Friday, September 30, 2005

creepycreepycreepycreepycreepy

I saw a commercial today for Amazing Amanda, and...hoo boy. Towards the end of the spot, Amazing Amanda says to her live playmate, "I love you more than bunnies." That alone was enough to creep me out a bit, but after seeing this article, I nearly started hyperventilating. Amazing Amanda can actually ask you (amongst other things), "Do you want to see me cry?", and then do so; what on earth is this supposed to be teaching kids, other than the bizarre idea that watching a plastic person cry is an edifying activity? Who the hell wants an android for Christmas, especially one this demented?

Well, besides you, I mean.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

read this and laugh uproariously

http://www.i-mockery.com/minimocks/3devadam.

I laughed! I cried! I almost peed my pants when I saw the awesome animated GIFs!

Turkish cinema has never looked so...uh...yeah.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

LARPing and other things I swear to god I've never done

So, um, LARPing. LARP apparently stands for Live Action Role Play, where people dress in costume and say things like "Lightning Spell, whoosh!" as they flail at other LARPers. And I believe there is swordplay involved. Whoosh.

Where in heck do people come up with this stuff? I thought it went out with playing house, you know? I mean, if you like exploring other personae, be an actor and get paid for it. Whooshing at people is not, in my book, valid adult interaction. Do so if you must, but don't expect me to keep a straight face around you.

So. The past ten days were spent with the 'rents and my younger bro, celebrating his birthday in Las Vegas. We saw Ka, the Cirque du Soleil show, which could be cooler than it is if it explored its characters more thoroughly. Sigh. Still, it's an excellent integration of projected images with moving sets, punk samurais and actual fire. There's an incredibly poetic scene towards the beginning where two characters almost drown, and it's very anime and simply stupendous. You just need to see it to believe it. Still, I prefer the show O, I think because it doesn't try to have a plot, so it's freer to take more conceptual risks and ultimately be more creative.

Or maybe I'm just weird, and like random conceptual risks. Except for LARPing, ahem.

By the way, my friend James had to get rid of his car, which is a dying-but-still-looks-great 80's Datsun 300ZX; it has a digital dashboard and a flux capacitor. (Well, okay, it just looks as if it ought to have a flux capacitor, even if it's not quite a DeLorean.) Very cool. Anyway, most people would sell their car over eBay, or junk it. James, however, gets his car accepted by a museum in Sacramento. I swear, he's the closest thing in my life to Indiana Jones. Next thing I know, he'll be moving to Malta to learn how to restore medieval-crusade-era architecture, as he keeps threatening to do. I, meanwhile, consider myself adventurous if I switch toothpastes.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

sex made redundant...almost

Chocolate from Boule is so good, it oughta be illegal. Wait, no, that would be bad, because I am generally a law-abiding citizen, which would mean I couldn't have the chocolate anymore. Dammit. Okay, the chocolate from Boule is so good, it oughta have a national holiday dedicated to it. Yeah, that's more like it.

Who knew that green tea would work as a dark chocolate essence? Lordy.

Monday, September 12, 2005

musings upon the non-trivial

I knew this would happen. IknewitIknewitIknewit.

I have become a Barely Blogger, succumbing to having a life outside of blogging and therefore rarely updating this thing! Weep! Sigh! Gnashing of teeth!

Anyway, enough of that. I have read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, volume one, for the first time ever, and I am in love. Or, perhaps more accurately, very deep like. Obscenely deep like. The art! The people! The story! The Wacky Dickensian(tm) aspects! If I had known that Capt. Nemo is so dashing, I'd have read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by now. Kevin O'Neill sure understands the art of a nontrivial beard, that's for sure. And I wanna houseboat that looks like O'Neill's Nautilus. Zowie.

Thanks to Rebekah, I have discovered the stupendous joy of Urban Dictionary. Today's fave: "Ivy Lagger: A person who graduated from an Ivy League college (such as Harvard, Yale), but "lags" behind either at work or socially. Essentially a play on the word, 'Ivy Leaguer.' ex. 'What's the matter, Ivy Lagger? They didn't teach you how to read at Harvard?'"

Love it.

Monday, September 5, 2005

gnu & improved

This has certainly been a weekend of novelty: blackberry soda, Santee Alley, gunmetal pearl necklaces, Run Lola Run and the like. Not "The Like," as in the band—but you knew that, right?

Cleaning my place is SO horrifically exhausting, and I'm not even close to finishing yet. How can one small apartment suddenly be so Sisyphean in terms of restoring order? Every time I clean something, I discover something else that needs to be sorted out. Grr argh. I need a housemaid. And a butler. And a chef. And a masseur. And an aromatherapist. And a fitness coach. And a secretary. And a box of Swiffer WetJet pads.

Honestly, some of us will never be satisfied....