daniel Webster.
Me: "YOU WILL PUT THIS WORD IN YOUR DICTIONARY!!!!!!!!!!!"

'It's such an interesting mixture of poetry and meanness'

I hate You've Got Mail.

I don't want to hate it. I love romantic comedies. I feel like it's my duty to love this one, but I don't. Not only do I not love it, I hate it. I hate it for lost potential, for what it could have been but wasn't. I hate its long stretches of pointless dialogue. I hate Tom Hanks. I hate all of the characters in it. I hate it because it's not In the Good Old Summertime. I hate it for itself.

We watched In the Good Old Summertime followed by You've Got Mail last night. That was probably a mistake. You've Got Mail is never going to be good when it follows the far-superior 1949 film based on the same play. The later movie's main characters are annoying, their relationship is less believable, and Parker Posey's character is superfluous to any plot. What's more, neither Van Johnson nor Buster Keaton is in You've Got Mail, so it was cursed from the get-go.

I don't find Tom Hanks attractive or romantic. Nor do I find him a charming rogue. I'm starting to suspect that maybe he's not a very good actor. I think he plays the Tom Hanks in all of his characters. This character is supposed to be snarky and say what's on his mind. When Tom does it, he's either unbelievable or so mean that you hate his character for the rest of the movie.

Even Tom would have been able to pull off a nice romantic comedy if it hadn't been so loooooong. I don't know what the running time is, but it felt about twice that. The characters talked and talked and talked about nothing. They made observations on life that I'm sure would be very fascinating in real life, but which had no place being forced on me in a movie. I'm all for peeling apples in one long strip à la Sleepless in Seattle, but I don't need bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils. Die, Nora Ephron, die.

Then there's the plot of the movie. Rather than being rivals, they're complete enemies and he's the Big Business bookstore destroying her life and driving her Independent one out of business. And what's more, we're supposed to side with her when I (sorry) would much rather shop at his huge commercial book warehouse with 35% discounts than her creepy little hole of a store. He has coffee and selection. She has a stupid hat.

If you like romantic comedies, don't settle for this crap. Go out and rent In the Good Old Summertime. You'll get a better, shorter, simpler story, "Cuddles" Sakall, the charmingly gruff, Van Johnson, and my beloved Buster.

August 25, 2003

Hail to the conqu'ring heroes

During the lunch break between sessions, I had no friends to eat with so I wandered around campus. I wandered into Ulrich's because when you're alone and friendless, there's no friend like shelves and shelves of stationery and school supplies.

Unfortunately, I had chosen the worst day possible to wander into Ulrich's, because the students are moving in. The store, as is normal for a campus book store, was packed with undergrads, most of whom I assumed were freshmen because I wanted to. Prissy little girls in miniskirts and tank tops picking out the notebook they have to have because all of their friends, who all came to U-M, and who were all shopping together at Ulrich's, had the same one. Big stupid-looking fraternity-meat being chased around the store by parents carrying armloads of books in the hope that they'll crack one.

I love U-M. I know I promised last year that I wouldn't do it again this year, but... must... mock... students. Undergrads, anyway. That way I'm less hypocritical.

Geoff Larcom wrote a very beautiful piece in the Ann Arbor News that shames me. We shouldn't hate the students. We should loooooove them, because they have personal dramas.

"All you see is a mini-van pulling up," he said. "What you don't see is the story that is going on inside the car. It looks all the same, but in fact, there are hundreds if not thousands of stories going on."

Take a cha-cha-cha-chance

"So, tomorrow's a special day," my grandma says on the phone.

It is?, I wonder, What's tomorrow?

Oh yeah.

If you want me, here I am, come and get me

I hate it when I find myself standing beside the bed and remember how I used to be afraid, when I was small*, of scary hands reaching out from under the bed and grabbing my feet.

I hate it when I think about how silly and ridiculous this was... then start thinking about the hands and have to immediately jump into bed.

–––––
* "Laugh it up, fuzzball."

Hello again, hello

Our Intro to SI Computing workshop is having a ten-minute break. I should probably be human-interacting, but am instead computer-interacting. Would any humans like to interact with my computer?

I am not going to have any friends. Approach me... IF YOU DARE!

Intro to SI

People kept asking me if I'm nervous or excited about starting grad school. I really wasn't. I just wanted to get orientation over with so I would finally be able to register for classes so I would finally have a class schedule so I could finally get a job.

