Dudes and dudesses, Comedy Central is picking up “Scrubs” reruns in fall 2006!
Per Reuters:
Comedy Central has acquired the first four seasons — a total of 93 episodes — and will also buy the upcoming fifth-season episodes.
Just got back my cable on Saturday (after nearly a year without it!) — Between seeing Jon Stewart again and now Zach Braff, I will be as happy as a girl can be. 😉 Well, as happy as a single girl can be, anyway.
On iTunes: Black Eyed Peas, “Don’t Lie”
Sommelier at your service: a talking wine label is on the horizon. You get to hear what year your Arbor Mist Mad Dog 20/20 fine wine was made and what’s in it and all that fun stuff.
The potentials of talking labels are just fabulous — per the article, on a more global level, prescription drug labels could eventually be able to talk to people, telling them how much to take and when.
However, in my case, it might clash with what the OTHER voices are telling me to do.
Drink more wine, bitch!
Shut up, self. 😉
In any event, it will be nice — albeit initially disconcerting — to have objects talk BACK to me, for a change!
On iTunes: Alcazar, “Crying at the Discoteque”
Reader Poll Monday — done ON a Monday!!!
1. What color (besides black) is most prevalent in your wardrobe?
Bla … ah, shit — ya got me there. 😉 Lots of blue (mostly denim) — I was doing laundry yesterday and was slightly appalled at the amount of jeanskirts I own. (Or, more accurately, that I FORGOT I OWNED!)
2. Where do fruit flies come from?
I vaguely remember a guy in college who always seemed to have a swarm around him. He was from eastern Pennsylvania, so I’ll say they must have a colony (a fruitfly metropolis?) there.
3. Which type of natural disaster would you rather endure: hurricane, tornado, earthquake or volcano eruption?
I’ve seen hurricanes and tornadoes — well, at least the heavy rains and brain-freezing winds that hit the areas just outside the nexus of insanity. Felt the aftershocks of an earthquake. I guess I’d want to see the volcanic eruption — assuming I am on high ground FAR away from the festivities.
4. When is the last time you visited an amusement park?
Had to be Kennywood, circa college days (late ’90s).
5. If you have insurance, what is your office visit co-pay?
Don’t know. (*hides face*) Haven’t been to a doc in a year and a half.
6. If you could, is there anything about your personality that you would change?
I love hate hate HATE my catty streak. I mean, I reel it in pretty well nowadays, but I’m so used to trying to protect my own feelings that I will immediately think of something completely evil when I feel like I’ve been insulted or assaulted.
And while I’m not the type to seek revenge (directly, anyway), apparently my unresolved anger surfaces in spurts.
Example: My mom asked me if I know whatever happened to (some woman who drove me crazy). My immediate response? “That cumb dunt — I’d shove her in the cargo section of a plane going to London if ever I had the opportunity to get my hands on her. Maybe the bombs would burn the mustache off her face.”
And after my tirade had ended, I was like, whoa — bitter much?
Lesson: Don’t cross me. And wax if necessary. We all have little maintenance projects that go unspoken — it’s OK and your secrets are safe here. 😉
7. What’s your next big adventure?
Well, I just got great news that my friend on the West Coast will be going into labor on Thursday, so I will have a bouncing baby nephew in a matter of days. Which means — what the HELL am I still doing HERE on the East Coast when she needs me THERE?!!?!
8. If forced to choose, would you rather live the rest of your life not being able to have an orgasm or not being able to hear?
Sherri, that’s just plain EVIL!!!
Bon Jovi, I’d always miss you. … 😉
9. Describe yourself in 3 words.
Not. Quite. Right!
10. Ask me a question.
Would YOU rather give up orgasming or hearing? Or any other senses, for that matter?!?!
On iTunes: Bon Jovi, “I Don’t Like Mondays (cover)”
I’d thought I’d spewed vitriol about every driving transgression committed by the captial area’s drivers. I’d truly believed I’d run out of pet peeves.
Then I got stuck on the GW Parkway again this morning and witnessed assholitry so high and holy that I heard hell’s bells ringing.
A car had overturned on the GW northbound (huge, gnarly accident), so we were inching along. Fine, no big deal — was already late for work as it were. As you might remember from some of my earlier rants, it’s a two-lane road, so when emergency personnel need to squeak through, we all pull up on curbs to free up space in center of the highway. Fine, good, whatever.
But THEN, my otherwise-calm blood fired up into a BOIL.
