The following gchat message is representative of many angry messages we’ve been receiving lately:
Mouse: your blog is ruining my life
i knowww you’re busy with like school and finals and those ridiculous things, but i like check it every 10 mins thinking that it’s magically going to have new thigs to entertain me with and all i see is whatever animal that is, AND Dooce and Caroline have been slacking too… am i being forced to actually do work by the blogosphere?
The answer, dear Mouser, is probably YES. But I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize, and tell all of you, dear readers, that it might be like this for the next week or so. You see, in grad school they want us to do things like “write papers” and “take finals.” These silly things take up a lot of time, and I am sorry for my bloggy absence. I’ll do the best I can.
I will never pretend that I actually pay attention to football, but I am biologically required to care about the annual CU/Nebraska game. This year’s was just devastating for real CU fans, and me.
I know he died a while ago, but I was just reading a People magazine commemorative issue about Paul Newman, and I was reminded of how freaking awesome he was. I’m certainly thankful for him on this Thanksgiving weekend. Kathleen already posted a bunch of wonderful photos of him a right after his death, but let’s look at a few more:
Paul and Joanne were simply perfect:
And this quote is what prompted me to write this post:
We are such spendthrifts with our lives. The trick of living is to slip on and off the planet with the least fuss you can muster. I’m not running for sainthood. I just happen to think that in life we need to be a little like the farmer, who puts back into the soil what he takes out.
You end a sentence/phrase with a preposition, your AP English teacher has a heart attack. You arrange a sentence/phrase so that it doesn’t end in a preposition, you sound like an elitist douche. When given the choice, I’ll obviously go for the latter.
Anyway, seeing that Madeline (the “guest” slash obviously permanent blogger) has beat me to breaking our dry spell, I was overwhelmed with Catholic guilt. Friends, it’s not that I haven’t wanted to blog in the past few days. I really have. It’s just that I’ve been too overwhelmed with work, to the point that blogging would have caused me even more Catholic guilt. So I cut my losses.
Now that I’m home on break, I have a little more time on my hands. In light of the upcoming holiday o’ food, I’ve decided to share a random list of some things for which I am thankful. In no particular order…
1. Stovetop stuffing. And while we’re at it, the cranberry sauce that looks like the can in which it came (now I’m super paranoid about the preposition thing, dammit). We’re not exactly fancy in my family.
2. Michael Franti. I saw him for the first time back in July, and I fell further in love with him when I saw him at the 9:30 Club in DC last Wednesday. Even if you think you wouldn’t like his music, I’d encourage you to go to one of his concerts. He has an amazing ability to put on the BEST SHOW EVER. His energy is just unbelievable. It didn’t hurt that he made me laugh, made me cry, and made me chant “Barack Obama” all in the span of three hours. And perhaps most impressively, Mr. Franti makes me feel like I’m a good dancer, even when I’m sober (!!!). Take a look at my favorite song off of his newest album:
If you don’t like that song, you should probably just give up on life. You clearly don’t have a soul.
3. While we’re thinking about him, Barack Obama. And Michelle, Malia, and Sasha. Also Joe and Jill Biden.
4. That my finger didn’t entirely fall off today at the nail salon. The entire story would call for a blog post in itself, but I’ll just say that it involved a bloody electric buffer, a sadistic manicurist, and sanitation standards that would have made a cockroach shudder.
5. My ability to entertain myself. My friend Rachel thinks that I could have my own reality show because of the embarrassing shit I do in the privacy of my own space. I’m not sure I agree with her (although, hey, people do watch The Real Housewives of Atlanta), but I am grateful for this skill of mine. The other day, for instance, I caught myself singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Out loud. In a British accent. Riiiight.
6. That I’m not pregnant.
7. That I’m not morbidly obese. (I honestly think about this on a daily basis.)
8. Goat cheese, breakfast sandwiches, salsa, bourbon, etc. etc.
14. The fact that I can make this ridiculous list, because it means that all of the important stuff (health of friends, family, etc.) are already there.
Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz had a beautiful, healthy baby boy. And they named him Bronx Mowgli. Yeah, that Mowgli. I’m all for creative names, but I think parents should consider the mockery factor. Ashlee and Pete didn’t seem to do that. Maybe Ashlee is displacing her anger about the misspelling of her own name onto her infant son.
