Monday, March 29, 2004
We are family
I experienced the most wonderful, serendipitous event this weekend. I'm not referring to the THREE pairs of shoes that I purchased at Designer Shoe Warehouse. For $60! I kid you not. That place is addictive. But that's not what has me so juiced.
Before I got to DSW on Saturday, I stopped at the Apple Store at Northridge Fashion Center. My iBook baby is not happy, not happy at all. I had hopes that one of the barkeeps at the Genius Bar would be able to advise me how to remedy the situation. I patiently wait my turn only to be saddened by the news that I have to send my lover away for 7-10 business days for an assessment. I pack the baby away and prepare to leave the store, disheartened. Then, out of the blue, someone asks me if I know any Peeks. I turn around and see a beautiful young woman staring at me. Gorgeous girl. I say, "Know any? I am one." She tells me that she is my cousin, Kay.* I am flabbergasted.
Of all the gin joints (okay, genius bars) in all the world, she had to walk into mine! Though we are of the same generation, we had never met. Her mother and mine are first cousins. She grew up in Detroit and I in New Jersey and Washington, DC. And here we were, thousands of miles from our respective origins in the same place and time in Northridge, California, of all places. Getting our iBooks checked. Get with that.
In my trademarked quiet way, I reached out and grabbed her and yelled (for the entire Apple Store to hear) "OH, MY GOD!" The genius behind the bar and all of the patrons served as our avid audience. We just kept screaming (she is my cousin, after all) and hugging. It was theater! And her mother was visiting from the Motor City. It. Was. Too. Much. We had breakfast together yesterday and then went to Point Dume in Malibu. It was fantastic.
The really shocking thing? She recognized me from three prominent genetic markers in my family. My hands. My voice. My booty. Day-um. You just can't hide who you are! So don't even try.
*Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I experienced the most wonderful, serendipitous event this weekend. I'm not referring to the THREE pairs of shoes that I purchased at Designer Shoe Warehouse. For $60! I kid you not. That place is addictive. But that's not what has me so juiced.
Before I got to DSW on Saturday, I stopped at the Apple Store at Northridge Fashion Center. My iBook baby is not happy, not happy at all. I had hopes that one of the barkeeps at the Genius Bar would be able to advise me how to remedy the situation. I patiently wait my turn only to be saddened by the news that I have to send my lover away for 7-10 business days for an assessment. I pack the baby away and prepare to leave the store, disheartened. Then, out of the blue, someone asks me if I know any Peeks. I turn around and see a beautiful young woman staring at me. Gorgeous girl. I say, "Know any? I am one." She tells me that she is my cousin, Kay.* I am flabbergasted.
Of all the gin joints (okay, genius bars) in all the world, she had to walk into mine! Though we are of the same generation, we had never met. Her mother and mine are first cousins. She grew up in Detroit and I in New Jersey and Washington, DC. And here we were, thousands of miles from our respective origins in the same place and time in Northridge, California, of all places. Getting our iBooks checked. Get with that.
In my trademarked quiet way, I reached out and grabbed her and yelled (for the entire Apple Store to hear) "OH, MY GOD!" The genius behind the bar and all of the patrons served as our avid audience. We just kept screaming (she is my cousin, after all) and hugging. It was theater! And her mother was visiting from the Motor City. It. Was. Too. Much. We had breakfast together yesterday and then went to Point Dume in Malibu. It was fantastic.
The really shocking thing? She recognized me from three prominent genetic markers in my family. My hands. My voice. My booty. Day-um. You just can't hide who you are! So don't even try.
*Some names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Geek goddess
I can't wait to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Warner Bros. has updated the official site. See here.
I have to read all the books again this weekend. I am a nucking ferd, I am.
I can't wait to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Warner Bros. has updated the official site. See here.
I have to read all the books again this weekend. I am a nucking ferd, I am.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
Is it any wonder?
I adore her! I'm talkin' 'bout Janice, of course. So is Page Six. HOT!
Hell in a handbasket
That's where we're going. How do I know this? I read the Girls Gone Wild Dispatches on Slate. Now it's your turn.
I adore her! I'm talkin' 'bout Janice, of course. So is Page Six. HOT!
Hell in a handbasket
That's where we're going. How do I know this? I read the Girls Gone Wild Dispatches on Slate. Now it's your turn.