But now I'm here. And I know squat. And I'm scared. If I were the kind of person who said things like "buggin'", I would tell you that I am buggin' right now. What kind of mutant am I that I've lived 21 years of my life in Ann Arbor and know less than nothing about the University of Michigan? That I got lost in the Undergraduate Library? I feel completely out of control. I don't know what I'm doing. What have I gotten myself into?

Mer - I think I am typing this about 50 feet away from you. I would come say hi but I'm scared and I might pee on you.

Deobfuscating the blog game

It is time for the answers to be revealed. At last you will know the truth! And the lie! You won't care, but you will know! And knowing is half the battle. Shut up, srah, and just tell them the answers already.

Most people recognized that story #2 (College Jeopardy) was true. That's because this story sucked. I do appreciate that you were so willing to believe that I couldn't come up with anything interesting to say about myself, though. I'm going to go cry in a corner, even though it is true. The other 'story' I came up with was about how we used to eat a lot of cheese in high school, so I guess you can feel blessed that I didn't make you read that one. It was really crap, as opposed to this one, which I consider only mostly crap. Yawn.

Although a popular choice, story #3 (the p0rn theatre) is true. They do have p0rn theatres in France and this one was right on the corner with a real cinema down the alleyway. Going to this one didn't have anything to do with my French skills, so much as my lack of observational skills. The big red X, as I said, should have given it away. But hey, we were looking for a theatre and we found one! I was surprised to search my archives and discover that I hadn't told that story.

Story #1 (the trip to England), therefore, is... not entirely true. This is why I said you were going to hate me when I told you the answer. Everything in the story is true except one detail: I danced on the high altar at Winchester Cathedral and not Salisbury. Sneaky wench.

Correct guessers: Kim, Dae, Jez, Patricia, otto, granni39, Jen, gish, windy and Heather.

Thanks for guessing! I look forward to doing it again sometime.

Something appealing, something appalling

I will be moving to Belgium in the morning, because their jokes are better than ours.

[via Belgium Doesn't Exist! which was via My Boyfriend is a Twat]

August 24, 2003

Unconscious Mutterings

It is time, once again, to venture into the extension.

read extended entry... »

August 23, 2003

Order now!

If this had existed while I was growing up, I can assure you that I would have had one. Unfortunately, they won't be out until fall 2003. In the meantime, you'll just have to have Sigmund Freud analyse Rosie the Riveter.

[via Dave Barry's Blog]

Stick a feather in my cap and call me macaronic

Languagehat has a post about my new favorite verse style and word: macaronic.

Modern examples cited in the comments include Lady Marmalade, Michelle and some of the work of Leonard Cohen. I would add Côté banjo, côté violon, For me, Formidable and (my favorite) It is not because you are.

What are your favorites?

August 22, 2003

Current random thoughts

Where did the word "utmost" come from?
What are you talking about?
Dennis Kucinich is very gnomish.

The end of summer employment

Have just realized am going to be unemployed in fifteen minutes.

Help. Panic.

She certainly can can-can

Robin has somehow found herself pet-sitting a total of five dogs and nine cats this week and I often get dragged along. I'm afraid of two of the dogs in one of the houses, so she relegates me to the basement with the other one and Max and I watch the International Channel.

Last night the coverage was subtitled French news. I was aware that there had been a heat wave in France and that people had been suffering and even dying, but I hadn't realized how serious it was. According to what I was watching, the estimations are that more than 10,000 people have been killed by the heat. Tours is reporting their death rate at 180% of the normal.

I feel so dumb and ignorant for not having realized how serious the situation was until now. I feel detached. It was so nice to see French news last night and catch up on everything that's important over there but doesn't make it over here. I don't want to lose touch like that.

Here's a bit of song and dance (from a U-M alum!) that I've been listening to all week, about being caught between France and the US (translation in the extension):

Certains vont à Cannes pour finir leur vie
D'autres se rangent en Californie
Mais quand viendra l'heure de me retirer
Je serais sans doute bien embêté

A moins peut-être que j'aille passer gaiement
Ma retraite sur un voilier tout blanc
Et couleur des jours pacifiques
Au milieu du ciel atlantique

Côté banjo there's always San Francisco Bay
Côté violon toujours Paris au mois de mai
Côté raison, je me sens quelquefois d'ailleurs
Mais d'ici côté cœur...
- Joe Dassin, Côté banjo, côté violon

read extended entry... »

Obfuscation: The Blog Game

Here are my three stories. Two are true and one is false. I will warn you that I have a reputation for being quite good at this sort of thing, although when I've done it as an icebreaker it's usually a factoid rather than a story.

