the ocean

News & Notes

Apparently they opened a new Menard's in Quincy. I know this because my mother narrated their trip to the Menard's to me in breathless detail on the phone last night. Apparently they sell food there in addition to home improvement supplies. Nothing gets me hungry like a stack of two by fours. My parents are talking about remodeling, as indeed they have been for about as long as I've known them. And now that they have three home improvement stores as opposed to two, I feel like it can finally happen.

I'm contemplating cheating on my hairstylist. He does a good job, but he's all booked up for like the next two weeks and I want a haircut now. I'm seriously thinking about going to the Great Clips. I'll just end up feeling cheap and dirty afterwards, though. Once they actually gave me a scalp massage there. It was the closest I ever hope to be to a happy ending.

The weather's supposed to be really nice here for the next few days. Not that it matters that much when you spend your whole day at a desk merely staring at the pleasant outdoors, but maybe I'll walk out and get a Coke or something. Or wear a crop top for the day. Nothing says "may it please the court" quite like it.

File Under "Help, Cries For"

So I did sort of forget about this thing for a while. You'll have to forgive me (if in fact there are any of "you" left to do some forgiving); I've been working a lot and not quite in my right mind. As evidence of this, I offer the fact that I found myself very much enjoying the "Wicked" soundtrack my sister left in the car today. Also last night I watched a clip of Kelly Clarkson singing the "Reba" theme song with Reba and the actress who plays Barbara Jean. So clearly I am not well.

I guess the really big news this week is that I finally figured out how to hook my Wii up to the Internet. Not that it really took that much "figuring out," but hey, I'm kind of stupid, and it took me about six months to actually get around to it. Mainly this has given me the opportunity to buy more Nintendo products online, which I have so far declined. It has also allowed me to deepen by addiction to MarioKart through participation in tournaments with people in Japan and Indonesia. Again, I have serious problems.

Isn't it just the greatest feeling when you're getting ready to go back to work on a Monday and you realize you sort of never left?

Club Wed

This is going to be the most wedding heavy year I've had in a long time. I've got two in May, one in June, one in August, and one in October, plus an engagement party in April. Some of them are in the area, thank God, but I've also got (super expensive) New York, (murder-rich) Baltimore, and (Northern) Minnesota in the mix. So add in the travel and at the end of this we're definitely talking an investment of thousands, not hundreds. I'm telling you, these friends had better not just immediately get pregnant and start ignoring all their friends once this is over, or there is going to be trouble. To the extent that silent resentment can fairly be termed trouble.

Fortunately, I don't have to do anything in any of these weddings, that I know of. God knows I have rocked some Love is Patient, Love is Kind in my day, but I really need to save my voice for trying to talk over the other members of my condo association. And as much as I would love to belt out a little Sunrise, Sunset, I do think there are others more qualified than I to tug at people's various heart strings. Frankly, I'm not even sure where on the heart the strings are located.

I'm also pleased to note that there will be ample alcohol at each of these events, thereby ensuring that someone will do something ridiculous and hilarious. Hopefully not any of the brides, but you never can tell.

Liveblogging Today's Edition of Parade Magazine

"Personality Parade" -- Apparently, this section is designed to show just how out of touch with reality the average reader of Parade Magazine is. First, we have a letter from someone who heard the song "Hallelujah" for the very first time ever when K.D. Lang sang it at the Olympics. I am guessing this person would also be very surprised to find out K.D. is a lesbian. Then we have a reader who wants to know why "The Wizard of Oz" hasn't ever been remade. You have to admire Parade Magazine's restraint in not just firebombing this person's house. Instead they just try to work in some product placement for Zooey Deschanel's new album. Another letter is from someone who wants to know if W.C. Fields disliked children as much as the characters he played on screen seemed to, because the hottest gossip is always that which took place seventy years ago. Parade responds by quoting Fields' own son as saying essentially that his dad was an asshole, so I guess that clears that one up. Finally, I have to give a shout out to the person who wrote a letter because he was dying to find out more about the lady from the Progressive Insurance commercials. This person is clearly disturbed. Luckily, Parade does not view it as part of its mandate to discourage stalking.

Miley Cyrus cover story -- What do we learn about Miley? Besides the fact that she has the world's largest face? Well, she hates being thought of as a product, although it turns out she's still happy to take your money. She's working on a new album, which should be out roughly around the time "Party in the U.S.A." finally gets out of your head. Oh, and she's in love for the first time! With her co-star from her upcoming movie -- what are the chances?!?!

"Ask Marilyn" -- It remains very difficult to believe that the "world's smartest person" works for Parade Magazine. This week, as every week, someone sends her some ridiculous logic puzzle and she manages to somehow seem smug solving it in the space of no more than four column inches.

Recipes -- I'm pretty sure that you can get diabetes just by reading the recipes in Parade Magazine.

Safety stories -- We have two different columns about whether things are safe, namely 1) cell phones and 2) school buses. Apparently the readers of Parade Magazine live in constant fear. What they really should be afraid of, though, is their sudden interest in K.D. Lang. I bet she'd just love to try to turn some bored housewife from Des Moines.

