Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Music Video of the Week: One Tree Hill

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; 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 old guy would do).

Example of actual dialogue:

Hillary Duff Olsen: "Always and forever..." Remember?
That Vampire Guy From Buffy: Hillary, I just can't do this. I can't!
HDO: I understand. (She leaps off the bed, on the brink of tears for the 1,000 time).
Vampire Dude: Wait! "Always and forever..." I still love you, Hillary....dotdotdotdot. I just can't trust you (end of scene, lasting about 25 seconds. Cue the music which I'm sure is called "Always and Forever").

What sucks most about these teen soap operas is that they try to pack drama into these tiny little slices of time and so every scene has to have some life changing event that is in absolutely no way realistic. Why can't they write a smart teen soap? I guess Buffy was like that, but I never really watched that show.

Next scene:

Best friend addressing HDO, who does actually resememble that mean girl from Buffy except with a scratchier voice and slices of dimples in both cheeks: How much for a broken heart with a side of regret? End of scene. That is really the whole scene.

Shaved head guy walking on a pier with someone, either his girlfriend or his mother since everyone in this show is of indeterminate age and they are all in love with each other. You can only tell who is older because though they look about the same age, their skin is much tighter from plastic surgery. "She's back. I saw her." End scene.

Athletes changing socks. One guy is black, here's his advice "You can't get her all back at once. Take it slow, give it time. Catcha later." Boy stares at a letter. Cleft chin quivers. Oh, he is turning the pages of annulment papers. End of scene.

HDO and Raspy Voice, Are you going to move in? Yes, I'll take it. Come on in, roommate. End scene.

Church. Really ugly guy goes into confessional. He is having a crisis of faith because he also is getting a divorce. UG: Cut it short, padre. After all they crucifixed your boy, didn't they? (This is called transgressive dialogue). I'm nothing I intended to be. That troubles me.

Faceless priest: Have you come seeking absolution?

UG: Yeah, I suppose I have. Let me ask you something. (mumble, mumble--acting jaw clencehd so tightly that I can't understand the dude. Flashback to a fire scene). It's simple really. Three months ago, someone tried to kill me. They drugged me and left me for dead. I pretended not to remember. (flashbacks going crazy now intersperesed with scenes of his shadowed face). I will find out who did this to me. I could turn this place to ruin!!!!!! (Flames fill the screen as he clenches his jaw and cracks off a tooth). End scene.

Shaved head guy on the beach with Raspy Voice who also wears a raspy black bikini. I suppose maybe they're dating--oh, yes, earlier, they decided they would date instead of being serious, though maybe they'll continue to have sex.

SHG: So when are we going to get to that kissing part? (Fourteen year old girls are screaming and clutching each others arms all across the country. These kisses will now forever shape their expectations for how boys should kiss them. They will be disappointed).

RV: I'd say right about now if you know what's good for you (she takes a picutre of them kissing with her cell phone) End.

Oh god, now we're going to have montages. I can tell because the soundtrack is back on along with a cornball voice-over. This blond chick is painting red swipes on a wall spelling out her phone number. She must be the quirky one. Oh, god--no, it's the number of people in the world (and her phone number?). Switch to Raspy Voice thumb-tacking the photos on her wall that she took at the beach and her new roommate HDO, playing with her wedding ring and gazing longingly at the ceiling. Now somebody's mom and somebody's other mom cleaning up at the restaurant. I can't follow the voice over. Back to blond, she is just now facing the truth (she says). Now the church again. "Some are evil men, at war with God..." Flashback of UG falling over and other clues as to who tried to kill him. Shaved head guy with piece of paper in his hands. Naked guy in lcoker room (finally!). Totally nerdy ugly guy with large nostrils, okay, we've now just descended into showing faces. Music swells, close-up on the red painted number "1" (get it? Like One Tree Hill???).

Now we are listening to Fox News.

So that's my real time recap of the last 15 minutes of the show. Again, you can purchase the CD right now of the very same music you will hear again next week.

Things I Don't Care About

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're even taking over fashion magazine ads more and more--like no one is going to buy a product unless it's seen on the body of an actress or celeb. Try reading Jane magazine these days--it used to have a supposedly feminist slant and now it's just like Us with swear words.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

I Saw Your Grannie's Woo Hoo

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.

