My New Favorite Story.

I was handing Sabrina my coffee the other night so she could dip part of her cookie into it and she goes, "Get your filthy hands off of it! I want to hold it!" and then smiled like I should know what she was talking about.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, like that lady from the gum story."

"What gum story?"

"THE gum story. The lady on the train. I've told you that story, right?"

"Um, no."

Bugging her eyes out as wide as she could, she smacked the sofa cushion and yelled, "I've never told you the story about the gum lady?!"

"No."

"Oh my gosh! I'm so excited! This is my favorite story to tell!"

OK, so I have to say that typing this story out will strip it of most of its dramatic integrity.  The best part was the way Bri told it.  But this will have to do.  For the part of the old lady, it's important to know that the voice Sabrina used was a cross between the Lord of The Rings "Precious" character and a frog.  Also, she swears that all of this is 100% true. As follows in Brina's words.

I was sitting on the train across from a girl in her early 20's and at a stop an old woman wearing layers and layers of clothes and a babushka on her head got on and sat down next to her. The girl took out a pack of Orbitz gum from her bag, grabbed a piece, and put the pack back in her bag when all of a sudden you hear, "Can I have some gum?!"  The girl looked up to see who was talking to her and again you hear, "Can I have some gum?!"  She turned to the old woman to see if it was her voice coming out of the babushka and said, "Sorry? Do you want a piece?" and the woman goes, "Yeah."

So the girl once again takes the pack of gum out of her bag, opens it up, reaches for a stick, and the woman starts to scream, "Get your filthy hands off of it! I want to hold it!"

By this point everyone on the train car was watching.  Slightly confused, the girl handed her the pack of gum and the old woman quickly started to touch every piece before finally grabbing all of the gum out of the pack and throwing the box on the ground. Hesitating for a second, the girl simply leaned over and picked up the empty pack from the floor.  

The old woman, now holding all of the gum, opened her own bag and reached around inside before pulling out a huge clear plastic bag.  A huge clear plastic bag FULL OF GUM! She dumped all of the new pieces into the bag and put it away. When the doors opened at the next stop, the old lady got off the train.

I have a theory that everyone in the world likes to be offered gum, so I think that's why I enjoyed this story so much.  But maybe it was just the funny voice Brina was using.

Karianne And Pat's Wedding.

My cousin Karianne is basically the sweetest person in the entire world and conveniently, she just married one of the sweetest guys.  Pics from their wedding last weekend.

The Second Amendment.

Thanks to a newfound obsession with protein shakes, my little sister has taken to challenging random beefy strangers to flex-offs.

When she starts to pull cars with rope, we're having an intervention to get her back on regular fruit smoothies. 

Watch Your Step.

Guests and servants leaving a room after seeing the Queen of England will no longer be required to walk backwards. The longstanding royal tradition of never showing your back to the Queen was lifted for safety reasons after Her Majesty redecorated most of Buckingham Palace using an M.C. Escher design motif.

Buck Melanoma. Moley Russell's Wart.

Not her wart. Not her wart! I'm...I'm the wart. She's my tumor. My...my growth. My...uh, my pimple. I'm Uncle Wart. Just old Buck "Wart" Russell. That's what they call me. Or Melanoma Head. They'll call me that. "Melanoma Head's coming." I'm...uncle! Maisy Russell's uncle!

Writer and director John Hughes passed away yesterday. When my family talks about "the classics" we're referring to films like Uncle Buck or The Great Outdoors or Ferris Bueller's Day Off. And while it's quite common for my father to forget my name when he's talking to me, he somehow remembers every single line from Christmas Vacation.

My sisters and I grew up watching John Hughes movies on repeat. We memorized entire screenplays just by rewinding funny scenes and playing them over and over. Quoting lines to each other was always a road trip game, or just a guaranteed way to make someone in our family laugh out loud. As we grew older, random quotes from his scripts became code. I've had entire conversations with my sisters using only lines from John Hughes films.

I was talking to Sabrina about it and she agreed that his writing truly shaped so much of what we find funny. And she made an excellent point by saying, "We thought our family was normal because of his movies."

Moving Too Fast.

I was on the phone with a customer service rep the other day and just before hanging up I said, "OK, thanks. Love you."

I do this more often than I'd like to admit.

I'm so used to slowly enunciating my commands into the phone for robot options, that when I actually speak to a human, I slip.
"CUS-TOM-ER SER-VICE."
"Yes, this is a real person you're talking to."
"Oh, sorry."

And it wouldn't be so awkward if I just hung up. "Love you!" Click. It might give them a chuckle. But I never just leave it. If I happen to say "love you" I immediately start to explain the error.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. I don't love you. I don't even know you. But I mean, I'm sure the people who know you love you. I bet you're a really nice person. You have a very nice speaking voice. But that's not like a line or anything. Like, 'Hey, nice voice, why don't you call me next time? Press # for more options.' Right? And I don't even know what that means. It was supposed to be like a menu options joke. It didn't make sense. Anyway...umm...thanks again for your help, and uhh, have a nice day."

It wouldn't be so bad except there's a very strong possibility that for quality assurance purposes, my calls may be recorded.

I See A 6th-Grade Art Project.

The doctor draws two circles and says, "What do you see?"
The guy says, "Sex."
So the doctor draws trees. "What do you see?"
The guy says, "Sex."
The doctor draws a car, owl, "Sex, sex, sex."
The doctor says to him, "You are obsessed with sex."
The guy replies, "Well you're the one drawing all the dirty pictures."
-From What About Bob?

Noam Cohen wrote a really interesting article in the NYT about the ten inkblot plates from the famous Rorschach test being made public on Wikipedia. A doctor posted the ten plates on the website and included the common answers people use when asked to describe what they see, upsetting many experts who believe this destroys the purpose of the test. Some doctors fear that once people know the common answers, it will influence how they respond during testing.

I wasn't sure how I felt about this. The power of suggestion is strong, so I suppose if you had an idea ahead of time of what you should be looking for, it might skew the deeply-rooted mysteries of your subconscious, thus stunting your potential for overall growth and understanding. But it seems that most people just see bats, butterflies, or a face. I wouldn't exactly call that a cheat sheet. In fact, I think that's what's referred to in Jungian psychology as, "A-Doyeee."

Shout Out.

I have to hand it to the cotton candy vendors at sporting events for their vocal efforts. If there is one snack that you don't need to announce, it's cotton candy. When people see you walking around a stadium with 65 individually wrapped bags of cotton candy on your head, there's very little wiggle room for interpretation. It really takes a special type of person to carry around the most obvious thing in the world and still feel the need to yell about it.

Business Decisions Should Not Be Made At 2 A.M.

Professional golfer Phil Mickelson has reportedly put in an offer to buy 105 Waffle House establishments for 20.2 dollars in cash and later payments. Wait, I guess it's $20.2 million. Million?! Have Phil and his business associates ever been inside a Waffle House? They might want to check their math.

America has a long, proud history of serving the completely wasted. Members of The First Continental Congress were known to frequent Denny's restaurants late at night to discuss British economic sanctions and how crazy it is that you can't know what a strawberry tastes like to other people. While eating his fourth Moons Over My Hammy sandwich, Patrick Henry was famously quoted as saying, "Does my hand look weird to you?"

Waffle House became synonymous with drunk-feeding when it introduced the most disgusting list of preparation techniques for hash browns the world has ever seen:
Traditional
Scattered & Smothered
Scattered, Smothered & Covered
Scattered, Smothered, Covered & Chunked

"Now are these how the browns are served, or how they'll end up?"

One time at a Waffle House in Florida, our waitress was wearing a button that said "I'm #2."
It sort of gave us an idea ahead of time, what we should be expecting.

My hometown is famous for a grocery store and a menu item known as the Garbage Plate, so I'm not judging here. Building a successful business on a food item that includes the word GARBAGE in its name is the reason I truly do believe that anything is possible in America. But buying 105 Waffle Houses is like buying 105...I don't know. I actually can't think of a worse example of something to buy. It's just a really bad idea.

Um, Not For Anything...

But I totally invented this! I called it Urban Glide, and yes, I did envision long ski-like skates to be worn, but come on! Same basic idea! Ugh, Nordic Walking! Why didn't I think to use Nordic? Everything sounds more official with "Nordic" in front of it.

Honestly though, I've had this idea since college. Because Syracuse is so effing cold, I used to try to get from point A to point B as fast as possible. My eye froze shut once on a walk to class. I'm not kidding. But, as you might imagine, running everywhere was hard to play-off.
-Why were you sprinting around like an idiot on the quad today?
-What? That wasn't me.

