save me!

I really should be getting out to meet my friends now, but I'm on a Migraine research roll and keep finding new tidbits of information!

Whether or not you know someone who's easily affected by the omnipresent flickering of fluorescent bulbs, this website and newsbrief should be mandatory reading for all people--certainly for all Migraineurs.

I signed the petition electronically but wished I had a pen I could bare down on with all my strength and fervor.

don't go warmin' my leg...

I bought a pair of cozy leg warmers over a year ago while on vaycayshun and have yet to actually wear them. Part of my being still remains stock-still against the Huntley Hills Elementary cafetorium wall during the seventh grade dance, fearful that making a move toward the center of the room will bring attention to what is surely the wrong pastel, flowered dress.

Most of me doesn't care what others think of what I'm wearing. (See? I'm soooo self-actualized.)

After having slept off a Migraine most of the daylight hours, I am not feeling too festive. I miss my GHP friends right now and wish we were having one of our characteristic lock-ins. Heartbreakingly, these events are now a thing of the past. Wah. Going out this evening will be festive, I'm sure--seeing The Diamond Center last night was awesome enough, so tonight will be even more fun, especially since the Tom Petty cover band, Heavy Petty, will follow. But bar-hopping and going to see some bands play and friend-DJs spin sort of feels like any other night. If only Chris (see photo, courtesy of C. Tinsley) would get all souped up in his cheap-ass Santa outfit again.


Happy last day of 2007.

Happy Birthday, Mary!

It's Mary Tyler Moore's birthday today. She was born on December 29, 1936, so that makes her 71.

This is my 221st blog entry. My birthday is 2/21--it's a SIGN!!!

Voudriez-vous une cigarette?

In what I see as an incredibly wonderful twist of fate for the health of millions, the French government has decided to outlaw smoking in bars and cafes beginning January 2nd! (They are going to allow smokers to party and puff away on New Year's Eve, kind souls.) Next time I go I don't have to retreat early to the hotel due to smoke-induced Migraines. Sweet heaven!

No need to get into a whose-right-is-it-to-say-where-and-when-we-can-and-cannot-smoke debate here, folks. The fact of the matter is the issue has been decided and we will no longer smell like cigarette butts upon leaving French bars at 4 AM, nor will we have secondhand smoke hangovers the next morning. Freedom, sweet freedom. Ah, bon.

The Average Debaters

Lord, I'm so happy I'm not the only one out there who's not fawning over The Great Debaters.

sickypoo strikes again

Last night I couldn't fall asleep. I had the strangest ball of pain in my stomach. Unfamiliar, unsettled pain. It wasn't the lurching pain of an upset stomach or the hard rocky feeling of a gassy stomach (ew--did I just say "gassy stomach"?).

Around 6 AM, after having napped about twenty minutes between 2:40 and 3:00 AM, I got up suddenly and was sick sick sickeroo. Food poisoning? I'd only had Chick-fil-A and a few handfuls of snack food at Dallas's earlier in the day. Did I overnog it? I had a mug full of pumpkin eggnog that was marked "sell by Dec. 24." Does that mean it was bad by the evening of Dec. 26th?

In any case, I was sick and then lay down in bed in more pain, whining and moping and not falling asleep for another hour or so. Today was shot, and by the time I did get up I was weaky mckinserson and couldn't do much of anything without getting winded. Taking a five minute shower just about knocked me out!

I'm grateful to have this time off work. Nothing much is going on right now. Obviously it would have been nice to help Jim with dinner despite my tendency to grunt about helping (truly--I'm not very good!), and dropping all my stuff off at the post office would've made me feel as if I'd accomplished something. But no such luck, eh?

My dearest Denise did send me a link to a "fun" website, though. For all of you with whom I've bitched about misplaced or completely unnecessary quotation marks, this site's for you!
http://quotation-marks.blogspot.com/

Hope everyone's in good health! Remember that Mary Tyler Moore's birthday is this Saturday night, 12/29!!!

Happy Xmas.

This is the first year I have spent Christmas without my parents, and it'll be the second Christmas morning I'll wake up without my sister. No, nothing sinister or heartbreaking happened to her--she just spent Christmas with her former girlfriend's family one year and came home a few days after to have an after-Christmas get-together with us.

My parents didn't feel like traveling away from their adopted Florida homeland. I didn't feel like going to their Florida home for the third time in three months only to turn around three days later. Julie didn't want to book air travel from Milwaukee when the Midwest has been erupting in snowstorms every few weeks. (She thought correctly on that one--Milwaukee is all snowy and wintry mixy right now, and many people's travel plans have screeched to a halt.)

I'm here in Athens with my beau and my friends. It's chilly, and it's quiet. Mary Beth just called and offered to bring me a delicious plate of food from her family's Christmas dinner. Sounds wonderful, as I've had just a teensy bit of food since my lunch earlier today. I'm going to take my new camera and the handy-dandy portable Scrabble game down to Flicker to visit the bartender boyf til he gets off work at midnight. Maybe we'll see Santa flying through the skies!!

It's certainly a nontraditional Christmas for me. Stranger than the year Julie and I were on a cruise with our parents? P'raps. That was 9 years ago. Or 10!! I'm old.
Guess it's time to bust all out on my own, right, y'all?

this short video of a small child will restore your faith in humanity

Have you ever felt so tired you just nodded off in the midst of what you were doing? I can recall dinners, classes, and of course books during which I caught myself as my head and/or body started heading swiftly toward the closest hard, horizontal surface.