Monday, May 22, 2006

"Honey, Your Kid is a Lesbian"

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 you would even be allowed to put your penis in someone else, Dillon. But remember, I'm a virgin.

HTG: See you later then.

(Both hang up. No one says bye on these shows).

After Seventh Heaven, you can then turn to TLC to watch Honey, You're Killing the Kids, a show specifically about fat families who will never stick to this once the cameras aren't rolling. (notice that none of the make-over shows like this and Super Nanny seldom have follow up shows). In this show, the morbidly obese mom and dad are shown photos of how their kids will look if they continue to eat the Cheetos, cupcakes, hamburgers, sugar cereal, and other junk food that crowds the cabinets and the fridge. The kids are basically Photoshopped so that the children look just like their parents only with darker circles under their eyes.

In this particular episode that's unfolding even as I type this, there are three girls, none of whom look that big to me. One girl is at a horrible awkward age--between 13 and 15 and she also may very well be a lesbian. However, the kids are forced to go to cheerleading camp where the teenager must do tumbles alongside tiny little seven year olds who have been taking tumbling since they were age three.

This is a three week program.

It's wrapping up now. Dad's trying to get on a horse. It's not pretty.

But listen, people: "The journey we have been on the last three weks has been like a roller coaster the entire time," dad just said. The finale will be a new look at their kids in the future if they continue eating tofu and taking cheerleading. Wouldn't it be great if they showed them the exact same pictures, given the low odds that they'll continue this lifestyle?

Saturday, May 20, 2006

The Cutest Little Dog in the World

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.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

A Writer Writes

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 been workshopped, but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't focus on a piece I want to improve, like "Amazing Tales from the Heartland." At least I'd work on it some more beforehand. That feels like cheating though.

There are twelve people in the class--a perfect workshop size and I appreciate it, especially in contrast to the personal enrichment fiction class I took before with 20+ people and no sign up for stories or culpability for doing any work. All of the students are still in undergrad; mostly juniors and seniors and one returning student who's about 25-26. Everyone else has a baby face. All of the guys have four letter, solid American names like Adam, Jack, and Nick. I sat next to a girl named Tia who I liked because she laughed at my jokes. I had hoped there would be another Annie in this class--Annie's this girl I had in fiction writing classes at Northwestern--a very good writer with great clothes and an extremely dry, witty, and cutting sense of humor. One girl might have had potential but I totally hated her glasses and her mousy demenaor and her name is something like MacKenzie. In our writing exercise for the evening, we had to come up with two plots, two characters, and two settings. One of her plots was "a person spills a cup of coffee." Actually, it's better than some of the over the top, movie-style suggestions (a card playing sting, car accident, police bust), but it's still pretty boring and unimaginative. I may not make any friends as I had hoped, though I did like the older student named Katie because she took off her sandals and swung her feet.

I'm going to post the writing exercise we did last night under my "Evie" pages if you're interested.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Purchase the music from Grey's Anatomy Complete with Video Images

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 motorcycle in Sideways, had trouble dealing with his injury but then at the very end, she decided to hold his hand. The pretty blond supermodel fell in love with a guy in need of a heart transplant that she'd known for about one week. He asked her to marry him. Unfortunately, he was low on the transplant waiting list so she and four of her colleagues stopped his heart to essentially damage it enough to get him status-1 (at the top of the waiting list). He received the heart transplant and died and she laid down on top of him in the bed and cried and then quit her job. Oh, in the background of all of this, the staff was also planning a prom in the hospital because it was the dying wish of a 16 year old girl with the type of fatal cancer that does not require bedrest. They had streamers and balloons and the men wore tuxes and the woman ball gowns and Cry Face did nothing with her hair except use a curling iron to get it into two long sausage rolls that hung around her face just like my friend Wallis Payne used to do when we were thirteen and trying to look like we had feathered hair.

