When You Get There...

Tonight we ate at the Asian Cajun Bistro in the Quarter, where our friend Amanda sings and plays piano. I had heard her play, but I didn't know she sang so well, a real blues-y sound. When we got back, we cracked a bottle of wine and watched a movie. Mike turned on the TV and we caught the repeat of the Anderson Cooper special on Angelina Jolie. He remarked that it was surprising; you could obviously tell she was smart from the way she spoke in the interview. Like it's always a pleasant surprise when someone in Hollywood is smart. I guess this is how we're conditioned to think. I think I've sobered up just watching this interview on TV, actually.

The thing I don't know if I told a lot of people is that last summer, before Mike and I got together, I was preparing a Peace Corps application for this year. There is so much I want to see and do. But two years on the other side of the world is a long time when you're with someone, and I doubt I will go now. I was really close to going abroad to Kenya during college, and the fact that I didn't has been one of my regrets... There is just so much of nature and the outdoors and being real that I want to experience.

The upshot of all this is that, out of nowhere, I get angry. Here the cameras are in a refugee camp in the Congo. We're talking hundreds of thousands of people raped, mutilated, and starving, camping in squalor and dying of AIDS. It hits me that all these displaced Katrina people in American cities need to shut the fuck up. No, that's rude. No, well, I changed my mind, screw that. Shut up anyway. You are not a refugee. Do not even try to claim that word. If you are in America, you need to seriously consider how lucky you are. I am aware that statistically we do not, as a nation, measure up to be as wonderful as we consider ourselves. I am also aware that people lost their homes in Hurricane Katrina. I was one of the luckier ones, and it was still a huge, huge blow to my life. But there is a limit to how long one can grovel, and wallow, and sometimes the greater fact of that hits me hard. Still feeling bad about your house or your FEMA money? I'm telling you, watch some footage of some real refugees. Do not even get me started on the people who are like, "The government needs to bring us home! They won't let us go home!" No. Just no. Men with machine guns who will chop the arms off your children? THAT is "not letting us go home."

So if Angelina Jolie wants to travel around Africa and adopt kids, I say more power to her. More power to people who are willing to open their eyes and see these wild discrepancies between being spoiled and being human. Who am I to be angry? I don't do anything. And that makes me angry too. God, I am a liberal person. What has happened to my personal politics lately? Have I seen too much? Worse, do I look at Africa and romanticize it, neglecting the poverty and despair for the romanticism-- or dare I even say the vestiges of colonialism-- of a faraway place that has a more fanciful pull? They say you need to start where you are. Maybe the idea of that is too exhausting. Maybe I've been hearing sound bites from too many idiots. But you watch footage of an amputee refugee camp and tell me what you think about your expensive rent-- or whatever-- then.

I don't know. Have I helped Mike split two bottles of wine tonight? (I suspect I still did not manage to consume a whole bottle by myself). Yes. Yes, I have. I guess I'm rambling. So what do I know? I am only 25 years old and I do not know much, but I know when to be ashamed.

"Oh, when you get there, is there a there there?
Do people care there, are people aware there?
Do the boys and girls do more
Than break their toys and perm their hair there?
Send an update, Kate, to your old roommate
From your big round world to my small flat state
Tell me, what do you find when you open
Your eyes and your mind to the great out there?"
- Susan Werner

Tags: new orleans, poverty, hurricane katrina, post-katrina, rant, humanitarian, angelina jolie

He's a Trained Killer!

I went into the living room this morning and found a dead roach on the carpet. It looked as if it had scuttled out from under the bookshelf. It looked like your average everyday dead roach... except that its head had been separated from its body. Neither Mike or I killed it, or in fact ever saw it.

Now that is why it is good to have a cat.

Tags: cat, jolee

Triangle of Death Update

Because of all this renewed fervor over stopping the murdering thugs, I was forced to get off my ass and waste twenty whole minutes of my day getting a brake tag yesterday. Hmph. Thanks a lot, thugs. Actually, it was quite simple, a good example of the Post-K world in which we live: there was a sign nailed on the gas station that said "Louisiana Vehicle Inspection Station", and two lines of orange cones set up. You drove in between the cones, paid your twenty bucks, and drove out! Cute, but so small no wonder I never saw it there the other times I drove by.