Four cars — civilians, mind you — coattailed the ambulance, fire truck and cop cars! They saw an opportunity to speed ahead of the decent citizens on the road. That nitwit Bob Geldof had ranted about how evil eBay was when people were selling their free Live 8 tickets as “profiteering on the backs of the impoverished” — well, this was the highway version.
(And as an aside, I’m sure the Live 8 was a lovely concept and a wonderful concert, but let’s figure out how to end poverty, joblessness and the lack of health insurance for our OWN citizens before we go saving the world, mmmkay? When I didn’t have a job, every single government agency to which I applied told me to prepare to be homeless ’cause they weren’t gonna help, and believe me, I was applying/interviewing for jobs like a madwoman but being told repeatedly that I was overqualified. And I really lucked out to get a GREAT job for which my qualifications actually came in handy. Anyway, your government doesn’t give a shit about you so we need to fix our system ourselves. Saddam fucking Hussein gets more from Uncle Sam than YOU ever will, trust me. But I digress.)
Anyway, I apparently have a death wish, ’cause I saw the non-emergency respondents trying to fly through the parted traffic … and I FLOORED it back into my lane proper. I am not shitting you when I say I almost got wiped straight into the guardrail to my left by a (what else?) Lexus SUV when I took my rightful place in traffic.
The good news? The four offending cars had to stop BEHIND ME. HAH!!!
Nothing fills me with more glee than ruining an asshole’s day and living to tell about it. 😉
On iTunes: Paul Oakenfold, “Ascension “Someone” (Slacker Mix)”
I don’t talk about current events here because I don’t feel like I have anything unique to add to the coverage or the punditry. Everyone has their favorite commentary sites for that, and I don’t hope to compete. I just try to keep a diary here in my sacred litttle webspace, talking about what I’m an expert on: me.
So for the fact that I’ve refrained from talking about the London bombings today, well, I know you’re not surprised. But that doesn’t mean that I haven’t felt oddly out of sorts today. Although, admittedly, I think I’m more disconcerted by the fact that NOTHING has changed — at least, not in my world. My daily routines were completed without disruption. I’m still thinking about the same things that were in my head yesterday, still doing the same things and, particularly, NOT doing other things that I might want to start doing.
I ache for those who are experiencing the fear and disbelief that plagued us in 2001. Pain comes in so many different forms and shows up at so many different times — grief arrives in tidal waves, pummeling the surf and then subsiding, only to show up again when you least expect it. For some of us, it shows up late and leaves early, and just when you think the storm was a mild one, the hurricane descends … and renders us unrecognizable.
Oftentimes, the faces change so much that they wouldn’t even know what we used to be like because they haven’t known us long enough — but they don’t have the opportunity to know the beauty that was there before we were ravaged by heartbreak. And after the pain subsides and is replaced by the utter void that follows emotional overload, we’re like babies turning into toddlers — we fear that our newly rediscovered “sea legs” will fail us. We wonder if we’ll ever be able to stand on our own again … we wonder how we’ll ever be able to save ourselves when it seems like there’s no lifeline for us to even crawl toward.
But our friends across the pond who are in exactly the same place we’ve all been in (whether in 2001 or after any life tragedy) will eventually learn to not jump reflexively at every shadow they see. Eventually — and I know they don’t believe it now — they will restore normalcy or learn to redefine it into something acceptable, comfortable, workable, passable.
They will learn, as we have over here in the States, to just be grateful to have another day. To not expect too much from it — to just enjoy it when it goes well and to hope like hell that it doesn’t get any worse. To look past life’s little annoyances because we’ve got it pretty good, all things considered. To try very hard to forget that our very existences can be eradicated in a heartbeat at the hands of some sick fuck who’s willing to die for his so-called god — someone who should live long enough to have the family members of those he’s killed/maimed beat the everloving shit out of him and make him suffer at least a fraction as much as they are.
They will make promises to themselves to change the way they are living — to make amends with some, to cut ties with others. To replace the bad with the good. To start that hobby that’s been swirling around in their heads. To use that damned gym membership. To tell someone that they love them. To quit that miserable, soul-sucking job and find one that’s incredibly more fulfilling. I know — I’m living proof of the benefits of making the big changes that you’re always thinking/talking about.
They will eventually stop feeling the mash-up of emotions, and they will even move past the bewilderment and stillness within. They will learn that you simply cannot make sense of what happened — there is no “why” suitable enough to explain certain things away. They might lose their faith — and a lot of us have — but they will also find it again, at least, in a form that is more palatable to their personal beliefs that have been so violently rocked.
