Monthly Archives: November 2008

CAUTION: HOT! Handle With Care.

You know Edna Parker, the oldest person alive who just lost her title?  Parker is my paternal grandmother’s maiden name.  So despite the history of diabetes, cancer, various addictions, etc, etc…I just might make it 115 yet.  Especially if I keep eating Cup o’ Noodles at 2am as I’m about to.  I don’t know anyone else who eats Cups o’ Noodles as comfort food, but it reminds me of my best friend from home whose diet consists of pure sodium.  If it’s found in the freezer aisle, it’s on her dinner plate.  Paired with a package of Oriental Ramen.  (It’s delicious.  Try it.) 

Confession: I used Cup o’ Noodles as a means to flirt with a high school aged boy last weekend.  I was staying with my parents at a hotel, cruising Facebook on the hotel computers, when a class trip arrived.  One boy joined me in the computer room and proceeded to go straight to World of Warcraft.  It was kind of amazing.  He asked me if there were any time regulations on the computer.  Then he lamented that the pizza he’d ordered was going to arrive as soon as he started playing.   Every time he said something, though, he didn’t make eye contact, so I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to himself.  I never assume people are talking to me because I talk to myself abnormally often.  (Probably 95% of the time, if I enter a public bathroom stall and I know that no one else is in the bathroom with me, I’ll either talk to myself or start singing.)

Anyway, in the elevator on my way back to the room, I was joined by another high school boy.  He was carrying a Cup o’ Noodles.  So to make up for all the high school boys I was too shy to talk to when I was a high school girl, I batted my eyelashes and asked, “What flavor?”  He replied, “Chicken.  It was all they had.”  Then it was his floor.  He said, “Have a good night.”  I said, “You too.” 

Cup o’ Noodles: It takes 3 minutes to cook.  It provides you with 20% of your daily recommended intake of Iron.  It brings people together. 

Much more than a soup, indeed.

Much more than a soup, indeed.

“That’s So Gay!” and Other Revelations

Disclaimer: I had a revelation about my future tonight, but it will require a long-winded and possibly boring explanation. 

Today I arrived home for Thanksgiving and tonight I joined my mom for some television.  First she was watching Friday’s episode of The Young and The Restless on SoapNet (the entire week builds up to Friday’s exciting conclusion and then you can watch the Friday episodes from every soap the next day on SoapNet in case you missed them!  [Which is definitely how I will spend my Saturdays if I’m ever hospitalized for an extended period or get so depressed that I become one of those reclusive women who eats cat food and frightens children]). 

But for now…I just can’t get into soaps.  Kathleen watches One Life to Live.  It is kind of fun once you get to know the characters and all the crazy back stories, but I still get restless.  Which is what happened when my mom was watching The Young and the Restless.  So luckily she switched from SoapNet over to the Lifetime Movie Network (huge jump) and turns out, they’re having a “Many Many Mini-Series Marathon.”  Tonight was Part 3 of 1983’s “The Thorn Birds.” 

My dad tried to steal me away from it to watch Iron Man.  And I love Robert Downey Jr. and I haven’t seen Iron Man yet, so THAT is how hooked I was to this mini-series.  Really he just wanted me to experience his new mistress that is the flatscreen television with surround sound and Blu-Ray hi-def blah blah blah.  It shakes the house and he loves it.  Anyway, I refused to join him.  He asked what we were watching and upon finding out, he replied, “That’s so gay.”  

First off, get a load of the cast in “The Thorn Birds”:

THE 60s heartthrob, Richard Chamberlain, playing a priest.

 That’s Richard Chamberlain.  Big 60s heartthrob.  Nick Jonas and Zac Efron had a love child who then traveled to 1961 to star in a television show and that love child was Richard Chamberlain.  What?  Anyway.  So he plays a priest who falls in love with a woman (weird!).  There’s all this Catholic versus Protestant stuff going on, then there’s class and status stuff that comes up because the series takes place on a sheep plantation in 1930s Australia.  That’s what I said!  Not that again.  I’m so tired of sheep plantations.