I suppose it was a good thing, because I read in the paper they were going to have sobriety checkpoints in Uptown last night, and I knew I would be driving home from work at midnight. One would think the crimestoppers have better things to do (like stop crime) than write me a ticket for having no brake tag, but then, it's how the city makes its money. Sure enough, I saw four NOPD cars during my drive.

More to the point, though, why don't new cars COME with brake tags? (The New York girl in my soul cries out, "INSPECTION STICKER-- WHAT THE HELL DOES BRAKE TAG MEAN ANYWAY!?!") Seriously, people. It's the dumbest inspection ever. They don't even check emissions like they do in every other state. All you have to do is put on your blinkers and lights, put your car in reverse for 15 seconds, and honk your horn. It's a pathetic excuse for an inspection. (I suppose I ought to note here that my last car actually failed a brake tag inspection last summer-- I am rather proud of that fact, since I think it's something you have to really try at.)

Oh, and no sooner do they put the stop sign back at Louisiana and Freret than the light comes back on. Efficient.

I am watching Jolee play with a straw. I have no idea what the appeal is. I gave him one and he got this look of wide-eyed joy. I think it's the crinkly plastic they're wrapped in. He's so weird.

Tags: new orleans, post-katrina, brake tag

Thirteen Things On My Desk Right Now

Because I saw someone do this last week and joked that it would be far more gross and bizarre for me to do a TT along this theme. Although, thanks to Mike cleaning up after me, my work desk really isn't that gross right now.

1. A Labatt Blue bottle cap (unfortunately not attached to a bottle of Labatt Blue).

2. A Spanish-English dictionary. In a quest to have a productively educational summer, and for the purposes of functioning in the new New Orleans, we are attempting to teach ourselves conversational Spanish.

3. $460.00 cash in a Chase bank envelope. The problem about me working in the service industry is that I am the kind of person who is always forgetting to go to the bank. Thus I have approximately 9 days worth of tips sort of hanging out on the desk. It did, however, make it into an envelope yesterday.

4. Framed photo of Packy and myself from college. This, I believe, was at the Chi Omega social brothers pre-party in 2003. He is standing behind me with his arms around me, only his hands are duct-taped to a bottle of green Mad Dog 20/20. It is worth noting for the purposes of entertainment that moments after this photo was taken, he slung me over his shoulder and attempted to throw me in a bathroom stall (also photographed, but less frameable). He then proceeded to fall down the back stairs.

5. Framed photo of Melanie and me sitting on top of one of the red Tick Tock booths, in front of the St. Lawrence mural. She is wearing a black tank top with sparkles and jeans. I have gone for the Larry look and have on jeans, a St. Lawrence belt, and pink Polo. This was Senior Week '02.

6. Vienna Teng's album Warm Strangers.

7. An empty glass... and a full coffee cup. This is actually pretty good. I think I have mentioned that empty dishes are attracted to me, and follow me like moths follow light.

8. Several programs from Tulane law school graduation, empty birthday card envelopes, a thank you note from Maria and Matt's wedding, and an empty US Airways ticket envelope previously containing the plane tickets to said wedding. Basically a stack of junk mail & papers. Though this pile also contains one aspirin (just floating wild and free) and my checkbook. Huh.

9. A notepad with a lot of crytpic notes ("350 px x 125") for my mom's website, which I have been working on this week. Don't look past the first two pages, though. I haven't got that far yet.

10. Package of craisins.

11. A clam shell holding: two batteries, a nickel, and a ring. (??Whatever.)

12. A rack containing various manuscript pages, envelopes, address labels, short stories, and a manila folder labelled "Writing/Correspondence," which is a nice way of saying, "Rejection Letters."

13. An empty Tanqueray bottle. Fondly saved, as the last bottle of liquor I purchased at Ye Olde Liquors (haha) in Canton, NY during Senior Week. After I graduated, it rode in my luggage down to New Orleans, for good luck. Of course, it made it in one piece, and I was able to have a gin and tonic in my empty apartment with no furniture. But I kept the bottle... because it was the last.

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Tags: thursday thirteen

Afternoon Update from the 'Triangle of Death'

In case you hadn't heard, this is the oh-so-clever new moniker the Times Picayune has given the slice of the city where something like six people have been murdered in the last three days. It is also where I work.

I am not too freaked out, though I am thinking of changing my shortcut home. I do think it's unfair that armed thugs in a drug war can rob me of my perfectly good shortcut to work. But I also don't want to get hit by stray bullets. I did see three cop cars today on the drive. We have an NOPP guy in the parking lot, too. If we didn't have a parking lot, though, I'd probably quit. Having to walk to my car is just too unsafe. The National Guard is back in New Orleans.

