My coworker just walked past my computer screen.  And if he happened to look, he would’ve seen that I was on Dictionary.com looking at the definition of “sad”.

I don’t feel particularly sad, but…looking up the definition of “sad” is admittedly a pretty sad thing to do.

Contemplating sadness got me thinking about Eeyore.  I never connected with Winnie the Pooh when I was little, and I especially didn’t connect with Eeyore–which is funny because I lived up the street from a donkey farm.  But Eeyore’s deal isn’t that Eeyore is a donkey.  Eeyore’s deal is clearly that Eeyore is sad.  And wears a pink bow. 

With age I’ve come to better understand Eeyore’s condition/s.  It’s painful to see such a sad creature.  This video below makes it less painful.  And it’d be even less painful and more amazing if drugs were involved:

There’s something about SNL promos that are completely awkward.  I spent some time watching a bunch of them on hulu not long ago, and most of them are painful to watch.  Self-promotion is hard to pull off well.  Most of the hosts crash and burn with the format:

1. Host says that he/she is hosting, and also mentions the musical guest.
2. Cast member does/says something that warrants a reaction from the host.
3. Host reacts.

That third part is the clincher.  If the host doesn’t react in a genuine and funny way, the whole thing kind of fails.  The viewer can tell when the host just feels awkward about the whole thing.  They look awkward, the viewer feels awkward.  It’s hard all around.  Because I’m rooting for them.  Hosting SNL is a big deal.  You’ve made some kind of name for yourself if you’re invited.  But there is that very real danger of being god awful.  And the promo is often an indication of how the show will go.

That said, Taylor Swift is hosting this week, AND she’s the musical guest.  And I predict, based on the fact that she’s awesome, that she’ll do a good job.  And by good job, I mean as good of a job as is possible.  I hope.

I think Taylor Swift’s reactions in her promos are really impressive.  Before you watch hers, though, watch the promo with Peyton Manning and Carrie Underwood.  Peyton does well, but Carrie…  Kind of painful.  Compare and contrast.

The title sort of says it all.  In my last post I talked about being embarrassed by sex-related Elton John lyrics in front of my parents.  Never mind that.  Any American household worth its puritanical foundation will swiftly change the channel should one of these 30-60 second pieces of filthy deviant excess interrupt a wholesome TV-watching experience: 

Warning: You will, upon watching all of these in succession, climax repeatedly.

It took me a really long time to realize that Elton John was gay.  It wasn’t at all like realizing that Santa Claus doesn’t exist, but I want to make that comparison anyway.  I guess because I love Elton John.  Not in a childlike, deer-eyed way, but in a mature, jaded way. 

Elton’s been on my mind lately.  Mostly because I just realized that he wears a toupee.  I don’t know why I’m so far behind on my Elton realizations…  But also I’ve been listening to him.  Reminiscing about him.  When I was younger, if I was driving with my parents, I would get uncomfortable when “I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues” came on the radio, because it goes like,

And I guess that’s why
They call it the blues
Time on my hands
Could be time spent with you
Laughing like children
Living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that’s why
They call it the blues

Whoa!  How can you not enjoy that as a chorus?  Children, lovers, blues.  Those are my favorite things right there.  Except for children.

Bernie Taupin there is to thank for those lyrics.  What a stud, right?  He pulls off that hair and sort-of turtleneck exceedingly well.  It’s nuts.

In conclusion, Elton John’s hilarious.  Lady Gaga should wear some of his outfits from the early 80s.  Particularly his glasses.  And also, I suppose, some of his wigs from right now.

One last thing.  This “I Want Love” song has always done it for me.  It’s dark.  Yet hopeful.  And Robert Downey, Jr. is in this video, which just may have started my love affair with him.  This video would also make an interesting thesis.  One could write all about love, sex, and attractive men who are empty inside like a marble-floored mansion.  But they’ve still got those chandeliers waiting to be lit in the foyer of their heart and the ballroom of their loins:

Oh man, my blog is cool. No, really. This is going to be awesome.

A proverb, (from the Latin proverbium), is a simple and concrete saying popularly known and repeated, which expresses a truth, based on common sense or the practical experience of humanity. They are often metaphorical. A proverb that describes a basic rule of conduct may also be known as a maxim.

This is contentious stuff! I’m weary of any so-called “truths”. I’m also weary of “common sense” and “metaphors”. Metaphors are wolves howling at the moon on a foggy night. Metaphors are adults who still wet the bed and neglect to do laundry for two months. Oh, and yeah, that whole “basic rule of conduct” thing? Fuck that, too. That’s almost as bad as a metaphor. That’s so bad it’s like a simile.

Proverbs are lame. Especially when they’re included on the slips of paper inside fortune cookies that should be reserved for, oh I don’t know, FORTUNES.