You may pick which you think is the ~~true~~ FALSE (oops - forgot to change that when I changed from 2F/1T to 2T/1F) story, leaving your guess in the comments. If you'd like, I'd also be interested to know why you think one or the other is true or false. On Monday I'll post the correct response.

Eligibility: My family and close friends may guess as long as they don't influence anyone else's guess by announcing that they know for sure which is the correct answer. If you sound like you're not quite sure, but you think it might be #X, I probably won't have to kill you. But don't all agree or anything. If you would like me to know that you know but don't want to ruin it for everyone else, you may whisper it quietly in my ear or email me.

Story #1: My parents and I went to England in 1982 and I ended up spending my second birthday there. We were there for a wedding, but we also used the trip as a chance for my dad to familiarise his wife and young daughter with his mother's native country (which he had often visited growing up). Sometimes I think they would have preferred to leave the daughter at home, although she did provide them with some interesting stories.

We went to the Tower of London and I was not very interested in the tour. I was, however, quite interested in the ravens.

"LOOK, DADDY," I exclaimed, "BIG BLACK BIRDS. WHAT ARE THE BIG BLACK BIRDS DOING HERE, DADDY? WHY AREN'T THE BIG BLACK BIRDS FLYING AWAY, DADDY?" Apparently I was loud and annoying enough that the beefeater actually stopped his speech and walked over to me.

"Do you know," he said, bending over me and trying to exude an air of authority and respectability as I grinned up at him, "what we do to little American girls who can't be quiet and listen to the nice beefeater's talk?" I shook my head, still smiling and not realizing I was doing anything wrong by asking my dad about those fascinating birds. The beefeater continued: "We CUT OFF THEIR HEADS!"

My eyes widened at the death threat. I went and hid behind my mother and apparently didn't speak another word for the rest of the day.

Another of our tourist excursions was to Salisbury Cathedral, which was undergoing some ~~construction~~ restoration. As my parents listened politely to the tour guide and observed the beauty of the cathedral, little srah got antsy again and squirmed away. When they caught up with me, I had ducked under some construction tape and barriers and was dancing on the high altar. My mother didn't want to cross the barrier herself, so she had to call to me and cajole me into coming back and behaving myself.

Story #2: I tried out for College Jeopardy over the Spring Break of my freshman year in college. The tryouts were in Ann Arbor, so I decided to give it a shot. I went to Pierpont Commons and took the first level quiz. I don't know if they were actually basing anything on these answers, or if they were just to let people know what kind of questions they would be facing later. I must have passed, because I was given a time slot to return for the next part of the tryout.

When I came back, I was in a classroom full of student desk/chairs. Growing nervous, when asked if there were any questions, I asked if we were ineligible if we weren't U-M students. Everyone in the room turned to look at me like I was some kind of mutant. They said that it was fine as long as I was a college student somewhere.

We took the written test and got our results back almost immediately. The top scorers were asked to stay and advance to the next round. It could have been my imagination, but I felt like there was some "She isn't even from Michigan" grumbling going on when my name was called.

This round consisted of a quick-answer competition. We took turns coming up to the buzzer and practicing ringing in and answering. I did pretty well, but my problem came when they did a mock-interview thing.

Clearly they were looking for people with sparkling personalities who would look good and be interesting on TV. I, unfortunately, fell short there. I couldn't come up with any interesting mini-facts about myself (not that that stops anyone on TV - their factoids are usually so stupid and pointless that I want to hit them, like "My boyfriend calls me Boo" or some crap like that) and I was so nervous and tense it was making me nauseous. So, needless to say, I was not the one they called back. And the one who was called back got severely trounced, so it made me feel better.

Little tiny Albion did get its day to shine the next year, though, when my friend Kurt managed to make it to the show and twice build up a lead and lose it all in Final Jeopardy.

Story #3: When CKane and I were very new to Grenoble, we decided to go to the movies. Grenoble's Petit Bulletin listed the movie theatres in town and the films that were playing in them, as well as giving the cinemas' addresses, but we were new to town and didn't know where we were going.

In the Mood for Love was playing at Le Club, so we looked at our map to find the street that the cinema was on. Makes sense so far, right? We took the tram to that area of town, got off, and headed in the direction of the cinema.

Straight ahead of us, we saw a cinema so we went in. "Une place pour In the Mood for Love, s'il vous plaît," I asked.

He looked at us funny and informed me that they didn't have that movie.

"C'est le cinéma?" I asked. He confirmed that it was.