Spring Break Madness

Eventful times here. I have been to see my grandmother twice, and can happily report that she is doing much better. She is getting in and out of bed all by herself (which is frankly often a struggle for me) and has a rotating staff of stout single mothers to come in and make her breakfast in the morning while she complains about our contemporary lack of values. She is back on an unhealthy diet of CNN and As the World Turns, and even made a few uncomfortable remarks about sex today. In short, she seems quite happy.

I also got a nice run in yesterday, as it was nearly 70 degrees out here. I tried to take the dogs with me, but it turns out they're not so much for running after the first half mile or so. Rather than turn the whole thing into a dragging exercise, I passed them off to my sister, but not before they had managed to wrap me in their leashes and thereby give me rope burns in some very unusual places. But still, I was wearing shorts in March.

We also watched The Informant!, which was okay. I'm all for Matt Damon being fat and having a moustache, but I probably could have used a little bit more rising action. It was fantastic to see the sights and sounds of Decatur, Illinois again, though. If only they were able to convey the smell of soy through the DVD player.

Training Day

I took the Amtrak from Chicago to Quincy last night, something I like to do once a year or so to remind myself of why destroying the Earth with a cross-state Corolla trip is really the lesser of two evils. Really, I am amazed by how irritated it is possible to become in the scope of a mere four and a half hours. I guess part of it is that they start early, because the dining car opens the minute the train leaves the station, which leads to mass hysteria in the aisles as people tromp there and back with their nachos and soft pretzels and cheese sticks in hand. Apparently, luxuriating in the goodness of partially-defrosted chicken strips is an essential part of the travel experience for much of central Illinois.

Of course, there's also the stale wit of fellow passengers to enjoy. Now I had prepared for this by completely covering the empty seat next to me with my belongings and putting in my headphones, but unfortunately I had only loaded enough music to last me a couple of hours, so I ended up unable to accomplish a full drown-out. So I got to enjoy stirring dialogue like "Jessica, stop hitting him" and "I'm on the train, bro. No, I'm on the train. The train." The highlight, though, had to be when the lady sitting behind me breathlessly narrated Us Weekly's coverage of the Oscars for her seatmate:

Do you like Sarah Jessica Parker's dress? Because I liked it. I know they really gave her a hard time for it, but I really liked it. They said it was ill fitting, but I didn't think it was ill fitting. What about Sandra Bullock? I really like her. Did you hear about her husband? I can't believe that. Why would you do that to Sandra Bullock? At least she looked pretty. I really like her lipstick. I want to get some lipstick like that. Should we see that war movie? That Iraq War movie? They said it was good and all but Cheryl said she didn't like it. I don't want to go if I'm going to be all bored by it.

And it went on like that. And I suddenly understood why Anna Karenina threw herself under the train.

Homecomings

So I'm going to Quincy this coming weekend to see my 98-year-old grandmother, who has at long last been released from the nursing home! I was of course suspicious at first that there had been some sort of jailbreak, but I have it on good authority that this is legit. I'm guessing they finally got tired of hearing about how terrible the food was. I know she was certainly tired of asking for permission to use the bathroom. And I was tired of having to cover myself in hand sanitizer both coming and going. So I think this works out for everyone!

My mother tells me that my grandmother began cleaning wildly as soon as she got home, which shows that she's feeling much more like herself. She has gotten quite handy with her little wheely-walker, which has a basket on the front that she can carry things in. If it were up to me, I'd get her some streamers for the handlebars, too, but it appears that it is definitely not up to me. I have to admit that I'm a bit concerned that she won't be able to get caught up on The Young and the Restless after so many months away, but I figure nothing ever really happens on the soaps, anyway, right? I can keep up with Days of Our Lives on a twice a year basis, so I think she'll be okay.

I'm headed out by train Thursday night, which is usually an experience in and of itself. I'm thinking there's a 90% chance of awkward small talk.

The Luck of the Irish

As you may know, I'm not generally the biggest fan of St. Patrick's Day. Of course, when I refer to "St. Patrick's Day," I mean the Saturday before when everyone gets hammered, not the actual St. Patrick's Day. I have nothing against Irish people who hate snakes. But anyway, I tend to think of fake St. Patrick's Day as amateur hour for drinkers, and may even have referred to it that way on this blog before, although I'm too lazy to check. Regardless, there are generally just way too many people vomiting in my shrubs on fake St. Patrick's Day.

But this year it was perfectly fine, mainly because I did a little drinking of my own. I also saw some Irish dancing, which was kind of disturbing, because apparently it involves little girls being made up like whores. Oh, and there were balloon animals for some reason -- a somewhat creepy man was making all kinds of wonderful things at the bar, and I convinced him to make a vampire bat hat. It was very unique, you see, as generally he'll make vampire bats and hats, but the two do not meet. I'm just relieved he took my special order, even if it did cost me $3.

Also, I had a Frito chili pie. Not that that has anything to do with St. Patrick's Day. It was just kind of delicious, though also probably deadly in the long run.