I don't know how I feel about all this. Well, I hate it. I hate that thugs and assholes interfere with legitimate people's lives. I hate that there are actually people protesting the fact that they won't reopen the projects because these are people's "homes" and they are going to move back and squat there. I hate that I pay rent, and people turn to looting and killing because they have this sense of entitlement. I think I'm entitled to a job that pays a person with a B.A. more than they can make part time serving iced teas and fish. I think I'm also entitled to not having stray bullets hit the car I work to pay for. I think it's sad that one of the teenagers in the car that got riddled with bullets in the drive-by tried, according to what his mother told the paper, to register for the N.O. public schools upon returning after Katrina, but was told they couldn't take him. Was it already too late? Was he already a thug? Probably. But...

I think a lot of things.

Tags: new orleans, post-katrina, hurricane katrina, crime, nola

Drivers In the 504 Celebrate the Return of the Erstwhile Stop Sign at Louisiana and Freret

I like to ponder the mysteries of post-K traffic control. The stop sign at Louisiana and Freret reappeared at the end of last week, hopefully putting an end to (I would even settle for reducing slightly) the near-death experiences, with my life flashing before my eyes as vehicles go careening around my little Accent, I have been subjected to on a daily basis.

The story so far: Katrina knocked out the light. There was a stop sign nailed to the telephone pole at the intersection. Then the light came back, as a blinking red. Then it resumed full traffic light functionality (joy! even the blinking turn signal worked!)... only to go blank again last month with the unfortunate burning down of the corner store. They put two of those stop signs on legs in the street, making it once again a four way stop. Then someone stole the stop sign on legs from Louisiana. One might ask, what sort of a person would steal a stop sign on legs from a major intersection with a dead traffic light in the ruins of a post-apocalyptic city? What the hell do you do with a stop sign on legs? Seriously, I used to ask these questions. Then I read in the Times Picayune that people are actually stealing these stop signs to put in their own neighborhoods. Like their little crap dead end street is more important then a major intersection, and they believe they have the right to decide this. Ever since the disappearance of the stop sign, driving to work has been a video-game-like experience.

I mean, if I was going to proceed through an intersection that used to have a light, has always had a light, and clearly has a GIANT DANGLING DEAD LIGHT hanging right over the top of it, I would at least slow down and make a pretense of doing the manuever I like to call the "New Orleans Rolling Stop." I would certainly not plow through at speeds exceeding 30 miles per hour. But I have seen this happen every day since the hijacking of the stop sign.

The best day-- I am not making this up-- was when I drove through on my way to work, and there was a cop car parked on Louisiana Avenue right by the intersection. I thought, "Oh, they must be there so people will quit running that stop sign." No sooner had the thought wafted through the inner coils of my brain than a truck breezed through the intersection at 40 mph, causing me to slam on my brakes. The cop just stared and smoked a cigarette. And it was a real cop, too! Not even one of those empty cars the NOPD has been parking around the city post-K to make it look like there are cops here (I am not making this up either).

Anyway, the stop sign at Louisiana and Freret has returned after several weeks absence. This time they nailed it to the pole. Woe to he who pries it off in the dead of night. Unless his street has a car eating pothole.

Wait! Where's my picture of the car eating pothole? We desperately need a visual! Oh, I found it:

Tags: post-katrina, nola, new orleans

All Right, Spammer

This purported "Peter" who has sent me two e-mails in the past hour claiming to have "pills to cure all your deseases" needs to take a major chill pill. First of all, I have a dad named Peter. I also have an ex named Peter. Neither of them, however, are you. Second of all, I do not have any "deseases" except scoliosis, which cannot be cured by your pills but was taken care of ten years ago by a rather painful surgery in which metal rods were inserted in my back. Thanks for the reminder. Third, I am pretty sure if I was to have any "deseases," they would be "DIS-EASES." Because those are the kind that English majors get.

Thanks. Bye.

Tags: spammers, junk email, rant

Gratuitous Me Photo!