"Je voudrais un billet pour IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE," I tried repeating it, thinking that he hadn't understood my American pronunciation. He repeated that they didn't have that film. Cheryl and I looked at each other, confused. Maybe the movie was no longer playing here.

"Mais ici c'est un cinéma? Donc vous avez quel film?"

He leaned over the counter and over-enunciated the words for our obviously confused foreign ears, "Ici, SEX films. P0RN0?"

Our sheltered Albion eyes opened wide and we hightailed it out of there. Turns out Le Club was hidden away down the alleyway, not nearly as well-advertised. The big red X on the front probably should have clued us in.

The Friday Five

1. When was the last time you laughed?
I believe Becky remarked on my hamster laugh last night as we were on the phone.

2. Who was the last person you had an argument with?
With Jez, I guess. I'm so nice and easy to get along with! Or passive-aggressive!

3. Who was the last person you emailed?
La Sofinette

4. When was the last time you bathed?
Approximately 6:55 to 7:15 this morning.

5. What was the last thing you ate?
I had a chocolate last night and before that it was dinner - chicken noodle soup and corn on the cob from the garden. The corn, that is. We do not have a Soup Garden.

August 21, 2003

Update on srah's career goals

Today... I still don't want to be an archivist.

Thanks for asking.

Like the words of a song I could not forget

An article I read in the Detroit Free Press (though, unfortunately, it doesn't appear in the Freep's online version) talks about earworms: songs and jingles that get stuck in your head and won't leave. The best thing about the article is that they went right to The Master for his opinion on the matter.

Singer-songwriter Neil Diamond says those repetitive notes that won't go away have spawned some of the greatest hits of his career.

"If I wasn't in the business of songwriting, I'd probably be seeing a doctor," Diamond said. "I've tried everything from cold showers to listening to other people's music, but nothing helps."

He added that most of his songs have come about as a result of a melodic swatch of six notes repeating in his mind. "I'll be driving or watching TV or having lunch, and it just invades," he said. "It's a horrible obsession, but it seems to have paid off."

That explains quite a bit, actually. I have been brainwashed by your hypnotic note-series. We love you and your hopelessly addictive songs, Neilarooni.

A Year in Isère

I have recently had great demand for stories about my time in Grenoble. Not to mention demands, some of them quite violent, for actual content on this blog.

Once upon a time, I had planned on making a webpage bringing together pictures and stories from my year in Grenoble. Parts of this have been created and are actually online, although nothing on my site links to them because the project isn't finished after the two years since I returned. If it hasn't been finished in two years, it ain't gonna get done.

I've decided to kill two birds with one stone, so I will take down the Grenoble page altogether and turn it into a series of illustrated blog-posts instead.

I don't know why I felt I had to tell you that. Perhaps I'm warning you that I'm about to drag out a bunch of old stories. More likely, I'm trying to tell you that something is, indeed, forthcoming in order to cut down on all of the death threats from my readers, who have of late become my stare-at-the-screen-and-hit-reload-wondering-when-I'm-going-to-updaters. You know who you are.

Canned sauerkraut makes an excellent birthday present

I could really go for a glass of Riesling with my lunch (peanut butter sandwich, or whatever it is). But we are in the United States and I weigh about 25 pounds, so I suppose I would be regarded as some kind of alkieholic. What would go with my imaginary Riesling? Now I'm craving choucroute. France, why have you forsaken me?

There's still a half an hour until lunch. Must stop thinking about food...

Awakened consciousness, asleepened

Last night as I was falling asleep, I came up with a song parody that was so funny and insightful that it would have changed the world. Unfortunately I was too lazy to get up out of bed and find a piece of paper in order to record this amazing thought forever. So my masterpiece, which probably would have turned out to be crap in the light of day anyway, is lost. I can't remember now what the tune or the subject of the parody was. So instead, I bring you this not-very-hilarious-unless-you-were-there exchange:

Mom: I'm reading Seabiscuit. It's really good.
Me: My favorite part is when Seabiscuit becomes dog food.
Mom: (indignant) Seabiscuit doesn't become dog food!
Dad: My favorite part is when Dogbiscuit becomes seafood.

August 20, 2003

185 or so to go

On one of the temporary dividing walls, the Reference staff have been making lists of the countries they've been to. My list, paltry in comparison to almost everyone else's, is:

USA
England
Canada
France
Belgium
Switzerland
Scotland
Chile
The Netherlands
Germany

I tried to say that I'd been to the Kingdom of Fife (I can't remember if I actually have, now - where is that in relation to Edinburgh?) and Auvergne (Ici finit la France; ici commence l'Auvergne), but my mummy says that's cheating.

