On Blogging

I was reading the old posts on Steven Brust's blog, and I started thinking about how I felt I needed to acknowledge certain events in my blog.

Why? Why should anyone care how one stupid English-major nitwit in Smalbany feels about the September 11th anniversary? The Columbia Shuttle...I guess we can call it an accident. Tragedy seems like too big a word. As does disaster. Anyway, so I post like crazy about those. Who cares? Why would anyone read this?

I haven't written about the clubs which had stampedes and fires, or the people who've died because of the weather, or anything like that. Why write about what I did? I guess because I felt like I was personally affected. I spent a childhood dreaming about moving to NYC and the space program. (I'm probably the only person here at this website who remembers Sagan's Cosmos series. I watched it obsessively even though I was just a little kid.) But still, why should I write about it? Brust is a writer of not spectacular renown, but he's published a great deal (and is good! read him! now! go! shoo!). He doesn't feel the need to write about it on a semi-public space like a blog.

Semi-public? Well, yes. No one has the time to visit every blog. There are far too many out there. And, to be honest, there are far more interesting ones. I can't imagine anyone I don't know reading this. There's nothing to hold a stranger's interest, especially since I'm writing partially for myself and partially for friends far away. Strangers are not my target audience. So, even though anyone with access can read this blog, I can't imagine they would. So, semi-public.

I also haven't written about the clubs because I'd probably write something really horrible I'd be ashamed of ten years from now. So, we're avoiding that. And the people who died because of the weather.

I think maybe I shouldn't post so much. Granted, I think it's been a couple of days, anyway, between posts. But, really, I haven't much to say of interest even to those who know me. Other than ranting about my parents. And who really needs to read that? You know me, you know the story. I haven't really been doing anything, except catching up on reading for class and forgetting to turn in an assignment. (Dumbass!) I haven't even written anything of note. (At least I writing, though, which is a major improvement over a year ago.)

Please forgive the typos, by the way. I can't review and edit posts from here.

Lion

I love cats, I do, but this had me cracking up. Another view of the "lion" can be found here.

Polish McDonalds

I thought I'd share this picture from today's New York Times with you. (The article with which it's associated is here.)

Powers of Persuasion

(Note: the only reason I could spell the word "persuasion" on the first try is I'm an Austen fan. I can also spell "sensibility" and "prejudice" in less than half a second and without blinking. Go Jane.)

Mom and I drove to Bennington, VT, to get some groceries. Ostensibly due to expected inclement weather (rain icing on roads, icey rain, freezing rain, general ickiness which is the reason why I prefer snow in the winter to all other forms of precipitation). We need to store up on food stuffs to last out any crappy weather, right? But, mostly to get the hell out of the house, the hell out of the capital region. Albany is a depressing place, even when your front yard is looking all picturesque with the drifting, glittering snow and small-mammal footprints. So, off to lovely Vermont, which is close to persuading me to buy a house there if I ever have the money to buy a house. (Practically ever acre of Vermont is so damned picturesque it makes my non-property-owning teeth ache. Massachusetts' north shore is similarly picturesque, but I haven't spent as much time there, scouting out living arrangements.)

(Please note that whenever I type out "pictaresque," I hear my mom saying "picture-skew," which is helpful in getting a handle oin the spelling. The problem is I occasionally actually say "picture-skew," much to my English-major chagrin. )

I went into the store while Mom tried to park the car in the three square inches Spice n Nice has allocated to them for parking. I picked out milk and bread and a couple of other staples. Dutiful daughter. Then I wandered over to their extensive tea collection and found they had Persimmon White Tea by the same folks who made the yummy teas my sister gave me for Christmas. I picked up the tin and met Mom at the door. I told her I got two half-gallons of milk, etc., etc., then held out the tea tin and bounced on my toes, making a half-whimpering sound that many spoiled children make when trying to get something out of their parents. Most spoiled children can get cars and skiing trips this way. I got myself a $12.50 tin of tea. I didn't even need to use words.

When we were finished, I carried the bags out to the car and Mom opened the trunk of the BMW. She turned to me and said, "Pull our lunch out of the bags."

"What lunch?"

"You didn't get us lunch?"

"No. You didn't tell me to."

Mom proceeded to get huffy. "I shouldn't have to tell you."