And guess who the MATRIARCH of the sheep plantation is????


Much older than the above photo, but Barbara Stanwyck!!  Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity.  That’s kick ass.  She was also in 1939’s Golden Boy by my boy, director Rouben Mamoulian.  She’s strong and sassy and I love that in a woman.

But okay, slowly getting to the point.  This guy plays the Archbishop in the mini-series:


Yeah!  Christopher Plummer.  Captain Von Trapp from the film that turned me into a theater geek, The Sound of Music.  Wow. 

So I didn’t even realize it was him and my mom goes, “This reminds me of The Sound of Music.”  And I go, “Why?”  And she starts talking about the whole forbidden love between Maria and Von Trapp and the forbidden love between Priest Richard Chamberlain and his woman.  So my mind is then blown and I decide I need to write a thesis on this and I grab pieces of paper and begin writing things like “Thorns-Roses-Jesus-Bleeding-Peacocks eat them to grow big, feathery plumes.”  And then, “Incest, gender inversion, ‘Don’t call me Father!’, Nazis.” 

So, tonight, thanks to Lifetime Movie Network and my mom and this ridiculous mini-series, I was reminded that I’m a film scholar.  Okay, I didn’t really forget, but it did make me realize that I need to get my act together and take the GREs and find programs I want to apply to and have a little faith that I’m not going to end up one of those women eating cat food and scaring little boys while watching marathons of soap operas.  Or you know, maybe I will.  But not before I analyze the crap out of some film.

Religiously Fanatical, Humbert Humbert-like, Alcoholic Man–quit your leering! Thanks.

There was one of those creepy men on the subway just now.  The kind who operate on this whole new level of creepy–they stare as though you are the Virgin Mary or Lolita or a tall, strong drink that must be picked up and ingested as soon as possible.  You look up from your subway reading to find crazed eyes not just staring back at you, but staring back at you as though they have never NOT been staring at you.  It’s not normal, I say.  Leave me to my New Age self-help spirituality book, dammit!

Thanksgiving is upon us!  Things I’m thankful for this year:

  • That I’m not still in contact with the 34-year-old guy I met last Thanksgiving.
  • That I was not ingested like a tall, strong drink by the subway man. 
  • That I have a job, especially one that puts me on the subway at the kind of hours during which men looking to ingest tall, strong women roam the cars.
  • That I now have approximately three pairs of pants to rotate wearing.

Still a couple more days to tweak the list.  If you like lists and indirect references to bestiality, do check out my BILF list from yesterday.

Charmin Toilet Paper: Insane or Ingenious?

What goes on at Charmin headquarters??  I think I’d like to be part of a meeting in which it is completely normal to say toilet paper over and over again.  I just found out about these 20 free toilets Charmin has in Times Square until the end of the year (two are even handicap accessible).  One blog applauds Charmin for “solving a genuine issue for the neighborhood and its millions of tourists (lack of access to clean, free toilets)…”  Well, yeah, but come January 1st it’s back to waiting in line at Starbuck’s or McDonald’s.  I’m not sure you can call that solving anything. 

But it makes complete sense to me that this experimental marketing comes from the same people who produce provocative commercials like this one:

Unapologetically -ilfy things.

A few posts ago, I complained about a man I met who had been wearing an “I Heart Hot Moms” shirt.  I’ve been getting a lot of hits from the tag word “MILFs” ever since, which got me thinking about the moms who would be on my MILF list (if I had one).  The only -ilfy thing I ever did was join the “Danny Tanner is a DILF” Facebook group.  Something about Bob Saget being so unapologetically raunchy deserves respect.  Gumption is sexy.  I think that’s why Roseanne makes my hypothetical MILF list.  And Rosie O’Donnell.  My mom has no respect for Rosie because of her big mouth, but that’s the very reason I do.  Plus, the photo on her craft book is so good!  Look how beautiful her family is.  And what a punny title!

