Why You Should Read Seabiscuit

It is very well written and the characters, I mean, people involved are fascinating, but mostly, you should read it because there is "a mighty shit Godzilla" in Chapter 6 and it is both marvelously destructive and horribly funny.

Stoopid Blogger

They've lost posts of mine. A whole bunch from December through, I dunno, May. Stoopid Blogger. And there are all sorts of bugs in the new version of the software which they won't permit me to complain about because I'm unemployed and cannot afford to pay them for the fancy version of Blogger and therefore do not matter. Poo-heads.

Me In A Bathing Suit

Granted, it was a one-piece, but I was wearing it, even though I refuse to wear shorts in public. Why? Because today was a perfect, perfect day and the pool water was clear and splashy. I had to. I was compelled. My nephew was splashing me, so I was going to get soaked, anyway. Splish, splash. We played basketball and frisbee and dove for targets and had splash matches. Pools rock. Except for the chlorine. Bleh. My eyes are ouchie. Burns! It burns! Auuuuugh! But it is loads of fun to play in a pool on a perfect July day. For once I don't mind not having a job this summer.

Withdrawal Pangs

Okay, so I'm sure most of my readers are sick and tired of the fuss and holler about the latest Harry Potter book. Well, phooey on the naysayers and warttongues and pooheads who stomp upon the fun that is J.K. Rowling's wizardly world. I've never looked forward to a book (or film) release like I looked forward to Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. No, it's not the greatest work of fiction ever, but it is highly enjoyable and occasionally very well done indeed. While there was much that could have been edited out in HP4, I felt this book was exactly as long as it should be. There was a reason for everything in there. Okay, no details. Maybe those who haven't read it will some day, and I don't want to spoil a thing. But I'm now suffering from severe Harry Potter withdrawal. I want more to read! I want Harry Potter 6 now. Just another hundred pages. Just a little something to tide me over until it's released. Something. Just a little fix. Just a little more Weasley twins and Tonks. Something. Please?

I can't read any other fiction right now. I keep looking at the pages hoping something about wands or owls will pop up. So, I'm reading histories, like The Teammates, about four friends from the '40's-'50's Red Sox, and The Children, about the Civil Rights movement of the late fifties and sixties, and a certain book about a horse which looked like hell but could run like a demon. You see, there's no such thing as magic in the real world, so the complete lack of thestrals doesn't bother me. Too much. Still, I want to read Harry Potter 6 now. Soon. Please?

Screw The Critics

Go see Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. It's frickin' hilarious, totally worth the money. Johnny Depp is in top form as the twisted, clever, slightly bent Captain Sparrow and Orlando Bloom proves he can be considered sexy when he's not playing an elf. The chick holds her own, showing spitfire without being a completely sexless tomboy, the evil pirates are fun and creepy, and the sailing, shooting, swordplay and silly hats are exceedingly well done. I love the running joke on the male fixation upon fanciful headgear. Huzzah to Gore Verbinsky for pulling off the impossible: a good, fun pirate movie. I'm actually hoping for a sequel, lord help us. Yes, I will be getting this one on DVD. If I ever get a job.

The F@&*?!

They traded away Jason Anderson, who just had his number retired by the Staten Island Yankees (he was the first fella from the SI Yanks to make it to the big league team), to the Mets for Benitez? Okay, yeah, he's muy talented, but he blows every big save handed to him. He can't handle pressure spots, and you can't tell me the pennant race this year won't put him in pressure spots on a frequent basis. Cashman couldn't do any better than this? Seriously? Benitez? The hell?!

Driving Update

I've had two lessons so far, driving through traffic and doing turns and such. Today, my parents tried to get me to drive in traffic (to Vermont) with a clutch (my dad's car). It was all bad. All bad. Bad badness abounded. And I don't mean that Michael Jackson slang "bad," but the honest-to-goodness "bad" of "not good in even the slightest." I got out of the car and walked home. That bad.

Proud Aunt

Before the menu proper on the Spirited Away DVD, there are trailers for the release of City In The Sky and Kiki's Delivery Service. My nephew, P--, who is visiting alone, was very excited to see there are other releases "like Spirited Away." I asked him what he meant, and he said, "By that man. I can't remember his name."

"Miyazaki?"

Big smile. "Yeah, that's it. I like his stuff! It's so different."

The kid is nine. The reason why we were watching Spirited Away in the first place is that he asked, first thing upon arriving at my parents' house, if we had a copy. Actually, he asked if we had My Neighbor Totoro, then asked if we could watch Spirited Away. He was also excited by the idea of eventually watching Grave of the Fireflies, though he trusted me when I said he might want to wait a little while as it's a very, very sad story.

"How sad?"

"It made me cry, P--. It's about two children living in Japan during World War II."

"What happens?"

"I can't tell you, or I'll give away the movie."

"Okay. We'll watch it later."

This is one great kid. Maybe I've no reason whatsoever to be proud, but I am. So there. He's a completely suburban kid, he almost never goes into Philadelphia, let alone New York City. Yet, he's a Miyazaki/Ghibli fan and is happy when he sees another film by Ghibli/Miyazaki is available.

Now if only he could read the faster subtitles (remember, American suburban!) so we could watch them in Japanese. All right. I'll wait another couple of years.

Alert to the Driving Public

I drove to Troy today. Then I drove through and about Troy. Then I drove back from Troy to my house. Yeah, sure, there was a young woman manning the back up brake in shotgun, but I did the driving.

I will be doing this again on Thursday and again the week after the Fourth of July. Not necessarily to Troy, but around the area of Albany, definitely.

Please note I neither killed or maimed anyone nor caused any property damage. This time.

For Your Edification

You all probably already know this, but I thought I'd paste this here, anyway, as I found it interesting. ("Neat," actually.)

deasil \DEE-zil\ adverb : clockwise

It's an old custom that you can bring someone good fortune by walking around them clockwise three times while carrying a torch or candle. In Scottish Gaelic, the word "deiseil" is used for the direction one walks in such a luck-bringing ritual. English speakers modified the spelling to "deasil," and have used the word as both the name of the clockwise charm and the direction one walks when working it.

What, No Post?

Yeah, I know. I'm supposed to be a big Yankees fan and I didn't post anything about Rocket's 4,000th strike out (Renteria) or 300th win. I really don't know what I could say that would be better-written than what they had in the Daily News, so I didn't post anything. For once. I watched it on television and loved, loved, loved it. I loved Andy's win on Saturday almost as much, as it was the break in his losing streak and a nice comeback from his horrendous outing last time. I loved Moose's win 'cause, for all of Rocket's achievements, Moose is the pitcher I admire most on the starting staff and it's good to see him work the way he's supposed to (and he was never a Red Sock). (Boomer rocks the house with his bad, fat self. Weaver needs to be traded away, away, away.) The sweep, the first since Minnesota on April 21, was a wonderful thing.

However, I do want to point out one thing. The reason why Friday (and the rest of the weekend) was practically sold out in the first place was Tino Martinez. Perhaps a little Joe Girardi, the well-respected and loved catcher who trained Jorge on the job, but mostly it's #24. No, wait. 21 now. In the wrong uniform.

Tino was loved by a lot of fans, and as soon as the schedule came out with the visiting Cardinals, tickets went. When I tried to get tickets (using my mom's credit card), there weren't three (Mom, Dad, me) together. There weren't two (Mom, me) together. The single seats left were waaaaay the hell up in the U section in the far wings. The nosebleed seats. That was all that was left months before Roger missed his chance on Memorial Day, in Detroit, in Chicago. It was serendipity, or at least, that's what my mom says. So it was a Stadium filled with loving Tino fans who stayed in the cold rain and cheered on the Rocket. And Tino. And Girardi. You do us right and Yankees fans will remember. And give you a standing ovation, even when your home runs are runs against us.

Oh My God

I got a comment today from a (non-rude) complete stranger who claimed he had come across my blog through a Google search on my name.

Ack! thought I, Complete strangers are finding my blog so easily? How? I must check this out.

I went to visit our best 'net friend, Google, and was then very scared by the results of googling "sugar kat".

I am third on the list! Ack! Ack! Ack!

No! No attention! I don't want any attention! Ack! Ack! Ack!

ACK! I'm on the first page TWICE! AAAAAACK!

I am now considering changing the name of this blog. And my tag. (ack!)

