Ramblings of an office-dweller

2009-03-18T12:43:00.013-04:00

Bathroom Shenanigans.

My office has two bathrooms, one of which used to be the women's room. I haven't considered it as the women's room, really, since the guys refacing the building set up the scaffolding outside the window, and I took to using the windowless men's room. Around that time, someone took down the signs on the doors which read, "Innies," and "Outties."

In theory, though, the room with the windows and no heat is the women's room. This plastic rat has been sitting on the mirror above the women's room sink for at least as long as I've worked here:

Yesterday, the rat was sitting along the wall, next to the toilet:

This morning, the rat had mysteriously moved again:

Now, far be it from me to allow Mr. Plastic Rat to build a nest using our toilet paper! We must conserve office supplies - I mean, there's a recession on. Seriously. So I took matters into my own hands:

Yes, that is an ant trap. But - next to it? How about a close up?

A little board gaming on the john? Don't mind if I do!

(P.S. - Did anyone else learn about Rube Goldberg from playing that game? Man, I loved that game, even though it never worked exactly right.)

UPDATE: THE DAY AFTER

MWAH HAH HAH HAH HAH Everything is going according to plan . . .

MONDAY UPDATE:

And he took the toilet paper? Oh, rat, this means war. I will string you up by the bits your mama gave you, so help me god.

2008-12-26T11:18:00.015-05:00

Dying Is Fine.

It's the day after Christmas, and I'm listening to Ra Ra Riot's "Dying Is Fine" - this particular theme being a big one for me today. I think the video below is fantastic, in the literal sense of the word - it has a great Lewis Carroll feel to it, with the extraordinarily tall violin player next to the band members' leaves on the tree (what is it about British pop culture and anthropomorphization? The Young Ones, anyone?), and the drawing style reminds me of Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I wouldn't be surprised to see LeVaur Burton show up at the end and beginning singing the lyric, "Butterfly in the sky . . ."

Ra Ra Riot first came to my attention after I attended a pre-inaugural fundraiser for 826 Boston's Greater Boston Bigfoot Research Institute in 2007. I'd wanted to volunteer for 826 NYC ever since I'd wandered past its Superhero Supply Co. near my old Brooklyn apartment years before, oddly enough while having a conversation about choosing superhero costumes for a rugby tournament, but my schedule had never meshed with theirs. Of course, when 826 Boston opened, I was excited to jump on board, but again scheduling conflicts have precluded me from being a part of the organization. This particular fundraiser, however, was one of the few events I could swing, and as it was hosted by Eugene Mirman, recently of Flight of The Conchords, I felt that I couldn't say no.

The video featured in this post is for the track from The Rhumb Line, the band's newest release, and it's what I'm picturing in my head as my iPod plays, but the particular version I've chosen to listen to is from the Dying Is Fine single, as I appreciate the fullness of the intro., even though I think 6:12 is, uh, a bit excessive, shall we say. There are actually three versions of this song on my iPod, I realize, speaking of excessive, including the 6:09 version from Daytrotter Session and the 5:50 one from Ra Ra Riot - EP, which has a pretty sweet drum count in - oddly, no Rhumb Line version for me aurally.

Link of the day: MS Paint Adventures http://www.mspaintadventures.com!
Thanks to Kevin for The Young Ones dvds!

http://www.826valencia.org/

2008-12-25T16:48:00.007-05:00

Merry YouTube of Christmas past, present and future.

Go ahead and suspend your disbelief and imagine my present is sometime around 1997, because apparently I'm trying to have a nostalgia-filled Christmas out here in the BK.

"Christmas in Hollis" - Run-D.M.C., A Very Special Christmas, 1987, 7 years

We had this on tape and used to listen to it over and over andoverandoverandover again. And at 7, I appreciated the street cred. this song conferred upon me, the little girl from Rockaway, which was also in Queens.

Yes.

I'd never seen the video, however, until Pam sent it out this week. So I am thankful for Pam. Wrong holiday, but still.

"Fairytale of New York" - Dustin and Dervla Kirwen, Faith of Our Feathers, 1997, 17 years.

For those of you who don't know - which, until three days ago, included me - Dustin The Turkey was a puppet on Radio Telefís Éireann's The Den. Dervla Kirwan is probably known to those outside Ireland and the UK as Assumpta Fitzgerald in Ballykissangel - and if you don't know her from Ballykissangel, you might know her as Assumpta Fitzgerald from Ballykissangel on a Father Ted special. Ah, see that there? That's recognition dawning, right? Right.

Whatever. Say yes.

So, Pogues' song, had never heard it before and can't figure out how I managed that for so long, but Pilate (now Pilot Speed) covered it on Nettwerk Music Group's "Maybe This Christmas Tree" in 2004 and I just downloaded it last week, and now it's on repeat on my iPod. So now you know.

"White Winter Hymnal" - Fleet Foxes, The Fleet Foxes, 2008, 28 years.

It's just sweet.

And one more for the road - the WPIX Yule Log! Yes! This was always on WPIX Channel 11 at Christmas when I was growing up.

Love youse guys -
Liz

2008-09-16T20:39:00.000-04:00

‘SNL’ and ‘RNC’: And Never The ‘Twain Shall Tweet?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/840033284.html

2008-08-21T16:29:00.000-04:00

Olympic Compassion

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/280032028.html

2008-08-10T20:36:00.001-04:00

‘Last Comic Standing’ Goes Out with an Olympic-Sized Bang

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/60031406.html

2008-06-27T04:05:00.001-04:00

'Farmer Wants a Wife': Vintage in a Bad Way

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1930028993.html

2008-03-28T12:18:00.004-04:00

From the newsletter of Coney Island's own Brooklyn Cyclones.

Jesus Christ.

2008-03-27T16:39:00.000-04:00

'Autism: The Musical' Adds to the Public Discussion

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/80024008.html

2008-03-21T16:01:00.001-04:00

'Miss Guided': Judy Greer Makes Playing a Quirky Doll Look Good

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1530023753.html

2008-02-20T17:15:00.003-05:00

Last I'd checked, St. Patty's Day was the 17th.

Are they really suggesting you buy this just to wear to a Saturday hockey game two days earlier?

2008-02-19T16:42:00.001-05:00

'Knight Rider': More Hits than Misses

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/810022081.html

2008-01-15T23:43:00.000-05:00

It came from Shaw's.

No, wait, let me bring that into focus.

Yeah, that is totally what you think it is.

Mmmm mmmm, squash!

Seriously, this is one of the most fun parts of cooking. Also, the eating part isn't so bad, either.
(At least it's still in one piece. S'all I'm saying.)

2008-01-11T13:20:00.000-05:00

This is only here so that I can link to it in my gChat status.

From Jezebel.com - it's funny because.

2008-01-08T12:06:00.000-05:00

Wrap'er up, boys, she's good to go.

For quite a while now I've dearly wanted - seriously considered buying - these Sandy Chilewich placemats made in conjunction with Lotta Jansdotter. This in spite of not even owning a dining room table. Or a kitchen table, really. I mean, where would I use them? As wall hangings? These people sell wall hangings to be used as wall hangings. No, I want to cover a non-existent table with "design" - for $11.50 a piece for the leaf ones (eh) and $17.50 a piece for the waterlilly ones. I was going to buy the leaf ones just to accent the waterlilly ones, even though I don't like them as much. Right.

