But Call Me Betsy

I should probably not critique a show that I have never, ever seen before in my life and which I have only really been listening to for the last few minutes as I've had my back turned to play the 100th game of Spider Solitaire. That said, I thought while listening to One Tree Hill that it was a recap of scenes from the entire season. Not one scene runs longer than 2:30 seconds of which 2 minutes of that is filled with music that you can later buy for a mere $14.99. They keep doing all of these flashbacks; hmm...it must be some kind of like wrap up show (here comes the music, slo mo scenes of guys playing basketball, a girl who is a more filled out, healthier version of Ashley or Kirsten Olsen or maybe she's Hillary Duff's third sister? Whoever it is, it appears that she lives with her ex boyfriend who no longer wants her because she went to pursue her guitar career. Now they're making out and he's telling her to leave, something that no self respecting 16 year ol...

Lyndsey Lohan: I do not give a shit what designer bag this eighteen year old is carrying, who she is fucking, what drugs she's ingesting, or what other corporate-promoted celebrity she's battling. I saw her on the cover of Interview magazine today at Barnes & Noble and it made me distressed--it seems like all of the starlets who are in the news are bland, bland, bland. Hillary Duff and her sister, Celery, are so so so so boring. Ditto Jessica Alba and her collagen lips, ditto the talentless times two Simpsons, ditto the Olsen twigs, ditto Kiera Knightley who is like a blonder version of Winona Ryder. Maybe I'm just getting too old. That must be part of it, but it's also disgusting how celebrities are now the leaders of all things cultural, social, and cool--especially when they're primarily white, upperclass, largely under-educated and (unless you're still counting Alicia Silverstone and her love of animals) apolitical, and paid to set trends. They'...

I was innocently walking down Bainbridge on my way to the subway when I was accosted by the sight of an eighty year old woman sitting on a stoop with her legs slightly spread and her underwear and assorted parts showing. I would've thought she was a homeless person because her hair was in a crazy white halo around her head and she was wearing somewhat disheveled clothing but I've seen her a bunch of times, sitting on her front step with the apartment door open behind her. The problem is that the step is like one inch off the ground so when she sits down and when she's got on just a housecoat as she did today, more is revealed than you would ever wish to see, i.e. old lady pubic hair. That is how my day started. It has since gotten better.

Here's what happens when you watch TV on a Monday night--you are subject to great shows like Seventh Heaven where the acting is so bad that it's almost a parody; not to mention that the dialogue sounds like it's been written in fifteen minutes by a group of 7th Heaven 7th graders. Ugly Teenage Girl Who Used to Be Cute at the Beginning of the Show Ten Years Ago (in monotone): Hi, Dillon. What's going on? Hot Teenage Guy Who Would Never Be Interested Her Ever: Hey, Sophie. What's happening (also, he's supposed to be in high school and yet he looks to be about 27). UTG: (trying to emote by pursing together her heavily glossed lips): Dillon, I thought we were going to have Thanksgiving together! HTG: Sure, Sandi. We are. Why wouldn't we being having Thanksgiving dinner together, Sally? UTG: But I thought you got that one girl pregnant even though this show is supposed to be about Christians and has absolutely no edge and so it's kind of shocking that yo...

I remember about five years ago reading an article in the New York Times that mentioned a new breed of dog called a "labradoodle;" a labrador and standard poodle mix. I cut the picture out of the newpaper and stuck it on my fridge as a reminder to all of my friends that this is the dog they should surprise me with one birthday. Who knew that years later, I would meet an even better breed of dog--the "goldendoodle;" a golden retriever vs. standard poodle. CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE IT? You take a really smart dog and mix it with a really sweet, lovable, and water-loving dog and what do you have? Perfection. His name is Bodhi--he belongs to Jodie's brother (I'm in Pittsburgh visting them right at this second). Bodhi wears a yellow bandana. He has long, cinnamon colored eyelashes.. I am going to dognap him before I leave.

I started my evening short story writing class last night--T/R from 5:30-8:25 at TUCC. I'm auditing and so don't have to worry about a grade, but of course, I was highlighting the syllabus and nodding at whatever the teacher said because I've had years and years of social programming to suck up to instructors (despite the fact that I've actually taught this same class at Penn State). A sign up sheet went around the class and of course the last two people to get the sheet were me and the guy next to me so I have a story due on SUNDAY via email the students and teacher. That should be interesting b/c we have dinner plans with Shawn's mom tonight and then I'll be in Pittsburgh Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I might just send it early Monday morning and tell everyone to suck it. They'll still have 3 nights to read and critique the story. I'm disappointed because I wanted to use the time to write something new or to at least improve a story that's never be...

I don't typically watch Grey's Anatomy --it's not like a boycott it intentionally, it's just that there's a few annoying things about it and if I have to watch a show about hospitals, I'd rather watch ER . Shawn said last night that the show feels like the adult version of the OC (he also said that the main woman has a face like she's about to cry all the time. He said, "You know, that crying face because her eyes are squinty and have bags under them. Kirstie Allie had it too"). So my choices last night at nine o'clock were GA or Deal or No Deal (Thanks, but No Thanks) and Nightline. GA was the season finale, which might make you think that interesting things were going to happen. Here's the synopsis: The black surgeon has some kind of injury and may lose his ability to operate again (I couldn't make myself empathize with him. I kept thinking, Well, become a pediatrician or a family practioner then). His gf, the woman who rode the mot...