Our Southern belle correspondent tipped us off to this wonderful story, and with the help of Marie Claire UK, we came up with a fun game. You know how you can make up your own porn name or soap opera star name? Well, now you can also make up your own Ashlee Simpson baby name. Here’s the formula:
[One slightly shitty U.S. city + One cartoon animal name]
Here are some examples:
Harlem Tarzan
Compton Simba
Watts Baloo
Scranton Shrek
Our fun new game will sweep the nation. Tell us your favorites in the jump.
UPDATE: FINE, due to some complaints from our favorite readers, let’s change this up a bit:
[One location in the U.S. + One cartoon animal name]
I’m sorry people. I know it’s about time that I stopped ragging on Sarah Palin (not necessarily because she doesn’t deserve it, but because it’s just not worth it anymore), but this video is simply too bizarre to not post. The following footage took place after Palin ceremonially pardoned a turkey. Please note the captions:
Every single caption in that video is priceless. I love that whatever intern was in charge of them seemed to just say, “Aw, fuck it. I’m going for broke.” My favorite caption, of course, is this six-worded gem:
EDGERTON, Wis. — When a 15-year-old comes into Wile-e’s bar looking for a cold beer, the bartender, Mike Whaley, is happy to serve it up — as long as a parent is there to give permission.
“If they’re 15, 16, 17, it’s fine if they want to sit down and have a few beers,” said Mr. Whaley, who owns the tavern in this small town in southern Wisconsin.
While it might raise some eyebrows in most of America, it is perfectly legal in Wisconsin. Minors can drink alcohol in a bar or restaurant in Wisconsin if they are accompanied by a parent or legal guardian who gives consent. While there is no state law setting a minimum age, bartenders can use their discretion in deciding whom to serve.
Thanks to Katie, our fake hippie correspondent, for the tip. Interesting article.
Let’s talk about things that make us happy. Like any normal human, I love things like breakfast sandwiches and spooning and compliments and not wearing pants. Not necessarily all at the same time. (Although, now that I think about it…that would be REALLY great.) I also love when the exact thing you need to happen happens. Like you were craving an episode of Project Runway and there’s a marathon on. Or you’re running late and need the bus to be there, and it is.
Three of these great things happened to me today. First, I was sitting at my desk after staring at my computer screen (and being productive, actually) for hours, and I thought to myself, “I’m hungry. I should call Jill. Maybe she will eat with me.” And AT THAT EXACT MOMENT Jill called and offered to take me out for Thai food. No joke. Then I got to eat green curry, which I would consider bathing in if that wouldn’t be such a waste of delicious curry.
After lunch, I went back to work for a few hours and then headed to class. As I walked, I was thinking “I’m hungry again. I would like something made of chocolate.” AND THEN MY FRIEND MEG HAD BAKED BROWNIES FOR CLASS.
After class, I went to a meeting (where there was free pizza, huzzah!). I was dreading walking to the bus stop in the freezing cold, and my friend Ruth was all, “Hey, you headed home?” I assumed she wanted to walk with me. BUT THEN SHE OFFERED ME A RIDE. IN HER CAR.
I know, I know. Your head is spinning. But sometimes, it really is the little things. A lot of little things can make for one happy day.
Since Kathleen is wearing a backpack in Peru, and Madeline is writing all of the funny articles, maybe I will just start to post the YouTube videos. (Except I never really knew where Kathleen found all the YouTube videos, and although I love to procrastinate, I am above trolling around my inexplicably Spanish version of YouTube for good videos that you clowns can watch. Sorry.)
Obviously I found this on Dooce. (If you’ve been reading long enough, you’ll know that Dooce, Wonkette, and the New York Times are my only sources.) Enjoy:
I legitimately laughed for all two minutes and 29 seconds of that video the first time I watched it, and I hope you did too.
I told you that I’ve been been unusually obsessed with Paul Simon these days. Part of this is because of “The Obvious Child.” That song is so FREAKING good. I just want to get up and dance like a fool whenever I hear it. This makes for some awkward bus rides, as I occasionally find myself shimmying my shoulders to the beat and maybe mouthing the words a little bit. At least I know how to entertain myself. And that Paul Simon, he sure knows how to entertain YOU:
I realized after watching that video that I didn’t really know what Paul looks like. Google Image changed all that. I especially like this photo, because I, too, have a furry hood thing attached to one of my vests. It’s like Paul and I are soulmates:
Speaking of shimmying your shoulders to the beat, Beyonce is mesmerizing in the “Single Ladies” video:
I would sell an internal organ or two on the black market to be able to dance like that. Unfortunately, things like the small intestine and the liver seem to be kind of important. I guess I’ll have to stick to my classic unabashedly awkward style of jumping up and down and calling it dancing.
six words to change the world. 