I found that if I held on to the excess material hanging from my backpack straps, I could use those as pole-type devices, swinging my arms as I walked, and thus increasing my normal walking speed. I wasn't running, I was gliding. Add in a nice layer of ice and I could literally slide from class to class. In the spring I always thought to myself, OK, some sort of skate should be involved here. And then I did nothing about it.

And now, years later, someone has stolen my idea about swinging your arms as you walk, and has thought to use actual poles instead of backpack straps, but same basic principle really, except that the poles have technology, design, and a trade association on their side, and mine were straps of nylon connected to a book bag. Whatever. I thought of it first.

Sisters Don't Shake Hands, Sisters Gotta Hug.

I think my mom looks like Supreme Court nominee Judge Sonia Sotomayor.

Please Return Your Seat To The Upright Position, And Stop Eating Your Poop.

Pet Airways, the first ever all-pet airline, made its first flight yesterday.

Here's how I imagine things went:

At check in:
Mr. BooBoo, has anyone asked you to carry anything in your bag for today's flight?
(panting)
Mr. BooBoo? Do you know what's in your bag, sir?
(panting)
Mr. BooBoo, I'm going to need you to come with me sir.

After takeoff:
Ladies and gentlemen this is your Captain speaking. Yes it is! Who's the Captain?! Huh?! I'm the Captain, yes I am! Who does the Captain love?! Who does the Captain love?! (cough) We'll be climbing up to our maximum altitude shortly. Sit back, feel free to pee on something, enjoy the flight.

During the flight:
Ma'am while the light is on I'm going to need you to sit in your seat. Siiiit. Sit. Siiiiit down. Sit down please. Sit. Good girl! Hey! Sit please!

And when they landed half of the bags had been torn or eaten.

I'm only basing these scenarios on the last few domestic flights I've taken.

i(don't care)phone.

My older sister has joined the masses. Soon she will be tapping at every surface she encounters waiting for a menu to appear, her attention span will shrink to milliseconds, and she will become one of those people who constantly say things like, "Oh, I can look that up for you!"
Sometimes people just throw a question out there to start conversation. They don't actually care about Guam's major export. Put your phone away.

Remember when you used your phone to call people? Remember when the world clock function seemed freaking amazing?
-Hey look what time it is in Jakarta!
-Do you know someone in Jakarta?
-No. But cool, right?

And a few years ago when my dad lost his cell he went into an impassioned speech about how there should be a place where you always left your phone so you could never lose it.
"There should be a holder on the wall where you have to keep your cell phone. So every day, it's there, right on the wall, waiting for you."
"You mean like the phone, dad?"

When cell phones were first going mainstream the only way we could convince my grandma to get one was by telling her that her car could break down at any moment. That was a big selling point for the first cell phones. Your car could break down! Then what?!
My grandma bought a new car before she bought a cell phone.

The cell phone used to just be a convenient way to get in touch with people. Now your phone can know more about you than anyone in your contact list. You're just a phone, little iphone. You're not allowed in my head. Plus, as something of a time-waster savant, I'm offended by all these high-tech downloads that help regular people kill time. Talk to yourself in the mirror, stop downloading restaurant apps.

Obviously, there's an app for anything. Apparently people even exercise off their iphones. 6-minute apps? Soon there will be iphones with elliptical arm handles or apps that call you at random times to yell, "RUN!" making you drop whatever you're doing and start running.
-Excuse me, I have to take this.
-Run!
-[sprinting out of a meeting] I'm sorry! I'm on a program!

Brina was telling me about the Moron App, which is a quiz that helps you figure out how big of a moron you are. Right. If there was ever a reason for me to NOT spend 99 cents on something, it's the moron app. I LIVE the moron app.

There's even an app that uses the GPS in your phone to allow other people to see where you are. This is also called, "THE WORST IDEA IN THE WORLD App." Who in their right mind would sign up for this? If you want people to know where you are, you tell them.

It must be written somewhere in the small print of an iphone contract that as soon as you buy an iphone, you must mention it in every conversation you have for the first month. I want to invent an app that counts how many times iphone users say "iphone." Sabrina might be world champion.

Live A Little.

A newly published study suggests that calorie restriction in diets can extend lives. Mice given 30% fewer calories lived up to 40% longer and rhesus monkeys on the diet were able to avoid certain diseases associated with aging.
The older, thinner mice and monkeys were also miserable.

Scientists hope to prove that calorie restriction in human diets will have similar effects in terms of delaying aging. Although, unlike the controlled experiments, humans can eat an effing cupcake whenever they want one, so researchers believe the study may be flawed. Also, most people agree that spending 99% of your extra 10% of life shouting things like, "I'm hungry, idiot!" just isn't worth it.

It's The Climb.

I like listening to Miley Cyrus sing about struggle.

Keep on keeping on Miley.

Here Lloyd, This Helps.

With the arrival of the summer heat, so enters the makeshift fan. Magazines, newspapers, pieces of scrap paper folded in half, or the ambitious frenetic waving of your own hand in front of your face--anything that can create a slight whisper of a breeze for your head. Which, when you think about it, is always where you're super hot, right? What's the one thing people are constantly saying during the summer? "Ugh, I need to cool down my face."
Exactly.

One of my favorite forms of people-watching involves large groups of people using whatever booklet they've been given as a fan. Graduations are great for this. So are theatres with weak air-conditioning. It's sort of an uncoordinated piece of performance art. Some genius thinks, "Hey, it's hot in here." and starts waving his program in front of his face. Others catch on, and agree. Eventually all you'll see is flapping programs. I love it.

Of course, wherever there's a makeshift fan, there's always the person who chimes in with, "You know, that's just going to make you hotter." These people weigh in like they've conducted numerous scientific tests, dropping phrases like "energy exertion" and "heat creation."
These are also the same people who 3-minutes later, start to fan themselves with their Playbill.

No one knows if it works, and honestly, no one really cares. When it's hot and there's no breeze outside, fanning yourself with whatever you happen to be holding is just the universal response to the heat. It's the pee-dance of the summer.

Michael Jackson.

I read an article a few weeks ago in which a chef described the importance of food by saying that "everyone has a story about food." I loved this because it's so true. Ask anyone you meet and chances are, they can give you a detailed food memory. They can probably give you ten.

I think the same holds true for Michael Jackson's music. You'd be hard-pressed to find a person of our generation anywhere in the world who doesn't have at least one strong memory tied to a Michael Jackson song. That's pretty amazing if you think about it. Plus, probably every person who has ever closed their bedroom door and turned on some music, has tried to moonwalk. That's what I call a legacy.

These are my top 5 Michael Jackson memories:
-My cousin Jonathan showing up to Christmas one year when we were kids wearing a red leather jacket and a sparkly glove. Without exaggeration, I was so jealous I almost started crying.
-Listening to the "Bad" tape on my first Walkman.
-Pretending I wasn't terrified by the Thriller video.
-Michelle Garren busting out the Thriller dance every time we drank in college. The first time I saw her do it is in my Top 10 Hardest Laughs list.
-Dancing around my great-grandma's basement with my sisters and my cousins, trying to do the moonwalk. Who are we kidding? I'm still trying to do the moonwalk.

Oh, Ina.

I was watching a documentary on PBS about chickens and one of the stories was about a farmer who thought he killed a chicken but it ended up living without its head --for like, a long time. Eventually that headless chicken (named Mike) toured with side shows and became sort of famous. Someone they interviewed said, "And that chicken traveled all the way to London, England."

I'm serious.

If the documentary hadn't been on PBS, I definitely would have thought it was a joke. I get the same feeling when I watch The Barefoot Contessa on The Food Network. It really seems like a perfect parody of a cooking show, but it's on a channel dedicated to cooking shows, so it's probably just about food. However, there are so many ridiculous subplots on Barefoot that I can't help but think that Ina Garten is a satirical genius who has us all fooled.

Ina always speaks like she's popped a few muscle relaxants, so no matter how many people she's having over for dinner she keeps repeating things like, "How easy is that?" or "Who wouldn't like that?" as she slowly floats around her kitchen making coq au vin and setting the table using some kind of whimsical theme. "I need to go to the store and get sailboat rope for the table."

When I cook I start by opening a bottle of chef's juice and then swear a lot.