And they will become complacent again, inasmuch as possible — they will find that looking over one’s shoulder, anticipating something even if they don’t know what it is, becomes as reflexive as inhaling and exhaling.
Ultimately, they will become a shade less idealistic. We’re resilient, don’t get me wrong, but we lose a bit of our softness — we develop a bit of a protective edge, even if it’s only for show.
But that’s not to say that we’re not waiting for something, anything to happen to restore our faith — something to which we can look forward, somethings and someones who will put the sparkle back in our eyes, somedays that will be lighter and less filled with anxiety. We will be grateful for our good days, sure, but we will start hoping for better ones again — we will give ourselves permission to want, demand and EXPECT more.
Someday, they’ll recognize themselves in the mirror again. I promise. And my wish is that these days arrive sooner rather than later.
On iTunes: DJ Tiesto, “Just Be”
Feelin’ kinda trance-like today, So here are some of my dance-and-trance remixes that are making my commutes a bit easier.
Let me put it this way, you don’t realize an hour has gone by when you’ve only played four (very long) songs!
“Strict Machine (Victor Calderone Mix)” — Goldfrapp
“A Thousand Years (Sunshine Mix)” — Julius Papp f/Gina Rene
“Love Comes Again (Original Mix)” — Tiesto f/BT
“Utopia (Sunroom Mix)” — Goldfrapp
Ah, to have a nice juicy happy pill, a fog machine, a disco ball and some dark, handsome stranger to make out with. … 😉
Or, like Shiz said, anyone wanna come over and play doctor?!?!
Joy is:
Your shirt, underwear and shoes ALL MATCHING! Like, on the same day! (Shoe pix here.)
Terror is:
Seeing a Lexus with a Dubya sticker and two carseats in the back. *shudder* Talk about another generation of bad drivers and even worse voters!
On iTunes: Ivy, “Undertow”
Reader Poll Whatever-the-Hell-the-Day-Is. 😉
I wasn’t squeamish about it, though — I was pulling apart the cut (the knife went straight through my whole hand!) and admiring my capillaries. And showing all the boys in the class. They loved it.
And let’s not talk about staples — after my appendix was out (2003) my incision was stapled (and then there was the bag attached elsewhere to catch blood and pus — *sigh*). I have this weird pink scar with dots on each side of it, from the wound and the staples.
But then when I hit 16, I had this “friend” (and not a poor one) who charged us gas money every time he took us somewhere. It wouldn’t be so bad if we were the ones asking for a ride (and believe me, I gave gifts when people did me favors. Sucker.), but he’d ask us to go to the mall or out to eat with him. Then he’d fill up the tank and split it however many ways. What a greedy little shit. I want a refund!!!
On iTunes: Pulp, “Like a Friend”
Quiet day at the ranch here, and deservedly so. I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t do anything thing that involved driving, but alas, that did NOT rule out taking the Metro. Or ordering food for delivery. Or shopping online. 😉
But first, I witnessed my little firecracker, Kadi, being GOOD — and thanks to my lil Nikon, I captured it on film:
Yesterday was the day to go into D.C. for me — I couldn’t bear to rastle with tourons for oxygen for today’s festivities. And I made a great decision — it was quiet downtown, and the few of us who were out and about were locals.
Token patriotic photos:
Because everyone gets “funny in the tummy” when they see this monument:
My purpose was to hop down to the Hirshhorn’s Visual Music exhibit. I loved it — I was mesmerized by both the paintings and the early achievements in digital graphic design (set to music) long before any idiot with a few grand could buy a copy of Photoshop or iMovie.
My favorite was the room full of color organs — I mean, they move and look like your everyday screensaver to our jaded eyes, but you’ve got to remember that those were made in the early half of the 20th century with prisms and glass and a variety of other everyday materials.
I also loved the films, but it was the “Swell” and “Lightscape” installations that hypnotized me for a ridiculous amount of time.
Confession: I am one of those people who gets lost in a painting for an hour. I am also the one who will ignore you when you ask me questions or the one who will stick out her foot and trip your kids if they are disturbing the sacrosanctity of the gallery. I mean, this painting alone (“Circus”) had me smiling to myself for a looong time:
Days like yesterday remind me that I keep meaning to pick up some paint supplies and just do something with all this intensity trapped within me. Words just aren’t cutting it — while words are my first love, of course, I feel the need to deviate — colors and shapes don’t require the same structure, rhyme or even reason.