Every once in a while you need to take a look around you and think, boy, I'm really fucking insane. Seriously own that shit.

(Also, I really, really want a set of these wood placemats by Sarah Finn, which are a mere $25 a piece. While I'm at it.)

(image of 2007 jaquard woven vinyl placemats from unicahome.com)
(image of laser-cut, stained wood veneer placemats from aplusrstore.com)

2008-01-03T11:25:00.000-05:00

Am I the only one.

Maybe it's just the political climate, but when you you look at this Google news ad head, do you briefly think to yourself that there might have been a caucus fight?

2007-12-03T12:54:00.000-05:00

Smackdown" 'Chuck' vs. 'Bionic Woman'

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1900018190.html

Update: Linked me!

2007-11-21T13:56:00.000-05:00

'Charlie Brown Thanksgiving': Good Grief!

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1350017735.html

2007-11-08T17:45:00.000-05:00

Is There, Like, a Strike or Something?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1140017114.html

2007-11-07T15:24:00.000-05:00

Just another day.

When I look in the office bathroom mirror at 3:30 in the afternoon and realize I can clearly see my bra through my supposedly opaque shirt.

2007-11-02T11:14:00.000-04:00

‘Private Practice’: Eh. I don't do that.

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1470016747.html

2007-11-01T11:22:00.000-04:00

‘Reaper’:Good, Clean Halloween Fun

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1120016712.html

2007-10-27T00:05:00.000-04:00

‘Pushing Daisies’:Stop Me, I'm Gushing

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1930016393.html

2007-10-11T18:54:00.000-04:00

Who Exactly is Praising ‘America’s Next Top Model’?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1100015710.html

Update: In which I am linked.

2007-10-04T16:59:00.000-04:00

What's wrong with *this* image?

(look all the way to the right)

Reinforcing those snobby, exclusory New England stereotypes . . .

2007-10-04T16:58:00.000-04:00

Why We Love New York, or The Quick and the...Fashionably Shod?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1750015375.html

2007-09-27T17:27:00.000-04:00

‘Bionic’ Beginnings

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/860015086.html

2007-09-25T23:57:00.000-04:00

What's wrong with this image?

Take a closer look at all of the dates . . .

2007-09-20T19:24:00.000-04:00

Running Thoughts: 'Gossip Girl' is Fun, Fluffy, and So, So Pretty

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1530014753.html

2007-09-14T12:54:00.000-04:00

Running Thoughts: Still 'Sunny'!

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138.html#540014454#1130014113

2007-09-06T19:28:00.000-04:00

'Running Thoughts': 'Law & Order' and Late-Night TV

Woohooo! I'm back, baby!!!

Also, it's awesome to see the grammatical errors once they're. See if you can spot them - it's a fun game! Although, there seems to be some disagreement as to whether or not the errors are actually errors . . . I love the English language.

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138.html#1130014113

2007-08-24T12:08:00.000-04:00

'Running Thoughts': Wagging Political

And, as it appears online.

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1950013595.html

2007-08-24T12:04:00.000-04:00

Running Thoughts: Wagging Political

The pre-editing version.

This past Sunday having been the first Sunday following Karl Rove’s announcement of his impending resignation as White House Deputy Chief of Staff, Mr. Rove enjoyed prominence on my usual political talkshows, whether as guest or as topic. What was a discourse common to both David Gregory on Meet the Press and John McLaughlin on The McLaughlin Group was the question as to whether Mr. Rove was engaging in one last bit of press-related political puppetry as he went. Meanwhile, over at The Daily Show this Wednesday night, John Stewart was asking Illinois Senator Barack Obama about his reactions to the press’ own manipulations of the words of his campaign. Has the media reached a new bit of meta-realization, I wonder, or is this level of operation old hat (pre-dating the very word, even)?

Mr. Gregory, filling in for Meet’s usual host Tim Russert, questioned Mr. Rove regarding an interview he gave on Rush Limbaugh’s radio program. Mr. Rove had called Senator Hillary Clinton a flawed candidate, asserting that she was the Democratic front-runner but that her negative polling was unprecedented among potential presidential candidates. He explained to Mr. Gregory that what he’d been getting at was that the public seemed to have made up its mind about Mrs. Clinton, as she has been in the public eye for “16 or 17 years”, and that, in that particular scenario, “it’s hard to change opinions”. Mr. Gregory then asked him outright if he, and the Republican party as a whole, were attempting to set Senator Clinton up as the Democratic candidate. In fact, he asked him twice. “Is there a desire by the Republican Party for her to be the nominee? Is that who you want to run against?” He thus effectively gave Mr. Rove a platform upon which to enumerate Senator Clinton’s flaws as a candidate. Yet when Mr. Gregory asked Mr. Rove, “Has Barack Obama measured up to the hype surrounding him?”, Mr. Rove deflected, demurring, “you’ve got an excellent panel coming on, I think, later in the program. Why don’t you ask them this question.”

Who won in this exchange, if there was a way to win? Did Karl Rove set out to discuss Hillary Clinton’s flaws, while setting her up against Barack Obama? Did David Gregory play right into his hands? Or was Mr. Gregory’s assumptions correct, that Mr. Rove actually wanted Mrs. Clinton as the Democratic candidate, possibly because he believed that she could be beaten in the general election?

Meanwhile, over on The McLaughlin Group, host John McLaughlin asked Eleanor Clift, Newsweek Magazine’s Contributing Editor, a question along similar lines: “Does Rove's attack on Hillary benefit her more than it hurts her?” Ms. Clift replied by calling Mr. Rove “a Svengali [for Senator Clinton] to campaign against,” adding, “ . . . she's disciplined. She's on message. She rolls over the opposition.”

So as the media goes in circles discussing earlier happenings within the media, what effect does the attention have on the ultimate subjects? Is there truly no such thing as bad publicity? Does the opportunity to fight back make for a stronger candidate? Who is really pulling the strings here?

What about Barack Obama as puppetmaster? John Stewart provided the Senator with several newspaper clippings in which his words, or his wife’s, had been twisted or taken out of context. He asked the Senator if he felt that he was stuck in particular “narrative[s]”, specifically ones for which, “no matter what you do, because it’s easily categorized, the media and everyone else will just slip whatever happens into those two narratives.” Senator Obama, presenting the proverbial breath of fresh air, replied that one of his staffers had told him to remember that, in reference to the campaign debates, they weren’t “on the level. I think that really strikes to what people are frustrated with in politics, is that so much of what we talk about, so much of what we say, it’s not true, people know it’s not true, all the insiders understand that we’re just game playing, and in the meantime you’ve got these hugely serious problems which are true.”

The Senator later was given the chance to espouse that his campaign tactics were to “break down these narratives, and get to the heart of the question.” He went on to explain what he thought the public meant when they questioned his credentials as a Junior Senator, “When people talk about experience, what they want to know is does he have good judgment. How do we actually get stuff done, what’s common sense.” The show had gone from a line of questioning regarding the media’s effect on a candidate, to the candidate using the media’s doubts about his background to publish his strengths.