I have a cold right now and have been sneezing all day. How do you think Sarah would feel if people kept trying to photograph her while she was in bed with a cold? I bet she'd give them attitude the way she gave her manager attitude this morning when he called and said, "Surprise! We decided to open an hour early today and inexplicably keep it a secret from the entire staff of employees! Can you come?" Anyway. Admire my fur. It is almost totally grown back, and I look quite sleek. But I shall be brief tonight. I have to go eat a plastic-wrapped straw now. (They ride home from work with Sarah in her apron and they are so crispy.)

YOW, y'all.

Why I'm Not Moving

Last night we were at K-Paul's, having dinner upstairs. There is a loud drunken party two tables over from us. So we're sitting there with our bottle of sauvignon blanc, and the waiter puts my etouffee and Mike's swordfish down in front of us, and all at once a brass band comes up the stairs.

The drunk table leaps up, pops open some parasols from somewhere, waves their napkins in the air, and starts second lining around the dining room. The rest of us have no choice but to stop what we're doing and clap along. It is impossible not to tap your feet. Then the band wraps up their song, disappears down the stairs, and everyone sits back down and goes about their business like nothing happened. This type of thing occurs all the time here.

If you're the kind of person who resents such interruptions to your dinner for two, well, they don't want you in New Orleans!

Tags: new orleans, dining, K-Paul's

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Movie

As you may have noticed, I seem to be incapable of giving "reviews" of books and movies. What I end up with is more or less a series of thoughts deriving from or arising out of something I've seen or read. Not a review, per se, but a contemplation. Hence, this is Not A Review of the movie The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that the reason I didn't see this movie in the theatre was because I heard they committed the unforgivable sin of "straying from the book." But make no mistake, I am a HUGE Hitchhiker fan. I have the five-book omnibus edition. I can quote large portions of the book (and was in fact able to say instantly while watching the movie, "Oh, the narrator is quoting directly from the book here"). I have been bringing the same towel on every vacation trip since I was 12, because everyone knows a real frood doesn't leave the house without his or her towel. Anyway, I saw the movie on Netflix and immediately ordered it.

I didn't think it was nearly as bad as this review thinks. Nor did I think it was as good as it could have been, mostly because it failed to make use of the great dialogue in the books and replaced it with stuff that I thought fell flat. I think a lot of the "Britishness" was lost, and I think it is precisely the British humor and not the plot (there isn't so much of a plot) that makes the books so recklessly good. Adams' writing is really about the language, and the best jokes are page-long asides that don't contribute to the plot. I don't think this necessarily translates well to the screen. I think it could have been done, but in order for it to be done, we would have needed a movie that was more Monty Python than Men in Black. I am not certain the movie would make sense at all to someone who hadn't read the books. There's an awful lot that's not explained, and thus comes across as totally zany and weird, but weird in an "off" way that I don't think would sit well with me as a viewer, though as said, I have the story memorized so we can't know what I would think. I thought Zaphod was uncomfortably, off-puttingly crazy, rather than "ex-hippie rock star alcoholic chill guy" crazy. I didn't have a problem with Mos Def as Ford Prefect exactly, but I think they ought to have done more with his character. I may, however, be biased because Ford Prefect has always been my favorite character.

A Memorable Ford Prefect Moment To Illustrate Why:

"'We are going,' said Slartibartfast, in a slow, measured voice, 'to try to prevent the war robots of Krikkit from regaining the whole of the Key they need to unlock the planet of Krikkit from the Slo-Time envelope and release the rest of their army and their mad Masters.'

'It's just,' said Ford, 'that you mentioned a party.'

'I did,' said Slartibartfast, and hung his head. He realized it had been a mistake, because the idea seemed to exercise a strange and unhealthy fascination on the mind of Ford Prefect. The more Slartibartfast unraveled the dark and tragic story of Krikkit and its people, the more Ford Prefect wanted to drink a lot and dance with girls.

The old man felt that he should not have mentioned the party until he absolutely had to. But there it was, the fact was out, and Ford Prefect had attached himself to it the way an Arcturan Megaleech attaches itself to its victim before biting his head off and making off with his spaceship."

