I should have posted this last week, but Thanksgiving kind of got in the way. I present to you the Christian Side Hug rap. This is not a joke. I promise.
I personally have huge problems with side hugs. They seem so insincere. So if you hug me, make it a full frontal. How naughty!
On my walk to the metro this morning, I spotted a tall, slighty scruffy-faced boy wearing low-top Chucks with nice work pants and pulling it off. I decided right then and there that I wanted to marry him, so I gave him a good stare, just so he knew. Then — in my head, obviously — I had a conversation with him about what music we were both listening to. Do you ever do that? Imagine someone striking up a conversation about what you’re listening to? I do it a lot, and my hypothetical level of coolness fluctuates wildly from day to day. Some days I’m all “Ooh, I HOPE someone asks me today so I can tell them I’m listening to Cloud Cult, which means I’m alternative and cool.” Other days, I think I should probably be ready to scroll back a few songs in case someone pops the question. “Taylor Swift, haha, silly iTunes Shuffle. What was before that? Oh, Coldplay, um, and before that? ‘Aaron’s Party (Come Get It)’? Where did that come from??*” And then I’d awkwardly laugh and walk away.
Not that anyone’s ever actually stopped and asked me what I’m listening to. Sigh.
In other news, on Monday I went out to happy hour and realized that I left my ID at work. The waiter was being strict but luckily, I only lived two blocks away and was able to run home (bitterly, of course) to get my passport. This morning I found my ID buried in the pocket in my wallet where it’s supposed to be, juuust deep enough that it looked like the pocket was empty. Son of a bitch.
Also. You know how when you were little, you were told that if you put the plastic rings that hold pop cans (or “soda” cans, as the kids say) together directly into the trash/recycle bin, the dolphins would strangle themselves in the holes and die? Is that true? Because I totally still cut every individual hole and think about all the dolphins I’m saving.
*I’m kidding here, of course. If I ever found a man who loved “Aaron’s Party” as much as I do, I’d propose on the spot.
Don't bother sending compliments. I already know I'm a phenomenal artist.
Wanna hear some random thoughts I have? Great!
A good way to pace yourself when eating is to eat something that’s both absurdly spicy and absurdly (temperature) hot. It’s also a good way to make your mouth hurt like shit.
So remember the overpriced umbrella I bought from Anthropologie because I didn’t have a functioning one and I was having a bad day and dammit I needed a cute umbrella? Well, yeah, I lost that one in a bar the day after I bought it. I bought ANOTHER cute, overpriced umbrella from The Gap the other day and after three days of use, I left it in a cab. And today I discovered that I lost my water bottle somewhere between all of the millions of places I went on Tuesday. Now, these are all small things in the grand scheme of things, but REALLY? Is it REALLY necessary for me to lose 140 things in a row? No one likes to lose things, but when I lose something it stresses me out to the point that I can’t think about anything else until 1) I cain’t think about it no mo’ or 2) I replace the thing I bought. But see, I can’t buy another umbrella, because then I will just lose it. (And no, the DC Cab Commission has not found my umbrella, nor has anyone on Craigslist. What are these services FOR, if not helping me find my umbrella?!!)
Today as I was leaving swim practice and feeling all tired and parched because I didn’t have any water to drink because I lost my water bottle, I was talking on the phone with ex-roomie Miss Potter. Then a gust of wind blew by and flipped my umbrella (the cheap plain-colored one that I have to use in emergencies) inside out. I was carrying a large bag and attempting to hold my cell phone to my ear and the wind was still blowing, so flipping the umbrella back to its natural state was proving, er, difficult. And then — AND THEN — a kind stranger (probably a drunk college boy) flipped it back for me! How nice was that? I mean, okay, maybe he’s not Mother Teresa, but that made me rull happy. There are good people in the world. I just wish one of those good people would find my umbrella. And my water bottle. Sigh.