The only reason to watch the show at all is to applaud comeback king, Patrick Dempsey, the teen star of Loverboy and Can't Buy Me Love. I've always liked him and he grew up to be a handsome man with the same baby face as before. Anyway, he and Cry Face are in love too, even though he's married. At the end, they make out and possibly have sex on a gurney (I'm not sure b/c Shawn switched over to PBS for awhile). Then that heart guy died, the pretty girl quit, and the show ended for the season. Oh, wait! I almost forgot the cliffhanger! Cry Face finds herself having to chose between Patrick Dempsey and Chris O'Donnell, the vet who put their sick dog to sleep earlier in the show. The last shot is her looking from one face to the other, eyes welling with tears or maybe not, it's impossible to tell.

Okay, where to start? First of all, not one of those residents would agree to stopping a heart and if they did, they would all go to jail. Aside from which, heart transplants do not happen that often because you need to have a blood type match and because only 2 percent of people actually die of brain death and less than half of that number become organ donors. So basically, you're talking at most a one percent chance of donation lessened even further by blood type. It's not like a person tips to status 1 and UNOS pulls out a heart from a freezer that matches and just, you know, throws it in the microwave to defrost before sending it over. Yes, I have worked in organ and tissue donation. TALK TO YOUR FAMILY ABOUT DONATION! SAVE A LIFE!

In addition, no hospital would agree to throwing a prom because one patient has cancer. On top of which, none of the doctors would dress up as did every cast member in Grey's Anatomy. Don't they have to work? And if they are off, wouldn't they just be like, You know, fuck this prom bullshit, I want to get in my pjs and rest before my next 12 hour shift. But no, everyone showed up in formalwear that they happened to have hanging in their closets.

I also noticed that the show could probably be cut to thirty minutes at most because they take a five minute commercial break for every 7 minutes of the show. Seriously.

Lasty, and I believe this is the case with every episode of Grey's Anatomy, every four minutes there's a sappy song that starts swelling in the background to supplement and make more poignant the moments of pain, grief, love, lust, vomiting, and chest compressions. It's ridiculous. The whole show is a music video interspersed with dialogue like "I can't stop staring at you. Don't you think if I could stop staring at you, I would? I stare because I can't not stare. I stare because of the gigantic bags under your eyes, okay?"

Monday, May 15, 2006

"Could I Get, Like, a Decaf Latte with Skim Hold the Mayo?"

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 slamming the door too hard and feeling rude, but JHC, order the drinks at the same time. I know you don't have a job or anything, but others of us do. So, I'm drinking Starbucks. And it's all her fault. But mmmmmm, it's good.


Friday, May 12, 2006

America's Next Top Flash in the Pan Almost Over

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 being the most awkward human being ever. Unlike The Bachelor, the models seldom cry when they leave. They pack their suitcases and say how much the experience has changed them (even though the whole thing happens in about 2 weeks real time).

The best is when I'm sitting on the couch eating potato chips in my baggy pjs and the undershirt with the sweat stains, make up smeared under my eyes and my hair greased back and say to Shawn, That girl really isn't all that pretty.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

"Low Bust"

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'm that girl who tells on people for smoking in the bathroom in junior high. It reminds me of this other time that I told on a couple of black kids in a second hand Army Navy store who were trying to steal a jackknife. One of the kids goes, You could get cut that way, lady. Like, what do I care if this guy got in for free? Not to mention that Shawn just jumped the turnstile about a month ago on the NJ transit. I am challenged regularly in this city to test if my reactions are based on some kind of value system or experiential knowledge or based on racism. Not that I wouldn't have told if the guy had been white, but how I felt after the fact, like I was in danger for having told--like these two guys were going to come back and shoot me for having busted them. And I don't know I would've had the same thought if their color was different (well, yes, I would've because I always take each scenario to its limit--but I don't know if I would've felt as threatened as I did).

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Get Active! Wear a small button!

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 "CasiNO" 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 Shawn felt the same and so we ducked out and went to eat at Johnny Brenda's where the food is far superior than what we're used to at the Royal and better too than the food at T. Mom. Later, this guy named William who had been at the meeting stepped up behind the bar. I said hi to him but I don't think he knew who I was. We are not popular yet (Dominic didn't even invite us to his Cinco de Seis party, despite the fact that we promised to bring pinatas filled with Brachs candy!)