My MILF list is definitely a work in progress, but along with Roseanne and Rosie and each and every Golden Girl, it would have to include Jennifer Garner.  She makes the best romantic comedies.  And she’s married to Ben Affleck, who I also thought about putting on the MILF list, but perhaps he would be better on the already in progress BILF list (Bens I’d Like to Fuck):

Sir Ben Kingsly, Ben E. King, Benedict Arnold, and Benji

Sir Ben Kingsley, Ben E. King, Benedict Arnold, Benji. Obviously.

The Michael Moore in the Bathwater

Ever stop to think about sayings like, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater”?  Yeah, me neither, but tonight I did.  In my 3am post-work haze it struck me as a hilarious image. 

I watched Michael Moore’s Sicko today.  It reminded me that I should really do something about that whole lack of health insurance thing I’ve got goin on.  Started watching it at the library, but two men began watching it over my shoulder, which got a little awkward.  I finished watching it at home, in bed, but I fell asleep around the point when they travel to (spoiler alert) Guantanamo.  I liked it, though.  It reminded me of this PBS Frontline report, Sick Around the World, only with your added Michael Mooreisms. 

Sicko made me want to move to France…who wants to join?  We’ll splurge on Rosetta Stone.  The five weeks of vacation time per year minimum is totally worth being referred to as an “ex-pat.” 

Ill just use Team America images whenever I have the chance from now on.  (See Kim Jong-Il.)

I'll just use Team America images whenever I have the chance from now on. (See Kim Jong-Il a few posts down.)

Tight T-Shirts, Celine Dion, and Chinatown

There’s a job on Craigslist for men that involves wearing tight t-shirts and handing out free Bon Bons to women.  I have the link if anyone is interested. 

Today a strange thing happened that was unexpected and awesome.  I’m not going to say what it was because that’s how wonderful it was.  But I will compare it to other things and maybe you’ll be able to guess.  For instance, this thing that happened was more beautiful than this:

More ripped than these:

Less Canadian than this:

And almost as exciting and homoerotic as this:

More action than Ive gotten in awhile.  Just sayin.

More action than I've gotten in awhile. Just sayin.

If you guess correctly I’ll give you free Bon Bons.  Probably while wearing a t-shirt of some kind.

Another Hot Mess of a Blog Post

It’s 3am.  I just got home from work.  I’m sitting on the cot meant for camping that we makeshifted into a sofa, there’s a strange man’s sweatshirt suddenly hanging on a hook in our bathroom, and I’m eating crackers, slices of pepperoni, and orange-mango yogurt.  Life really couldn’t be much better.  Sometimes you just need a year or so to lead a lifestyle that some people would find terribly unappealing.  Hence: part-time jobs.

The thing that’s great about part-time jobs is you get to do such ridiculous things and get paid for it (even if it’s not very much).  Sure, no health benefits, no company car, no grueling 12 hour days, but for now at least, I’m happy with the decision. 

Tonight I learned that there’s an HGTV show called Sleep On It about buying houses that uses Meatloaf’s “Paradise By The Dashboard Light” as its theme even though that song is all about 17 year olds having sex in a car (Girl: Will you love me forever? Boy: Let me sleep on it, baby, baby, let me sleep on it).  Whatever.  It’s probably the best duet ever along with Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes’ “Up Where We Belong.”

Al Gore didn’t even need to have Melissa Etheridge write a Grammy winning song for An Inconvenient Truth, he could have just used Joe Cocker: “Love lift us up where we belong / Far from the world we know / Up where the clear winds blow.”

Clearly he’s saying that love offers an escape from the gray wind that is smog in our polluted cities.

Joe and Jennifer making beautiful music.

Joe and Jennifer making beautiful music.