Ina and her husband Jeffery have an incredibly weird relationship that centers around Paris, what Jeffery likes to eat, awkward kissing scenes, and celebrating benchmark moments in Jeffery's life. Apparently Jeffery is the most wonderful man in the world despite the fact that he can never quite get off his ass to make his own sandwich. Jeffery has 30,000 favorite meals and Ina makes some version of them for seriously any occasion, while he stays in his study doing whatever it is he does. "Today is Tuesday and when we lived in Paris, Jeffery always loved Tuesdays. So I thought, what better way to celebrate Tuesday morning than to surprise Jeffery with Beef Bourguignon for breakfast? Now who wouldn't like that?"

Her Hamptons lifestyle keeps me glued. Running errands consists of going to three over-priced speciality food markets and then stopping at the beach to drink a split of Veuve. I like when she calls a friend and tells them to pick up one random thing before a party. Those completely planned scenes are amazing.
-Oh hi Ina!
-Hi! Listen, can you pick up a jar of jam?
-Jam? Sure.
-Thanks! Actually, I'll make my own jam. Can you pick up a case of Grand Marnier?
-A case? Sure.
-Oh, you know what, Jeffery has a case in his study. Can you buy 5 throw pillows for the table?

And then every episode ends with a dinner party where the guests laugh maniacally at nothing. Watch for it. It's actually really scary.

Not everyone is a fan though. Someone on Youtube described different clips from her show like this:
"Ina Garten shows where her stupid friend will be staying."
"Ina's stupid old friend tries to take over The Barefoot Contessa."
"Ina and her stupid friend have a midnight snack and claim that it doesn't count."

But if you're bored and making dinner anyway, it doesn't hurt to pretend you're Ina while doing it. Make up an elaborate backstory about why Jeffery loves frozen veggie burgers, call a buddy to have them pick up 3 organic peaches, and put something that doesn't belong on a dinner table on the dinner table.

How bad can that be?

That Was Fast.

Suggestions for speed-dating:

1) As soon as the clock starts say, "Staring contest. Ready, Go!" and then bug out your eyes while keeping a straight face.

2) Go on six-minute mini dates. Actually run out of the speed dating venue, walk down the street laughing, sit on a park bench, eat an ice cream cone, and then run back to the venue to do it all over again with the next person. It'd be like a movie montage date. Note: Did you ever notice that relationship montages in movies ALWAYS have a scene with ice cream cones? Movies would have us believe that we can't really know someone until we've seen them eat something with sprinkles.

3) Wear a prom dress. (Nessa's idea)

4) Share something about yourself and then randomly shout out, "You don't know me!"

5) Use a memorable handshake. I suggest the ennie-meanie hand clap routine that ends with "ochi cochi liverochi, we are friends."

Or, do none of the above. I don't know.

Manners.

Have you ever bumped into a mannequin and then apologized to it?

What About Bob? The Musical.

I'm not the best person to comment on the stage. My favorite Broadway moment involves a pre-show party for Mary Poppins where Nessa enjoyed one too many complimentary cocktails and proceeded to pass out during the first number. She finally woke up just as Mary Poppins was flying around the theatre on wires and her exaggerated facial expression of confusion, headache, and fear was just about the funniest thing I'd ever seen. Then she went back to sleep.

But after watching the Tony Awards last night I've decided to turn What About Bob? into a musical. Obviously, anything can be turned into a musical--Next To Normal is a rock musical about depression and drug abuse. Pardon me if I don't tap my toe during the chorus. Reminds me of the wonderfully catchy show tunes from that musical about Fibromyalgia. But movies on stage seem to do quite well, and I think What About Bob? would be awesome. The book is basically written, I just have to work in the musical numbers. Here are a few:
-I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful
-Baby Steps
-New Hampshire?!
-The fam
-A vacation from my problems.
-I sail now?
-He can borrow my slicker
-Tourettes
-Good Morning America is here
-Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm a schizophrenic... and so am I
-Death Therapy

I'd see it anyway.

I Don't Want To Tell You How To Do Your Job.

But if I were a musician I would introduce every song by saying, "And it goes a little something like this."

I used to think that if I were a drummer I would start every song with a verbal count-off while hitting the sticks like, "One, two, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten... to like 65, just to see how long I could go before people started to get mad. But I've decided that "And it goes a little something like this" is a line almost exclusive to musicians and really shouldn't be wasted.

Just think of how many people can't use that opening line while working.
-Surgeons
-People designing bridges
-Trial Attorneys
-Accountants
-Pharmacists
-Pilots (except On Southwest because they always make jokes like that. I prefer my air travel to be joke-free.)
-And basically anyone who uses some sort of laser on the job.

I would probably attend every live performance of a drummer who opened each show like this:
"Thank You! I'd like to start with a song I wrote called 3,032. And it goes a little something like this. One, two, one, two, three, four, five..."

Killable Hours.

I've wasted most of my day watching this.

Greek To Me.

So this happened:

-Hey, can I get three chicken souvlaki pitas to go with roasted potatoes and a greek salad?
-3 pitas with potatoes and 1 greek salad. Anything else?
-Actually, a greek salad for all three pitas. Roasted potatoes and a greek salad for each pita.
-You want potatoes and a salad with all of them?
-Yeah, thanks.
-But the pitas only come with one side.
-That's fine.
-So which do you want?
-Both. For all three.
-But you can only have one side.
-Right, I get that. Sorry. This is kind of funny. [girl not laughing.] So it's 3 pitas with a side of potatoes and then 3 side salads.
-I'll have to charge you for the salads.
-I understand that.
-OK. 3 pitas each with potatoes as a side and 3 salads but not as the sides.
-Wait, what? Now I'm confused. I do want side salads. Did you say that?
-But not as your sides. I'm charging you extra.
-Right, OK.
-And did you want roasted potatoes for all 3 pitas because they actually come with french fries.

And then my head exploded.

First Impressions.

Someone who met my mother for the first time over the weekend described her as "a rebel with a gentle kindness."  That has to be the best description ever, and if you know my mom, it really does sum her up perfectly.

It'd be nice to make such a good first impression.

I remember being introduced to a new person at work one time and upon meeting me, she turned to my boss and said, "I see what you're saying. Long arms."

Drop The Basket Yogi.

Congress completed a bill yesterday that will help protect credit card customers from interest rate hikes and rate increases on already existing balances.

"It's great," said a man I made up solely for the purposes of this post. "I feel safer already."

The bill also included a provision to allow people to bring loaded guns into wildlife refuges and national parks. Seriously. It's in the same bill. When reached for comment about this addition, a moose from Denali National Park said, "Well, shit."

I thought the whole idea behind credit card reform was to put an end to those huge surprises that show up when you open your bill.

zing.

When's Lunch?

I suppose the 15-minute break doesn't exist in outer space. While watching footage of astronauts tune up the Hubble Telescope last night on the news, it occurred to me that these people show up to do work.

It makes sense on a few levels. First, where would they go on a break? It's an ironic little twist that in the vastness of space they could really only float in the corner of their shuttle.
-What are you doing?
-I'm on break.

Plus, with the help of the best communication technology money can buy, they are in constant contact with their employer. That's part of the reason I would be the worst astronaut ever.
Crewmate: Jess, Houston's on the phone for you.
Me: [waving my hands, shaking my head with wide eyes and slowly whispering] I'm not here.
Houston: Um, yeah, we can see you.

Note: I don't think they use phones in space. It'd be cool if they did though. Every time the phone rings a mission specialist shouts out, "I'll get it!" and then doggy paddles over to the rotary.

What's In A Name?

My grandma has a friend named Dorkus.
The woman's name is Dorkus.
Say it a few times.
I think it's spelled Dorcas, but with a name like Dorkus, why quibble over spelling?
And people call her Dork for short. I'm not kidding about any of this.

So with that in mind, this is a conversation I had with my parents on Mother's Day:

Mom: We went out for breakfast with Grandma after church and saw Dorkus.
Dad: No we didn't.
Mom: Yes we did. Dorkus was at the restaurant.
Dad: That was Toots.
Mom: Steve, she just called her that to be cute. "Hey, Toots!" Like a nickname.
Me: I thought people called her Dork.
Dad: Dorkus and Toots are two different people.
Me: So what was that other woman's name?
Dad: Toots?
Me: Yeah.
Dad: Her name is Toots.
Me: Dad, Toots isn't a name. It's like calling a guy Brosef. His name isn't actually Brosef.
Dad: Who?
Me: Is Tutz spelled T-U-T-Z or T-O-O-T-S?
Mom: T-O-O-T-S.
Me: Toots? Like toot? That doesn't seem right.
Mom: It's right.
Dad: Toots is short for Ttt...Taa...Tuuu..Whatever. She's not Dorkus.