I pride myself in frequenting the local coffee shop on 9th street, even though it is seconds away from the seductive glowing green and white Starbucks mermaid and the coffee is five cents more expensive and the woman there never quite seems to remember who I am. However, today, I was behind two women who were speaking mainline Valley girl. "So, I like totally love those boots!" " Thanks! I got them on sale for like $150!" They had both ordered specialty drinks that take five to ten minutes to make because you have to steam the milk and fry the espresso and add the whipped cream and then the chocolate sauce, etc. The barista was just completing the last flourish of chocolate when the shorter of the two women goes, "And could I also get, like, a decaf latte with skim?" I wish the barista had responded by saying "Do you want a drink like a decaf latte with skim, or do you actually want that exact drink?" I turned around and left, accidentally slamm...

I haven't been watching the show religiously, but I do catch an episode about every other week. I love it because it's so obviously just a showcase for Tyra Banks who has at least 5 costume changes per show. The models are nice and not too shallow or stupid, but they do have these strange fake moments in the show. Last week, they travelled to a beach in a country recently devastated by a natural disaster. The girls were exclaiming about how it was paradise! Tyra appeared at their bungalow to give a trite and rehearsed lecture about how wherever they may go as models, they should always know the history of the place and respect the culture even if it seems stupid. Then she suggested that they have a moment of silence to honor the dead people who washed up on the very shores they would be taking photos later that day. Tears welled up in the girls eyes. Two seconds later, they went shopping. At the end, the girl who was discovered in the mall was cut from the competition for bein...

The title today doesn't refer to a large-chested woman wearing no bra, but rather to a comment I heard this afternoon while waiting for the orange line. As I was walking down the steps to the subway, I saw this black man crawl on his hands and knees under the turnstile. I gestured to the lady in the booth and she came out and said to the guy, You need to pay your fare. You can't do that. He walked out. I went through and said to her, Does that make me a tattletale? She said, No. Unfortunatly, the guy's friend was waiting for him inside of the stop and the guy said, Whoa, that was a low bust. Then he turned to me. "You got a token for my homie?" I said, "Nope." His friend was still on the other side of the wall and he said, "Yo, try it again!" The subway lady came out of her home. The guy exited, but turned to me first and said, "You snitched." I shook my head. He left to join his friend. I felt stupid because why am I so Pollyanna. I...

Shawn and I went to a neighborhood meeting in Fishtown on Monday held at this little church. We met some concerned citizens/political hipsters and both of us spent $1 on a button at reads "Casi NO " because we are opposed to the proposed casinos in Philadelphia and particularly the ones to be constructed near Fishtown. We were told to break into groups to brainstorm and I latched onto Shawn's shirt sleeve so he wouldn't escape and make me sit with a bunch of people I don't know talking about a topic I don't quite yet understand. We were in the planning group led by a guy named Jeremy with 1950s dad glasses, a shaggy haircut, and dimples. Shawn brought a map with him to illustrate his plannerly-ness. The meeting started at six and by quarter of eight, I was having flashbacks to being eight years old and forced to sit in the kitchen with my parent's while they played bridge with the McNally's. I just wanted to go home. I was surprised to find that Sh...

Went to see Liz again this weekend--only for Saturday. No one puked on the bus this time, though I did fall down in the middle of the intersection in Chinatown and nearly took a woman with me. Falling always occurs in slow motion--I tripped and thought, Oh, no, and grabbed at the hand of a woman crossing and then I was flat on the street and she stared down at me wiht her mouth in an "oh!" as if I'd tried to mug her. So much for being cool. Did manage to get to Liz's street and meet her without incident and then we had to pass the same sad SPCA animals on the sidewalk in front of the laundromat. Back to her place where she made me spaghetti and then later Lita, my friend from Penn State, came by with some wine and we caught up--we are all grown ups now, it seems. Liz's friend, Phillipa picked us up and drove precariously to Williamsburg to a bar called Black Betty . Not many people there--I overtipped the bartender on the first round--this may have worked t...

Oh, yes, Brooklyn. Two sad things I saw that angered me b/c I don't like to be ambushed by humanity in the streets: 1. A bicycle with a white basket and flowers tied to a post with a sign reading, "Jasmine Reynolds was hit by a truck and killed here on June 5, 2005." Why should I have to see that? I don't drive a truck or ride a bike. Liz suggested that it's a lesson to wear your bike helmet. 2. The Animal Kill Shelter had abandoned dogs tied up and cages full of upset kittens outside of the laundromat. On the chopping block were: a friendly, skinny black dog, a disheveled cocker spaniel who barked all day until he was hoarse, a furry brown dog who had clearly given up. There were three black kittens, a long-haired gray cat, and a white cat with blue eyes. I thought about them on the way to work this morning--they probably all got adopted; tons of people walk down that street. In fact, Liz's roommate Paulette adopted the gray cat; so I guess I should be happy ...

Well, it's actually Chinatown in Philadelphia to Chinatown in Manhattan by bus. It takes almost exactly 2 hours to go from one city to the next. I left Friday after work and had an uneventful trip up with my head bumping against the window as I tried to nap and then an Asian girl vomited into a plastic bag at the very end. Took the subway by myself to Park Slope and Liz met me and we walked back to her place to drop my stuff and then out again to a nearby bar/restaurant where I ate 500 tortilla chips and a chicken sandwich (?) and we smoked two cigarettes out on the patio, freezing. Back to Liz's to watch MTV's Tiara Girl which is an incredible show about girls who compete in beauty contests. You'd think they'd run out of material after about 5 shows, but no, because they go to places like Lincoln, Nebraska to follow the trials and tribulations of a teenage prom queen competing for Miss Corn Blossom '06 (she was second runner up). Saturday, we were up and ready ...