So I ask you, in these scenarios, media vs. candidates, which side, exactly, is the tail that is wagging the dog?

2007-07-29T23:03:00.000-04:00

Rain!

This is the object attached to our living room lightpull. It makes a cheerful jingling sound whenever I turn the light on or off. I quite enjoy it. Yesterday, I must have pulled too hard in the dark (hoo boy) because, as the light came on, a shower of elephants rained down upon my head. I have yet to find all of the persnickety pachyderms.

(Long view, from the chair.)

2007-07-27T21:55:00.000-04:00

Also, read this.

I heart dooce. Even if she is only five years older than me and so much funnier and, I don't know, happier?

2007-07-27T17:15:00.000-04:00

Who’s Shaping Whom When the Internet and TV Worlds Collide?

This was written for B&C Beat, but did not go up due to vacation deadlines. Enjoy!

The big news in new media this week was the much-vaunted melding of the minds between CNN and YouTube, coming together this past Monday on the consecrated grounds of the Presidential debates. The unexpected headline grab which set the blogosphere alight occurred earlier than that, and has led to continued raging amongst bloggers and on TV to this day, which was when JetBlue’s handlers requested that the YearlyKos event remove JetBlue’s logo from its website. What has bloggers in a tizzy now is the question of whether or not the proprietor of a blog is responsible for the comments left on the blog by readers. This was all spurred by a campaign of Bill O’Reilly’s, announced on his TV show, to shame JetBlue into revoking its sponsorship of YearlyKos, and which was referenced on television by Mr. O’Reilly as recently as yesterday evening. YearlyKos, of course, is attached to the blog DailyKos. Has TV’s effect on the internet outshined the internet’s effect on TV, at least for this week?

Please note that I would like bonus points for using both the phrase “new media”, as well as “blogosphere”, in the first paragraph of this column.

I caught the tail end of the debate on TV, and it was definitely enough to get me to go online and download the broadcast, in its entirety, to my nifty new video iPod, which I then proceeded to watch while riding the train. I’m not sure if the purveyors of the debate can count my viewership as a previously untapped resource, as I have been known to watch these events in the bar after practice with the closed captioning on – “Shh! I can’t read what Kerry is saying!” – but it is quite likely that, due to the sheer novelty of the event, more than one tech savvy yet politically unmotivated soul was compelled to do the same. Please note also that the question I was privileged to catch on the ‘tube (that’s “boob-“, not “You-“) was, “look at the candidate to your left and tell the audience one thing you like and one thing you dislike about that particular candidate.” This did not make for scintillating television, although it was sort of funny - too long to be very funny, as per the generally accepted rules of comedy, but at least quirkily humorous.

Tuesday’s edition of Comedy Central’s The Daily Show with John Stewart featured a “correspondent” who was very upset with the format of the debate, espousing a fear that, by taking the news out of news reporters’ hands and putting it into the hands of the public, via YouTube, the “correspondent” would be out of a job. Of course, this issue at the moment is not a real one, as CNN chose the questions for the debate, and Anderson Cooper hosted it. It did provide some real comedy in reference to the endeavor, and it also outlined the very real fact that the people asking the questions were, well, unprofessional. I suggest that television reporters wait to worry until the public begins to provide really polished content, by which time the reporters will most likely be reporting online, anyway. Until then, while YouTube may spice up CNN, it is still CNN’s show.

Of course, with the ongoing issue between The O’Reilly Factor and Daily Kos, here we have an instance of TV actually sending attention away from itself towards the internet – as if it didn’t receive enough attention already. The question now being posed speaks to accountability, mainly asking, if you run a blog, are you responsible for the contents of the comments posted to your blog? Does the fact that comments opposing the views contained within the posts on your blog are often purposefully left published, in a sort of www letters to the editor policy, and further are often the catalysts for debate within the comments section - does this fact preclude you, the proprietor of the blog, from the responsibility of monitoring the comments section for vulgarity, profanity, and hate speech? Is this an instance in which profanity is not, in fact, profanity, if it is employed in an effort to denounce profanity, as if it were being denounced from a pulpit? Or, would it behoove you, the blog’s proprietor, to remove the offending comment and leave a marker explaining, euphemistically of course, the gist of the comment, so that the resulting debate is not disrupted, in spirit, for posterity’s sake? Should there be an FCC-equivalent in place, monitoring popular blogs? Could there even be, or is it a Sisyphean task? In this same vein, if so-called offending words from DailyKos’ comments section are repeated on The O’Reilly Factor, so as to prove a point as to how vulgar DailyKos is, and again on the show’s website, does that make The O’Reilly Factor just as vulgar?

Comedy Central weighed in again, this time from O’Reilly pseudo-homage The Colbert Report, as the eponymous host Steven Colbert announced that he didn’t “want to talk about Iraq anymore. It's too easy . . . At least there's one place that understands this: Fox News." Colbert went on to say that by denouncing DailyKos, O’Reilly was focusing on “the homeland.”
"Do not go to DailyKos.com," Colbert ordered. DailyKos.com was then flashed on the screen so that, as he explained, “viewers know where not to go."

If new media is really the beast that will kill old media, television is really doing a good job of helping it drives nails into its own coffin.

2007-07-05T11:16:00.000-04:00

‘Studio 60’: It’s Always the Good Ones

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1950011395.html

2007-06-22T17:00:00.000-04:00

‘Starter Wife’: Eh. What are you going to do?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/930011093.html

2007-06-08T12:06:00.000-04:00

Why ‘SportsCenter’ is Good for the Soul (Or, At Least for Your Inner Child)

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/470010447.html

2007-06-01T13:59:00.000-04:00

‘Studio 60': What a Night

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1970010197.html

2007-05-30T10:30:00.000-04:00

‘The Riches': It's Inappropriate Boss Time!

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/960010096.html

2007-05-25T21:22:00.000-04:00

What's weirder?

. . . the fact that I swallowed or inhaled a bug at the start of my run, or the fact that I coughed it back up twenty-five minutes later?

Dark horse - the fact that I still don't know if I swallowed or inhaled it?

Blech. Protein.

2007-05-25T18:40:00.000-04:00

‘Studio 60’: Back, this time with more Busfield!

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1970009997.html

Update: Zeitgeist-y.

2007-05-23T22:59:00.000-04:00

Things I would do on dates

You went there, didn’t you.

There are certain things that make sense as first dates, or second dates, or much-later-in-the-relationship dates. And I think, as a collective mind, we often get these steps all mixed up. So, after reading stuff@night’s “The Guy Issue” while having a couple of vodka and juices, (side note – who does that? People who haven’t gone to the gym in a week and feel good because they’ve managed to make their leg shake do that, clearly. Not alcoholics.) I have decided that you would all find it absolutely hysterical if I made a list of acceptable activities to plan dates around.

Please note that these are dates I personally would enjoy going on, and their practicality hinges entirely on the guy who is going on the date with me.