What did I think was kind of awesome? In the books, Adams mentions that the dolphins, the second most intelligent species on Earth, knew of the Earth's impending destruction, and tried to warn the humans. Unfortunately, the humans didn't understand the message, and mistook it for a series of leaps and tricks. The last message from the dolphins, the book says, was in fact, "So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish" (memorably quoted on my high school yearbook page in 1999, among other places). The dolphins "left the Earth by their own means" before the Vogons came, only it never says and I suppose I never speculated what those means were exactly. In the movie, the dolphins perform an elaborate montage with a "So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish" song. And then at the end, hilariously, they leap straight out of the ocean and zip up to the stars (see photo). And it was kind of awesome. (Seriously. Almost awesome enough for me to consider putting that picture on the top of my blog instead of the ocean that's there right now... would that be weird? Like, really weird? I suspect it might.) The jewelled scuttling crab leaping across the surface of the planet Vogsphere going, "Wheee!" was also endearing to me.

But, as Douglas Adams himself wrote, "There's no accounting for taste."

Tags: douglas adams, books, movies, hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy, hhgttg, netflix

Thirteen Books I Love

Eeeeee. Is this an attempt at a top 13? Oh boy. I don't know if this will work. I love too many books. Am I allowed to cheat and count my omnibus volumes? Oh, fine. (Sulk.) I'll just say these are thirteen books (by thirteen authors) I love and have re-read MANY times.

1. Jitterbug Perfume, Tom Robbins

2. The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood

3. The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien

4. The Witching Hour, Anne Rice

5. Mad Ship, Robin Hobb

6. Swallows and Amazons, Arthur Ransome

7. The Awakening, Kate Chopin

8. The Inn at Lake Devine, Elinor Lipman

9. Youth In Revolt, C.D. Payne

10. A Storm of Swords, George R.R. Martin

11. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

12. Dragonflight, Anne McCaffrey

13. Beloved, Toni Morrison

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Tags: thursday thirteen, books

Like Friendster... But With Cats!

Sarah is such a loser. Tonight she discovered that there is a site like Friendster, but for cats. She has spent the last hour putting me on Catster. But really, it works to my advantage. Having a web presence only serves to further my goal of world domination.

Speaking of which, I already dominate this house. I had them on their hands and knees with flashlights trying to locate the mice I'd been hiding under various kitchen appliances. Even the Mean One! They said they were trying to prove some theory about some cat toy black hole or worm hole or something, but really they are just my slaves.

YOW.

Tags: cat, jolee, catster

Top 10 Things I Need, According to Google...

Typing "Sarah needs" into my Google search box produces the following:

Sarah needs... a cold shower. (I think I've had enough of those this year, thanks to Katrina.)
Sarah needs... a Livejournal. (Already have an account, though I don't write in it).
Sarah needs... your help. (Ha.)
Sarah needs... to be hooked up to a respirator in order to survive. (HA!!)
Sarah needs... to feel peaceful, and also needs to feel equal to (or better than) everyone else. (Can't argue.)
Sarah needs... answers. (I majored in philosophy. The only answer is that there are no answers.)
Sarah needs... to surf. (All right dude! Let's go!)
Sarah needs... to blog more. (Doubtful.)
Sarah needs... a student council slogan. (Vote for Me!)
Sarah needs... someone who can escort her from port to port. (Am I a ship? I might like to be a ship.)

Tags: memes, silly, google search

Well, I Voted For Him

Really, my manager needs to warn me before seating Mitch Landrieu and seven of his family members on my table. I don't think that would be too much to ask. As it was, it went something like, "Hi, my name is Sarah, can I start you off with a bev--" wait, is that? Um yeah, definitely is. During the race for mayor, his face was pretty much plastered all over the city. I recognized him right away, of course, and had to stop myself from blurting out, "Well, I voted for you!" 'Cause I think that would have been tacky, especially seeing as the city frustratingly re-elected Nagin in the runoff. But seriously, guys, it is just mean to stick Lieutenant Governors on people's tables without a head's up. Just saying.

And yes, of course they were very nice.

Tags: mitch landrieu, new orleans, new orleans politics, waitressing

Do Not Open This Book

I need to have a sign like that on my diaries from college, or better yet, just duct tape them closed so I can't look. You would think three years would be enough time. You would think I'd be able to deal with that shit by now. Last night I went to look up the lyrics to some song I wanted, which I remembered I'd written down in my summer of '01 book... and it must have planted the idea in my head that the books were there, on the shelf. So of course this morning I couldn't resist picking one up. Just now I peeked at my graduation entries for the first time in, oh, it's probably well over a year.

I swear, I needed to go to the fridge and immediately pound a Blue before I was OK.

I guess there are things you never get over.