In an attempt to bolster my list, I've decided that I have to do a SI summer internship next year in Iceland. If I have to do a summer internship, why not visit another country why I'm at it? At least in Iceland I'll be safe from terrorists.

Rhetorical Butler

Or question. But "rhetorical" makes me think of "Rhett", so I went with it.

If something that's cheap is bon marché, can something that's a really good deal be described as super marché?

Stop The Real World, I want to get off

I know you've missed the weekly screaming Real World recaps, but it was replaced by thirty-seven consecutive episodes of The Osbournes two weeks ago and I missed it last week. So this week I got a Double Dose of Reality! Yay!

Dear Real World Cast,

Once again, you've handed in your assignment at the last minute, and incomplete as well. Yelling at each about it is not going to get you your bonus. Suck it up and move on. I don't know how you can complain about student loans when you are being paid big bucks to do nothing and have, I assume, free housing and food. Your boss is not your mommy. Don't tattle on your housemates and complain to your boss about things that have no relevance to work. This isn't going to get you your bonus either, and it's just going to make you look like a big baby.

I hate these people and this show so much I can't articulate my hatred while I'm watching it. I think I frightened Robin and the poodle she's dog-sitting for with my screeches and clawing at the air.

CT and Leah, just do it and stop telling us how much you hate each other. Your relationship is only amusing in that we can take all of your lines and change them à la "Everything he does drives me insane" "...WITH LUST" and "He's so dirty" "... and that's the way I like it" and "He bought Christina and I a rose and thinks that makes it better?" "'HE BOUGHT CHRISTINA AND ME ROSES' or 'HE BOUGHT ROSES FOR CHRISTINA AND ME' you friggin' idiot". Well, maybe not that one.

How can these people write a guidebook when they can barely speak English? I don't want to be the editor who has to try to find a meaning in Christina's misuse of big words and Leah's grammatical incorrectness.

Simon, as cute and happy and smiley as you are when he visits, your boyfriend wants out. I'm not even convinced he's gay.

Adam, you are gay and in love with Ace. Realize this and stop hitting on every English-speaking girl in Paris in an effort to deny your homosexuality. Also stop instigating more trouble in the house than there already is. Also rapping. Also breathing.

New Improved Naked srah

Somehow I've recently found myself watching a lot of shows like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and What Not to Wear. The good thing about these shows is that I'm sort of absorbing things about fashion. For example, what shouldn't I be wearing? Everything in my closet.

I should throw everything away and start over. I demand to be dressed by a professional. Where is the team of makeoverists*, come to give me $5,000 and make me buy clothes that are fashionable and flattering, teach me to cook, give me a faaaaaabulous new haircut, teach me how to put makeup on and clean up my messy room?

Queer Eye is nicer than What Not to Wear, but I'm not eligible for that one. Why is Queer Eye only for straight guys? Why can't it be Queer Eye for the Hopelessly Out of Style?

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* I made this word up, but I think it should exist**
** Have you noticed that I'm addicted to footnotes? Blame Justin.

Unfounded (?) sense of loss

I keep losing everything close to me.

Boy, that sounds like the beginning of a really depressing blog-post. But this is not that kind of blog, folks! Let's start again.

I keep losing all of my crap.

That sounds more like me - and more familiar, too. My archives are lined with stories of me losing things - tales that I would quite annoyingly link to if I could find them in the mess that is my MT archives. Sometimes I find the lost objects again, but mostly I don't. In a conversation with Jez this morning, we* decided to blame it on a gnome infestation, because I refuse to take responsibility and can't imagine that one person could manage to lose the quantity of possessions that I manage to lose. Among the things I've recently ~~found~~ discovered that I've lost:

Brookmyre, Christopher. One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night.
Brookmyre, Christopher. Quite Ugly One Morning.
K's Choice. Almost Happy.
Rankin, Ian. The Falls.
Soundtrack - The Prince of Egypt.
Srah's CD Mix #4.
Travis. The Invisible Band. (The Invisible CD, more like it)

I can't come up with anyone I could have lent these things to, but neither can I figure out where in my house they could be hiding. Any information as to their whereabouts would be appreciated. Maybe I get up in the night and throw things away in my sleep. Or maybe I will one day uncover the gnomes' grotto and recover all of my stolen belongings. They have odd taste, those gnomes.

In other gnome-related news**...