"Mom, I'm not going to spend your money without an okay."

grrrrrrr!

"But I already got the tea. I wasn't going to–"

grrrrrrrr!

"But–"

"I bring you on these trips so you can pick out the good stuff!" grrrrr! growl!

Well, that's a shocker. I'm supposed to be her shopping id, picking up the chocolate cookies and sweet potato Frites while she buys butternut squash and frozen peas. I promptly went inside and picked up stuff I'd like to eat. Mom happily munched half a bag of Frites as we drove the scenic route back to Albany.

Now I have cookies and persimmon white tea. mmmmmm

Ready?

Thought you guys might appreciate this: Ready.gov - Be Informed - Visual Guide. Be sure to go through all of the threats and how you can prepare yourself!

on that note

I think this is appropriate (or this, if you prefer streaming MP3s to Real Audio).

Kick Ass Couple

I didn't know until I flipped through my Entertainment Weekly a couple of days ago that Laurence Fishburne (Morpheus of The Matrix) and Gina Torres (formerly Zoe of the ill-fated Firefly) got married about six months ago. Their babies will be the most badass babies ever born.

Sword to 'Sabers

The man behind Samurai Jack is now the man standing in front of George Lucas and behind the new Star Wars cartoon coming to the Cartoon Network.

...

I've really nothing further to say on this.

Acoustic Kitty

Oh my fucking god. I bumped into Dave Barry's blog, which is a hell of a lot more amusing than his essays, and found this post, which leads to this website which, when you go to Document 27, talks about a project dubbed "Acoustic Kitty." And yes, a real cat was involved. Read the memo. Most importantly, read the testimony by Mr. Marchetti:

[excerpt]
they slit the cat open, put batteries in him, wired him up. The tail was used as an antenna.

Please, please, say something. I'm turning purple with laughter.

We're Almost There

Thanks to Warren Ellis' blog for pointing out this website which facilitates the purchase of private islands. Now all ET needs to do is win the monster-sized lottery. Then, DORKTOPIA! You'd better start sucking up to ET now if you'd like to visit the grandeur and spectacle of the glory of dorkness that shall be DORKTOPIA.

Free Books!

The family of a friend of mine has to move, quickly, from their apartment in Queens. The brother of said friend has a bunch of science fiction and fantasy books he's dumping. If he doesn't find someone to give them to, he's going to "recycle" them (read: throw in the trash). I figure there are enough SF/F geeks reading this blog who have SF/F geek friends that posting here might get things in motion and these books can be rescued from being dumped on a barge then dumped into the Atlantic.

I'll post a list of what's available as soon as I get it. Post a response to claim and include your e-mail address in the response and I'll contact you directly with the info. Don't e-mail me! I'm getting lazy about checking e-mail and only really go online for classwork and this blog (and reading other blogs).

Maybe-maybe I can get my friend (or my friend's brother) to bring the books into the NYU SF/F Club. But I seriously doubt it.

Anyway, keep an eye on this blog for the list.

Presidential News

"Washington, DC (February 13, 2003)

"A tragic and sad fire has destroyed the personal library of President George W. Bush. Both of his books have been lost.

"The president is reportedly devastated—apparently he had not finished coloring the second one."

Break Like a Twig

That crunching sound you heard tonight which disturbed your rest was the sound of my spine shattering into little bits. I have ordered the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Once More, With Feeling CD. No, I haven't a job. No, I haven't any money left from the loan (the books cost a buttload this semester). I'm just very, very stupid.

I am also pretending that one of my friends bought it for me as a surprise. How nice! Ain't you guys grand, getting me the CD like that! You're a swell bunch, I gotta say. If I play pretend convincingly enough, Mom will believe me and hopefully not poop her pants when I beg her to pay my credit card bill for me. ("It's charges for class stuff," I'll claim.)

I'm such a terrible, horrible person. I am. Really. And I'd better learn to drive, fast, as it's the only thing which is preventing me getting a job at Borders (at least, it was three weeks ago). Must. Get. A. Job. At a bookstore, natch, to supplement my habit.

The Complete Military History of France

(The following was forwarded to me by my eldest sister, who is married to a Frenchman of ancient lineage and living in a small town outside of Paris.)

Gallic Wars Lost. In a war whose ending foreshadows the next 2000 years of French history, France is conquered by of all things, an Italian.