Tags: st. lawrence, college, SLU, memories, Labatt Blue

Sweeties

Because I like this picture. :-)

Thirteen Things About My Cat

Well, you knew this one was coming. Also, I posted some banners I made in the previous entry, if anyone wants to check them out!

1. He is a Katrina kitty. At the shelter they called him Mr. Bitey because he chomped a groomer who was trying to shave him.

2. His full name is Jolee Bindo, which is the name of a kooky old Jedi in the Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic game. He has yet to display Jedi powers. He does, however, have an ageless quality to him... but that is only because I don't know how old he is.

3. His cutest thing is when he beeps me. Mike says this is completely dumb, there is no such thing, and I made it up. But he does beep me! I will hold out a finger and he beeps it with his nose. Sometimes he will beep my nose with his nose, when I'm sleeping. Which is actually a little freaky because you wake up to a huge cat face.

4. He has thumbs. No, seriously, he has giant mutant front feet with seven toes. Four of the toes are like a normal cat foot, and three of them stick out on the side like a big thumb on a mitten. I am not counting the dew claw, either. He really has that many toes. He uses them like a tennis serve: he picks up a toy mouse in his teeth and flings it into the air, then he bats it up to six feet with his paws.

5. He waits outside the bathroom for me like a dog. Stretched across the doorway, of course, so when I open the door I fall over him.

6. He has two favorite sitting positions that none of my family cats have ever done. The first one we call "The Pimp Hand," which is when he sits with one paw tucked underneath and one paw stretched out. It's funny because his paws are so huge. The second one is like the pimp hand, but both paws are out, and he crosses his legs and places one paw on top of the other. Very gentlemanly.

7. I really want to know if anyone else's cat does this. After he eats he meows like he's strangling himself. It's sort of a loud gurgling meow. We call it his digestive meow, and it has a very disturbing sound, like he's off dying in the kitchen.

8. He is afraid of the door. I think this is because he had a bad experience outside, and maybe some of the other cats were mean to him. But it works out fine, because there is nothing more stressful than having an unwilling indoor cat. He's also afraid of people who come in the door, and the mail that comes through the slot in the door, and the doorbell, and... you get the idea. Actually, he's easily startled by anyone who is not me.

9. He is a seal-point Himalayan, more or less. He has blue eyes. His face is more Siamese than Persian, though, a little pointy, and he does not have a pushed-in nose. He has a regular cat nose, which makes me think (along with some funky spots he has on his back) that he has some regular cat mixed in.

10. He loves to watch birdies. His mouth twitches when he watches them, and he growls. It's so funny to watch him watch birds.

11. He likes to lick my toes, especially when I come home from work and they are sweaty. This is a totally disgusting habit, and I try to tell him it's gross. But he likes to lick my toes.

12. Recently he has started to hang out in the bathroom. Yesterday I caught him there twice, once in the bathtub and once drinking out of the toilet. I don't know why he wants the toilet water when he doesn't touch the nice Brita water in his dish, but oh well. I really don't know why he wants to be in the bathtub, especially since it gets his paws wet and he just goes around angry and shaking them.

13. If I had to describe him in two words, they would be "talkative" and "bouncy." He bounces from the couch to the bed to the top of the couch like a rubber ball. Sometimes he'll jump onto the bed, and bounce right off the other side. He goes "yow yow yow" constantly, except when sleeping or reclining. Sometimes his meow sounds like a dog, like he's saying, "Rrrrrrroof!" If I call "Joleeeeeeeee," he will come bounding: "yow yow yow!" Sigh. My kitty loves me. And I love my kitty.

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Tags: Thursday thirteen, jolee

Thursday Thirteen Banners - Free! Free!

So you know me, I like to fiddle around with graphics and personalize everything. I think I am at Week #6 or 7 of doing the Thursday Thirteen, and it's cool to see what other people's blogs look like. I promise to NOT be ridiculously busy tomorrow and visit more blogs than I was able to visit last week. Anyway, I got in a playful mood and ended up throwing together a bunch of Thursday Thirteen banners yesterday. They're up for grabs, if anyone is interested. Here's a sample:


You don't have to pretend to like my geeky Star Wars ones, but you'll have to pardon me if I think my Boba Fett banner is the abso-freakin-coolest thing ever.