Additionally, I feel that I must point out that while I individualistically can see all of the dates in the “Other Date” category as satisfactory second dates, that does not mean that every guy I might date would warm up to the ideas suggested within, and thus some of these activities should be held in reserve until subsequent dates. Also, the first dates can all be considered for ensuing dates.

Date date date date date, date date date date, date date date date date date, date! (it's a song)

And now, since every Google search performed for “date” in the next 48 hours will link here, may I present, again, for the first time:

Things I Would Do On Dates

First Date
Get a drink at a regular, after work bar
Get a drink at a sports bar
Karaoke
Go to a dive bar
Go to an amusement park/fair (expensive!)
Go to an arcade-type place (think Jillian’s)
Play pool (poorly)
Alliterate
Hit up some batting cages
Stake out spots and see a show in the park
Catch a comedy show
Go out to dinner
Go out to lunch
Go rollerblading
Go to the beach
Snowboard
Sail (not that I know how)
Spend the day in a park
Go to a wine bar

Other Dates
Go to a live sporting event
Go to a show that requires that you not speak to each other for the duration
Watch a burlesque show
Surf
Go for a run
Go to a wine-tasting
Go to a scotch-tasting
Attempt a pub crawl
Do anything during which I run the risk of appearing super competitive
Cook
Go to an expensive restaurant
Go to a bar where the cocktails cost more than four gallons of gas
Go to an “upscale” strip club
See a movie
Play frisbee
Take a picnic to a park
Take a picnic to a secluded area
Hike
Go camping
Kayaking
Canoeing

Some things, like a burlesque, may be feasible before you've had your traditional third date relations - or, you know, whenever the kids are doing it these days. Can you imagine a bigger turn on? And some, like the (upscale) strip club, are probably better left to dates you go on after you've established yourselves as a force to be reckoned with (or with which to be reckoned, depending on where you went to school.) I mean, who wants to compete with that?

Let's be honest here. I, for one, know that I can not possibly shake my ass as fast as someone who gets paid to do it for her living. Seriously. Don't even try. Word to the wise.

Your turn. Actually, I’d like some input. It’s not like I’m all that good at this. Really, this is just a list of things I like to do. The guy’s pretty much optional.

(Also, if you can show me how to turn this post into two columns, you may not even need those first couple of dates. Rowwwr.)

2007-05-23T18:41:00.001-04:00

‘The Riches’: Dahlia’s Path

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1990009799.html

2007-05-23T16:56:00.000-04:00

Farewell, 'Veronica Mars'

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1960009796.html

2007-05-22T16:24:00.000-04:00

Reunion's coming up

A teammate of mine, who also happened to be another English major, basically functioned as my partner in crime throughout the whole of the second half of my college career. We were so closely linked that if one of us was not in class when the exams were handed back, our prof. would just give them both to whomever had bothered to show up.

We, each of us, were a mess, but together we were a highly functioning mess.
She once missed an email informing us that a final had been moved to a building across campus, and our prof. interrupted the exam to ask me, personally, from across the room, if I knew where she was. She, of course, came running in five minutes later after having sprinted flat out across campus in her usual platform sandals and skirt.

She is the reason that I know Chicago has a curfew, and she is the one who takes me shopping whenever I visit her and insists on taking me to the Urban Outfitters there. I always buy something, just because she brought me.

2007-05-16T00:25:00.001-04:00

‘The Riches’: Wisdom of Fools

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/2000009400.html

2007-05-15T11:37:00.000-04:00

New post!

New post!

New post!
new post
new post
new post
new post . . .

hahahaaren'tRSSfeedsfun?

Things I should be doing:
writing a half page article about the convergence of the IFRS and the GAAP;
writing a blog about The Riches.

Things I am doing:
eating;
listening to Augustana's Boston, thinking about how it's being used in really weird ways considering the content (Who is Will Traveler?) and how, when I first heard it, I thought it was so apropos considering my move, and how now it's a teeny-bopper song and I have to hide my love for it . . .

Clearly I need more coffee to take care of the manufactured angst.
Maybe it's the weather.

B&C post will be up shortly. I'm off to the kitchen to see what else I can eat.

2007-05-10T16:58:00.000-04:00

How to Fix My Car

My car, she is quite old. Well, not really that old, she only came in to existence during the first Clinton administration. In contrast, my existence began during Carter’s. So, you know, she’s a spring chicken by some standards, although certainly not in car years. You see, car years are measured by determining what percentage of the sale price you spend on yearly maintenance, and multiplying that by 100. So, if you buy a car for $20K, and you spend $400 that year on an oil change and some minor body work due to that tree that just popped up out of no where in front of your neighbor’s yard, your car is still only 0.5 years old by it’s 1st human birthday. I bought my car for $500 in October. By my calculations, she’s as old as some of them redwoods out yonder in California.

LooLoo and I are buds, though, and I like to treat her well, assuming this is the best way to ensure that she does the same for me. And this usually works. She’s very considerate, making sure to alert me to the fact that the gas gauge was not working by cutting the engine just before we’d have crossed the train tracks rather than while we were right on top of them. She’s almost too reliable. She doesn’t leak oil like the old Plymouth did, and she doesn’t guzzle it the way she does gas (she’s loyal to her beverage of choice, my LooLoo is). I felt awfully guilty when her oil light came on while I was driving back from New Jersey. My poor LooLoo! She’d held her tongue for so long! She never made a fuss – and because of that, I had completely forgotten about this basic part of her maintenance!

Well, I pulled over into a rest stop right quick, let me tell you. And I looked in the manual, and it confirmed for me what I’d also learned about my last car, which is that LeSabres like 5W-30 motor oil. Well, what my baby wants, my baby gets! And so I marched my little butt into that rest stop and I bought her some 5W-30. I grabbed some paper towels on the way back out, slid into the driver’s seat, released the primary latch, and – nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing. There was a faint clicking noise, but that was all. LooLoo would not respond.

She was clearly giving me the silent treatment. It was ok, I understood. She was feeling that she’d been taken for granted. I hadn’t been following up on her maintenance, her behavior up until then had been that good, but you just can’t do that to cars. You might as well ride them hard and put them away wet for all the damage that you’ll do. And I’m not even talking about damage to their sensitive car psyches! I empathized, I really did. We weren’t in one of those fancy rest stops with garages, unfortunately, so I decided to wait until we’d gotten home and deal with LooLoo’s problems in private, the way I really ought to have done in the first place. I mean, it’s just the considerate thing to do.

LooLoo didn’t complain at all the rest of the way home, so I knew we were on the same wavelength. Unfortunately, once we got home, I broke the trust. I didn’t try to look under LooLoo’s hood for a week and a half. A week and a half! Wow. No wonder she was pissed. I finally, finally, parked her in front of the house yesterday after work and, armed with a very long flat-head screwdriver, attempted to see what could be done about her bonnet problem. The primary latch release was engaging something, that much I could tell. I could actually get my hand under her grill to attempt to disengage the secondary release, but she wasn’t letting me bring that hood up for all the attention in the world. I poked, and I prodded, and she just went quiet. Poor LooLoo. Poor, neglected LooLoo. I was clearly going to have to resort to drastic measures.