No offense to anyone, but complete strangers make me nervous. (ack!)

sigh

Never again shall I post a post cheering on a team during the finals: Spurs Cut Down Nets to Win NBA Title. Two in a row. They lost two in a row after I posted that post. I cursed them. I jinxed them. I ruined their chances at winning the finals with my post. I am a horrible human being.

sigh

Next year. Next year, darn it. They'll pull it off next year.

Hm.... I sound like a Cubs fan. (Whoops! Mixing up my sports talk. Naughty Sugar Kat.)

The Fuck?

The following is the results posted from an AOL online poll as of 4:45P today. The respondants are AOL users. You know, people who have computers but aren't necessarily sure how to use them. Still, they make enough money to own a computer and pay for AOL's services. They own computers. They wander about the internet through the AOL safety net-access. They have relatively advanced technology in their homes, but respond thusly. I think my brain's going to explode out my ears.

Do you believe humans evolved from apes?

48%  No, God created humans separately from animals                                                             95,541
44%  Yes, the fossil evidence suggests that humans and apes share a common ancestor                            86,026
  6%  Not sure                                                    12,462
  2%  I have no opinion                                        3,004
                                                   Total votes:  197,033

What's your Cowboy Bebop theme song?

what's your cowboy bebop theme song?

Deletion of Comments

There were some comments posted in response to my post a week back by an anonymous individual (whose tag I will not name) in which the anonymous individual proceeded to make a general point that there is no good reason for me to have the post in my blog as petitions are ignored by those in government and do absolutely no good, especially when late. All right, I'll take his/her rudely stated word for it and keep my political responses to letters/e-mail to my congressmen/women.

This complete stranger also felt very strongly that undergrads are useless, spaced-out, shallow individuals. This I'm willing to concede, especially since I'm not your average undergrad and many of the undergrads I've met at my school are drunken, drugged-out, apolitical twits. However, the statements made to this effect by the complete stranger did imply certain assumptions about myself that mark this complete stranger as someone who does not know me or my circumstances and therefore as someone who cannot judge me. Cheers, mate. Being rude about the complete stranger with whom you are sharing your precious, precious superior intelligence and education is not exactly a good way to keep their attention. Or keep your comments posted. Yes, I'm being rude in response, but it's my blog, not a public forum. I'd probably be just as rude if you spouted off in my front yard.

S/he also appeared to claim I have no right to delete comments I don't want on my blog. Lo-o-ong time ago, I posted that I would delete comments for any reason I chose. My initial reaction to the complete stranger's rudeness (her/his initial comment and even ruder reply will not be posted here) was to delete the comment. I abstained, but did make my feelings about her/his post clear. If this complete stranger had not posted an even more obnoxious reply, I would have left everything, as there were valid opposing points made by the stranger regarding the FCC action and the supposed futility of my attempt to get people to react to the FCC action at this late a date. As it stands, this stranger can go post his/her arguments as to why I'm an idiot elsewhere. This is a free country and this complete stranger is permitted to slam my political leanings/intelligence all s/he wants (within the reach of the law, which is very lenient), just not on my personal blog. (Again, "blog," not "public forum.") Many people disagree with me and I'm not the brightest bulb in the American light show, but strangers can make rude comments about both elsewhere.

This deletion of the comments by this complete stranger from my blog does not make me somehow "correct" in my political or personal leanings, as this complete stranger seemed to believe my initial response implied. That would be an absolutely ridiculous idea. This action simply shows that I think this person would be better served by posting her/his comments elsewhere and, perhaps, s/he can attempt not to be a pompous ass when dealing with complete strangers in the future.

Just a thought.

However, please let it be noted that it has been stated in the comments to my blog by someone who, apparently, believes s/he is "in the know," that no one should bother signing any petition posted by Common Cause, that no one should bother writing to his/her congressman/woman, and that there is little to no point in making any form of protest to the FCC action at this point. We all had a chance already to make our feelings clear when Rupert Murdoch was making his point with the FCC weeks ago.

I disagree, but I will post this for the edification of the non-rude strangers who read and my friends, who can be as rude as they want because they know who the fuck I am.

Cheers!

G O  N E T S !

So Fuckin' True, Man

I thought this exchange between a guy I met and a bud of his was dead on. Well, what Ryan (the guy I met once) said, at least. Read RyanBlog: fake no hitter. (This wisdom is courtesy of me haunting the blogs of others.)

...

Thank the good lord above they managed to pull a win out of their collective Yankees ass today.

However, if Joe Torre gets fired, I am going to hate, HATE, H-A-T-E Steinbrenner for the rest of my natural born life. He's pissed me off in the past and has hit lows I had no idea anyone outside of CEOs and politicians could reach, but that would be the kicker. I'd still love my Yankees, but man alive, flames and blood. Flames and blood.

Another Stupid Joke, courtesy of my elder sister

American History Lesson

The teacher asked her 5th grade class, "Who said, 'Give me liberty or give me death!' ?"
No one raised his hand except little Suzuki, who answered, "Patrick Henry, 1775."

"Very good!" she said. "Who said, 'Government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth'?"
Again, no response, except from Suzuki who answered, "Abraham Lincoln in the Gettysburg Address, 1863."

The teacher said, "Class, you should be ashamed. Suzuki, who is new to our country, knows more about its history than you do."
She heard a loud whisper, "Screw the Japs."
"Who said that?" she demanded.
Suzuki put his hand up, "Lee Iacocca, 1982."

One student in the back blurted out, "I'm gonna puke."
Again, Suzuki answers, "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991."

Now furious, another student yells, "Oh yeah? Suck this!"
Suzuki jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!"

Now, with almost a mob hysteria, someone said, "You little shit. If you say anything else, I'll kill you!"
Suzuki frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy, 2001."

The teacher fainted. As the class gathered around the teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh, shit; we're in BIG trouble!"
Suzuki solemnly said, "Arthur Andersen to Enron, 2002."

Profanity, politics, and racism. Lovely.

Tick-Angel

This makes me so happy.

From Ain't It Cool News article on who will be writing and running the next season of Angel:

(The Great) Ben Edlund (“Sacrifice”). Edlund is a certified comedy genius, having created “The Tick” comic book, the Saturday morning cartoon based thereon, and the primetime Fox sitcom version of “The Tick” starring Patrick Warburton. He was hired last season to work on Whedon’s spaceship show “Firefly.” When that was cancelled at midseason, he joined “Angel.”

Whedon Talks Spike

Thought I'd post this, as I'm, like, you know, obsessed.

From the TV Guide Online Insider interview of Whedon (read it!):

TVGO: ... But couldn't the WB hold off on announcing [Spike would be on Angel next season]?
Whedon: There was no f---ing way. They were very excited about James. They have a shiny blond thing to show people, and they're gonna do it.

Thought You Might Enjoy This

This is an excerpt from the, ah, "reviews" section at bobanddavid.com:

THE MATRIX RELOADED – The action in this sequel will, quite simply, knock your dick in the dirt. Not only will it knock your dick in the dirt, it will pick it up, wipe it off, give it a nice meal, spoon it a while at bedtime, and then, just as it’s drifting off to dreamland, wake it up and knock it back in the dirt! (But don’t feel left out, you dick-less ladies out there, because this movie will make you grow a dick, and then proceed with all the dick-related activities mentioned above.)

He goes on to say that the non-action sucks ass

Note to the Wachowski brothers: Less yappy, more slappy…no nappy. Note to everyone else: The chatty parts are a good time to hit the crapper and empty your dick to get it ready for more dirt.

but overall, this is an increadibly positive review from the normally pissed-off Benson.

Godzilla Attacks!

Some day, I will be able to speak and read Japanese. I will be able to read the little pieces which are left untranslated in the Kare Kano and Marmelade Boy manga. I will be able to follow the action/text in the His & Her Circumstances DVDs without rewinding and playing again. I will be able to buy a DVD of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind before drag-ass Disney releases it. I will be able to translate what Hideki Matsui says during th post-game interview after he goes 4-5, with a home run and three! doubles. And I will be able to cheer him on and thank him appropriately in Japanese.

They showed his swing in slow-motion. It's such a great swing. I hope he can keep this little confidence streak going. Matsui is such a great player. He'll get the hang of our pitching, and when he does, he will blow everyone away. Maybe he won't hit fifty home runs, but packing on the doubles like that sure as hell does the job. Yay Matsui!

There's Still Time

[The following is a copy-paste from the Common Cause website.]

Dear [Reader],

Big media companies want to be able to control everything you see, hear, and read. I'm writing to ask you to join me in signing a petition to the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). The FCC is considering fundamental changes to the media ownership regulations that will affect all of us.