Tags: graphics, thursday thirteen

Stretching Out Like the Cat

Dragged myself in to work this morning, only to find there were eight people on the schedule for lunch. For a Tuesday, it should be more like five if anyone expects to make money. Since it was my birthday, they asked me first if I wanted to go home. Whoo! Let me think about that one... It is nice to have a job where some days they're just like, "Ehhh, we don't need you. Go home." I already picked up an extra shift this week, so the money isn't a big deal. It's sort of confusing to have this transient haphazard schedule... if you were a person who set a lot of store by plans, or who had a lot going on, this would probably not be the job for you. For example this week, spur of the moment, I worked Sunday lunch instead of Wednesday dinner, and next Sunday dinner instead of Tuesday lunch. You have to be flexible.

So now I am flexibly heading outside to bask in the sun. And getting some writing done. We think we might go to Emeril's tonight. Not sure yet. It's a Tuesday in the summer season, so we didn't make a reservation. We'll probably just be able to walk into any restaurant and get a table. Happy Birthday to me!

Tags: waitressing, birthday

Custom Star Wars T-Shirts

I tell you, I am drooling all over this in a way that only a true nerd can. There is this little voice in my head saying, "Whatever! Whatever! It's my birthday!" (This might have been a good argument before I ordered a Vienna Teng CD and Firefly on DVD from Amazon. For... myself.)

Tags: star wars, geekdom, merchandise

Da Kitty is So Stretchy!

Mike: I am only telling you this because I love you, even though I don't want to indulge your ridiculousness. But the cat is doing something really cute right now.
Sarah: WHERE? (gets camera)

Hee. He's all stretchied. Hee hee.

Tags: cat, jolee

Will the World End on my Birthday?

Disturbingly, my brother sends me the following link indicating that the odds have been set at 10 to 1. He proceeds to say happy birthday in the email, "in case I don't get a chance to tomorrow (not because I forgot, but because the world is gone)."

Honestly, people, it is just mean to have an apocalypse on people's BIRTHDAYS. Just plain mean.

Tags: apocalypse, birthday, june 6th

The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife

Last month when I was writing that paper on young adult fantasy, I used this series as one of my examples. However, I hadn't read it through in its entirety in a couple of years. On Friday I picked it up, and am through books one and two. (I'm a fast reader.) I remembered that, like Harry Potter, this is one of those young adult series that Christians love to bad mouth. Couldn't really recall why... Right. It seems we have Dust, or Dark Matter, which has started to increase in the sky and seems to be drawn to humans. And a character who is out to destroy it at its source because he believes it is original sin manifested in particle form. By the end of The Subtle Knife, this is turning into a war on The Authority, who we can assume is God himself.

The interesting bit about all this, of course, is that the adults are for the most part evil and greedy. The Church is doing vicious experiments on children (essentially, cutting out their souls to see if this eliminates original sin, but it's more complicated than that in the book). Lyra, our child protagonist, decides that if all these bad people think the Dust is a bad thing, then it must really be a good thing. This is where our American churchgoers have their problem, I expect: A) the suggestion that original sin is part of what makes us human (though it's beginning to appear as if this theory of Dust is going to turn out to be wrong, so this might be a premature conclusion), and B) the fact that the Church is the bad guy in this whole scenario. Oh, well, I suppose we can add the war against God. I'll have to read the third book again, though. At this point, we really don't know anything about The Authority. We as readers can't make our decision yet as to whose side we should be on. There are many fascinating ideas being kicked around here, and I think it's a shame that some Christian parents think it's a bad thing if their children are exposed to ideas.

I love the idea of parallel worlds in this work. It becomes apparent that Lyra's England is not our England. It seems to be about one hundred years behind ours, for one thing. They have electric streetcars but no automobiles. Texas won its independence and is a country there. Certain geographic names are just barely close enough for the reader to guess what they might be, yet "off" enough for us to know this isn't exactly the same place. From what I can tell, though, Will's England, which is introduced in The Subtle Knife, is meant to be our world. The part that gives you a shiver is when Lyra is at Will's Oxford and sees "S.P." carved into the same stone in the same place as in her Oxford. It makes you wonder, if there are parallel universes, where exactly might they diverge? Is there a "me" in another universe? Is there a "you?"

Tags: books, fantasy, philip pullman

Thirteen Pet Peeves of Mine

1. Men in sleeveless shirts. I was shocked by how many men on my flights last weekend were dressed like this. On planes! With their meaty arms and their bushy armpit hair just... out there! I saw them get on the plane and shuddered. I knew for certain that if one of them sat next to me I would start twitching and spontaneously die from the grossness. I just knew.