Monday, March 22, 2004
I am really tired
So not much thinking to be found in this neck of the woods. Here's what I'm reading (if you're interested):
The Lavender Screen: The Gay and Lesbian Films: Their Stars, Makers, Characters & Critics by Boze Hadleigh
When Hollywood Had A King: The Reign of Lew Wasserman, Who Leveraged Talent into Power and Influence by Connie Bruck
The New American Splendor Anthology by Harvey Pekar
Ahab's Wife: Or, The Star Gazer: A Novel by Sena Jeter Naslund
The last I'm reading because of my new book club obligations. Hey, they give us the books for free. There have to be some perks to working for an enormous media conglomerate. Don't be mad at me. Visit your local library instead.
love and kisses...
P.S. I can't wait to read Everything About Me is Fake... And I'm Perfect by Janice Dickinson. I'm holding out by gleaning for little tidbits like this one.
So not much thinking to be found in this neck of the woods. Here's what I'm reading (if you're interested):
The Lavender Screen: The Gay and Lesbian Films: Their Stars, Makers, Characters & Critics by Boze Hadleigh
When Hollywood Had A King: The Reign of Lew Wasserman, Who Leveraged Talent into Power and Influence by Connie Bruck
The New American Splendor Anthology by Harvey Pekar
Ahab's Wife: Or, The Star Gazer: A Novel by Sena Jeter Naslund
The last I'm reading because of my new book club obligations. Hey, they give us the books for free. There have to be some perks to working for an enormous media conglomerate. Don't be mad at me. Visit your local library instead.
love and kisses...
P.S. I can't wait to read Everything About Me is Fake... And I'm Perfect by Janice Dickinson. I'm holding out by gleaning for little tidbits like this one.
Monday, March 15, 2004
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for
Yesterday afternoon. I'm sorting laundry. I perform a quick search for movies on the evil Adelphia digital cable box. Ah, "The Usual Suspects" is on A&E. Oh, and it's just started. Goody.
Only not. Remember that I said it was on A&E? Well, they edit for objectionable language. Somehow, it significantly detracted from my enjoyment of the film. I mean, whoever edited it is seriously disturbed. During the first scene, when the usual suspects are in the line-up and they each have to repeat a certain phrase? Well, somehow "Fairy Godmother" doesn't convey quite the same meaning. I would have selected the time honored, "Mother Trucker." If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
It was laugh out loud funny. So, I got to thinking that I'd love access to the substitution database that the editors use. I looked all over the Internet to no avail. Dang. Guess, I'll just have to start my own.
Yesterday afternoon. I'm sorting laundry. I perform a quick search for movies on the evil Adelphia digital cable box. Ah, "The Usual Suspects" is on A&E. Oh, and it's just started. Goody.
Only not. Remember that I said it was on A&E? Well, they edit for objectionable language. Somehow, it significantly detracted from my enjoyment of the film. I mean, whoever edited it is seriously disturbed. During the first scene, when the usual suspects are in the line-up and they each have to repeat a certain phrase? Well, somehow "Fairy Godmother" doesn't convey quite the same meaning. I would have selected the time honored, "Mother Trucker." If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
It was laugh out loud funny. So, I got to thinking that I'd love access to the substitution database that the editors use. I looked all over the Internet to no avail. Dang. Guess, I'll just have to start my own.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
I feel smaller than ever
Look at this image from the Hubble Telescope. Talk about tiny insignificance. Renders the comments I was going to make somehow pointless and petty. Never mind then.
Look at this image from the Hubble Telescope. Talk about tiny insignificance. Renders the comments I was going to make somehow pointless and petty. Never mind then.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Pet theory
Yes, I have more than one. But this time of year (granted about a month earlier than usual), my dearest, most closely held pet theory is that portraying a prostitute makes one a shoo-in for Best Actress at the Oscars. If one is playing an unattractive, overweight, serial killer prostitute - well, then - you got it in the bag, baby. Good on ya, Charlize.
If I ever go back to school (and I probably will because I don't know what else to do), I am going to research Best Actress nominees and recipients. Surely, the world will be interested in looking at the role of women in our culture through the prism of the Academy Awards. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
Yes, I have more than one. But this time of year (granted about a month earlier than usual), my dearest, most closely held pet theory is that portraying a prostitute makes one a shoo-in for Best Actress at the Oscars. If one is playing an unattractive, overweight, serial killer prostitute - well, then - you got it in the bag, baby. Good on ya, Charlize.
If I ever go back to school (and I probably will because I don't know what else to do), I am going to research Best Actress nominees and recipients. Surely, the world will be interested in looking at the role of women in our culture through the prism of the Academy Awards. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