Despite the immense impact of the proposed changes, the FCC has held only ONE formal public hearing on the issue. While the public has largely been unaware and uninvolved in the issue, the nation's largest broadcast companies - which could reap huge benefits from the elimination of these ownership rules - have spent tens of millions of dollars on lobbying and political contributions in Washington.

Join me in having your voice heard by signing this petition. You can sign up at: http://www.commoncause.org/action/petition.cfm.

[Thanks for reading this. Thanks especially if you've signed the petition. The FCC made its corporate-sponsored decision, but I'm sure Common Cause will not stop fighting on behalf of those who don't own large, media conglomerates. We can still get our Congress to stop this action by the FCC.]

Lisle

Whenever I see Holly Lisle's name, I think of a former coworker whose name is one letter different from hers. I'm still in touch with this former coworker, sorta. I'm very bad at sending keep-in-touch e-mail. I'm actually better at sending letters, as I like the time it gives me. I always feel so rushed to finish and send an e-mail. Anyway, the other Holly is way cool and somehow the idea and memory of Cool Holly kept me from reading anything by Author Holly (Lisle). However, I snuck a peak at her blog, and found this: she dreamed an entire section of a book and typed it up the next morning. That is cool. I dream lots of interesting things, but I never write them down when I get up. I try to remember them later, and I can never remember them, except that they were interesting and possibly even very cool. This is frustrating, as if I hadn't been so damned lazy, I might have had something written. But, no, I must go do other things, like fall asleep again, if need be. Paid-to-write Holly (Lisle) is not lazy but a good writer who writes when the muse hits her, even if it's early in the day. I'd be jealous, but I know it's my own damned fault for being a procrastinator and super-lazy to boot.

This Is My Sister's Fault

A frog goes into a bank and approaches the teller. He can see from her nameplate that her name is Patricia Whack. "Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday."

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay, he knows the bank manager. Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

The frog says, "Sure. I have this," and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about half an inch tall - bright pink and perfectly formed.

Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office. She finds the manager and says, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." She holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says...

"It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

Go Andy!

I'm so happy! I'm sitting here, wearing my Pettitte Yankees tee-shirt, suffering through both a sneezing fit and a tetchy computer to post about how happy I am that "Pettitte, Yanks snap losing streak" and trounced to Red Sox, 11-3. Yay! Yay! Happy dance of joy! (ah-choo!)

Lord of the Silent

I know, I know, ET. I'm just starting this book now? I've had it for ages, since before I went back to school. Well, I was busy. Also, I couldn't remember if I'd already read the hardcover from the library. I still can't remember. I'm reading it and it's slightly deja-vu-ish, entire sections seeming like I've read them before, but then I flip towards the end and it doesn't strike a bell. Was it the preview from the previous paperback? Did I read some of it in a bookstore? I can't recall. It's enjoyable nonetheless, like all Amelia Peabody books, and like all Amelia Peabody books, it's a quick read. I'll get right back to War and Peace once I'm done. (Riiiiight.)

Sweet Jesus

I was looking through Amazon.com's graphic novel collection when this popped up under the "Visit the DVD Store" window. Classify under "What the Hell?"

Grr! Arg!

It's over. It doesn't feel like it's over. It can't be over. It's over. How can it be over? What on earth will I do at 8:00 PM on Tuesday come this fall? Will DVDs suffice? Will they make up for the lack of new, even with Whedon commentary? "What's next?"

I'm going to miss Buffy. I'm going to miss Xander and Willow, the original Scoobies. I'm going to miss ex-Watcher and father figure Giles cleaning his glasses. I'm going to miss Buffy's quips and mistakes and final kicking of evil butt. I'm going to miss Dawn, who, indeed, has turned into a "junior Watcher," as she quipped during the last show. I still miss Dawn and Buffy's mother, who was one of the best-realized parents on television, a person in her own right, a single woman trying her best to be a good mom. I'm going to miss dorktastic Andrew and I'll miss sarcastic fatalistic Anya, who will never have a guest shot on Angel but earned her Scooby stripes in the end. And Spike. I've no idea how Whedon will bring him to Angel next year, but I'll be very glad when he does. Can't deprive me of all Buffyness at once, or I might suffer withdrawl symptoms.

I'm going to miss the snappy and true dialogue and the Hellmouth (Cleveland?). But mostly I'm going to miss Buffy growing up with Xander and Willow, all three of whom have changed so much during the series. They've grown up. They've destroyed Sunnydale. They created a global revolution, an entire world of Slayers. ("That was nifty.") I'll miss them, but I'm happy with the way they went out. If you love someone, set them free. I guess I can, now, after that last burst of Whedon-run fun. They can go do whatever makes them happy. They've earned it.

Goodbye, Xander Harris, Willow Rosenberg, and Buffy Summers. Have a great life.

Neat Book List

I've many books in my personal library I haven't read yet and hope to read this summer. There are also books in my parents' extensive library which I wish to read this summer. Then there are the books none of us own which I'll have to borrow from the library to read this summer. Yet, for some reason, I'm always on the look-out for lists of books I should read. So, when I saw the list below on "Oh, Blog, Where Art Thou?" I thought, Must follow this list this summer! Not that I will, most likely, but I thought I should put it down here and mark off, like the exceptionally well-read instigator of this checking off of lists of books and Mlle. Dorkart do, in bold what I've read already.

The Book Meme

1984, George Orwell
The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
Animal Farm, George Orwell
Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
The BFG, Roald Dahl
Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
Bleak House, Charles Dickens
Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
Catch 22, Joseph Heller
The Catcher In The Rye, JD Salinger
Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel *
Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett *
The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson *
Dune, Frank Herbert
Emma, Jane Austen
Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
The Godfather, Mario Puzo
Gone With The Wind, Margaret Mitchell
Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett *
Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
His Dark Materials trilogy, Philip Pullman
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Douglas Adams
The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
Holes, Louis Sachar
I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
Katherine, Anya Seton
The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe, CS Lewis
Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
The Lord Of The Rings, JRR Tolkien
Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
Magician, Raymond E Feist *
The Magus, John Fowles
Matilda, Roald Dahl
Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden *
Middlemarch, George Eliot
Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
Mort, Terry Pratchett *
Night Watch, Terry Pratchett *
Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
On The Road, Jack Kerouac
One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
Perfume, Patrick Süskind
Persuasion, Jane Austen
The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
Pride And Prejudice, Jane Austen
The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot *
The Ragged Trousered Philantrhopists, Robert Tressell
Rebecca, Daphne Du Maurier
The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
The Secret History, Donna Tartt
The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
The Stand, Stephen King
The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson *
A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
Tess Of The D'urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough *
To Kill A Mockingbird, Harper Lee
A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
The Twits, Roald Dahl
Ulysses, James Joyce
Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson *
War And Peace, Leo Tolstoy (1/2-way done)
Watership Down, Richard Adams
The Wind In The Willows, Kenneth Grahame
Winnie-the-Pooh, AA Milne
The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

Hm. If I counted correctly, that's 47 books read (one listed is a trilogy). Much better than I would have thought, considering. Perfume is exceptionally good, by the way. It was assigned in an Ethics course I couldn't get into at NYU. It was one of those books I could not put down even though my eyes were crossing I was so tired. I just heard Paulo Coelho being interviewed on NPR this past weekend, so I was planning on reading his book before I'd seen this list. Gone With The Wind sucked ass, as does the movie. Why? Because Scarlett is the most unlikable character I've ever read about in any piece of fiction. I kept hoping she'd died of syphillus, as she so very much deserved to do, but she didn't. She didn't even get beaten with a stick, as I so very much hoped she would. No, she lived to fight another day. Ugh.

Anyway, some of those I've read I liked, some I didn't, most which I haven't I'm not interested in (I don't like Pratchett and I get bored with Dickens very quickly). We'll see how I do, especially since a couple of these are on Mom's shelves. I never did read Anne of Green Gables, which my mother gave me for Christmas when I was in junior high or so. I didn't think it could be as good as the Canadian production they showed on PBS all those years ago. My eldest sister read Memoirs Of A Geisha and said it sucked badly, so I really don't think that one will be checked off any time soon.

*not bloody likely, friend!

I Got The Horse Right Here

I might get in trouble for this, but I wanted to make sure everyone got to read today's installment of "NYC," a column written by Clyde Haberman for The New York Times Metro Section. I really enjoyed it. Hope you do, too.

* - * - * - *
It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a Horse?

