31 Aug 2009

Powerbars, Yahtzee.

Written by sally @ 11:19 am — Section: Uncategorized

Dear True Blood writers,

You started this story arc one episode too late, and that is why in last night’s episode I was forced to watch Jason Stackhouse eat a Powerbar while sitting in his truck. Lame. And oh god, Evan Rachel Wood, your overacting was painful to watch. As was your Yahtzee playing.

Also: with all the shit Sookie’s seen in the past few days, a giant egg is what makes her scream? Please.

Bring on the finale! I want to be on the edge of my seat, not checking my watch while Jason chews.

Thanks in advance,
Sally J. Nordan

27 Aug 2009

Gashlycreamed Chipped Beef.

Written by sally @ 1:20 pm — Section: Uncategorized

Did you know Edward Gorey liked Stouffer’s Creamed Chipped Beef? It is better than being like Clara who wasted away or Ernest who choked on a peach.

Mommywood: A Thorough, Academic Review.

Written by sally @ 8:17 am — Section: sally

Yesterday I picked up Tori Spelling’s Mommywood at the public library. While public libraries have many valuable roles in a community, for me, letting me read terrible books that I don’t have to buy (and therefore, own) is at the top of the list. I didn’t read her other book, and I don’t know what I was expecting. But people, are you ready? Are you sitting down?

TORI SPELLING’S BOOK IS TERRIBLE.

I guess I thought because this was the follow-up, that meant the first one wasn’t so bad. Oh, how wrong I was. It’s not that it’s poorly written; it’s that it’s incredibly uninteresting. Don’t get me wrong, when she talks about how people say she has a horseface or when she rips into her mom, it’s kind of interesting — interesting like it’s interesting to read someone that you don’t like much’s Facebook status — but the rest is a blog entry. No: the rest is a Livejournal entry. From 1999. In this passage, Tori and family have gone on vacation:

There was room service. There were TVs. A full-sized pool. Beds. And a bomb shelter’s worth of supplies from Target. [Note: there was a whole paragraph detailing all the stuff she bought at Target on the last page.] The first few days flew by. I had an okay massage. We rented bikes — Dean’s had a little seat for Liam up front — and rode around the resort while Patsy and Stella followed behind in a golf cart.

(The part that gets me the most, and which sounds the most like a blog where you hear what people eat for lunch, is “I had an okay massage.”)

People, this is not exposition. This detailed account of how she spent her days on vacation is not intended to contrast the next passage, WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, A MONSOON FLOODED THE HOTEL! or AND THEN I REALIZED I HAD FORGOTTEN OUR OTHER CHILD AT HOME or OH MY GOD ANYTHING INTERESTING AT ALL. The whole book is like this!

In related news, I read every word.

20 Aug 2009

Attention!

Written by sally @ 8:31 pm — Section: sally

I HAVE SOME BORING THINGS TO DISCUSS!

First, let us get this one out of the way, as it’s the most boring: remember how a few months ago I was whining about my contacts? (I also whined about them a few years ago, and a few years before that.) I had tried 7 or 8 different brand of gas permeables (which I usually wear) and then tried soft lenses, but none of them worked. Within 5-10 minutes of having them in, a film would appear on the lenses. I kept going back to my opthalmologist — who, remember, is a medical doctor — and he had no idea what to do. He finally referred me to a contact specialist, who within 15 seconds of meeting me, flipped my eyelids and discovered that I have a form of conjunctivitis. Which was causing the film to appear. For FOUR MONTHS my stupid doctor never checked for this (apparently, according to Dr. Google) common problem. Ok! I’m done now. (Although I am still in glasses.)

Secondly, this week I presented the presentation with the presenter (I just wanted to type those all in a row) who changed my slides to the dreaded Comic Sans. Oh, girl. For awhile I refused to believe that the great Comic Sans Caper was the reason he seemed to hate my guts, as that is lame, but as it’s the only transgression I committed against him, it’s all I got. So during the presentation, he stood way ahead of me, thus not able to glance over and let me jump in. So I used a microphone. Ha ha! Take that, Comic Sans! He also didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. I can forgive that, though, as my jokes had to do with the following:
–Bell’s palsy
–spying on the salaries of corporate CEOs
–cat poop

They all made sense in context!

Thirdly, I keep finding myself defending Lady Gaga. Not Lady Gaga as an “artist”; Lady Gaga as a Spectacle of Pop Culture. I enjoy that she just arrived, fully formed, insane persona completely intact, with the Altoids of bad pop music (“curiously strong”) clutched in her hand. Or maybe clutched in her bare buttocks, as they are on display often. It is popular these days to be unaware of popular culture. Have you noticed this? Sometimes when my real worries start to bore me I begin to worry about the future of radio — how iPods insulate the world against the cruddy music of the world, but y’all: you need to listen to the cruddy music of the world, at least a little — you need to be annoyed by bad things; you need to know that Lady Gaga wants to ride your disco stick; and you need to be able to read the bullseye feature in Entertainment Weekly and not have to ask someone who all those people are. (Which reminds me of this article that my friend from kindergarten posted on his Facebook page a few weeks ago.)