Glad we cleared that up.

Now Boarding All Rows.

You know how they let First Class passengers board the airplane before everyone else, even though that makes no sense whatsoever? What kind of person wants to spend any more time than necessary on a plane? Plus, putting people at the front of the plane first is what causes all those awkward aisle delays.  Half step, stare at aisle number.  Half step, hide annoyance as someone can't lift their carry-on into the overhead.  Half step, try to figure out who you're going to be sitting next to and pray it's not one of those selfish businessmen who sit with their legs wide open and never lift their arm off the armrest. (Either we split it, or no one gets it!) 

I recently heard the slow procession of Coach passengers through First Class described as The Poor Parade.  When you get over the fact that it's mildly insulting, it might help explain why First Class passengers are so eager to board a smelly plane first and sit there while row after row of half-stepping people shuffle past them.  I've never sat in First Class but I imagine there's some sort of sick satisfaction experienced while watching the parade.  Like when the electronic door at a store is broken and you stand there for a second, jog in place a bit, and finally decide to use the regular door right next to it.  When it happens to you, it's kind of annoying, but if you were to sit there and watch 100 people deal with that broken electronic door, it might be amusing.

That's A Deal Breaker, Ladies.

I love a good catchphrase.  Actually, I love any sort of catchphrase. To be honest, I probably love bad catchphrases more than the really clever, well thought out ones.  

One of the funniest comedians I've ever seen used to do open mic nights to completely silent crowds.  Joke after joke, silence.  I thought she was hilarious, so I was always the only person laughing. She'd push through her set and end by saying, "Bye. I'm Tessy." in a low monotone before dropping the mic Chris Rock style and walking out.  And then three people would look up from their coffees to clap. 

I wish "Bye. I'm Tessy." was the universal way to exit awkward conversations.  Just say it, drop whatever you're holding, and walk away.

The guys I used to work with spoke almost exclusively in their own created catchphrases.  I once went through an entire 8-hour shift hearing only, "That's a good one, dude." 

(To say this correctly, nod your head firmly on "good" and pronounce dude as "do")  

This phrase can mean anything.  It can mean that something really is a good one, like a joke or a suggestion, it can be a statement of acknowledgement, or it can mean that you have have no intention of doing whatever someone has asked you to do.  Which is why hearing it over and over during a busy workday can be so hilarious/incredibly stressful.  

The funny usually comes later.

The best part about a catchphrase is that all it requires is repetition. If you say it often enough, you can use it whenever you want.  It doesn't necessarily have to make sense or apply to every situation, but if it happens to work out that way, that's a double bonus.  This appeals to me on so many levels because I'm usually saying the wrong thing anyway.  It'd be nice to have a tidy little saying to use in the following situations:

1) When I don't know what the people around me are talking about.

2) When I'm asked, "What do you think?" after I've drifted out of the conversation for a minute thinking about how cool it would be if those singing waiters from chain restaurants showed up on public transportation with cake and a fun birthday song.

3) When I have run out of things to say.

I'll have to think about it. 

Attention Voters.

The owner of Panama's largest grocery store chain won the country's presidential election yesterday.

Ricardo Martinelli was declared the "indisputable winner" with 61% of the vote, a Club Card, and a discount for bringing his own reusable bag to the polls.

Martinelli's campaign focused on widening the Panama Canal for larger carts, a plan to help the nation dig out of the global financial crisis by honoring double coupons, and a bold promise to make legislative sessions in the National Assembly run more like old episodes of Supermarket Sweep.

Rack 'Em.

If I were a professional billiards player, I'd lay down on the table for every shot.
I think that would be pretty funny.

That'll Do, Pig.

Because the people of the world currently don't have enough to worry about, Swine Flu is making the rounds.

A few words on swine flu:
Really? Swine flu? Did we even know about this? Was that what that "Penelope" movie starring Christina Ricci was about? The news just started talking about it like it was something we all saw coming. "In other news, swine flu is here. Buy a mask and don't hug pigs."

A big part of the problem is the name. It just sounds bad. In America, government officials have asked that we stop calling it swine flu and instead call it H1N1.
Right.
That's like someone who has a nickname all their life and then one day insists on changing it to sound grown up.
"T-Bone!"
"I go by William now."
"Whatever, T-Bone."

I'm the first to admit that I'm a terrible hypochondriac so now not only do I have to avoid strangers with the sniffles, I also have to be concerned about rogue farm animals and BLTs. The medical advice dispensed through the media says to wash hands, and don't panic--as the World Health Organization raises global alerts to the "Knock Knock. Who's there? Holy Crap. Holy Crap Who? Holy Crap there's basically going to be a swine flu pandemic and all we have to protect us is Purell" level. (also known as level 5).

I don't want to be disrespectful, because people are seriously sick, but geez, can the world get a break?

Take On Me.

Insurance company Mutual of Omaha has filed a lawsuit against Oprah claiming that it owns the phrase "aha moment." The lawsuit follows a cease and desist request from Winfrey suggesting that Mutual of Omaha's latest ad campaign, "What's your aha moment?" uses her aha moment line. 

I don't know if either side can lay claim to this term. I thought an a-ha moment was when you somehow got sucked into a pencil-sketch cartoon and danced around to new wave.  If anyone should be involved in this legal skirmish, it's the entire nation of Norway.   

And More Etc.

While waiting for a concert to start the other night, Bri and I started listing stores with really open-ended names. I forget why we started doing this, but it was a pretty fun way to pass the time. I know I mentioned something about the most random store name I'd ever seen (Wicker -N-Things) and that probably got the list going, but I can't remember why I brought that up.

Obligatory 2-second rant about Wicker 'N' Things:
Why? Why name your store Wicker -N-Things? Would a person in the market for wicker products really be so intrigued by the "things" that they had no choice but to shop there? Perhaps. But a person not looking for wicker products would never browse around Wicker-N-Things just for the things. And "Things" is FAR too general to tag on to Wicker. Are these wicker related things or is it a store full of things with wicker in them? Or are the things literally just random things, like electronic toothbrushes and dolls? How is the store divided? One section for wicker, another section for things?
I saw this store like 5 years ago and it's still bothering me. I guess I should get over it.

But you know the stores I'm talking about. Bed Bath & Beyond, Mailboxes Etc., Linens N Things, all the "And More" and "More Than" stores. Futons And More, Beverages & More, More Than Carpet, More Than Bagels, More Than Shirts. These kind of establishments go with the More Than because it looks only slightly better than "Mostly Carpet" or "Mostly Shirts."

These are few new stores we came up with:
*Things and Other Things Etc. Unlimited Wholesale Discounters
*Edible and Inedible Stuff & More
*More & More Etc. Etc.
*Noun Etc.
*Etc., Etc., Etc., Etc., And More
*Copies & Photos & Socks and Nothing Else.
*More Than Things & Whatnot & More & Beyond & Beyond That & Then Beyond That Even More Etc, Etc, I Mean Seriously, It Just Keeps Going, Like When You're In A Dressing Room And Two Mirrors Are Facing Each Other And Your Reflection In Those Two Mirrors Just Goes On Forever And It Kind Of Trips You Out 'Cause You're Like, Whoa, There's Like A Million Of Me, Do You Know What I'm Talking About? Like Infinity Mirrors, You Know? Well That's What This Store Is Like, Only More.

There's A Sale At The Chichen Store.

I have a love/hate relationship with the American shopping mall. On one hand, I hate the mall. On the other hand, many of my childhood memories involve the mall. And on the other hand, outside of an airport or a subway, the mall is prime people-watching space. (I bought an extra hand at Williams-Sonoma. It's one of those salad hands. Great for when you want to include three points but only have two hands.)

When you grow up in a town with freezing winters and nothing to do, you spend a lot of your weekends at the mall. An image of my father walking about 50 yards behind us with all of our winter coats and hats and scarves, our shopping bags, our giant lemonade from Hot Sam's Pretzels, and my mom's purse, is forever burned on my mind. The food court, the carousel (did you ever notice that kids have to wave at their parents every time they go around on the carousel? Every time. It's pretty freakin adorable, and also, the only thing you can do on a carousel.) and hide-and-seek in the department stores (I suggest jumping in the middle of circular racks of clothes). And all of this was before cell phones obviously, so every trip to the mall included at least one page over the mall sound system. "Martin Family, your father is waiting with your coats at the information kiosk."