By CLYDE HABERMAN

GENUINE New York heroes have been in short supply lately, whether in government, politics, business, law enforcement, sports or — need it be mentioned? — journalism. So wouldn't you know that when a hero finally does come along, it's a horse.

Well, why not? Humans, for the moment anyway, are not exactly providing great role models.

The animal in question is a 3-year-old gelding with the funny name of Funny Cide. Two and a half weeks ago, he became the first horse bred in New York to win the Kentucky Derby. On Saturday, in Baltimore, he won the Preakness Stakes by so many lengths that the rest of the field looked as if it were in a different time zone.

Now Funny Cide is back at his home track, Belmont Park, on the border of Queens and Nassau Counties, getting ready for the Belmont Stakes on June 7. If he can win that grueling race, too, he will become the first horse from New York to win racing's coveted Triple Crown, and the first horse from anywhere to do so since Affirmed in 1978.

In racing, for those of you who think a furlong is a winter-coat size, the Triple Crown is the holy grail. It's the World Series, Super Bowl and Stanley Cup rolled into one. It's an O'Neill drama, it's Whistler's mama, it's Camembert. It's the top.

For many New Yorkers who follow the horses — and whose horses may follow the horses, to steal from Joe E. Lewis — the prospect of having a homeboy reach such heights is dizzying.

It may strike some as fatuous to invest so much emotional energy in a horse. But it has happened before.

A similar phenomenon occurred when the incomparable Secretariat captured the Triple Crown in 1973. As with Funny Cide's race with destiny, that feat had not been accomplished in 25 years. Secretariat simply blew away the competition, winning the Belmont Stakes by an unbelievable 31 lengths. If he'd gone any faster, they would have had to name a NASA rocket after him.

America in 1973 was a nation in trauma. The Watergate scandal had reached full bloom. The Vietnam War lurched toward an inglorious end. The economy stumbled. One national institution after another came under fire.

Then Secretariat showed up, a tonic on four legs. One woman told the sports commentator Heywood Hale Broun that after all the turmoil, this horse was what restored her faith in mankind.

New York could use a little restoring itself right now. These are not days of glory for the city.

The police, lionized with firefighters for their Sept. 11 valor and pain, have been tarnished by a disastrously flawed drug raid in Harlem a few days ago that appears to have scared an innocent woman, literally, to death.

The politicians in Albany spend more time fighting among themselves and posturing for the cameras than producing a budget that is genuinely balanced, not flimsily held together with more than $4 billion in borrowing that will leave their grandchildren to pay for the mess.

The civic nobility displayed after the attack on the World Trade Center has yielded to squabbling over government compensation for the victims' families, with everyone saying it isn't about money even as they demand more money.

SOME of the city's leading business executives are accused of criminal behavior or, at the least, sordid finagling.

The Metropolitan Transportation Authority is found by a judge to have misled New Yorkers about its finances, the result being an extraordinary court order to rescind new fare increases on subways and buses.

On New York sports teams, the two-legged athletes look far more ragged than heroic. Even the supposedly invincible Yankees seem suddenly, if perhaps temporarily, frail.

As for journalism, is there anyone in town unfamiliar with the crisis at this newspaper, brought on by the fabrications and plagiarism of a rogue reporter?

To the rescue, piercing the gloom, comes Funny Cide.

Winning the Belmont Stakes will not be easy. It is a long race, a mile and a half, and it has a history of making losers of sure winners. Indeed, Funny Cide is the fifth horse in the last seven years to approach the Belmont as a Triple Crown contender. None of the others made it all the way.

But many knowledgeable racing people believe Funny Cide has a good chance.

In the Preakness, by the way, he ran in a field that included an entry called New York Hero. That horse finished sixth.

The lesson, perhaps, is that it is not enough merely to be called hero. This is one label that you have to go out and earn.

A Tip For Those Driving Through The State Of New York

My mother rarely gets ticketed. I don’t think she received a ticket until she was in her forties. She is one to notice bad patches, like the entire state of Pennsylvania if you have New York plates. (This has been confirmed by others. Also, it seems to be in effect for those with Maryland plates as well.)

I bring this up because there is a stretch of the highway/thruway/whatever going through midstate New York which is pretty much a speed trap.

Watch out for New Paltz. My mother has pointed out this town as the zone where folks are liable to get pulled aside for speeding more so than elsewhere on the road between Albany and New York City. She has shared this with me, and I now share it with you.

Beware of New Paltz. Slow down. Keep an eye out. This means you, “Speed Racer” SheepBoy.

Entertaining Oneself Whilst Riding Shotgun

If my mother and I want to do, well, anything at all, really, we generally have to drive a long way from Albany, as, Dear Reader, you well know by now, nothing at all ever happens in Smalbany. During these car trips, I can entertain myself by looking out the window at the passing countryside, which is generally very lovely (more on that in a later post, I suppose). When we come to strip-mally places, places where the flags are larger than the entire plot of land where my parents’ house stands (moving straight past patriotism into tacky advertising) there’s really not much to look at other than the other cars (though I do enjoy watching clouds). Lord knows I don’t want to talk to my mom, and sometimes we really aren’t in the mood to listen to Pepys’ diary on tape. Anyway, most folk do the VW Bug game, tracking which color Beetle (or old Bug) you see. Or maybe they guess what vanity plates mean or make up words from the regular plates, deep meaning from the random digits. Road trip games to pass the time, centered on the one thing you’re bound to see a lot of: other cars (at least in the more densely populated Eastern Seaboard; I’ve no idea what car games folks on empty road would play).

In December, around Christmastime, I noticed there are a heck of a lot of people from far-away states driving around the Great State of New York (“Excelsior!”), so I started keeping track of the states. I remember that the trip during New Year’s weekend, I saw Hawaii and Alaska in the tri-state region, which astounded me. During the past couple of trips, I’ve taken to writing down the states (and provinces), even keeping track of how many from each state As I haven’t posted for a while, I’m going to post my results, which will both make for a nice, long post and clearly indicate how fecking boring my life really is, or maybe of how boring I am, depending on how self-analytical I feel like being tonight.

Please note I wrote down both lists using the state/province code (DE for Delaware, for example), of which I am very proud as not a lot of people can remember them all. Shout out to the data entry clerks! Ho-oh! Data clerks represent!

First Trip: Saturday, May 10th.
Where: New York City (natch).
Why: We were going to Books of Wonder to meet Eoin Colfer and have him sign copies of the latest Artemis Fowl book for my nephews (and me!). Mom thought it’d be a good idea to catch X2, which she was eager to see once she’d seen all of X-Men. The theaters in Manhattan are very much better than anything we have up here. So are the audiences. (Mom missed the last 25 minutes or so of the movie because she had to get the car from the lot before it closed, so we have to go see it again. Aw, shucks.)
States/Provinces (number in parenthesis if more than one):

• California (6)
  
• Colorado
  
• Tennessee
  
• Pennsylvania (several; meaning, eventually more than I felt like counting)
  
• Québec (6)
  
• Ontario (spreading their SARS south of the border)
  
• New Jersey (hell, it’s ‘Jersey; there were lots more than I’d ever care to count)
  
• Vermont (4)
  
• Maryland (4)
  
• Virginia (7)
  
• Maine (2)
  
• Florida (8 ;one Marine corps plate, one plate with the space shuttle on it! Cool!)
  
• New Hampshire (2; I’m going to miss the Old Man Of The Mountain …or was it “In”?)
  
• Texas (voted best car seen: packed to the gills like a college student was moving away from the dorm; among the luggage was a Rice-A-Roni box accidentally prominently displayed in the back window; best feature: many Scooby Doo stickers covering the back end)
  
• Connecticut (this was a definite “oh, fuck it, there’s lots” state)
  
• Delaware (2)
  
• Ohio
  
• Rhode Island (5; they have the waving sea on their plates—pretty!)
  
• Massachusetts (9)
  
• Mississippi
  
• Washington, D.C.
  
• Illinois (Lincoln’s head plate)
  
• North Carolina (3)
  
• South Carolina (2)
  
• Louisiana
  
• Kentucky
  
  also
  
  
• two Diplomat plates.

Total States: 23 out of 50, not including the state in which we drove, New York, plus the District of Columbia, which actually has “Taxation Without Representation” as the plate logo. All of New England states covered, as well as both Carolinas.
Total Provinces: 2.