I was going to have to take her to a mechanic.

I had our day at the mechanic’s all planned out. I would bring LooLoo in at lunch, and then give her some privacy, maybe walk around downtown while they fiddled with her cables trying to fix that nasty latch problem of hers. Once they got her back to the baseline, I’d fill her oil reservoir with the premium stuff I’d been saving for a special occasion, and maybe even treat her to a tank of Super Unleaded gas for being such a good girl. Of course, once I got to work this morning, I realized that it might really just be that primary release lever. Maybe if I took a pair of pliers and pulled the cable, the hood would pop open. Maybe her cable was just loose. LooLoo’s been through a lot in her life, I can’t fault her for that. Maybe she just needed a bit of a lift to bring her back to looking the way she had in her glory days. It was worth a shot. What’s a little cosmetic procedure between friends as close as we are?

Sadly, no one in the office had pliers.

So, it was with no little trepidation that I brought LooLoo in to the mechanic. I had, of course, made sure to dress the part of Someone Who Knows What They’re Talking About, as my dress and these pointy shoes plainly showed. I’m sure that the updraft from the fan next to the garage – the one that kept blowing my skirt straight up so that I had to gather it in bunches and hold it tight to my thighs – did nothing to take away from my air of Not Being One To Be Trifled With. I explained the situation to the kindly mechanic, making sure to keep one hand on LooLoo’s hood as I spoke so that she’d know she had my support. He asked me to open the driver’s side door and pull the latch release lever a couple of times. Nothing happened. He asked me to do it again, faster this time. Again, nothing. Had LooLoo gone numb under the hood? Oh, my poor darling! He asked me to pull the lever, and hold it. I pulled with all my might, and he started pounding on the hood of the car. Pounding and pounding, and all of a sudden, LooLoo popped her hood! Huzzah! He told me that this was perfectly normal amongst the more mature models, and that I shouldn’t be afraid to use a little force if future situations called for it. He also pointed out that, regardless of what the manual said, LooLoo's oil cap clearly indicated that she would prefer 10W-30 oil. Oh, fickle LooLoo. But she has reserved the right to change her mind, and I respect her for that. As for the release, really, she just needed her latch lubed up with a little WD-40 and her hood given a good pounding.

Turns out, LooLoo is a masochist.

2007-05-08T23:13:00.001-04:00

‘The Riches’: Marinating Some Tempting Televison

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1410009141.html

2007-05-07T11:53:00.000-04:00

Thoughts Of a Rockaway Girl from Deep Inside Red Sox Nation

I was the only non-Massachusetts native in the staff meeting this morning. Main topic? Roger Clemens.

A couple of weeks ago, my boss stuck his head into my office and asked, “Did I hear you say you’d gone to your first Red Sox game?”
“Yep!” I replied, eager to share stories about Fenway and how small and quaint it is.
“Have you become a Sox fan yet?” he queried, continuing his train of thought.
“No, I’m from Queens, I’m not switching teams. I’ll always be a Mets fan,” I answered, a little startled.
“Don’t worry,” he assured me, “you’ll evolve.”

2007-05-07T10:56:00.000-04:00

Weird Habits I Have Been Known to Develop Out of the Blue (Apropos of Nothing, As It Were)

1. Scowling at my boss. See: How Not to Get Ahead at the Workplace by Kara Thrace (2004).
2. Aggressively rubbing all facial orifices when allergies strike. Seriously, I know there are no bugs in my nose. You’d think I’d been a cocaine freak in a former life. And for the amount of money I spend on mascara, one might assume that I would rather it didn’t end up pooling under my eyes by the time I got to work each morning. But one would be wrong, wouldn’t one.
3. That month in 2006 when I consistently forgot to zip my fly.
4. That month in 2006 when I consistently forgot to put on underwear.
5. Forgetting that my car has no pick-up when I decide to cut people off. Extra special because the Meineke™ Fairy clearly stole all of the bulbs out of all of the turn signals on all of the cars in Massachusetts.
6. Leaving my house keys in the door when I come home.
7. Leaving my car keys in the ignition when I get out of the car.
8. Removing my car keys from the ignition and dropping them on the passenger seat before I get out of the car.
9. Apparently, forgetting that I carry keys at all.
10. Getting bored before finishing a simple ten-point list.

2007-05-02T17:35:00.000-04:00

Me? Shy? Why, I . . .

For a brief, dark moment following two conversations I’d had over this past week, I thought that I might have to rethink my entire idea of myself, as well as my childhood, because, apparently, my own personal narrative was entirely wrong. Or so I’d been informed. Seriously, was it possible that I just did not know myself? At all? Had I been asleep? Had I just been watching the wrong movie this entire time? Was this Vanilla Sky 2 – American version, Cruz’s revenge? (Would I find the answer in Scientology?)

Also, if I didn’t know myself very well, and other people knew me better than I knew myself, was there someone out there whom I knew better than they knew themselves? Were there several someones? Was there a whole army of someones out there just waiting for me to explain themselves to themselves? And how much money do you think they would pay me to do that for them?

Certain facts I hold to be true and self-evident about me (or, Liz’s Bill of Rights):
1. I am extremely shy.
1a. I was even shyer as a kid.
2. I have to force myself to be social.
2a. I don’t really like people very much.
3. I have low self-esteem.
4. Doesn’t mean I don’t know that I’m smarter than the rest of you. Because I am. See point 2a.
5. I will regret typing that.
6. I cry way too much.
7. People seem to like my ass.
8. I am a bad actress.

I remember being terrified of other people as a child the way some kids are scared of bugs or dirt or big dogs. I remember, when I was a very young child, having to warm up to my teacher each day in school, not talking to her when I first came to class because, you know, she might bite. I was that kid who stared at you mutely when you asked her a question - the one you figured would probably be blowing shit up in about twenty years. I’d talk to my teacher more and more as the day went on, only to have to start over again the next day. I remember doing this to my grandparents, who lived right downstairs, and my aunts, who lived right upstairs, and my dad, who had to go away for weekends to work and is my dad. I remember doing this to my best friend each time we went to her house. I remember sitting quietly at family parties, not talking to anyone, feeling awkward as hell and wanting to hide. Also, not knowing what awkward meant.

And yet, was it possible that I made this all up?

Maybe I was a gregarious child. Maybe I was a social butterfly, the belle of the ball. I mean, I’ve been hit in the head a few times. It’s possible that I was completely full of shit.

I do know that, right now, I don’t like talking to the neighbors, I don’t like asking strangers for help, and that if you leave me to my own devices for a couple of days, I will avoid all contact with other human beings, if at all possible. I don’t even like asking people I do know for help, come to think of it. What if they turned me down? How would I ever survive?

I am scared to walk into new classrooms. I hate calling people I don’t know very well on the phone. I practically hyperventilate when someone I don’t talk with on a regular basis calls me. Hell, I could probably use some tranquilizers, and I could easily be the before in those squeamish commercials for social anxiety meds. Forget the fact that I used to call people and ask them for money – as my job. That was just a testament to the sheer fact of my will, as well as the sheer fact of my broke-ass-ness. I can force myself to interact with people, it’s just that the small problem of me really not wanting to do so must shine through, since I know that I am not a good actress. In reality, I don’t even like emailing new people. Which is why those who are the lucky recipients of rambling, incoherent emails get so many of them from me. Because I should probably be sending them to other people. Thanks for being my surrogates! Woohoo! Go you guys!