After a few mental orgasms, I wound down at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. Found it a lot more boring than last year, and I wasn’t exactly bursting with fruit flavor then. At least last year, I met some interesting people and tried some good food and was entertained by the hippies. This year, there was a neat educational booth on reincarnation, but the rest of that part of the Mall was a love-fest for Krishna and some book/author they were promoting. My favorite were all the tents that said “Free Feast” and “Questions and Answers” but had neither a person nor a thing in them. That says a lot. 😉
Not to mention, I had to wait IN LINE to get into the Festival Marketplace (i.e., where you shop). How dare anybody hold me back from retail therapy! Not that there was anything good in there — I’d wanted incense from Oman, but it was $60 for a tiny jar. Yeah, don’t think so. I’d also wanted chocolate from La Paz, Bolivia, but it was sold out.
So, since I was all Metro-bound anyway, I stopped in at the Fashion Centre at Pentagon City to shop. And I stopped to grab something to eat, but as the mall was closing, lots of places were running low on chow. So I stopped at McDonald’s (not my first choice, mind you), only to have this rude female security guard start snapping at all 20 of us in line that “You know the mall is closing, but you get in line anyway. So hurry up already and order.”
I looked at her, with her fat ass parked in the fake plants, sitting around staring at the customers and doing not a goddamned thing else, and I said, “Fine. They don’t need my business, then.” And she said something snotty in return.
Not that I necessarily thought I was doing anybody a favor buy buying the pre-made food shriveling under the heat lamps, but I figured an extra last-minute sale wouldn’t be met with assholitry. I worked in a mall where I was required to stay open until midnight even though the rest of the mall closed at 9 p.m. — I get that folks want to go home. But by my watch, it was 5:48 p.m. and the mall closed at 6.
Oh well. I was more than happy to spend that money elsewhere. And I did. And then some.:)
Because I parked near a movie theater, I wandered through before going to my car to see if anything happened to be playing in a few minutes. Lo and behold, “Dianetics” “War of the Worlds” was starting then. Oy vey.
Despite the Sultan of Scientology himself having the starring role, it wasn’t horrible. But I want my $9.50 back — or, at least, half of it, as the air-conditioning was superb and the seat was comfortable. Dakota Fanning was wonderful. The special effects were of the level you’ve come to expect from Steven Spielberg — we’ve all had dreams of vaporizing people, and it gives us hope that large machines might decend upon our enemies and eradicate their existence. 😉
But … it’s not that I’m overly sensitive or even personally connected to the 9/11 tragedies, but seeing people walking ghost-like, covered in cremains through the bridges and streets of New Jersey was eerie. I had a professional colleague who had told me what it was like on that fateful day, with people who were stunned silent at what they had witnessed, covered in the ashes of their officemates, leaving Manhattan on foot — she’d described them as bodies with their souls shaken loose. And that is exactly how the few who survived the “War of the Worlds” walked the earth, and I shudder to imagine this version of the movie being made any closer to 2001.
In any event, saved the worst for last — Self-Portrait Day!
Well, off to start marinating dinner — the kitties and I are grilling out. Obligatory yay. And more online shoppping — like for this!
On iTunes: Vanessa Daou, “A Thousand Licks”
I agree with this completely, but with the caveat of becoming super-quiet when I either have something to hide or need to come out of a drinking endeavor without regrets. Or both. But otherwise, it’s spot-on:
| Your Gemini Drinking Style |
 You’re so naturally chatty and short-attention-spanned that it’s just hard to tell sometimes. You amaze people by conversing with finesse and allusions, then doing something to belie an extremely advanced state of intoxication, like puking in your shoe. You possess the magic ability to flirt successfully (and uninfuriatingly, which is very tricky) with several people at once. |
| Your Signature Cocktails |
| Easily bored Geminis need some stimulation in their drinks — those with two parts, like a black and tan (or just a double), are particularly appealing. Otherwise, you’ll drink all over the map, ordering frou-frou drinks to add to you collection of cocktail monkeys or going for whiskey rocks because you’re feeling rather noir. Gemini rules the herb anise — home-infused anise vodka is sure to win you over. |
| Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies |
| Johnny Depp, Angelina Jolie, Kylie Minogue, the Olson Twins, Colin Farrell, Ice Cube, Natalie Portman, and Mr. T |
Via (viva!) the Cheesemistress.
On iTunes: Emiliana Torrini, “Brazilian Sky”