Second Trip: Friday, May 16th.
Where: New York City, then suburbs of Philadelphia.
Why: Mom and I were going to get our hair “done” by our hairdresser on 17th Street and then heading down to my sister’s for my nephew P--‘s 9th birthday that weekend. (My hair looks very good now, which distracts me from my major faults when I see my reflection.)
States/Provinces:

• Connecticut (lots)
  
• Illinois (2)
  
• Vermont (3)
  
• Ohio (4; I saw lots of Ohio plates during my weekend in Pennsylvania for some reason)
  
• Idaho (!)
  
• Maine (3)
  
• Massachusetts (20; I almost stopped counting them, there were so many)
  
• Ontario (6; if you’re coughing and have a fever, New Yorkers, now you know why)
  
• Québec (4)
  
• California
  
• Florida (11)
  
• Delaware (3)
  
• Georgia
  
• North Carolina
  
• Virginia (15; after a point, I started to wonder why so many Virginians were north of the Mason-Dixon)
  
• Rhode Island (2)
  
• Maryland (9)
  
• Michigan
  
• South Carolina (2)
  
• Washington, D.C.
  
• Colorado
  
• Wisconsin
  
• New Hampshire
  
  plus
  
  
• an Indiana pick-up with a Georgia trailer
  
• a Budget rental truck from Oklahoma
  
  and
  
  
• three U.S. Government plates
  
• a New York Assembly plate

Total States: 22 out of 50, not including the states in which we traveled, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, plus the non-state District of Columbia. All New England states represented, as well as both Carolinas. The original thirteen states covered, as well as all states which are on the Atlantic coast (please correct me if I’m missing any).
Total Provinces: Just the two. Canadians represent! (That shout-out was just for you, C--!)

Don't Mess With a Texas Ranger

My brother's been keeping the family updated on this: "Democrats Flee Texas, Freeze Legislature" (AP). It's hilarious. God bless Texans.

Happy Things

I've been posting many whiny posts, so I'm going to list the good things about today:

• The sun is out and the sky is deep blue and the clouds are that pretty, puffy white.
  
• There is a cardinal couple nesting in our yard and they are both super-pretty.
  
• Due to the indecisive weather yesterday, we had a gorgeous and brilliant double-rainbow over our house.
  
• There is a new episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer tonight which will supposedly feature Buffy kicking some ass.
  
• Spike.
  
• The next episode of 24 is tonight, so I'll know what happens next to my favorite television president.
  
• I'm not the person who gave Angry Rabbit's phone number to a stranger.
  
• Angel got renewed and Spike will be on it.
  
• The Yankees are still leading the AL Eastern Division.
  
• Moose is pitching tonight.
  
• Jeter's back tonight for the first time since opening day.
  
• Evelina is not a horrible book, but actually a half-way interesting read, even if it is about an idiot of a girl.
  
• I'm getting my hair cut this Friday in NYC at my favored salon.
  
• My cats love me unconditionally.
  
• I don't have to pay rent.
  
• I get fed.
  
• I'm no longer working at either CSFB or Towers Perrin.
  
• My mom said she'll take me to see X2 again.
  
• Both of my sisters welcome me in their house and let me mooch off of them.
  
• Both of my sisters have great kids who still think I'm kinda cool, in spite of all evidence to the contrary.
  
• Mom lets me use her digital camera without any fuss.
  
• This blog is free.
  
• My photoblog is free, too.
  
• I don't have cancer, AIDS, ebola, or any other deadly disease.

Okay, so the bottom half or so is more of a long-term good things list. But, see? I can be positive.

Please note I was writing and editing this when I should have been working on my critical analysis papers. Fucking. Idiot.

Damned Lucky Fucking Idiot

I took a graduate-level history course this spring. It was fascinating and I learned a heck of a lot and expect to continue to keep up on the subject outside of my courses. However, it required a level of analytical writing which I found, ah, intimidating. Meaning, I froze like an oppossum on the highway. My professor had a talk with me a couple of weeks ago about this complete lack of papers turned in. I had no idea how to say I've no idea how to write like that. After all, I'm in college. I'm an adult. I'm half-way decently educated. I should know how to do this. frozen 'possum! Anyway, he told me he'll give me an incomplete, which is the equivalent of the car swerving around my frozen, furry 'possum body. I'm hoping that offer's still up 'cause I'm having the same damned problem with the final paper. If it isn't, I'm looking at an F.

And then there's the criticism class. I am absolutely no good at writing criticism. I can be critical, but in that stupid, shallow way. I can't write anything of organization and depth. Again with the I'm a college student and decently educated and I should be able to do this. Again with the frozen 'possum. In this case, I'm one of a bazillion students, so the prof didn't notice. Nor is he that inspired to care. He gave me an extra twenty hours to get my papers in, that's it. Which, when you look at it, is very generous. He could just grade me on my midterm and final (I completely blanked on everything during the final—I'm not expecting a very good grade on that at all) and dock my grade for the missing papers. That would result in an exceedingly sucky grade. Which I deserve for being such a fucking idiot I can't even write two critical analysis papers (one on Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye, which was due after spring break and is now very late, and the other on Frances Burney's Evelina, which is due today at three and is drving me up the wall).

In all, my professors are being super-nice to me. I'm not sure why, though my history prof claims he thinks I'm very smart and deserve a smart-person's grade. I now have that sickening panic feeling in my chest which I haven't felt in years. Oh, boy, I'd better get my frickin' act in gear, so I can live up to the trust these guys are granting me.

Political Humor, Courtesy of a Former CSFB Co-worker

Attorney General Ashcroft is visiting an elementary school. After the typical civics presentation to the class, he announces, "All right, boys and girls, you can all ask me questions now."

A young boy named Bobby raises his hand and says, "I have three questions: 1. How did Bush win the election with fewer votes than Gore? 2. Why are you using the U.S.A. Patriot Act to limit Americans' civil liberties? 3. Why hasn't the U.S. caught Osama bin Laden yet?"

Just then the bell sounds and all the kids run out to the playground.

Fifteen minutes later, the kids come back in class and again.

Ashcroft says, "I'm sorry we were interrupted by the bell. Now, you can all ask me questions."

A young girl named Charlene raises her hand and says, "I have five questions: 1. How did Bush win the election with fewer votes than Gore? 2. Why are you using the U.S.A. Patriot Act to limit Americans' civil liberties? 3. Why hasn't the U.S. caught Osama bin Laden yet? 4. Why did the bell go off 20 minutes early? 5. Where's Bobby?"

Moooooooose!

Mike Mussina rocks! He pitched another beauty against Seattle last night, earning his seventh win of the year (he's now 7-0 on the season! wow!). Especially impressive considering the crap fielding last night.

I realized last night that my favorite thing about Moose is how you can see him thinking over every pitch while he's on the mound. Dark eyes glowing with intelligence. Intelligent, thinking men are sexy! Woo-woo! 'Course it also helps that he's tall with dark hair and dark eyes and nice lashes and pitches like the devil for my Yankees. But the thoughtful intelligence makes it. He's sexy and he kicks opposing batter ass. Mooooose!

P.S. Huzzah for Nick Johnson, playing as well as I knew he could in spite of having a rocky season last year. I defended Moose and Johnson after their sub-par seasons in 2002, saying it was just a phase, they were both great players who would work out of it this year, don't trade 'em!, and I was right! Look at me, suddenly knowledgeable baseball person. Yay! Go me!

An Update From The Fucking Idiot

Well, I finished the three papers. The first one I finished was too long, but I didn't feel like doing major textual editing, so I tweaked the language a bit and...the printer ran out of ink.

Ha! Ha ha ha! Ha a hA ha Ha HA ha hA Ah! AAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!

I had a twenty minute panic attack, then sent an e-mail to my prof saying I had run out of ink, didn't have the money to print on campus (the cheapo bastards CHARGE!), and was unsure if I'd get the papers printed before class. I then wrapped up the second paper and went to bed. That was, um, three thirty in the morning. Something like that.

I got up at 7:30 AM, looked at the clock which was beeping so rudely at me and realized my arm was too heavy with sleep to turn off the alarm. "Well," I told myself, "you're not going to get very much written in that state." So I managed to turn the alarm to 9:00 AM and went back to sleep.

At nine, I got the third paper finished and polished up the second paper as much as I could by only reading it on the screen (I'm most definitely a hard-copy editor). I woke Mom at 9:45 AM to buy some ink. I hated the third paper, so I began to rewrite it. Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!

Because of rewrites and Mom putting paper which already had stuff printed on it in the printer, I didn't get to class with the three papers until twenty minutes after it had started. I didn't have the journal, but reassured myself by looking at the syllabus: the journal's only worth 10% of the final grade. I'd gotten A's on most of the rest of the stuff. It'll be cool. (HA! HA HA HA HA HA!)