The only place I really talked a lot, and freely, was in school, and then only directly to the teachers, and only once I had gotten a little older. Never to the other students in class, because if I looked directly at them, I might wither away and die. But I had no problem talking to teachers - see point 4 - clearly, I had the right answers. And clearly, everyone would benefit from – nay, couldn’t live without – the pearls of shiny, pearly, pearlescent wisdom positively dripping from each and every one of my comments. I couldn’t deprive the people of that, oh, no. But outside of class, I went back to being the school hermit.

And then, well - or so I thought.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine while at a birthday party. I mentioned that I used to be very shy as a kid, and was still kind of shy. She reacted with surprise. I repeated my assertion. She pointed out that I didn’t seem very shy. Then we laughed and pointed at people. At least, I think that’s how the conversation went. There was a touch of alcohol involved.

My thinking, when I again capable of thought, was that I’ve only known this friend for about eight or nine months. I’ve lived six of those months in Boston. She does not live in Boston. Ere go, she only observes me when I have driven down for a social engagement, and have been drinking my usual moderate amount. So! There you have it! Alcohol as social lubricant! I’d solved it!

I said as much to my cousin. If anyone would agree with me about how shy and ungainly I was as a child, it’d be a family member, right?

Hell no.

His response was that I was never shy, and also that I’d fought back (I used to win, too – I’m not the only one rewriting history, kiddo!)

For a brief moment, I thought my entire life was a lie.

But then, like wisdom from angels’ lips, the answer came to me:

I had based my personal denouement on two specific interactions, and there was, in fact, an entirely plausible conclusion to be drawn.

The answer to the great mystery of my life is that . . . to get me to be social, you can either feed me alcohol, or beat me. Sweet. I should have been born in a trailer. Not that there’s anything wrong with a trailer. I should look into trailer life, as apparently, I was built for it.

Oh yeah – you could also just be wrong. And then I’ll tell you. So, you know, that way’s cool, too, I guess. Whatever.

**UPDATE: My friend Stevie points out that by this metric I was also born to play rugby. I don't know how I missed that one. Also, I forgot about caffeine. Try to shut me up when I've had only half a bagel and four cups of coffee, I dare you.

2007-05-01T15:29:00.000-04:00

‘The Riches’: Two for One

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/830008883.html

(With some questionable edits. At least, I think so. They're most likely grammatically correct.)

2007-04-24T15:50:00.001-04:00

‘Riches’: She’s Getting Married, Remember?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/680008668.html

2007-04-23T12:54:00.000-04:00

Meet the Mets, Meet the Mets

To go along with the Mr. Met love fest I have going on over at Broadcasting & Cable, this is a picture from Doug, taken on Sunday with his camera phone while he was sitting in a box along the right field line at Shea, and sent to me while I was sitting at a bar along the Green line in Allston, watching the game on TBS.

Thanks for the picture, Douglas, and thanks for coming with me, Kristin!

2007-04-23T12:14:00.000-04:00

Baseball Out of Market

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/150008615.html

2007-04-20T16:37:00.000-04:00

‘30 Rock': I don't know if you remember me, but . . .

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1790008579.html

2007-04-20T16:36:00.000-04:00

Technical difficulties

The preceding two posts would have run on Broadcasting & Cable magazine's site on April 17th and April 10th, respectively, but, due to some technical difficulties, I have the exclusives. Enjoy.

Oh, and starting with today's post on B&C Beat, I have a picture and a bio. I'm a real boy, Gepetto! It's very exciting! Get pumped! I don't hear you!

2007-04-20T16:35:00.000-04:00

It's Always Sunny on The Riches

To be completely honest it’s not very sunny for most of the characters on The Riches, but it is for me - Hartley Underwood’s back! Yes, Dahlia’s one-armed nemesis, the autocratic president of EFHA, played to outsized comedic perfection by Kaitlin Olson from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Hers is the next lawsuit that Doug has to make disappear on threat of losing his job. He does this by assuming that her seemingly perfect life is probably almost as shady as his is, and he strikes gold. Hartley Underwood used to be Mary Louise Blodgett, who had a penchant for stealing designer clothes and adult toys. Who writes the names on this show? They’re practically jokes by themselves. Hartley Underwood still has the propensity to pilfer the designer clothes, at the very least. The Malloys find out time and again that their new buffer neighbors are liars and crooks. I wonder if this was something Wayne knew all along, not having been born a traveler? If so, is it part of the reason that he ended up working for the biggest cheat in town?

2007-04-20T16:26:00.000-04:00

Dahlia’s Dream Didn’t Involve The Riches

I’m laying it out on the table - I give The Riches’ “Dahlia is lonely after prison” story arc three more episodes before I’ll become absolutely sick of it and hope that they’ll deal with it more constructively, possibly giving her another story line to focus one. Last night’s episode, though, was intriguing because of the ways in which they tried to let her work out her demons. The fact that Dahlia could connect with her new boss so deeply, in so few words, served well to show how damaged her psyche really is. When she appeared in Wayne’s office for the first time in the episode, I felt for him, trying to muddle through with his wife turning herself into a giant distraction. When she appeared the second time, after losing even that new connection with her boss, I felt, profoundly, for her. She must have spent her time in prison hating that Wayne wasn’t there, and hating that she wished he were the one behind bars. She must have longed to be back on the road with her family. What she got instead was some version of the alleged American dream in which she spends most of her time alone in a giant house, not surrounded by her husband and kids in an RV. The house, the life, the societal restrictions – those are certainly not part of Dahlia’s dream.

I’m excited for The Riches marathon on Friday. I think this show is good enough that it would definitely be a shame if it didn’t catch on, and it’s generated enough buzz that I’d guess it will pull in new viewers if they get the chance to watch it from the beginning.

2007-04-12T16:45:00.000-04:00

All fall down (shit! they're on to me!)

A canonical author has passed, and one of the very first thoughts to flash across my little brain when I heard of his death was, “Wow, I’ve never gotten around to reading any of his books.”
This was swiftly followed by a crushing sense of guilt, made all the more weird because my first thought had been, “I didn’t even know he was still alive.”

Apparently, in my world, it is alright to ignore basic foundation blocks of Western literature if the author has been dead for awhile (at least since the 1980’s), because I’ll get around to reading him or her at some point; but it’s just downright rude to ignore living authors! I should have gotten right on that, apparently. Thanks, psyche, for making that clear.

I’m tempted to put together a list of important living authors, ordered chronologically by birth. Maybe then I can cross-reference it by known diseases/psychoses/crippling enamorations with drugs and or alcohol, get myself a little reading list and try to beat the clock. Most likely, not only would that plan never be borne out, but it also just wouldn’t work. There are too many. That’s the root of it, really: that I feel like a fraud. That every day I get through without someone catching me, asking me how on earth I ever managed to graduate with an English major, how I could have ignored so many great works, how I can manage to drag myself around upright each day, well, every day like that is a miracle. The logical jump is to assume that, some day, the cards will fall.