Officemate E.Lee’s boyfriend is officiating his best friend’s wedding this weekend, and he is going to read his favorite poem at the wedding. This is the poem, and I lurve it:
Poem to Old Friends Who Have Never Met
When I’m not wishing I could find a unicorn
I wish all our old friends knew each other
The very least they deserve
is the pleasure of each other’s company
We’d go down by the river
and the rocks would hum
with this rich collection of men & women
They would look around and see themselves
no longer isolated
no longer points in the darkness pointing nowhere
but as links in a magnificent chain of
impossible flowers
girdling the world and their talk
(they are all talkers)
would burst like spray in the sunlight
and I would smile
saying nothing
with a bottle of beer in my hand
and a small white bird banging in my heart
By Peter Meinke
From The Contracted World (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2006)
That’s enough random thoughts for now. I know I missed the Veterans Day Google Holiday yesterday (and all of the Sesame Street ones after the Big Bird one), but yay for all of those!
I’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to watch a movie more than once (in my lifetime), unless Ireally like it. Movies that I’ve actually watched and enjoyed multiple times include Good Will Hunting, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Lizzie McGuire Movie…you know, the classics. Then this one time, back over a winter break in college when all I had to do was lie on my couch at home and get yelled at for eating too many pretzels (as opposed to now, when I go home for winter break and get yelled at for eating too many pretzels AND using too much profanity on my blog), I rented a movie called Once. I probably intended to watch it with my mom, and she probably fell asleep reading a magazine four minutes into the credits. The next day, when everyone was “at work,” and I was, you know, “figuring out what I wanted to do with my life,” I watched Once. And then I watched it again. And then I watched it a third time, this time with actor commentary.
As someone who doesn’t like to watch movies more than once, this was HUGE. I mean I watched the thing three times in a row! And it’s sort of kind of a musical, which is even huger because I almost always hate musicals! I promptly emailed all of my friends and insisted that they see this movie immediately.
Long story short, I really love Once, and the movie made me love Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. Tonight, I finally got to see them in concert, and they were spectacular, which is to say that both the performance and Glen’s beard were top notch. I mean, who doesn’t love a great ginger beard?
Exactly.
Anyway, tonight was lovely and I got to dress like a faux hipster (though SOME of my friends claim that maybe I looked like a full hipster, if one were to assume that my flowery J.Crew headband was ironic) and you guys should listen to this, because they played it well tonight:
To quote the Clancy Brothers, goodnight and joy be with you all.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, because of interviews like this, but I’m in love with the new John Mayer single. I even like the video, and find it strangely depressing and authentic-seeming:
I’ve been a big T-Pain fan for awhile (it has more to do with the fact that I am amazed at how he is featured in EVERY rap song and less about the music) and have recently become obsessed with the program Auto-tune, which he made famous and the Auto-tune the News guys made even better. It’s hilarious. I was going to write about it myself, but then stumbled across a clip of Ellen talking about it, and let’s face it– she’s funnier.
Happy Tuesday that feels like a Monday! Also, I’d like to give a bloggy birthday shout out to our recently-returned-from-Korea-practically-Korean correspondent, Alicia. Happy birfday, bebe!
My lovely little sister sent this video to me last night. The whole flash mob thing hasn’t gotten old, and I loved this one like I’ve loved the rest of them:
It should come as no surprise to you that this video made me cry. Maybe it’s because everything makes me cry, or because I’m going to Chicago in two weeks (!!!!). Probably just because everything makes me cry. Happy Sunday, folks!
“Patrick Swayze passed away peacefully today with family at his side after facing the challenges of his illness for the last 20 months,” said a statement released Monday evening by his publicist, Annett Wolf. No other details were given.
Accounts show that Swayze was optimistic and maintained as normal of a life as possible while he was sick, though he recognized what he was up against:
Swayze said he opted not to use painkilling drugs while making “The Beast” because they would have taken the edge off his performance. He acknowledged that time might be running out given the grim nature of the disease.
When he first went public with the illness, some reports gave him only weeks to live, but his doctor said his situation was “considerably more optimistic” than that.
“I’d say five years is pretty wishful thinking,” Swayze told ABC’s Barbara Walters in early 2009. “Two years seems likely if you’re going to believe statistics. I want to last until they find a cure, which means I’d better get a fire under it.”
You’ll be missed, Mr. Swayze. Thanks for everything, but especially for this:
I don’t know about you guys, but I plan to honor Patrick Swayze’s life by having “Time of My Life” stuck in my head for the next month or so. 2:28 and on…ICONIC. What a scene.