I didn't have the journal for the other class, either. "Don't worry," I told myself. "It's not that big a portion of the final grade. You just have to get a C in this class and everything's fine. Just make sure you ace the final on Thursday and turn in not only the final paper but the paper you never turned in because you couldn't figure out a way to articulate your thesis. He'll accept it late. Suuuuure he will." (HA! HA! HA!)

I submitted the final online entry for the third class during a break between classes. I'm crossing fingers that the prof will still accept it.

Oh, yeah. I'm just doing grrreat.

(Please note I am writing this entry in my blog rather than studying for tomorrow's final. Like I said, I am a fucking idiot.

Is this what they mean by self-implode?)

Gag! Hack!

Allergies suck ass.

I Am A Fucking Idiot

I have three papers due today, along with two journals I should have been keeping all semester. I've started all three papers, but only finished one of them. It needs a lot of editing, but I think it's going in as-is. The other two...well, I got a good start on them, but I got frustrated, again, and have spent the rest of my time watching television and reading blogs and taking pictures and uploading pictures onto my photolog.

This is intensely stupid behavior. I am only fucking myself over. My entire grade depends on these papers, especially considering I won't be handing in a journal. (I have this thing about journals. This blog is okay, but assigned journals give me the hives.)

And, oh, fuck, I just remembered that I had that online assignment due this past afternoon. Oh, fuck.

Yeah, I'm just super-good at screwing myself over, ain't I?

Maybe I'll just go to bed now and then get up early and see what happens then.

Ha.

That's Disgusting, Sugar Kat

I am suffering from allergies this year. I've never really had to deal with that. Mostly it's a stuffed and runny nose, with occasional itchy eyes. Mom says it's 'cause I've moved from one region to another, which is possible. I was in Fairfield County for fourteen years.

I can't stand the nose stuff. Not only is it running, but there's post-nasal drip. Thick, icky mucus surrounding the pollen or whatever, slowly sliding down the back of my throat, making me gag and cough. Sometimes it gets stuck where the gagging is strong enough that I make those weird, hacking noises. Then I have this lovely wad of thick goo in my mouth, tough enough I can cut it with my incisors and it still holds together. I am thoroughly grossed out by this. I think I'd rather have the mucus stuff not working and let the pollen and whatnot do its thing. I suspect that that would just mean more coughing, and I've really had enough of that. Yet, I've had more than enough of the mucus wads making me gag and winding up in my mouth. Ugh. Bodily fluids are gross, but solids are far, far worse.

"Yu-Gi-Oh Cards For Sale"

I didn't mind the Pokémon craze. The card design was interesting, the toys cute, and the cartoon not too horribly animated. It even had characters I liked. The video game was a fun way to pass time in the airport.

Then my nephews in Philly got into Magic: the Gathering. I was in turns slightly repulsed by the severe dorkiness and mightily amused that Magic was now a game played by eight-year olds. And the cards were cheaper.

Now it's Yu-Gi-Oh. The show, the cards. It wouldn't be so bad if the show weren't so damned ugly, the characters so unlikeable. If there was an enjoyable GameBoy game. Instead, Yu-Gi-Oh appears to combine the worst of Pokémon and Magic. And the cards cost more.

Still, they expect Aunt Sugar Kat to provide booster packs on birthdays. Man, it makes me pine for the days of that brief flirtation with the Harry Potter card game.Those were super-cheap cards, and I like the books. And I don't wouldn't have to deal with hours of Yu-Gi-Oh being played on my sister's TiVo whenever I visit. Bleh-phooie.

Color and Light

Spring has finally, finally come to Albany. The rainstorm on Friday knocked down all of the blossoms on the two blossoming trees in the backyard before they had a chance to be pretty, but the tree in the front is covered with white blossoms which glow softly in the bright sun. The azaleas are dead or dying after the rough winter, but the rhodedendron are lush and purple with flowers. Tulips are popping up all over Mom's plantings, left over from the massive tulip garden of the original owner and half-wild. It's impossible to take a bad picture of a tulip.

I've been running about the yard snapping picture after picture of the flowers and blossoms with Mom's digital camera. I've also been trying to take decent pictures of the cats. It's easy with Floof, but my friend D. in L.A. is right: black cats don't photograph well. Oscar looks very strange in his pictures. Doesn't help that the flash insists on going off in indoor photos, even when I set the camera to museum. Ah, well. I took a very goofy one of Oscar which makes me laugh every time I look at it.

Now if only my photo log would load up pictures. .sigh. I've also found some nice pictures from last fall in the files which I'd like to upload. Very frustrating.

I should be writing my final papers for my classes right now, but I've been writing all morning and my brain is shot. I want to take pictures and upload them and share them, not analyze the teaching of writing or set up an outline for a critical paper of Evelyn. Blah. Oh, there's just way too much to do.

And I still haven't seen X2! Augh!

Not So Evil

I continue to be pathetic compared to my friends. (This, in spite of my foodie status and less-than-stellar attitude about myself.)

*-*-*-*-*
The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's Divine Comedy Inferno Test.

*-*-*-*-*
Please note, however, that if I ignore the fact that I have been going to Church ceremonies with my nephews (auntly duties), I wind up in Level 7 (High). That's pretty durned evil, isn't it?

Xander

I'm still upset about Xander's eye. It's just so wrong. Willow's the one who winds up in the hospital bed, not Xander.

I'm still waiting for them to kill off Kennedy. I hate her most of all, though the rest of the Slayettes are, on the whole, shaping up to be whimp-ass whiners worthy of an even more thorough ass-kicking than Caleb gave 'em last week.

On the reality front: I'm supposed to be a writing tutor this afternoon. I'm very much freaking out. I'm trying to comfort myself by reminding myself that many first-time teachers get the jitters, but it doesn't help. Someone, please, wish me good luck.

Lighter Note

Dude! That's totally like that Nathan Lane movie, Mouse Hunt!

Tim Robbin's Speech About Free Speech

Moby kindly transcribed the speech into two journal entries, part 1 here and part 2 here. It's a good speech. Small, rhetorical problem at one point, but overall, a good speech. (Too bad the typing's so bad!) I'm linking to it because, no matter how much you may dismiss the "political extremism" of Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, they are very much right in this case.

Please note that the radio stations which led the boycott against the Dixie Chicks are owned by companies with strong ties to the Bush II adminstration.

Dixie Chicks

When I went to Corpus Christi with ET and SheepBoy, we took a cab to the battleship museum a ways up the shore from our hotel (it was a little like the Intrepid, but with less stuff and fewer people). This cab was driven by, naturally, a native Texan, who teased us about being from New York by quoting a Pace salsa ad and was, in general, a nice, funny, and friendly fella with the heaviest Texan twang I'd heard in ages. We expressed tentative dismay at the prospect of President Bush II; he said he was happy to be rid of him. He was glad of the prospect of kicking then-governor Bush out of Texas. He claimed Bush II had done nothing good for the state. This was not some knee-jerk liberal. This was a guy who made his living driving a cab in a fading town on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico. (In case you're under the mistaken impression that Mexicans must be Democrats, the guy was white. Middle-aged and white.) He expressed a dislike of Bush II.

A lot of Texans I have met have expressed a dislike of Bush II. He shat all over their state while he was governor. Why shouldn't they dislike him? Especially considering he's not a true Texan, but a carpetbagger who thought his career would go better in their state.

The Dixie Chicks were partially quoted. This partial quote has led to one of the most retarded boycotts (outside of the boycott of French products; you're only harming yourselves, people, by refusing to drink the best wine in the world) I've ever heard of. The Dixie Chicks are one of the very, very, very few country acts I can actually stand listening to. (Ack! Ending two sentences upon a preposition! What's happening to me?!) If you really want to protest, write retaliatory songs. See whose songs are better. I'll bet for damned sure it'll be the Dixie Chicks. Their music is very good. I enjoy watching them in concert. They are three immensely talented women. And they look way better nekkid the cover of EW this week than any of the boycotters would. (I take it they're boycotting EW, too, now, in retaliation for allowing the Dixie Chicks a forum to speak?)

So they are ashamed of Bush II. Most Texans, I suspect, if you looked deep in their hearts, aren't too fond of that Connecticut blue blood either. The Dixie Chicks said, immediately after they expressed their shame of Bush II, that they support the troops. Was this quoted? Of course not. Instead, many copies of good CDs were crunched under tractors. Yeah, that's giving it to 'em. That'll show 'em for actually saying anything against the jackass in the White House.