Bookin' It

Is it weird that I'm starting to resent Facebook? It's always exhorting me to "reconnect with" someone I never really wanted to be friends with in the first place or "become a fan" of some pizza or feminine hygiene product I'm not even familiar with. And then there are the reminders, the constant reminders. Someone's birthday is coming up (and I'm a terrible friend for forgetting). Someone's got an improv show coming up (and I am supposed to pretend I want to go). I just feel like it's JUDGING me. If it weren't for my shameful Word Twist addiction I might opt out of the thing entirely. But does a person even exist these days if he or she isn't on Facebook?

Oscar Talk

So my take on the Oscars this year might be a bit skewed by the fact that I was 1) fairly buzzed and 2) talking over them for much of the evening. But that being said, I thought they were fucking fantastic. My favorite part, I think, was where I threatened to cut a stranger because she complimented Vera Farmiga's dress. The part where I mixed Mountain Dew and vodka during the dance number to the best score nominees was also pretty rad, though.

As far as the actual telecast went, I suppose it was fine, although I'm not sure where they got the idea that America loves production numbers. Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin seemed strangely MIA, which may well be the most effective hosting strategy. I enjoyed the crazy lady who stormed the stage to mumble incoherently into the mic, thereby fulfilling my own lifetime dream. I also liked the fact that Miley Cyrus dressed like some sort of Opryland hooker. The winners were all largely expected, although also strangely infuriating in some cases.

I did not win the Oscar pool this year (which amounted to a whole $7!), however, I think because I irrationally chose shocking upsets while under the influence. Unless it turns out that Matt Damon did win for Best Song. Everything turned out all right, though, because Roommate Liz took the prize and used it to pay for part of our joint cab ride home. I would like to thank the Academy for that, I guess.

Brownout

In the category of things I should be ashamed to admit, I am reading The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown. As my more loyal readers (if any are still at large) may recall, I found The Da Vinci Code to be a bit of a hoot, largely because I enjoy unnecessary adjectives and I favor ridiculousness in all of its many forms. The Lost Symbol, unfortunately, is just as badly written but not nearly as entertaining. I'm about halfway through and so far it's mostly just been (spoiler alert!) walking and talking. I suppose there's also been driving and riding, but come on! By this point in Code we had already had about sixteen improbable plot twists. It's almost like he's not even trying.

There is some hilarity to be had, though, I suppose. Dan Brown has an unnerving habit of continually referring to the races of characters, as though we won't be able to tell them apart if we're not constantly reminded which one is the "elegant African-American." He also continues his glorious tradition of hectoring his audience about being respectful of crazy conspiracy theories, which are probably why they bought the book in the first place. And there are lots of fun internal inconsistencies, such as when he announces that a character "looks startled for the first time all night" a mere four chapters after having her "exchange a startled look" with another character. Mad props on that one, Doubleday editorial staff. Are you really that afraid of Dan Brown?

Anyway, it's terrible, and I can't wait to finish it. I'm reading Lauren Conrad's book next.

The Week in Review

It's been a pretty busy week.

On Tuesday we saw Nine at the Brew & View, which is this old theater where they show second-run movies and serve beer. Also where rats sometimes scurry across your path when you're headed to your seat, as it turns out. Nine was fairly enjoyable. It didn't make a lick of sense and I completely hated the main character, but the songs were decent and they actually kind of made Marion Cottilard look pretty. Meanwhile, Nicole Kidman looked haggard, Kate Hudson looked bloated, and Penelope Cruz looked like Amy Winehouse. Time to fire the lighting guy, I guess.

On Wednesday they showed the Reba where Barbara Jean gets the same haircut as Reba. If that's not a hate crime, I don't know what is. Of course, there were hilarious consequences.

Last night we saw Stephen Sondheim being interviewed at the Harris Theater downtown. The interviewer was completely fawning and seemed to fit about six topics into every single question, but SS was rather droll, even if he did keep it to exactly the contractually-mandated hour and a half. He had an amusing story or two about Ethel Merman that I've already forgotten and some really rather lovely things to say about Leonard Bernstein and Jerome Robbins. It was almost enough to make me forgive him for liking the movie version of Sweeney Todd.

Tonight I'm ready for bed. 32 is such a cute age.

Revolution, Televised

So Karaoke Revolution has turned out to be fairly hilarious. I like it because it has nothing to do with actual singing and also because I designed an avatar with a ridiculous hat. Really you just want to make sure to hold pitches for exactly the right length of time and, if possible, add a lot of vibrato just before the end. The biggest challenge has to be that eventually someone has to sing the Jason Mraz song. Oh, and there are several in Spanish. In both cases you just have to do your best to ignore the lyrics.

I'm sure we'll be playing a lot more now that the Olympics are over. In case you hadn't guessed, I was sad to see them go. They're so much more entertaining than Dateline NBC. (I would say they're more entertaining than Law & Order: SVU, but I can't, because Mischa Barton is slated to be a guest star. The Beautiful Life: TBL lives on in spirit.) I skipped the Closing Ceremonies because I had to work and because the presence of Avril Lavigne had been threatened. Why can't anyone work her into some sort of non-proliferation treaty?