The chances are pretty good that I’ll knock them over while drunk, let’s be honest, and get them all sticky and covered with gatorade and step on them for a couple of weeks before I bother to pick them up.

This all makes me angry. Illogically angry, that type of anger I especially hate because I know it comes from some deep-seeded neuroses and not from any basis in reality. That type of anger that forces me to acknowledge that, seriously, I can not hide the crazy, no matter how much I’d like to think I can.
I’m angry because I read what I was told to, and so much more.
I’m angry because I trusted that by doing the work I would, in the end, cover the gamut of what’s important.
I can’t even begin to imagine where I got that idea. Whoever said that you’d have learned everything you needed to know by the time you graduated college? Apparently, it was the same person who promised that rose garden; which is to say no one. I made it up, and I’ve been fighting to catch up with that idea for as long as I can remember. Uphill both ways, barefoot, and possibly pregnant in the kitchen, who knows, but hell, as a fraud I reserve the right to mix my metaphors, thank you very much.

So then, I wonder if this is what drives most people, this desire not to fail? This feeling that you’ve managed to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes thus far, so you’d better get your ass in gear and make all of your illusions true? I wonder if it’s this fear that really goads us along, and allows us to turn potential into viable possibilities? And would that mean then when my time comes if I’ve been a success at life, it was really all because I was running away from some metaphorical bees and that scary clown from It?

Can’t I just attribute any success I have to a love of puppies and ice cream? That would be so much tastier.

Endnote: Today I was saddened to read that Kurt Vonnegut had passed away at the age of 84. I didn’t name him earlier in the essay because I didn’t want it to seem as if I was writing about Kurt Vonnegut, and then segue into disturbing facts about me, and then get lost writing about me. This whole piece has been about me, I’ve been bringing the crazy this entire time. Just so we’re clear on that. This is not the worst memorial in the world. It really is just a good ’ole tangential rambling.

2007-04-04T13:52:00.000-04:00

‘Black Donnellys’: Daddy’s Lucky Charm

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1130008113.html

2007-04-04T11:34:00.000-04:00

‘Riches’: Beauty in Breaking the Law

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1060008106.html

2007-04-03T17:04:00.001-04:00

Politics doesn’t make strange bedfellows, Foodmaster does.

We hit the supermarket running, leaving the dog waiting in the car. Zooming past bread and dairy, we only needed soup, meat, and Gold’s beet horseradish, which I’m still convinced he could get in Phoenix if he just got up and went looking for it, because really, it’s like Boca West out there.
We found the poultry section without a problem, and gladly availed ourselves of the conveniently located napkins after pawing through the slimy chicken packages.
Now we were down to the soup aisle – three kinds – and the dog had been alone for ten minutes.
We couldn’t find it.
How could we not find it?
It’s soup. It’s a staple.
We broke down and asked for help. Aisle 5, Dogfood and Soup.

Of course.

We were done - we didn’t like beets, anyway.

2007-04-03T16:51:00.001-04:00

Over the river . . .

I work in the woods. It’s really amazing how nobody believes me when I say that, but I work in the real, honest-to-God, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, woods. And I work on the ground level of a building set into a hill. Now, these woods have turkeys. I don’t know how many of you have ever seen a wild turkey, but they’re tall birds, and, usually, they’re scrawny, and they’re dumb. Dumb, dumb birds.
So imagine being the new girl in the office, and looking up from your new desk and out of your new window to find a pack of wild turkeys staring in at you. It was like they’d come to visit the zoo.
“Welcome to Massachusetts, I work in the zoo.”

So the turkeys have been coming by on and off all winter, and since there hasn’t been much snow, they’ve had no problems finding food. So now they’re big, dumb birds. Watching them is like watching your Thanksgiving dinner wandering around outside your window. They’ll disappear over a hill and reappear on the crest ten feet off, and you’ll think, “Dinner! Ho!”

No one back home believes me, so I brought a camera in to work the other day. And of course, when they appeared, I ran outside after them, trying in vain to take their pictures.

Funny thing about wild animals – they run away.

Didn’t occur to me. My mom says it’s a good thing I don’t have to hunt to eat.

2007-03-28T15:34:00.000-04:00

Jennifer Aniston Gets Her Hands Dirty

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1430007943.html

2007-03-27T15:44:00.000-04:00

'The Riches': On the Hot Seat

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1070007907.html

2007-03-27T15:40:00.000-04:00

‘Black Donnellys’: Does Joey Tell It Like It Is?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1060007906.html

2007-03-20T14:41:00.000-04:00

‘The Riches’: In Which Dahlia Beats up a One-Armed Woman

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1210007721.html

2007-03-20T14:36:00.000-04:00

'The Black Donnellys' Steal From Widows

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1200007720.html

2007-03-13T16:11:00.000-04:00

‘Black Donnellys’: Sibling Rivalry

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1430007543.html

2007-03-13T16:04:00.000-04:00

Introducing the Riches

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1400007540.html

2007-03-06T13:19:00.000-05:00

'Black Donnellys': The Lincoln Tunnel’s Killer That Time of Day

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1470007347.html

2007-02-27T11:32:00.000-05:00

The Black Irish Have Their Day

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1790007179.html

2007-02-20T17:14:00.000-05:00

Before the 'Black Donnellys' Arrive

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/530007053.html

2007-02-13T18:34:00.000-05:00

Change in Tone – Studio 60 Again

One more point – I found it interesting that the episode which first depicts Matt’s reliance on pills is the first episode to run different music behind the opening credits – eery, ominous-sounding music.

2007-02-13T14:49:00.000-05:00

High Fidelity ‘Studio 60’

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1370006937.html

2007-02-06T11:43:00.000-05:00

A Viper, A Ferret, and a Coyote Walk Into a ‘Studio’…

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/30006803.html

2006-11-28T15:33:00.000-05:00

'Studio 60' A Strong Finisher

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/650005665.html

2006-11-21T14:16:00.000-05:00

‘Studio 60’: Trouble in the Writers’ Room

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1950005595.html

2006-11-14T14:21:00.000-05:00

‘Studio 60’: Matt & Danny Trumps Matt & Harriet

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/690005469.html

2006-10-17T14:04:00.000-04:00

Is Studio 60 Predicting Its Own Demise?

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/190005019.html

2006-10-10T11:12:00.000-04:00

Last Night on TV: Studio 60 Gets Deep

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1330004933.html

2006-10-03T13:50:00.000-04:00

Studio 60's Not So Great Debate

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/400004840.html

2006-09-26T15:28:00.000-04:00

Studio 60: In Search of Matt Albie

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1460004746.html

2006-09-19T16:41:00.000-04:00

For Peet's Sake, Look at the Camera!

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/580004658.html

2006-08-23T16:25:00.000-04:00

Brenda Walsh's Lessons on Regional Differences

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1020004302.html

2006-08-23T13:09:00.000-04:00

How Not to Remain Friends After the Break-Up

http://www.broadcastingcable.com/blog/1380000138/post/1010004301.html

2006-02-08T19:34:00.000-05:00

Curiouser and curiouser.