Idiots.

Pictures

Fotolog has decided it doesn't want to upload my pictuers right now. I'm not entirely sure when it'll calm down, but I hope it's soon, as there are about six more photos I want to put up there right now. sigh

Purchases

Ever make an online service purchase then realize a month later you really will probably not have a chance to use the service? Probably not. Most people are more thoughtful than I am. But it was supposed to help me get discounts at hotels and travelling so I could visit people! sniffle Anyway, they're being a tremendous pain in the petoot about removing me from their lists. Grr. They keep this up, I'm going to use the my-brother-is-a-lawyer card.

Finals

I'm so damned screwed.

Ew

I was going to post on the meeting I had with my very understanding Historians and Witchcraft professor on Tuesday night and the troubles I've been having in general with my classes this semester, but I just discovered that Mom apparently bled all over the keyboard earlier and never cleaned it up. Ew. Ew, ew, ew.

Today's Flash

This is my favorite flash today: The Cheese Family in "The Zoo of Danger and Mystery".

Enjoy.

Noise

Three boys can make a hell of a lot of noise. I'm talking actual boys, age-wise, not men who decided never to grow up. Kids ranging between seven and nine years. Boys.

They are made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, and these ingredients are glued together with massive amounts of noise, which is emitted every time they move and meet together. Incoherent screaming. "Aaaaaaaaaaah!" Then laughter and giggling. "Heh-ha-hih-hih-hih!" Then some yelling. "Aah! My lower portions! Aah! You're killing me! Aah! That's not the rules! This is the rules!" Purposeful bad grammar and bad math in loud voices. Thump-thump-thump of small feet attached to skinny legs attached to bodies you can still lift, so how the hell can their walking and running make such a huge amount of noise? Thump! Thump! Thump! Crash! Bam! They throw themselves about the room. Plastic swords flash about, slamming into other swords and soft body parts and walls and furniture.

How the heck am I supposed to read while this is going on downstairs in the basement? My two nephews and one of their friends, being boys.

My third nephew, the one living in that "freedom" country, generally isn't as noisy. He's going to be twelve this year and is focused on other, not-so-boy things now. It's kind of depressing. He's not a kid anymore. Not really. He'll be a teenager very soon. He'll hit that growth spurt and get furry and his voice won't be that high boy-tone but deep and manly. He'll no longer be anywhere near the baby nephew I used to carry and sing "Winnie-the-Pooh" to and bounce 'til he giggled. He won't be the toddler who pointed to the sky and said, "Moon! Moon!" because it was such a beautiful surprise to him. He'll look at me and see old fart Aunt Sugar Kat and not know what to say anymore.

I don't mind the noise so much, as it means these two are still young. Eventually, soon, they'll get quieter and whisper instead of shout because they know a grown-up female's in the house and they don't want that to be overheard. Still, I like looking at their faces and seeing the change. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of what they'll look like when they're teens. When they're men. I feel proud when I catch that glimpse. As they grow older, the glimpses are more frequent and last longer. It's sad. It's amazing. It has happened trillions of times before with trillions of other boys. It's not special, but it is. It's wonderful. I can remember when they had to crawl from place to place. I can remember when they couldn't speak words. I get to watch as they grow up. This is very cool.

Expecially since, as their aunt, I don't have too many responsibilities. I just get to watch them grow and spoil them rotten. That's my job. It's a good job. But I'm not getting much homework done. I'm too busy watching them play three-way hockey.

Thank You for the Warning, C--

Um, if you haven't seen this past Tuesday's Buffy, then SPOILER ALERT.

Thanks for telling me about the Buffy plot rumors, C--. If I had not known about Xander losing his eye in a violent manner, I would have been completely freaking out Tuesday night. I'd still be freaking out. As it is, I'm very surprised how upset I am about a fictional television character having his eye poked out by a creepy preacher.

How? How could they let that happen to Xander? I can see Willow or Anya or Buffy or Spike or Wood, as they all have or have had at some point a certain kick-assness about them. Xander's...Xander. He's the loser/dork with a heart of gold. He's the guy living next door. He's the bestest friend. He's Xander. He's completely lacking in kick-ass powers, other than snappy one-liners and good hugs and, apparently, motivational speeches. It's so wrong for him to be the victim. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Especially considering Slayette Kennedy barely got a scratch on her, in spite of the many chances the bad guys had to off the most annoying character who ever dated a Scooby. Dammit. I kept hoping they'd kill her off. If she survives through the end of the show, I will be most upset. I hate her. Hate. Grr! Die, Kennedy, die! Why couldn't she have her eye thumbed out? Or an appendage chopped off? Like her head?

Please note I didn't get to watch tonight's Angel because I was travelling unexpectedly and didn't have a chance to set up the VCR or ask my sister to fire up the TiVo. I am most upset. Arg! The world is against me! Arg!

"The Apathetic Online Journal Entry Generator"

Brougt to you by The Brunching Shuttlecocks. Description here. Generator here. Sample entry:

Shrug

Nothing seems important. My life's been generally boring. Basically nothing exciting happening lately. I haven't gotten much done recently, but it's not important. Current Mood: phlegmatic No Comments

Share and enjoy, fellow bloggers.

Gee, There's a Surprise

Find out which Peanuts character you are.

Saddam's Shag

"Troops Discover Lush Saddam Hideaway" (AP report).

The doors of the town house opened to reveal a playboy's fantasy straight from the 1960s: mirrored bedroom, lamps shaped like women, airbrushed paintings of a topless blonde woman and a mustached hero battling a crocodile.

[...]

"This must have been Saddam's love shack," said Sgt. Spencer Willardson of Logan, Utah.

[...]

One of the airbrushed paintings depicted a topless blonde woman, with a green demon behind her, pointing a finger at a mythic hero. From the tip of her finger came a giant serpent, which had wrapped itself around the warrior.

Another showed a buxom woman chained to a barren desert mountain ledge, with a huge dragon diving down to kill her with sharpened talons.

The home's 1960s look — parodied in the series of "Austin Powers" spy spoofs — inspired a round of imitations from soldiers slogging door to door.

"Yeah, baaabeee," said Carter, doing his best imitation of actor Mike Myers' character.

"Shagadelic," another soldier shouted.

Indeed, the carpet was navy blue shag.

Please note deposed dictator Saddam Hussein is into bad fantasy art (mysogynistic and portrays many powerful pseudopenises, like snakes and dragons).

To Boston CHEAP

I spoke with my good friend, C--, today. He's the super-awesome cook who lives in Boston. We talked a bit about my coming for a visit. I haven't seen him in ages! Not since, what, last spring? And I haven't been to Boston to see him since July, 2001. So I thought I should check out bus fares. Ick. $78 round trip. That's no good. Especially considering that's nearly $100 for many hours spent on a stinky bus. Then, on a whim, even though I know from having memorized the train lines when I had a map pinned to my cubicle wall that there's no Amtrak line between Albany and Boston, I checked to see what the train fare might be between my home and his.

Thirty-eight bucks. Round trip.

Yay Amtrak! I love trains! I love Amtrak! Yay! I don't know if that was some sort of Memorial Day Weekend special, and I should probably check to make sure it wasn't, but that's a butt-load cheaper than round-trip to NYC ($93!). Yay! Now I can go visit C--! Yay!

REFUND!

I'm getting money back from two governmental bodies this year. State of New York and federal. What am I doing with this boon? Saving it for my trip to DC this fall? Saving it for tuition and books? Investing in a buyer's market? Why, no, of course not. This is me, Sugar Kat the Round-eye, remember? I'm pre-spending it (meaning spending the money before it's deposited in my bank account) on things like the hardcover of Michael Chabon's Summerland and the boxed DVD set of the third season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I am very stupid with money, but I'm happy in the short-term.

Go Go Godzilla!

Hideki Matsui saved Jeff Weaver's white-trash ass, once again providing the drama and magic when he hit a bottom-of-the-ninth single to bring in the winning run. Please join me in celebrating the thunderous arrival of Godzilla in New York. Grr! Stomp-stomp-stomp! Grr! Boom!

Read

Right on, Huey.

Aggressive, Abrasive

My favorite public policy ad campaign: thetruth.com.

Oh man

Freedom omelette at |get your war on|.

National Poetry Month

Among other things, April is National Poetry Month. Yesterday, the one day I didn't post, was supposed to be the day everyone carried a poem in their pocket and shared with the poem with as many people as possible. Poetry as STD. Anyway, other than the STD part, I thought it was a good idea and wanted to share a poem with you, Dear Reader, yesterday, but I was busy reading many things and watching a Powerpuff Girls marathon, so here's the post, belated.