There's been a steady flow of news about the fate of malls because of the economy. Reuters reported today that the second largest mall owner in America just filed for bankruptcy in what would be "one of the biggest real estate failures in U.S. history." That's crazy, and part of the reason I think malls are so gross. All that wasted space and all that sprawl for 35 senior citizens to power-walk around. What do you think will eventually happen to all those malls? Housing? Schools? Greenhouses? Probably Costco. Either that or giant city-size laser tag arenas. Which, when combined with an Orange Julius, might not be so bad.

Easter.

It's too bad that after years of holiday meals and gatherings, my entire extended family has grown to overlook our collective randomness. It's nothing new, so no one really notices. I imagine the people who work as ushers at Cirque du Soleil experience something similar. "Oh, that? Yeah, I guess it's pretty weird. I don't know, I've seen this like 300 times."

No one comments on the insane amounts of food anymore, or the fact that a celebration means about seven solid hours of force-feeding. No one tries to argue with my grandma as she shoves money at us, yelling for us to take it. And then once you've accepted the money with thanks, no one's eyes grow wider with confusion when she continues to yell at you to take it. I used to think to myself, "Gram, I'm holding the money, what more can I do? Should I ingest it?" Now I know that a five-minute scream for me to "take the money!" is also part of the gift.

In general, volume is never discussed. If my throat or ears don't hurt after a holiday, I wasn't with my family. And for holidays like Christmas or Easter, when a certain character arrives, I try to make my way to the bathroom before the big announcement, because the commotion makes me nervous. "SANTA IS HERE!!!!! GO GO GO" "THE BUNNY IS IN THE BACKYARD! RUUUUUN!" Followed by a scene similar to the footage of when the Beatles first came to America.

And unfortunatley, because it happens so often, Sabrina doesn't even think to take pictures of things like my Uncle Greg walking out into the dining room with a Halloween mask on, or sitting in the living room watching golf with a Halloween mask on. This year I really would have loved a picture of my little cousin Christopher pointing to the framed photo of Billy Joel on my grandma's table.
Actual exchange:
Christopher: (pointing) Who's that?
My Uncle Steve: Billy Joel.

No further explanation.

Has It Been An Hour?

Whenever celebrities talk about the environment they have to mention light bulbs. They can't help it. It's the one instance in which the figurative light bulb above their head is the literal answer.
"How do you reduce your carbon footprint?"
"Um, well... [ding!] Light bulbs."

In a symbolic act meant to bring attention to global warming and steps we can take to reduce energy use, Earth Hour will take place this Saturday night at 8:30. Conveniently, Earth Hour is basically about light bulbs so celebrities were able to get on board.

I'm all for symbolic acts. I do symbolic random acts of kindness as often as I can. Like when I see someone carrying heavy bags, I try to make whatever I'm carrying look heavy too so that person doesn't feel like they're alone.

For Earth Hour, people of the world are asked to shut off all unnecessary lighting at 8:30 PM. 8:30 local time. Your local time. So it's not really a single hour-- more of a shifting global hour. A stadium wave of darkness, if you will. That doesn't do much for the solidarity thing, knowing that people in France are already done with their dark hour and free to walk about their homes without bumping into furniture.

While discussing Earth Hour on his show, Larry King asked, "You don't want people to turn off their car lights if they're driving down the street?"

Well, no. Thanks Larry. But maybe you could turn off one of the 3,000 light bulbs you have on behind you. And maybe you could stop being on TV.

Not everyone is so keen on the idea of having to shut off a few lights for 60 minutes. In her article for the AP, Caryn Rousseau included a quote by ice cream shop owner Bob Gerense, who said, "I'm going to get everyone I know in my neighborhood to turn on every light they possibly can to waste as much electricity as possible to underline the absurdity of this action ... by being absurd."

You'd think a man in the ice cream business might be a little more concerned with climate change.

Oh, I Enjoy It.

These things never get old:

-Asking people to say something five times fast. It's better if it's not a tongue twister at all. "Hey, say 'butter' five times fast!" It's just fun to see who will play along. Plus, I'd rather not waste my time with a person who refuses to say something five times fast. What's your problem? I know you're saying it to yourself in your head.

-The pinky-finger and thumb "call me" symbol accompanied by the requisite whispered "call me."
A few reasons why I love this one. First, who decided that a pinky and a thumb was the best representation of a phone? Phone technology has come so far that most phones look more like the palm of your hand than anything else. But I bet you a dollar that if you held your palm up to the side of your head and whispered "call me" people would just think you were trying to talk about the person sitting next to you. Palm to the side of your head means you're trying to block out a secret. So I don't know if the phone symbol will ever be able to make the switch. It's this lasting archaic institution.
Another reason is that personally, I find the universal "call me" hilarious. When your awkward stage lasts from 12 to 27, the pinky-thumb phone is a nice way to make yourself laugh after failed attempts to talk to strangers.
"Hey, can I buy you a drink"
"No."
"Oh, OK. Call me."
Close-range exaggerated whisper with a symbol. It's not for everyone.

-And Rachel Maddow on any show. What's not to love?

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Rain Dance.

I'm really horrible at basketball so anytime I'm near a hoop I'm usually shouting "Old School!" or "Let it rain!" as I hurl the ball nowhere near the rim. People get sick of that after a solid minute so I've become really amazing at watching basketball.

College basketball (namely 'Cuse hoops) ranks about #5 in my top ten favorite things list. The month of March always brings that ranking up to a buzzer-beating tie-breaker with my #1. If you don't like college basketball in general, that's no big deal. I don't understand how you couldn't, but it's not a personal flaw. But if you don't like college basketball in March, there is something seriously wrong with you.

Let's look at a list of things, shall we?
*Miracles
*Euphoria
*Cinderella Stories
*Beer

Taken independently, each item in that list is pretty great. But if you combine each item and then add a basketball and a crowd of cheering fans, that list becomes entirely freaking awesome.

The best thing about March basketball is that anything can happen. See: Syracuse's win in 6 overtimes vs. UConn in the Big East Tournament. SIX OVERTIMES! Basketball 'til 1:30 in the morning! Do you know how stressful/amazing that game was for SU fans? When you're literally exhausted just from watching a game, you know it was good.

And yesterday on SportsCenter President Obama filled out his bracket, which I have to say, was one of the more enjoyable things I've watched on television lately.

So break out your Jock Jams CD, throw on your favorite old college hoodie, and enjoy the madness!

The Doctor Will See You Now.

I'm sure I'm not the only person who hates the waiting room at the doctor's office. A stack of magazines does very little to keep your mind off where you are, or why the people around you are there--which is usually what you're wondering when you look up from that July 2008 issue of US Weekly to stare at them. Waiting rooms are uncomfortable, and awkward, and scary. I get enough of the first two in my everyday life and I could really go without the scary. Once when I had to get my wisdom teeth pulled, "O Fortuna" was playing in the waiting room at the dentist. I swear to you, that's true. I almost ran out of there.

I had to take Stella to the vet last week for a check-up and I realized that dogs have it easy. Stella had no clue where we were but she was fine with it. Unless it's the park, or your place, dogs probably have no idea where they are most of the time. I'm floored with how chill they are about that. If that was me I'd be like, "Seriously, where are you taking me?" All she knew was that there was a cat in a cage sitting on the bench next to us and she was going to try with all her might to wiggle out of my arms to get to it.

You know how they say pets resemble their owners? Well, for some reason I couldn't stop imagining that each animal in that waiting room behaved exactly like their owners do when at the doctor's. This was pretty fun and helped pass the time.

Also, I learned a great tip from Stella when she had to get weighed in by one of the assistants. She stepped onto the scale and then just before the weight fully registered, she ran off. I had to put her back on the scale four times until eventually they just put down an estimate. I'm totally doing this the next time I have to be weighed for anything. So much better than taking off your shoes, right? Just hop on, and then quickly jump off and run around the nurses station a few times. "Um, Ms. Martin, could you come back here please?"

When we finally went in to see the vet Stella still had no clue what was going on but she just kept wagging her little tail and kissing everyone. I really think she had a great time. Which leads me to believe that the real problem with the heath care system is the lack of treats.

I'd Like To Solve The Puzzle.

A sign in front of an Elks Club Lodge said "PA HETTI DINNER."

Not exactly cryptic, but it made me think.

Were the S and the G really missing? Or were the two guys in charge of buying letters on a budget? And if so, was "pa hetti" really the most obvious choice? A three-year-old might say so, but I can't imagine anyone driving past the sign and thinking, "Mmm, pa hetti dinner. Reminds me of Rome."

In an unrelated note, is anyone else offended that Vanna White still has a job?