Hundred Years War Mostly lost, saved at last by female schizophrenic who inadvertently creates The First Rule of French Warfare: "France's armies are victorious only when not led by a Frenchman."

Italian Wars Lost. France becomes the first and only country to ever lose two wars when fighting Italians.

Wars of Religion France goes 0-5-4 against the Huguenots.

Thirty Years War France is technically not a participant, but manages to get invaded anyway. Claims a tie on the basis that eventually the other participants started ignoring her.

War of Devolution Tied. Frenchmen take to wearing red flowerpots as chapeaux.

The Dutch War Tied.

War of the Augsburg League/King William's War/French and Indian War Lost, but claimed as a tie. Three ties in a row induces deluded Frogophiles the world over to label the period as the height of French military power.

War of the Spanish Succession Lost. The War also gave the French their first taste of a Marlborough, which they have loved every since.

American Revolution In a move that will become quite familiar to future Americans, France claims a win even though the English colonists saw far more action. This is later known as "de Gaulle Syndrome," and leads to the Second Rule of French Warfare: "France only wins when America does most of the fighting."

French Revolution Won, primarily due the fact that the opponent was also French.

The Napoleonic Wars Lost. Temporary victories (remember the First Rule!) due to leadership of a Corsican, who ended up being no match for a British footwear designer.

The Franco-Prussian War Lost. Germany first plays the role of drunk Frat boy to France 's ugly girl home alone on a Saturday night.

World War I Tied and on the way to losing, France is saved by the United States. Thousands of French women find out what it's like to not only sleep with a winner, but one who doesn't call her "Fraulein." Sadly, widespread use of condoms by American forces forestalls any improvement in the French bloodline.

World War II Lost. Conquered French liberated by the United States and Britain just as they finish learning the Horst Wessel Song.

War in Indochina Lost. French forces plead sickness, take to bed with the Dien Bien Flu.

Algerian Rebellion Lost. Loss marks the first defeat of a western army by a Non-Turkic Muslim force since the Crusades, and produces the First Rule of Muslim Warfare: "We can always beat the French." This rule is identical to the First Rules of the Italians, Russians, Germans, English, Dutch, Spanish, Vietnamese, and Esquimaux.

War on Terrorism France, keeping in mind its recent history, surrenders to Germans and Muslims just to be safe. Attempts to surrender to Vietnamese ambassador fail after he takes refuge in a McDonald's.

giggle

Go to Warren Ellis' blog and read this entry on CSI and CSI Miami and nearly pee yourself while laughing like I did. Nearly.

Snow Day

This guy from the university called for my dad at around 9:30 tonight (well, last night). He and Dad talked for a while, then, on the 11 o'clock news, there was this wonderful, wonderful notice:

All classes are cancelled tomorrow at University at Albany.

Woo-hooooooooo!

This is a very good thing, considering I haven't finished the reading required to finish that damned paper, let alone support the argument the professor put forth in last Tuesday's class regarding economic influences on the witch-hunt of the mid-17th century. Oh, and there are the readings for two of my other courses I haven't read. And journals for those courses to catch up on. So forth. So on. This lovely, beautiful, snowy-snowy blizzard gives me until Thursday to get things together. Blessèd winter storm!

So, thank you, thank you, thank you, ET, for whatever you did to improve my lot on the ass-end of the NKS.

And here's a few GKP coming at you, JubiLee, to help you in dealing with your evil-bastard landlord and the family crap-fest, as you seem to be in great need and I'm sitting here, wasting them horribly.

(Note I am up at 3:00 AM watching cable television instead of sleeping so I can get up, bright-eyed and bushy-haired, and get crackin' on my assignments, which are why Albany County is suffering through this winter emergency thingy. All for my lazy-ass self's benefit. Tra la. Tra la. But it was really informative cable television. You know, how the T-Rex was actually a scavenger not a predator and how a coroner used carpet fibers found on this bloated, discolored corpse to catch the sicko-bastard in 'Jersey who tortured and murdered a bunch of prostitutes on the 'Jersey-Delaware truckers route some years ago and how much Bebe Newirth desperately wants and desires Jon Stewart. These are important things. Truly. Indeed.)

It Talks!