I saw something while walking to work this morning that literally made me stop in my tracks. There was a backhoe traveling down Broadway this morning, and the driver was a woman. That wasn’t what stopped me, because frankly I see no reason that a woman can’t drive a backhoe if that’s what she wants to do with her life. No, what brought me up short was that the driver looked like she was probably somebody’s grandma. Not that she could be, but that she definitely was. Almost as if she was getting some early-morning shopping done at Century 21 and decided to take the backhoe uptown rather than wait for a cab. She wore stylishly short, fluffy, older-woman hair, a pink ribbed turtleneck, and wire-rimmed eyeglasses. I stood in place for a moment, waiting for the requisite fluffy dog or fat cat to press its fuzzy little face up against the passenger-side window, but sadly she must have left her furry friends at home while she was out doing manual labor. Pity, too, because she looked like she was having a good time, and I bet Muffy would’ve loved to have been there. I wanted to mime pulling the horn to see if I could get her to honk, but she never took her eyes off the road to stare at me or any other girl in the area.

Actually, that was the most shocking part of the whole sighting.

I knew she wasn’t a construction worker!

2006-01-30T16:05:00.000-05:00

Monday’s a workin’ day!

The following is not for the faint of heart. There’s talk of bathrooms. Bathrooms, people! It's a regular movie of the week over here.

Monday's are always a bit of a shock to me. I wake up (never early enough) and realize that I've forgotten how to be a "normal" person while I was out doing my thing (read: sleeping) over the weekend. Even if I went in to work that weekend. Which I almost never used to do. But that's a whole 'nother post in and of itself.

Monday is probably the day when I have the hardest time convincing myself not to call in sick to work. Thursday and Friday also received votes, by the way, albeit for different reasons. This morning represented a good example of my typical Monday morning - I had to get up three times. By "get up," I mean I got out of bed, went into the bathroom, and either, um, went into the bathroom, washed my face, or brushed my teeth. Then I thought about what I was going to wear to work, and then I got back into bed. I should have left the apartment before I actually got up the first time, if that means anything.

Well, clearly it means something - it means that I was freakin' late to work this morning, that's what it means.

So I obviously wasn't up to washing my face and brushing my teeth during the same trip to the bathroom. Noooo, that would be too much to handle. I had to fall back into bed and curl up in the fetal position between those trips. And boy is it a long trek to the bathroom for me. It's so far away that from the bed I have to use my right arm to toss paper balls at the bathroom garbage can - my aim with my left arm isn't reliable enough, I risk the trajectory being off just to the point at which I miss the shot and the call from David Stern never comes. Also, my left arm is weaker and the draft coming from underneath the windowsill always threatens to blow my shot even farther off course.

After I talk myself into putting on pants and venturing outside of the apartment, I have to deal with other commuters. And that's always dicey, because nobody's nice on Monday. Which is the reason I have to believe that I'm not the only one who has a hard time beginning the week. Monday morning is when I'm most likely to get knocked down the escalator by the people who clearly think that running down the stairs won't get them to the bottom quickly enough. Do you know what's at the bottom? A line to get to the tracks. I'm not talking about the escalator down to the tracks. I'm talking about the escalator down to the turnstiles. By the time I make it to the escalator going down to the tracks, the herd has been thinned out enough that no one's going to knock me over. No one I won't see coming, anyway. The train will then be late, and it will be packed, because it will have been late getting to the earlier stations (btw, it will late because I was late. That's how God works. Or at least it's how public transportation works.) Luckily I won't have to actively do anything from here on out, because I will be pushed onto the train by the 4'8" woman who either weighs 40 pounds, or 240 pounds, depending on which door I'm standing in front of, and pinned up between the guy who is obviously boycotting either deodorant or toothbrushes for personal reasons and the guy who holds the vertical support bar with his arm at a right angle from his body - not a right angle formed by his elbow, mind you, but at his shoulder. He will make the entire trip riding in this manner, holding onto the bar (which we refer to as a "guard rail" here at the zoo) on the right side of the train car while he stands on the left side. At this point in the day I always wonder, does he do this because his elbow doesn't bend? Because if that's the case I'd like to recommend he hold himself up with his other arm. It's probably a much healthier way for him to travel.

Once I finally extricate myself from the mass of limbs pouring out the door of the train, and fight my way up the stairs (or not - sometimes I wait for the main part of the crowd to go through. I pretend I'm still seriously injured and that I should avoid crowded staircases. And, really, shouldn't we all?) I make my way into the office and find at least one message from someone who got in to work way too early and already has a problem which they wanted me to have dealt with two hours ago.

And the reason that I notice all these things on Monday mornings is because no one acts this way over the weekend. People don't push as much, they don't hate each other as much, and they actually try to smell good on the weekends. Which is why Monday is so much more shocking than any of the other days. End note - walking down the street singing (and dancing to) "Manic Monday" is no way to make friends. I know because I've tried.

2006-01-27T14:15:00.000-05:00

Things just don't happen as easily to a full-sized iPod.

Not that I'm complaining, but has this ever happened to one of you?

While at work yesterday, I realized that my Nano wasn't in my bag.
Usually, I would have realized a whole lot sooner than that, but just before leaving home yesterday morning I made the unprecedented decision to make the trip in *without* music. I thought my ears could use a break. So when I realized it was missing, I thought that I had probably left it in my locker at the gross gym I had been trying out, and which I had already decided not to join. This did not make me happy. I could call the gym, of course, but what are the chances someone would have turned it in? Plus, I wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't accidentally left it at home. As this gym is conveniently open 24 hours a day, I figured I could wait until I got home to call. So when I got home, I proceeded to rip apart the apartment. And do you know where it was? Up in the toe of my skinny little ballet-slipper-like shoe. It had been removed along with my gym stuff when I'd emptied my bag that morning.

The toe of my shoe? Seriously? I'm starting to think that the older woman I'd sat next to on the train home had the right idea - she did not give the appearance of one who is up on the newest technological gadgets, but she surprised me by pulling out a RAZR phone. And she had it in this huge case! Ginormous! But now, I realize, it was so she wouldn't lose it. Clearly. Because we have now reached the point where our "nifty" little gadgets have gotten so small we have to wrap them in things to make them bigger just so we can find them!

The people who design these tiny-tech. trappings are making a killing off of us. I'm not going to stand for it anymore.

So I'm asking that if any of you come across a purveyor of Get Smart-style shoe phones, please pick one up for me. Ditto with the giant, silver, boxy, early 80's-era boom box. And maybe a British license, so I can't put it in my pocket and lose it. Actually, forget that, how about a laminating machine so I can bring my license up to that size without engaging in international fraud? Then I will easily be able to find all of these important things in my giant purse. Because, as a friend of mine has repeatedly pointed out, my purse is huge. Apparently I'm been compensating for my ever-shrinking gadgets by buying inverse-proportioned purses. At least they're not sports cars . . .
And the boom box can go in my rugby kit bag, because Lord knows I won't be using that for much else anytime soon.

Fight the power!