2. Chat speak. "Ur" and "rly" are NOT LONG WORDS. Do not abbreviate in this ass-backwards fashion![!!!!11111!!!] To IM with some people, I swear it's like you need to understand another language. Oh, and "teh" as internet slang typed that way on purpose. It makes me want to combust.

3. Nigerian scammers. These people send me lots of e-mail. Sometimes I get mad and reply. In fact, here is an awesome link. It's a site that gives instructions on how to scam the scammers at their own game.

4. Guys who post pictures of themselves leaning on their car at Craigslist or on internet dating sites. When will someone tell them this does not attract women, and is almost surely a sign of compensating for a small penis?

5. Girls who wear clothing that is too little. I am a little girl. But even I have tried on items of clothing that give me, let us say, bulges in unsightly places. Whatever, we all have curves. When this happens, I do what I used to assume was the normal thing and a) wear a shirt that comes down over the unsightly area, or b) don't wear the item out of the house. Tulane undergrads in particular seem to have this assumption that everyone on the street wants to see their flesh. We do not. Do us all a favor and confine those teeny clothes to where they belong: the bar.

6. "Your" and "you're." I am getting certified in Middle School Language Arts so as to drill grammar into the heads of the next generation.

7. Oh, fine. While we're at it, "their" and "they're."

8. When random people try to talk to me on the street or in bars, and then get offended and yell at me when I ignore them. OK, if I do not know you, it is my prerogative to decide whether I acknowledge you or not. This happens in New Orleans a lot, or it used to when there were more people wandering about before Katrina. I once had a guy follow me around the Quarter and repeatedly harass me for change while I was on the phone with my mom. I finally had to go into a hotel lobby. What made you think I was more likely to give you change after you pissed me off? This goes for men in bars, too. Maybe I'm old-fashioned and I long for the days of Victorianism where you couldn't talk to someone unless you were properly "introduced." (I love how I lump obnoxious guys in bars into the same category as homeless people.)

9. Being touched by people I don't know very well. I know some people are naturally more touchy-feely than others, but they need to consider that they might be making others uncomfortable.

10. When people use words that aren't words. Like "irregardless."

11. Referring to people as having their collars "popped." There is nothing wrong with wearing your collar up. It has a long and glorious history (well, OK, it has the 80's). On occasion even I have worn the collar of my shirt up, in the grand St. Lawrence tradition... Until it became trendy to call this "popping your collar." This phrase is the cause of inexplicable rage in me, and really, I've never been able to wear my collar up since. Because it sounds SO STUPID.

12. When they don't have enough baggers at the Winn Dixie, and you have to bag your own groceries. This in itself is not a problem. It's not as if I think I'm too good to bag my own groceries. What kills me is when the cashier gives me dirty looks because my bagging isn't keeping up with her scanning. So sue me if I do not bag groceries for a living and am also somewhat of a klutz. If your store is too cheap to hire more people, then you will just have to wait POLITELY while I bag at my own pace. And refrain from the dirty looks.

13. Poor customer service. I really don't know why I bother to live in New Orleans if this bothers me. This is a city famous for its impeccable standards in the hospitality industry... but you will pretty much get the dregs of the earth anywhere outside a restaurant. Like last Friday I went to Rite Aid and came up to the counter with one bottle of nail polish. I was the only one in line and the girl was on the phone. Instead of hanging UP the phone, she rings my nail polish while continuing to chat, then goes, "$2.30." So I hand her $2.30. She takes the money. Then she stares at me. Finally she says (still on the phone), "It's three dollars and fifteen cents. You gave me two dollars and thirty cents." I said, "I'm sorry, I thought you said $2.30." By this time there was a woman behind me, who chimes in, "I heard $2.30 too." Come to realize she was TELLING HER FRIEND ON THE PHONE THAT SHE GOT OFF WORK AT 2:30. Speechless.

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Tags: thursday thirteen

Nike French Canadian Goalie Ad

NHL playoff season makes me nostalgic. This morning I was thinking about my favorite ad of the 90's (OK, perhaps ever): the one with the crazy ex-goalie cab driver. I couldn't remember exactly how it went. Then, of course, you get to wondering if things were really as funny as you remember them being. Luckily, today we have the internet for our instant gratification.



Nope, still freakin' hilarious.

Tags: nike, commercials, NHL, goalie ad