Monday, May 8, 2006

My Real Life is in Brooklyn

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 to our advantage later when we went out for a smoke en masse and returned to find our drinks cleared away because they gave all of us a free round to make up for it, even those of us who may have already sucked down her G&T. Later, we met the DJ who gave us a flyer about his band. He played pretty good music, and we danced, and then some other people started dancing. I was wearing Liz's brown cowboy boots that were a little roomy and so was only able to move my upper body with any kind of variation. A girl with an accent named Lily followed us out of the bar and interrogated us about our ages, jobs, and how we knew one another. I despised her, but wanted her to like me at the same time. We left around 12:30 or 1, back to Liz's to watch a super bad/awesome HBO soft core thriller from the 80's. I went to bed before Liz, but she said she suspects that the murdered was Alan Alda, even though she didn't manage to stay up for the ending either.

Wednesday, May 3, 2006

Where Were We?

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 for them. When I was talking to Paulette about adopting the cat, I told her she better hurry because the card on the cat's cage said the animal would be exterminated in two hours. She stared back at me, startled. Later, I told Liz my idea that they should just threaten to assasinate the animals on the street to motivate people--like, this dog will be shot in two hours if no one takes her. Liz said that yes, that would cause her to adopt for sure.

Here is a link that you really must click on:

It's Stephen Colbert, formerly of The Daily Show reaming the president, the administration, and the press to their faces at a dinner this past weekend. Colbert is brilliant.

Okay, and here is a link Shawn found of photos from Fishtown, our new neighborhood:

And now I must report to work.

Tuesday, May 2, 2006

Brooklyn by Bus

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 for coffee after watching more MTV (the very stilted Date My Mom) and I bought the best best best chocolate croissant I've ever had in my life. A woman there started talking to us about the anti war rally and showed me an ad in the back of her progressive magazine that laid out the 10 rules of facism, clearly illustrating that our gov't is cleary on its way (if not already arrived) to being a facist country. We took the subway to Manhattan and met Shawn and joined the march. Everyone loves his protest sign--it's the cut out heads of Bush and Cheney with "Gas-holes" written above it and a photo of the war ship called the Condelezza Rice. People always stop him in the street to take pictures of it. Liz and I carried it some of the time and I felt very righteous and well-liked. A man holding a movie camera stopped us to ask some questions and then he told us he's working on a documentary with Michael Moore about environmentalism. I am certain we will make the cut among 500+ hours of footage they shoot for every documentary. We then sat down on the curb to people watch and did not give money to a guy with one of those index cards that reads, "Help I'm deaf and my house burned down with two kids in it." I wondered if it was a test of some kind--after all, we're at this protest that's essentially above injustice and social inequality and imperialism and we can't be bothered to give this guy a quarter. Off we went to a bar/restaurant in the West Village and then we split up and took the subway back to Brooklynn.

Stopped at Deacon's Closet on the way home and I bought this very cute handmade silky dark blue skirt with red buttons up the side and a black shirt I'll never wear and a maroon t-shirt with pink skull head on it of a girl with ponytails for which I would be complimented later by a bartender. Back to Liz's to rearrange her room so that it had more fen shui (basically, we took her bike to the basement and turned her bed in the opposite direction). Around 8:30, we changed our clothes several times and then walked a few blocks to a cute bar that was desolate when we got there and packed when we left around 1. There was a semi-cute, youngish Garrison Keiller type (Liz's description--I thought he resembled a less attractive version of Andrew McCarthy) sitting by himself at the bar drinking rum and Cokes. When Liz went outside for a cigarette, he slid one bar stool closer. I made her promise to strike up a conversation with him the next time I got up, and was happy to see after my smoke that they were talking, though I couldn't hear anything he was saying. Liz turned to me and widened her eyes when he paused--I knew it wasn't good. We made our escape into the other room shortly afterwards, him saying, Be careful going home and Liz wondering if that meant he was going to follow us and kill us (oh, Liz!). There was a Bachelorette party going on next to us--I pressured Liz to steal an abandoned bottle of booze near us, but she was a good girl and wouldn't and then it was too late because one of the girl's snatched it up. Probably for the best, karma-wise.

Must run to lunch--will try to tell write more later.