Name Your Vegetables.

A new study suggests that kids are more likely to eat vegetables if they are given a "cool" name. LiveScience.com reports, "186 four-year-olds were given regular carrots and, on other lunch days, they were given the same vegetables renamed X-ray Vision Carrots. On the latter days, they ate nearly twice as many."

Ah-doy-ee!

Who wouldn't want an X-ray Vision Carrot?! I want one right now.

I don't care how old you are, food tastes better when you make it fun. If a side dish has a funny name, I'm on board. If a meal has a theme, I'm there. Who can forget the baby shrimp, baby corn, baby back ribs episode of Full House? And I'm 27, but I still make my pancakes into shapes. Is this weird? Probably. But go make a dinosaur out of batter and then come talk to me.

Some vegetables are blessed with awesome names but if you have to help the others out I say do it. Swiss Chard could use an ounce of cool. Rhubarb sounds like a lost Golden Girl, while Sweetcorn is too innocent, and Broccolini probably gets the crap beat out of him. Obviously the vegetable with the coolest name and the most street cred is Radicchio. Radicchio could release an album if it wanted.

If vegetables were renamed after American Gladiators, we'd all be eating our daily 5 to be sure. Just a big salad packed with Blaze, Turbo, Gemini, Zap, and Laser with a little Ranch dressing on the side.

Clearly, I have the culinary sophistication of a four-year-old.

I Don't Get It.

Just a few of my current sources of confusion.

*The Sunday Styles section of the NYT included an article about a new club in LA and described the dress code as "Depression dominatrix." "Bowler hats, suspenders, vintage that sparkles. 'No coat or tie,' said John Terzian, an owner. 'You just have to look right.'"

How does that Saturday night conversation go?
-How do I look?
-You like like an idiot.
-Perfect. Oh snap, can't forget my whip and my "Need Work" sandwich board.

*Soulja Boy's latest song is called "Kiss Me Thru The Phone." If this isn't about some new emoticon, he should really throw in a few lines about how embarrassing it is to contact your wireless provider after you've swallowed your SIM card.

*Gwyneth Paltrow has a lifestyle website called Goop.
So now there's Goop, Gaga. (That's Lady Gaga to you. Because nothing says refined, well-spoken woman quite like Gaga.) GooGoo, Boo, Boo-Boo, Boo hoo, Bah Bah, Ba-haha, and of course, poop. But somehow to use that in any sort of pop-culture reference would be crossing a line.
When an artist with a dance hit named Lady Poop launches a website about organic food and inner peace, I'll check it out.

*Lids has a line of comic book hats with different comic book sound effects on them.

Unless you want complete strangers to yell "Bamf!" at you wherever you go, why would you ever buy this?

Baby Steps.

It's early, but I'm going out on a limb and saying that the word of the year for 2009 will be "Transparency." I hear someone mention it everyday. Although, Merriam-Webster's Word of the Year in 2007 was "woot" so what do I know?

w00t (interjection)

expressing joy; similar in use to the word "yay"

w00t! I won the contest!

In these times of uncertainty following an era of secrecy and shady deals, Transparency is the amazing out-of-town guest we can't wait to introduce to everyone.

"Transparency! So glad to see you! I don't think you know Wall Street or any of the major banks."

"No, I don't believe I do."

"Hi."

"Have you met Government? Local, State, Federal?"

"Perhaps briefly. Did I see you under oath that one time?"

"Hello."

"You'll have to excuse Big Business. He really wants nothing to do with you."

"I get it. That whole, 'You don't want to know how your sausage is made' kind of thing?"

"Exactly."

I'm always hopeful when Obama talks about transparency for the stimulus. It's just a good idea to put the truth out there. Plus, it benefits everyone to know how, where, and when the BILLIONS of dollars are spent. Recovery.gov is the website meant to be the "centerpiece" of the effort for transparency and accountability. Woot! Transparency! Woot! Accountability! These a big words! So what do they mean exactly?

So far, this is the money info we have on recovery.gov.

OK, well it's a nice chart. To the point. I'd like to learn more and conveniently, there's a "Learn more" link which brings me to this:

Hmm, this information seems vaguely familiar.

And maybe it's just me but I'm usually worried by an "Other" category. 8 billion dollars for "Other." Is "Other" party supplies? Because that'd be a lot.

This is the first effort to ever do anything like this so I'm willing to give recovery.gov time. But fingers crossed that the next installment of transparency isn't just these same numbers in a pie chart and pictograph. OK, just kidding. I love pictographs.

Don't Let A Cheese Hit Me.

The Amazing Race never disappoints. I'm sort of obsessed with it for three reasons.

1) Travel turns people into the truest versions of themselves.

2) Whenever I'm lost I like to pretend that I'm on the show. And I'm pretty horrible with directions so I get to do this a lot. Once when attending a friend's wedding outside of Vancouver I was so terribly lost and thought I might miss the whole thing so I basically stopped and asked every person in BC for directions. One woman ran over to me, poked her head into the car to look in the backseat and asked with excitement, "Is this for The Amazing Race?!" I was so upset at the time I was like, "No!" but deep down I was like, "Unofficially, yes. Yes it is."

3) The show explores what I think is the fundamental question faced by humans in every culture: How should we waste our time? I love that every country, small town, or village has their own answer.

The premiere episode of season 14 aired last night and the contestants were given the task of bringing 200 pounds of cheese down a steep hill. Why the cheese makers don't store the cheese at the bottom of the hill to begin with was not discussed. However, I was pleased to learn that the combination of cheese wheels and steep hills should be added to the list of things I find amusing.

You See?!

I deleted the original post I wrote explaining my history with wild animal sightings because I got tired of people making fun of me. But here's a rundown if you're unfamiliar:

- Two summers ago, while eating breakfast on the deck at my parents' house, I saw what I thought was a mountain lion in the apple orchard. I alerted everyone at the table and as the large cat came closer to the house, I yelled for everyone to run inside. I had also read just days before about a bear sighting in the area, and might have yelled something about that too. People enjoyed pointing out that there are no mountains around my parents' house and it was determined that the mountain lion was a feral cat. Everyone made fun of me.

- Months later, while driving around Letchworth State Park, I was convinced I saw a monkey riding on the back of a motorcycle. Aware that I already had one strike against me with the mountain lion, I debated not saying anything. However, I was so sure that I had seen a monkey and that the sighting would vindicate me, I shouted it out and demanded that we turn around to follow the motorcycle. It turns out it was a grown man riding around with a stuffed orangutan on the back of his bike. Everyone made fun of me. To be fair though, who the hell does that?

-Months later, on my way home from a trip to Boston, I was one of only two cars parked at a rest stop on the thruway. Standing outside of the car drinking a coffee and stretching, I saw something moving in the distance. Squinting to make it out, I noticed that it was quickly running in my direction. It was super fast and coming right at me and I knew I wouldn't have enough time to get in the car. I debated jumping on the hood of the car, but I froze with fear and just stood there as the large cat with its giant tail ran right past me. After it happened I got in the car and could only laugh because I knew no one was going to believe me. I called my mother and even she said, "Ooh, was it a tiger, Jess?" I later received numerous emails with the subject line, "Was this the cat?" which included pictures like this.

So anyway, I was thrilled today to hear about the sightings and recent capture of a bobcat on Staten Island. A bobcat. Staten Island. Who's laughing now, fools?

Back In The Vault, Ariel.

In yet another sign of the crumbling economy, Brooks Barnes writes in the NYT that the Walt Disney Company has decided to change its DVD business model. Could it be an end to The Vault?

With overcrowding and significant increases in costs for food and medical coverage, Disney can no longer afford to adequately care for the characters in The Vault. Disney's vault system, releasing characters for a limited time and then locking them away for 7 to 10 years, has drawn sharp criticism from rights groups and children wanting to watch a digitally remastered Pocahontas while they're still young enough to enjoy it.

During her 2007 release, Cinderella sat down for an exclusive interview with Lisa Ling to speak out against the conditions. She claimed characters were not properly monitored and that the cast of The Lion King had eaten most of the members of The Jungle Book and at least 32 Dalmatians. She also accused Disney of not providing Quasimodo with proper physical therapy and said Sleeping Beauty had been subjected to numerous tests for drug companies, namely, Ambien. When reached for comment, Disney sent a letter written by Pinocchio saying that he loved The Vault. Pressed for video showing Pinocchio reading his statement, Disney declined.