Proverb of the month:

Two dogs fight for a bone, and a third runs away with it.

So, there you have it. This month, heed that wisdom and be a greedy pacifist bitch.

Why are you WAITING IN LINE for OVERPRICED COSTUMES?! 

It’s last minute.  That’s good.  Procrastination is good.  You get to hang out in line with guys who wear khaki shorts despite the late October temperatures:

Buy why pay $50 for a Wonder Woman costume that’s all synthetic and cleavage? It’d be more cost effective and less desperate if you just emptied some red and blue bottles of finger paint just below your bosoms and let it trickle down some.

Although…it must feel pretty damn cool to have to make it past a bouncer before you can buy your Kate Gosselin wig.  Way to go.

Anyway. Happy Halloween!!!!!

I read an article in The Village Voice about the Richard Foreman play that Willem Dafoe is starring in.  This one bit about their director-performer relationship struck me:

Foreman says of working with Dafoe: “It was very easy then. It’s very easy now.” But Dafoe notes changes in their mutual dynamic. “I feel a lot of respect from him now,” he says. “It emboldens me.” Rehearsal may have actually rendered Dafoe too bold. “I’m feeling very engaged—in fact, I’m feeling overstimulated,” he says. “I find myself being very obnoxious in the room and having fun and not censoring myself—I’m like a big, spoiled kid.”

That state of overstimulation that Dafoe describes–it really needs its own word.  It’s such an interesting state.  It’s a wonderful place to be–to become so comfortable with the people you’re working with, especially in a creative environment, that you hold nothing back.  I think silliness often requires a lot of support.  I love the way Dafoe talks about it because he makes light of how after the fact, once you’ve come down from this creative, carefree high, you feel sort of guilty and ridiculous.  That you got carried away and maybe not everyone around you felt that. 

I need more of that state of overstimulation without a name.  Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Willem.  I owe you one.

Well, I’m baffled.  The weeks have passed, I’ve gone about my life, and every so often I’ve thought about that thing, that blog I keep.  I’ve considered updating it.  But nothing really struck me.  And the longer one goes without updating, the more pressure builds up to make the comeback post a doozy. 

So, here’s the deal:  This post is not a doozy. 

I’m baffled because of all the things (or, in this case “people”) to compel me to update, for whatever reason, Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan took the cake:

It’s genius.  I would seriously write a dissertation just about that scene.  And I’d relate it to Pierce Brosnan’s silly version of masculinity, as well as Meryl Streep’s reputation as the best thing ever.  (Why do we even have that expression about sliced bread?)  And all the while she’s singing an ABBA song and frolicking up rocks.  OH! OH!  And I could devote an entire section to that red shawl she wears.  It’s like Brosnan is her bull and she’s playing an age old game.  It says, I may be a mature woman, but I’m verile and fiery.  It says, I want to have sex with you, but I could just as easily burn you and rob you of your cojones.

Anyway.  It really is my intent to have less of these annoying posts that are prefaced with an allusion to the fact that I rarely post.  Sorry about that.

Something about documentaries chronicling the ways of corporate giants really gets me off.  I can’t even tell you how many satisfying nights I’ve spent watching Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price.  So you can imagine how excited I was when I noticed “The Age of Wal-Mart” while Hulu-surfing.  I had no idea they did away with the blue smocks.  They should also consider doing away with the Wal-Mart chant (it brings me back to that cult I almost joined). 

Also getting me off these days is my Flintstones vitamins:

Now more complete with Choline!

Wikipedia says:

Choline is a precursor to trimethylamine, which some persons are not able to break down due to a genetic disorder. Persons suffering from this disorder, called trimethylaminuria, may suffer from a strong fishy or otherwise unpleasant body odor due to the body’s release of odorous trimethylamine.

And here I thought the fishy odor was just my vagina.

Despite my repugnant odor, I still scored a business card from a man on the subway earlier tonight.  We were chatting about Halloween costumes.  He said that he’d thought of his early this year: “It just came to me!”  He was so excited, so I wondered why he didn’t share it with me.  When I pressed him on the issue, his voice went low, and he said, “Well, it’s not really…”  “Appropriate?”  “Yeah.” 

It’s also not good.  It’s one of those “punny” costume ideas.  You know the ones.  The ones that never live up to the funny part.  All I’ll say is that it involves this jersey:

See where this is going?

Silly me I still took his card.  And turns out…he’s got a really sweet job.  One that comes with prestige, benefits, and a blue smock.  By Armani.  Or someone. 

That said, I would never write about him or his Halloween costume if I actually planned to call.  I’ll take documentaries over a douchebag anyday.  YouknowwhatI’msayin?