I'm not entirely sure what it says, but the Death Star ET gave me lights up and talks. It's something along the lines of what the Emperor says to Luke before he tells the Commander to shoot at the Rebel ships (Return of the Jedi). I can't tells you exactly what the effect is because the Christmas lights have been put away and the plug only fits into the Christmas lights socket, not an actual wall socket. Poopie. No non-Christmas fun. I can't wait for the Christmas tree to be put up next year, so I can get it to start talking like a Darth Lord of the Sith. Good, geeky fun!

Spike Sings!

ET was kind enough to drop off a copy she made of her recording of "Once More, With Feeling" from season six of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Everyone in the Buffy fanclub knows this as the musical episode. It is too fabulous for words. Whedon does a great musical (he wrote the music and the lyrics! he's too wonderful! drop and worship at his clay feet!). It was funny and apt ...and Tara has a surprisingly good singing voice. Spike is sexy even when being a little silly while dancing and singing his way into Buffy's ...annoyance. (I must get the soundtrack! Now!)

So, I am officially posting a big, fat THANK YOU to ET for taking the time to copy the episode for me so I could finally see it, and bringing me the Death Star, which is appropriate, as ET is the closest to Sith among my friends.

Reprieve!

I misspelled that word when I e-mailed my Witchcraft & Historians professor to thank him for letting me turn in my first paper a week late. [5:39PM: And again when I typed in the title, apparently. I blame it on the near-zero weather.] This means I really have to finish taking notes on the readings so far so I can get the damned thing written. It's tough, 'cause I know somewhere in his head he'll be comparing it to the papers written by the grad students in the class. This means I'll be pushing myself to write a perfect paper which completely revolutionizes the historical study of the witch-hunt phenomenon 1450-1750. But, phew! I think the reason he's being so nice is he's on serious drugs for back pain. And God help me if anyone from my class happens upon this post. Or my professor. I shall surely die. But, I had to share my joy with my readers. Tra la! Now, to the grunt work.

Why It's Better To Live Alone

...you don't have to share the television.

This is a stupid complaint, but I've no one to call and complain (can't afford long-distance calls, anyway), and even if I did, no one would care. So, I'm venting on my blog. Your stupid fault for reading this boring thing.

There are two televisions in this house. All three of us generally watch the same evening programming. We're like that. One of our few bonds. However, my parents have decided that Dad gets to watch television on downstairs and Mom gets to watch television upstairs. This means if, say, I want to watch Angel while they watch West Wing, well, I'm screwed. Fuck you, Sugar Kat. We don't give a shit we're both watching the same fucking show. You still can't watch yours. I could have been sitting at the television for half an hour, watching Angel, I still have to get up and give up the television when Dad shows. I hate this very, very much. When I leave here, I will live alone. I don't care if it's a fucking hole and the size of, well, my last apartment. Anything is better than sharing living quarters.

No giving up one of the few T.V. shows I wish to watch regularly, no worrying about where the fuck my stuff is. Yes, it doesn't matter whose it is, my parents feel they have to right to move shit any place they feel like it. Beauty part: they forget where they put the stuff. Oh, yay. I've lost bills this way. Bank statements. I. Hate. Living. With. Other. People. Cats are good. They don't have thumbs and are very willing to watch whatever you're watching. And they don't have the damned T.V. on twenty-four hours a day. I had no idea my parents watched so much television. There really isn't that much on there worth watching. But, every night, the television is blaring. Every damned night.

I will now miss the rest of the entire fucking season. Dammit. (I've tried taping from cable while they're watching, but it hasn't worked. Especially since my parents are both VCR 'tards. Why didn't I decide to dorm it?)

Homework? What Homework?

I just cannot get enough of these personality quizzes. Besides which, look! I'm Jon Stewart! Woo-hoo!

Hm

Well, that's a surprise. Halifax posted a comment. I'm assuming it actually was him and not ET masquerading as him. I wonder if the knowledge that Halifax is reading this blog as well will cause me to change the way I write this blog.

...

Probably not.

Bonus Points To Me

When making my last-minute edits to the paper due in Writing & Tutoring class today, I exchanged an inappropriate hyphenate for "superscilious", which is The Word of the Day. Didn't know the word was so-honored at the time, so I get useless, metaphysical gold stars for vocab. Go me.