Here's a poem by Dorothy Parker, the sentiments of which match my own thinking so very well.

Frustration

If I had a shiny gun,
I could have a world of fun
Speeding bullets through the brains
Of the folk who give me pains;

Or had I some poison gas,
I could make the moments pass
Bumping off a number of
People whom I do not love.

But I have no lethal weapon-
Thus does Fate our pleasure step on!
So they still are quick and well
Who should be, by rights, in hell.

Books of Wonder

I got this e-mail today from Books of Wonder. Thought I'd let you know.

Dear Friends and Customers,

We are very pleased to announce that Newbery Award-winning author SUSAN COOPER will be making a return appearance at our store on the 19th of April! Mrs. Cooper is the acclaimed author of the now-classic Dark is Rising Sequence which has just been released in a new set of matching hardcover editions with cover art by Caldecott Medalist David Wiesner! [YAY! Now I can get a matching set for my nephews!] Mrs. Cooper will do a reading at Noon and then answers questions, greet fans and sign copies of all of her wonderful books.

We are very excited to announce that at the end of this month we will be hosting our annual Newbery and Caldecott Celebration! Appearing on April 26th we'll welcome both of this years medal winners: AVI, who won the Newbery Medal for Crispin: The Cross of Lead and ERIC ROHMAN who won the Caldecott Medal for My Friend Rabbit. In addition, three of this year's honor winners will be on hand. Jerry Pinkney (winner of a Caldecott Honor for Noah's Ark), Peter McCarty (winner of a Caldecott Honor for Hondo and Fabian), and Patricia Reilly Giff (winner of a Newbery Honor for Pictures of Hollis Wood). The event will go from Noon to 2pm with each artist greeting fans, answering questions and signing copies of all of their wonderful books. Please join us for this rare opportunity to meet five outstanding, award winning authors and artists!

http://www.booksofwonder.com/Events

[...]

Finally, we will be attending the New York Antiquarian Bookfair this week! The fair runs from Thursday night to Sunday at the Park Avenue Armory at Park Avenue and 67th Street. We will have a booth overflowing with a substantial offering of books and artwork for sale! Stop by and visit us at booth #D29. We'd love to see you! To find out more information about the fair visit:

http://www.sanfordsmith.com/nyabookfair/

Upcoming birthdays include: Hardie Gramacky (born on the 12th) and Garth Williams (born on the 16th). Happy birthday to them and to all of our other friends and customers with upcoming birthdays!

That's all for now, have a great week!

Books of Wonder

Drunks Sporting in the Water

This is a rant. Skip this entry if you don't feel like dealing with my incoherent bitching today. [4/14/03: Please note I've changed the title so I don't draw the porno crowd. Well, more of the porno crowd.]

I feel like an old woman. Some stodgy old bitch. I cannot get excited by the prospect of hundreds, if not thousands, of drunken college-age students splashing around in the campus fountain and pool. Today is Fountain Day, the day they first turn on the fountain and fill the pool in the center of campus. Apparently the tradition is for students to get drunk out of their skulls, starting the evening before, and then continue drink heavily as the countdown to the opening of the fountain commences at 12:15 PM. When the water starts up, the inebriated students take off clothes and splash about in the pool and dance through the fountain.

I am tired of drunks. I am tired of potheads. Okay, so these guys are young and getting this out of their system. I've, what, nine to twelve years on these kids. Still, I don't have the patience to deal with them gushing about how wonderful it is to get so smashed you can't even see straight. I am in a completely different world from my fellow undergrads. I can't even begin to try and socialize with them. Their idea of a fun weekend is so very far from mine. And what the hell is with the focus on pot? Pot is the drug of choice, and these kids smoke it like tobacco. Constantly. They talk about how they have to smoke pot before they can write, then turn in half-coherent, trite garbage. Half the time the kids in one of my classes come in buzzed. It's annoying. I can't even be amused by it anymore. Enough of it already. I can still count on one hand the number of times I've gotten drunk. I was embarrassed by the number until I came here and discovered that a vast swath of the population gets shit-faced every weekend like clockwork. I haven't smoked pot because I've never felt the need to fry my brain like that and pot appears to be the center of their social life.

They smoke and stink to heaven. They drink to incapacitation and tell repetitive stories of their weekends. They get high and sound like brain-damaged cheerleaders in class. I know they have brains. They occasionally come in to class without hangovers and without a buzz and say insightful, intelligent things. It's just compeltely stupid behavior. And they don't have to be this way. Do they? Or, maybe having little else to do up here, this is all they can do. That idea makes me miss New York City all the more. But I still can't help but look at these kids frying their brains out and seeing complete fucking idiots. And feeling like an old fart because of it.

If you haven't been reading the BBC Reporters' Log, you're missing out

From today's entries in the BBC NEWS | In Depth | Reporters' Log: War in Iraq:

Qatar, CentCom:: Dominic Hughes :: 0345GMT

Regarding the journalists who have died over the last 24 hours, coalition forces point out that they repeatedly warned journalists that Baghdad would be an extremely dangerous place to be if the coalition engaged the regime in combat.

So on the one hand they make these statements of regret which I think you have to take at face value as genuine but they are also saying in some way: "We told you so."

Grrr! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

Atta boy, Matsui! The Yankees' new left fielder, Hideki "Godzilla" Matusi, finally hit his first home run of the season, his first home run in pinstripes, in the Yankee Stadium home opener this afternoon. In style: a grand slam in the fifth inning. Go! Go! Gojira!

I'm so very happy. I like Matsui. People say he's overhyped, but I like his swing–very compact–and he's more of a line-drive hitter than a home-run hitter, which means he'll be getting the ball into play rather than trying for the long ball and striking out. This is good. He'll be getting things done, getting on base, getting the run in. This is the way to win games. Home runs are very nice, though. Very nice indeed. A grand slam is a beautiful thing. I knew he'd hit his first homer once he got to Yankee Stadium. That place is a lefty hitter's paradise.

MLB Updates

I happen to know a young woman whose very nice boyfriend works at MLB.com. You know, site design, etc. Anyway, she knows who she is and therefore, if she's reading this, I just want to pass on the word that if he's one of the folks who spiffed up the yankees.mlb.com website, he did a very good job. I say this as someone who spends maybe a little too much time at the yankees.mlb.com website. Obsessive Yankees fan, that's me.

Speaking of which, may I just say that I'm completely at a loss as to what to do with myself today because of the home opener game being postponed until tomorrow? I. Want. To. Watch. My. Yankees. Stupid, stupid snow storm. I'd be willing to be completely snowed under up here in Albany if it meant I'd been able to watch the Yankees play the Twins this afternoon. Instead we'rebarely supposed to get anything and loads of things are being cancelled and closed early in NYC. That's just stomp stomp stomp stupid! pout

Dangerous Beauty

Me: "Look outside. Everything's silver. Isn't it pretty?"

Mom: "Ugh. No."

"What? Why?"

"It's dangerous. It's destructive beauty. mumble: Just like a woman."

laughter "Wh-what? Did you say 'Like a woman'?"

beat "Yes."

"So, what. Helen of Troy weather?"

"Yes. Yes, that's it, exactly."

* * * * *
The sun is out. The sky is a deep blue with thin white clouds speeding across. The ice on the trees and bushes is shimmering madly. It's blindingly bright outside, so, naturally, I spent an hour outside taking pictures with my mom's Nikon Cool Pix 2500. I went back inside, briefly, to tell Mom to wake up before the merecurial-tempered weather decided to change again and I could barely see. Everything was blanked out because of the temporary damage I did to my cones by staring at the millions of tiny, brilliant suns reflected at me from every tree branch and the white ice on the ground.

The sun is warm, melting the ice bit by bit in spite of the freezing temperature (oh! so cold!), so that there is a constant crackle-shush of ice falling from the tree tops stories above. There are fallen branches everywhere. Large ones. Ones of a size which, when landing, could do serious damage to a car or roof. I don't think anything has landed on our roof yet. Both my car and Dad's, which are parked in the driveway, are covered by a protective coating of ice but nothing has tested the effectiveness of the ice-armor yet. The branches land in large, shattered pieces, and the leaf buds on them are (were, now) about to open. I've a feeling our spring is not going to be very lush. Mom is very upset that this ice hit when her roses were beginning to bud.

"They're ruined," she says. "I'll never get any roses now."