I’ve Been So Happy Since Tuesday Night

THIS is why I love the ridiculous genius that is The Onion. Right after I devote a post to the time-space continuum, they go and devote an article to not only the time-space continuum, but to how “skyrocketing consumer prices coupled with stagnant wages have forced many Americans to work a fourth shift in another dimension in order to make ends meet.” It’s so silly and satirical and subversive and it makes me so happy.

I read it on my commute home from work yesterday/earlythismorning and probably disturbed quite a few 3am Flushing-bound subway sleepers. I never officially announced not being unemployed anymore, but that’s just because I still kind of feel poor and unsure of everything. I’ve been thinking about taking the GREs, but that requires something like $140 and…I don’t even know what I want to go back to school for or when or even if. I’ve entertained ideas of getting my master’s in a different country. Canada, Australia, or North Korea. Still deciding. Australia has Hugh Jackman, but North Korea has this guy–

Too gorgeous for his own good.

Too gorgeous for his own good.

The Smallness of Our Blips and the Largeness of Today’s Election

Apparently the Queens Library is pretty slow about delivering materials to one branch requested from another branch, so instead of taking out the book I’ve been waiting to arrive for a good 7-10 days, I took out a book called Endless Universe: Beyond the Big Bang. Intriguing, right? I’m not sure what caught my eye about it while walking through the stacks, but there’s a plug from Stephen Hawking on the front cover AND upon looking at the back flap you find photos of the authors who are two of the cutest bespectacled men this side of the Big Dipper. I even showed Kathleen their pictures, but she wasn’t as impressed as I was. A few minutes later I was still ridiculously excited, going on and on about this book and she said, “I can’t begin to deal with you right now.”

Books like this are great because they tell you things you kind of already had an idea about, but you hardly ever stop to think about. Like this:

The Milky Way’s cosmic neighbor, the Andromeda Galaxy, lies 2.9 million light-years from the Earth; the light received from its stars today was emitted before the earliest humans roamed the Earth.

I just read that, say, 20 minutes ago on the train. It made me go, “Woah,” and I looked up at the guy across the aisle from me with huge awestruck eyes who looked back at me like, “I can’t begin to deal with you right now.” So then I looked up at the train ceiling trying to imagine just how far the universe would extend past where I was sitting, trying to fathom just how small of a blip of my existence really is. I’ve never understood why people aren’t more preoccupied with stuff like this. I mean, I know people turn to religion to answer silly questions like…where the hell are we right now and what the hell are we doing here…but still. Even during Sunday School when I was, like, nine years old it occurred to me to ask my teacher how God could have just always existed.

Anyway, enough about light-years and bespectacled men for now. The polls open in a few hours!! Maybe people aren’t stopping to contemplate time and space like me, but they’re definitely stopping to contemplate politics. The people across from me on the train were talking about baby daddys, baby mamas, and Barack’s grandmother. The woman with the 7 month old daughter whose baby daddy is doing time (1-3 years), said, “Maybe it’s a sign how she died right before the election and all.” And the man with the 16 year old daughter whose baby mama remarried, said, “I hope not.”

Seemed like the man took the woman to mean her death would have to be a bad sign, but I don’t think so. My grandmother died a couple weeks ago. She was in my dream last night, watching me while I read a passage from the New Testament at the funeral of my former bus driver who in real life is actually a crossing guard who wears a wig. I was completely fumbling over my words, but regardless, she was watching peacefully from the back row.

I wear a scarf she knitted years and years ago. Her photo is on my newly installed Ikea shelf. I keep thinking about how she told my cousin she never remarried because, “There are a lot of crumbs out there.” Guess what I’m trying to say is, death is sad, paralyzingly sad sometimes, but I don’t think it can ever be a bad sign. People are created, people travel through space for a short amount of time, and then who knows what happens? We leave this dimension? We cease to exist? We burn in hell for all eternity? I dunno. But I’m voting in a few hours and I’m infinitely glad I exist at this time and this place to be able to do it.