Fourth, I am still reading Mary Roach’s Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex, which is not the laugh-a-minute riot that Stiff was, but has inspired a few snorts here and there. Finally, finally, on page 183, came the footnote that made me (excuse the expression) laugh out loud. Roach has just mentioned the patent for a product called Men’s Underwear with Penile Envelope, which sends us to this footnote:

Close to but not quite the world’s most embarrassing underthing. First prize must go to the Deodorizing and Sound-Muffling Anal Pad. The patent’s background material details the sad decline of the human anal sphincter muscle, whose gripping capacity fades as we age. The absorbing layer is said to “trap the sound of a flatus,” as though one might later drive it to a less populated area and release it.
The Anal Pad should not be confused with a prior invention called the Anal Napkin, which, in turn, should not be confused with the dinner napkin.

MARY ROACH I WORSHIP AT YOUR ALTAR.

12 Aug 2009

Within Seconds of Each Other.

Written by sally @ 11:23 am — Section: Uncategorized

TWINKAL
GIRLS

It’s a Slow Nugget Day.

Written by sally @ 7:42 am — Section: Uncategorized

This morning I saw a guy swig from a gallon jug of red drink while in the passenger seat of a car.

I am working on a power point presentation with someone who lives elsewhere, and a few weeks ago he sent his half of the presentation to me so I could insert my slides. He had chosen the hideous Arial as a font, which I ignored, and used Garamond instead. I didn’t fuck with his ugly Arial; I just went about my business, made my slides, then sent the presentation back to him. THEN he sent it back to me and said “oh hey I made all the font the same” which, ok, fine, I kind of expected that, but inexplicably, instead of changing all of it to Arial he changed it all to COMIC SANS.

The other night I asked Larry, “Did Spike just poop, or is that your popsicle I smell?” Somehow, the smell of a grape popsicle was exactly that of a teething poop. (Oh, you molars, you are the devil.) This did not stop me from eating a grape popsicle later in the evening.

Ok, that’s all.

5 Aug 2009

Nuggets in Time.

Written by sally @ 9:14 am — Section: sally

1. PTRYNPK

2. My birthday was Monday and I stayed home with Spike, and then yesterday I ditched him at daycare and went shopping. I had a gift card from Anthropologie (thanks, in laws!) and no time constraints. This, friends, is a great combo. So I dug around in the sale area and had a pile of stuff to try on, including this really cute dress that was marked down to $19.95! Hello! At Anthropologie! So I tried it on, and ohmygod it fit. It’s a leetle low cut (and uh, not in a cute way), but a tank top underneath will do the trick. I also got a super cute skirt.

So last night I was hanging the dress up and heard some crinkling. I went hunting for the crinkly tag and found, instead, a Payday candy bar wrapper in the pocket.

I figured the dress had been returned, as it was marked down so much, but people, it is pristine. There is nary a mark on it, nary a stray string. I have decided that these are the only possible scenarios:

a. the person wore the dress and ate a Payday
b. the person tried the dress on at home and ate a Payday
c. the person tried the dress on at home, heard her roommate’s key in the lock, and stuffed the Payday wrapper into the pocket to prevent the roommate from knowing she ate her last Payday
d. an Anthropologie employee was eating a Payday in the sale area and slipped the wrapper in the pocket when she heard her supervisor coming

While I do not understand who eats Paydays — hello, there is no chocolate — I am grateful that there is no smeary chocolate residue in the pocket. In related news, I am going to start stuffing candy bar wrappers into garments and then demanding a discount upon check out.

3. Last night I accidentally watched Somewhere in Time. All 103 minutes of it (I know there are 103 minutes because at 90 minutes, I looked on imdb to see how much more I had to live through). I last saw this when I was in high school and thought it was sooooo romaaaaantic. Y’all. While I love romance + time travel, Christopher Reeve, bless him, is the WORST ACTOR EVER. It’s like watching an orangutan trying to act. He clutches his head to indicate despair. It is unbearable. It would be 10 times more enjoyable as a Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie. If you have seen this movie lately, perhaps you can answer two questions for me:

1. So she gives the watch to him when she’s old, and then he leaves it in 1912 when he disappears. But where did it come from to begin with?
2. So the penny screws him and he flies back to 1979. Why doesn’t he just try to go back to 1912 again instead of crying and taking long walks on the beach?

If you have a chance, please watch this movie, take some notes, and get back to me.

3 Aug 2009

Victory is Mine!

Written by sally @ 6:57 pm — Section: Uncategorized

Larry and I just had an argument about the official definition of the word “dingleberry.” I won because my definition was in the OED! Score! (First usage: 1950.)