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* meaning "me", with Jez's mostly-sane self along for the Ride of Madness
** or "olds"

August 19, 2003

Ze sird dekhree

Have you ever wished someone didn't link to your site? Have you ever linked to another site and wondered if they were looking down on you for linking to them? Have you ever been linked to and felt guilty for not linking back? Have you ever been hurt when you linked to someone and they didn't link back? Are you afraid to comment on certain blogs because you feel they're so far above you? Do you think you're above other blogs? Who was the first site to link to you? How did it make you feel? Und now tell uz about your relazionship viz your fazzer.

Is it Friday yet?

I'm bored and no one is being very helpful. The August doldrums have hit and no one is updating. Please suggest a new blog for me to read.

A really tough question

Guess whose 23rd birthday is one week from today? Yes, that's right, it's

read extended entry... »

August 18, 2003

The Monday Mission

1. Are you good at responding to emails and/or Blog comments?
Blog comments, yes. Email, not so much. I still owe Johanna an email from over a month ago...

2. Does it make you crazy when people won't reply to your emails even though you know good and well that they are reading them?
In some cases. If it's someone I see in person, I'll usually ask them about it. If I've sent a mass email to everyone I know in France and received no reply, I'll just cry and cry and cry. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but it will depress me.

3. I recently watched the FOX special "101 Things Removed from the Human Body" which was quite disgusting in a can't-help-but-watch kind of way. It got me to thinking about many of the accidents I had as a child. I remember climbing over a fence after T-ball and catching my palm on the top of the chain-link fence. Went through my hand and tore it right open. What's the most unusual thing you've had inside your body?
What an atrocious question. It is giving me scary, nightmarish flashbacks to visits to the "women's doctor", so I'm going to move on.

4. What person from your past would you most like to run into and visit with for an afternoon? Why them? What person would you like to not ever see again as long as you live? How come?
There are a lot. The more I move on, the more people I leave in my past (duh). I'd like to see Sophie and the rest of my host family (including the extended family), Agnès, Aline, Damien, Angelique, Philippe and the other S2OLs, everyone else from Valéry Larbaud, Juliette, Ioanna, Renate, Andrés, Molly, and Dominique from Grenoble, Jillian, Jen, Erin and everyone else from Albion (most of whom I haven't seen in over a year), Renata, Jennifer, Andrés, Stefan, and Johanna from Vichy... I bet you've had enough of me listing off people you don't know. I'd like to see everyone.

Strangely enough, when I do see someone from my past, it's usually someone from high school, and I usually hide behind something until they go away. As to the second part of the question, if I never saw my English Translation teacher from Grenoble, it would be no big loss. I don't hate him, but it wouldn't bother me never to see him again.

5. What was the last bad meal you (or your special someone) paid too much for? What's the story there?
I went to The Mexican Place on Washtenaw (I can never remember the stupid name) and they brought me chicken tacos when I'd asked for ground beef. I was hungry, so I just ate them, even though I didn't want chicken and they weren't very good. I pointed the mistake out to the waitress, though, so we ended getting them 50% off. They were still overpriced, in that I was not being paid to eat them.

6. If out-of-the-blue you were forced to find a new career, if there was just suddenly no need for your field of expertise, just what job do you imagine you would seek out? Do you have any skills you can "fall back on?" (If you stay at home or are a student, adjust to fit your situation)
Hmmm. I don't know how to adjust it to fit my situation. I'm going to be studying Human-Computer Interaction, so assuming I get a job in that field, I suppose I could fall back on my language skills once that electro-magnetic pulse bomb goes off and there are no computers left for me to interact with.

7. If you were to open up your own restaurant, what would it be called and what type of food would you serve? Describe the "feel" of the place (the decor, the music, etc).
Thank you for asking. Jennifer, Renata and I are going to start a chain of fondue/crêpe/waffle/sandwich/I've forgotten what else restaurant, of which I've forgotten the name. All I really remember is that we will have live music played by the naked Colombian street singer Shakiro. Of course I, as the Assistant Whor

We'll collect the moments one by one/ I guess that's how the future's done - Feist, 'Mushaboom'

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August 2003 archive

August 31, 2003

August 29, 2003

August 28, 2003

August 27, 2003

August 26, 2003

August 25, 2003

August 24, 2003

August 23, 2003

August 22, 2003

August 21, 2003

August 20, 2003

August 19, 2003

August 18, 2003

We'll collect the moments one by one/ I guess that's how the future's done
- Feist, 'Mushaboom'