With the possible release of all the characters due to lacking funds, employment experts stress that this may be a difficult time for them. "The job market is tight right now and a lot of these characters lack employable skills. I'm afraid being able to talk to animals, or actually being an animal, isn't what companies are looking for in a recession. Most of them will probably end up on reality shows."

But according to Barnes' article, Disney won't be letting anyone loose before their scheduled release. The company simply wants to produce fewer discs and change packaging to cut costs.

Activist protests are anticipated in Orlando and Anaheim.

A Three Million Dollar Lesson.

If Super Bowl commercials have taught me anything, it's that watching horses fall in love does not make me want a beer.

"I'll handle this, Violet. Why don't you take your three-hour break."

Newman: Oh, calm down everyone. No one's cancelling any mail.
Kramer: Oh, yes, I am.
Newman: What about your bills?
Kramer: The bank can pay 'em.
Newman: The bank. What about your cards and letters?
Kramer: E-mail, telephones, fax machines. Fedex, telex, telegrams, holograms.
Newman: All right, it's true! Of course nobody needs mail. What do you think, you're so clever for figuring that out? But you don't know the half of what goes on here. So just walk away, Kramer. I beg of you.

So I'm sure by now you've heard the red alert that the postmaster general wants to cut mail service down from 6 days a week to five. This news has been on par with the peanut paste thing. "Don't eat peanut paste! It's contaminated!" Thanks for that. I was consuming most of my peanut products in paste form. But apparently the post office could lose as much as $6 billion next year if they don't make the switch. Do you know how many postcard stamps that is?!

I think the 5-day service switch is a great idea because no one really appreciates the mail anymore. I bet the people waiting on the Pony Express to roll into town were pretty freakin' amped to see that Valpak.

According to the Associated Press, the post office needs to send about 9 billion more pieces of mail this year to meet its budget. If they let Bernie Madoff get involved to start those chain letters that we used to get in fourth grade, maybe people would be willing to go through a book of stamps to receive good fortune. If every American sent out 20 letters every week for 52 weeks, and the post office cut service to 5 days, plus holidays, and increased the price of the forever stamp, forever, I think the budget concerns would be a thing of the past.

Or maybe they should just start charging a fee to rent a pen at the post office. Because they never have pens there.

Problem Solved.

So I hear Lost is back. I'm not a fan. I've mentioned this before. During the first few seasons whenever people started talking about the show I'd ask them to explain the plotline to me and then three words into their explanations I'd add, "But say it with a straight face."
If people could get through a rundown of the program, dropping words like "monster" without smiling, I'd know not to talk to them about TV again.

One of my roommates in San Francisco was really into Battlestar Galactica and I made the mistake onetime of sitting down to watch it with him.
"So these people are in space?"
"Yeah."
"Then where do they get those salon quality haircuts?"

And then he hit pause on the Tivo until I left.

I get that these shows thrive on suspended disbelief and people dig that, but the Lost thing is out of control. The Wikipedia page for Lost is about 30 times larger than the Wikipedia page for Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Let's have a little perspective people.

I only bring this up because I overheard what I'd consider a genuine argument the other day as someone yelled, "It's NOT a dinosaur!"

The yelling thing scared me. Watching Lost fans struggle to keep a straight face while saying "blob" or "tropical polar bear" used to be good for a little laugh. But I don't want one of these freaks to cut me. From now on if I hear anyone mention the show, I'm just going to say I don't own a television anymore. My TV was misplaced on a flight home from Australia.

Write That Down.

Listening to a list of the nightly specials at restaurants has started to make me feel uncomfortable. Due to the complexity of the food some restaurants now serve, it's become a Top Chef story hour of ingredients and preparation techniques as the server tells a tale about where each dish was locally harvested and why there's foam on the plate. The overuse of adjectives doesn't help either. I have no idea what an auspicious salad is supposed to taste like.

Hearing, "Let me tell you about tonight's specials" gives me the same feeling I get when a person starts to sing or play the flute on the subway. OK, this might be awhile. Should I look at you? Should I look away? Should I nod at everything you say or smile when you name something I like? Should I interrupt your flow of information with an "Oooh, that sounds good" or hold that until the end?

There must be some sort of unwritten rule for handling this. There seems to be an unwritten rule for almost everything else.

People love talking about unwritten rules. I think it's because the lack of solid evidence frees them to make any claim they want. "I'm sorry, but if the car in front of you leaves their blinker on for more than a mile, you're allowed to rear end them. That's just an unwritten rule."
You can learn a lot about a person through the unwritten rules they mention--and also by looking at the front of their car.

It's amazing how many lists of unwritten rules are posted on the internet.

"12 Unwritten Rules of Cellphone Etiquette."
"The Unwritten Rules of Movie Watching."
"25 Unwritten Rules For Writing Rules That Should Remain Unwritten: A Novel."

Everyone has their personal favorite. Unwritten rules for travel, waiting in line, eating. Years ago I learned about the unwritten rules of Bingo. I won't pretend to know anything about Bingo Etiquette except to say that it exists and involves a dauber. Note: If you ever want to get kicked out of a Catholic school's basement during a Wednesday night game of Bingo, call a false Bingo twice in a row. How do people not know you're joking when you shout "Bingo!" after the first number is called?

Elevator Etiquette is one of the unwritten universals. Nothing brings people together on the rules of social behavior quite like standing in vertical transport with strangers. Save for that lone weirdo, we all agree that an elevator trip is life's pause button. Who we are, what we're doing, where we're going, where we've been--it's all canceled out on the elevator. Maybe because lifts were originally meant for freight we all just assume that role.

Some people nod when entering an elevator as if to say, "I'm entering the elevator now" and most people will nod back in confirmation, "Yes, you are." A fake smile is often used here as well. More of a frown than a smile, an elevator fake smile never exposes teeth and it states in the quietest way possible, don't talk to me.

It blows my mind when couples say they met on an elevator. Seriously? How?
The danger is that an elevator ride can make anyone who says more than, "floor?" seem like a charming wordsmith. These are usually the same couples who a few months into the relationship complain they they're having trouble communicating.

Most unwritten rules boil down to one of two things: Be quiet or show up with wine. So I guess I need to start looking for mime restaurants with a corkage fee. No lengthy explanations, just nightly specials trapped in a box or being pulled from the kitchen with invisible rope.

Edward R. Murrow Would Be Proud.

It's a shame that they edited this video because when I saw it this morning the guy kept interrupting Heidi Collins asking to show the water trick while she repeated over and over, "I'm sorry, we have to get to some news."

Is it just me, or do you get the feeling that local weatherman were the kids in school who used to lick their shoes?

Get Out Of My Head Robot Voice.

I had a dream last night that T-Pain was my roommate and we threw a party to help teach people how to recycle.
A dream dictionary that could figure that one out hasn't been written yet.
But I guess it's easier to understand than the recurring dreams I was having about The Supernanny.

Try To Follow This.

The following is from an actual conversation I had with my father the other day after a wind storm. The word "generator" has been omitted about 30 times.

"Well, the power's out! Lines are down all over the road! The wind snapped the poles like toothpicks! You think the wind cares? The wind doesn't care!"
"I've never really thought about the wind like that before."
"We had to have Garr help us hook a generator up to a tractor to get some power going on the farm."
"I'm sorry, who?"
"Gaar."
"Is that some sort of mythical creature?"
"You've heard me mention Garrr before."
"Garrgh, the Norse God of Portable Energy?"
"He works over at Suburban Electric."
"I don't know what that is. They install generators?"
"No, but I guess Garar knows a lot about generators."
"Enough to hook them up to tractors to heat homes?"
"Yeah."
"And his name is Gar?"
"It might be short for Garfield or Gar...Gar...I don't know."
"Anyway..."
"Oh! Remember that party your mother and I went to for Margot's birthday at the Belhurst Castle in Geneva?"
"Who?"
"Margot Bill Frank's wife."
"Margot Bill, Frank's wife? Or Margot Frank, Bill's wife?"
"Yeah."
"Dad!"
"Bill Frank worked on our refrigeration for the storage. Margot is German."
[Blank Stare]
"Look, the point is, Garr was at that party."

Having a conversation with my dad is remarkably similar to playing Three-Card Monte except that I'm never told which card I'm supposed to identify.

Blank Stare: Thanksgiving Edition.

Still not in comic strip form. Drawing boxes obviously requires more energy than I'm willing to exert.

Frame 1: Deb this chicken tastes like pork tenderloin.
Frame 2: It's eggplant.
Frame 3: Blank Stare.

Frame 1: Jess, have you given any more thought to going back to school to be a veterinarian?
Frame 2: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Frame 3: Oh, I don't know.
Frame 4: Blank Stare.

Frame 1: Hey dad, what does tare weight mean?
Frame 2: Empty weight.
Frame 3: Does tare stand for something?
Frame 4: Yeah, empty.
Frame 5: Blank Stare.

Frame 1: Jess, this is delicious! You could be like that celebrity chef Lance Bass.
Frame 2: Blank Stare.

Frame 1: That's a nice color for a car.
Frame 2: Yeah, it looks like a pearl.
Frame 3: No, it was a man in there.
Frame 4: Dad, I said PEARL.
Frame 5: Oh. Well she looked like a man.
Frame 6: Blank Stare.

Frame 1: Vermont plates!
Frame 2: Yup.
Frame 3: You know, Vermont's slogan should be, "Come to Vermont for a nice meal and a good book."
Frame 4: Blank Stare.

(T)issue.

I was watching the CEOs of America's Big Three automakers beg for money last night in front of the House Financial Services Committee (because that's how I do) and was slightly disappointed that no one brought up the issue of Kleenex in the rear windows of Lincoln Town Cars. I guess that's not what the meeting was about, but it has always sort of bothered me.

Has anyone ever sat behind a Lincoln Town Car at a red light and NOT seen a box of tissues in the rear window?

Seriously. Anyone?

I want to start a photo collection of different Town Cars I see with tissues in the rear window and call the collection, "I'm Driving And I Need A Tissue But I Can't Reach Because I Drive A Lincoln Town Car And The Box Is In My Rear Window."

I'll need to work on the title.

As Seen On TV.

"If any of you are looking for any last minute gift ideas..."

The Aqua Globe. This is something you fill with water and stick into your plants to keep them watered. Right. That seems like an extra step I wouldn't be willing to pay for. You still have to remember to water something. Plus, having to hear, "Did you water the Aqua Globe?" would probably send me into a rant about the Aqua Globe every time.

Debbie Meyer Green Bags. These magic bags keep your fresh produce "fresh" for weeks. Few questions here. Why is Debbie Meyer buying so much fresh produce if she knows she won't be eating it for 18 days? Why not just buy a fresh green pepper when you need one? What is running through Debbie Meyer's head at the market? "Oh, cucumbers. I might want one of those in three to four weeks. Better buy 12 of them now." The commercial for these bags says, "Here are baby carrots after 26 days!" Maybe Debbie doesn't like baby carrots as much as she thinks she does.

The Slanket. Don't even get me started. All I'll say is that in all honesty, without exaggeration, I am afraid of this thing.

And on Sunday I saw a commercial where the man from the Oxiclean ads was selling a health insurance plan. That seems like a sound choice. Medical coverage from a man who feels compelled to throw red wine and ink on everything he sees. Why not refinance your mortgage through the ShamWOW! guy, or apply for a student loan with the people who brought us Kinoki Foot Pads?

Call now.

Productive Day.

Gloomy weather is good for me when it comes to getting things done. I have a ton of stuff to take care of and so far I've put a pretty nice dent in the list.

1) Dance around to Janelle Monae's "Many Moons" for 5 minutes, or an hour. Check.

2) Brainstorm ideas for an online cooking show called Pinscher of Salt where Stella makes sandwiches. Check.

3) Stare at things. Check.

I should be a life coach.

Work In A Bikini!

That was the actual title for a job posting on Craigslist. "Work In a Bikini!"

The exclamation point kills me. I usually don't even wear a bikini to the beach, but gosh, I never thought about showing up to work in midtown in a bikini. That might be pretty exciting! And winter is right around the corner! Working in a bikini in the winter! Cool!

I read the ad merely out of curiosity (I'm not qualified. I get it.) and it turns out it's to work as a food server in a restaurant. I shouldn't be surprised I guess. This economic downturn has caused most other people who work in their bikinis to lose their jobs. Just this morning CNBC was talking about the spike in unemployment rates for bikini-clad accountants and the Detroit area is losing bikini-wearing auto manufacturing jobs left and right. I recently read that the entire law firm of Mono, Micro, Tankini & String folded, leaving associates there wondering what to do next.

The ad for the Craigslist posting described the ideal candidate for the position as "fit, attractive, experienced in restaurant and bar operations, and comfortable working in a Bikini." Makes sense. They also asked job applicants to show up to the interview with "heels and a bikini." That makes sense too. No mention of a cover letter or résumé, but I assume that goes without saying.

"So I see here you've had experience working in a bikini before?"
"Yes, that's right. After getting my degree in Swimwear Studies, I worked for Beach For America for two years in Chicago and then went on to work as a molecular/cell biology Research Assistant at a university here in the city."
"Oh, but that wasn't in a bikini?"
"Well, the job didn't call for it, no. But I do prefer to work in a bikini and I ALWAYS do research in a bikini."
"O.K. good."

Because I have issues with restaurant cleanliness, it's particularly upsetting to me that bikini jobs are limited to working in food and beverage. You'd have to be a pretty big perv to overlook the fact that people are serving you food in their underwear. It's gross. I'd be like, "Could you do us a solid and throw some pants on before you bring out our appetizer sampler? That'd be great, thanks."

Getting To Know You.

Helping D setup an online payment system for an account this morning, it occurred to me how much you need to know about yourself to fill in the security questions. I remember when the only question was "What was your High School Mascot?" or "What is your mother's middle name?" and even trying to answer those questions took five seconds of serious thought. But now there are multiple questions. So many in fact, that she had to write down the answers and file them. That seems insane to me. That security questions about oneself are now so wide in scope that a person needs to keep a "me" cheat sheet in their filing cabinet. "My favorite band? I started this account online in the 90's, I have no effing clue. Let's see, what was my favorite band in 1998? Aqua? That can't be right."

In the event that you can't remember your password, which is highly likely because it often must include 3 digits and an umlaut, these security questions are meant to help verify that you're you. But what if you can't even verify it? Trying to recall the answer to a question you filled out seven years ago is difficult, but if the question concerned something about personal taste at the time, it's nearly impossible. My nightmare would be having to call customer service and run through a list of possible answers I might have given to security questions.
-We're sorry that you're having trouble accessing your account. Can you remember how you answered the "What did you want to be when you grew up" question?
-Um, was there another question?
-Well, we have to start on this one.
-Oh. Um, did I say teacher?
-Let me check. No, that wasn't the answer given.
-Doctor?
-No.
-Um, MacGdkjfhds?
-Sorry?
-Um, Macfrummsblerg?
-Miss Martin, I can't understand you.
-Did I type MacGyver?
-Yes, okay. And now I just need to verify your social.

I let D pick her questions and fill out her answers and afterward she agreed that they were ridiculous.
"One of the questions asked me to name my greatest fear."
"Really? What is your greatest fear?"
"I don't know. I said choking."

It's A Common Sense Thing.

Imagine you're out to eat when the waiter announces your order to the entire restaurant. "Excuse me ladies and gentleman, she said she wants tonight's special. Yea or Nay?" And then by a show of hands, the entire dining room votes on your meal. "I'm sorry, the other customers think you should have a salad."

It'd be totally ridiculous, right?

But the gay marriage ban that passed in three states on election night isn't so far removed from this restaurant scenario.

Entire states were asked to walk into a voting booth, close the curtain, and decide whether or not a gay person should be allowed to marry someone they love. A majority of voters in California, Arizona and Florida decided they should not be allowed that right. I don't remember being asked to vote before any of my straight friends and family members got married.

I've never been cryptic about my views on marriage, but I am deeply concerned with actions taken to limit rights and the use of bigotry to hold a nation back from achieving equality. And that's what this is all about--equality. The idea that gay people are somehow different, or deserve an altered set of rules to exist in America is insulting and dangerous. It creates an idea of "the other" and is a breeding ground for injustice. What worries me is that this is not really an issue of marriage (as long as it's between consenting adults, does anyone honestly care who anyone marries?) but more of a device used to spread intolerance.

There are suggestions that gay marriage leads to the destruction of the family (huh?) but I like Ellen's response to these claims:

"I don't know what people are scared of. Maybe they think that their children will be influenced. And I gotta say, I was raised by two heterosexuals. I was surrounded by heterosexuals. Just everywhere I looked, heterosexuals. And they did not influence-- I mean, I had dabbled in high school, who didn't? But I think people are going to be who they're going to be. And we need to learn to love them for who they are and let them love who they want to love."

Note: The blog has taken a political turn as of late. Back to reporting on the absurdities of life soon. But on some level, I think the political posts qualify.