A few months ago the little boy I babysit (one whom I've known since he was a couple months old--now he's 17 mos. or so!) was being a Crabby Appleton, as my beloved Grandma Mary might say. During his lunch he barely ate a thing, so hunger wasn't at the root of his bad mood. Halfway into his meager portion of vegetables the problem surfaced: his eyelids grew heavy, he comically half-fell toward the highchair table again and again, only to catch himself at the last second. (I had my pand poised at the ready, of course--I wouldn't let that teensy little head get all smooshed in vegetables, let alone bruised!) But sweet lord--that was hilarious. I think it was my laughter that kept waking him up. The transition from wakefulness to sleep took about 2 minutes--amazing. I wish I could fall asleep that fast.

I cleaned him up and put him in his crib, where he went out like a light. Later I described this adorable and very funny phenomenon to Jim, but words could not begin to describe the event.

To my happy surprise, someone has captured the same event with a different child on video! And I know the people involved, so it's not like I've been cyberstalking a small baby! My friend Eliza and her husband Eric have a little girl named Rio; since Rio was born they've been recording short videos and posting them on youtube.com so that friends and family far away could see what she's up to.

Take a look--it's only about 1.5 minutes at the most and you can watch it on mute. So cute and funny. And the blog subject doesn't lie, unless you really are the grinchiest of them all.


Love,
me

Flight of the Conchords--watch it!

Today's Paste email announced that Flight of the Conchords (do I italicize that? I guess not since we're talking specifically of the performing duo here and not their TV show) are going to release a full-length album!

My mom had Jim and me watch Flight of the Conchords over Thanksgiving. This was after it came highly recommended from a few friends, including the ever-zealous "F'n Jimmy," who promised Nancy and me that we would love it, especially since she and I tend to sing about what's going on at any given time. Well, I saw a couple episodes of my mom's season 1 DVD and I can verify this: the show is amazing. Hilarious. Original. So funny. Watch it.

I just went to youtube.com and found a clip of them performing "Business Time" on stage in front of a live audience. It's still very funny, but I really do prefer seeing the duo perform within the auspices of their television show. They definitely have the means to up the ante there and make things more ridiculous, silly, and clever. All the same, it's worth a watch if you've never seen any of Flight of the Conchords and want a dose of their humor.

Next stop: Vision Video, Amazon.com, or wherever you go to acquire DVDs! Get to it!
xo-
Janet

I do not exist.

I am standing in a home not recognized by UPS, FedEx, Pizza Hut, Papa John's, or Dominoes.

You see, this evening marked the third or fourth time I've found out from a worldwide, highly reputable delivery service (this description does not include the pizza places mentioned above) that my "delivery address does not exist." It's lots of fun to pay for expedited shipping only to discover that you can't be shipped to due to your own nonexistence.

Granted, my house address is a little misleading. The house itself is in a little community of homes off one street, and the house address bears the name of another teensy street that forms that back border of the small neighborhood. But let's go over a few key points here:
1. The teensy street EXISTS.
2. The teensy street has a NAME.
3. The teensy street has a LEGIBLE ROAD SIGN.
4. It is the year 2007 (soon to be 2008!) and I do reckon there's better technology out there than paper maps and compasses. (No, I'm not besmirching the glory of the compass. But an in-cab cheapo GPS system seems fairly routine these days, and what stops 'em from calling the main office or--dare I say it?--the phone number on the shipping label, my number, for more descriptive directions?)

Now I have to wait a whole extry day for this and this.
And that makes me feel like this:

Ho, ho, ho!

I'm trying to force someone I know and love to get into the Christmas spirit. First I told him that I'd be home in Athens for the holidays, a warm body for him to cuddle by his side [in this 70 degree winter chill], a loving girlfriend to keep close as the holiday doldrums attempt to hit each and every one of us swiftly below the belt.

This news was not taken as excitedly as I'd wished. Hmmff.

Next plan? Get a Christmas tree! Decorate it while Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole make us filled with dreams of sugarplum fairies!

It just so happened that I bought the tree by myself. (See earlier post.) GrinchyBoyf (TM) did seem a bit disappointed when I told him I'd done so ("I thought we were going to do that together!") but expressed zero interest in decorating it with me. You see, the lad just doesn't celebrate Christmas in that cheesy way I do. I get overly excited and overwhelmed with countdowns and lights and icicles (Chris would have me call them by their collective name, "tinsel") and the sheer anticipation. Jim doesn't go for this. Not one ounce of it.

Today I ended up half-forcing him to "want" to help me put the lights on the tree. By the time he said he would and that he "wanted" to help, I rejected his offers. Hours later, we were both in our element: he relaxed before a show by watching the classic Christmas heartwarmer, Letters from Iwo Jima, whilst I decorated the tree in jean shorts in mid-December. Guess we came to a compromise after all.

let the tipping begin! (or "karma chameleon")

A few weeks ago I caught myself making a grave mathematical error about five beats after the person I was selling two CDs to caught me making a grave mathematical error. Ignoring the error would have saved him $20 and lost the band I was working for that same amount. Luckily we both realized my mistake. (Trying to balance too many things at once--a conversation, selling CDs for two bands in the selfsame minute, and such.)

I was really hard on myself for this mistake. Truly, I beat myself up for these things much more harshly than I think most people do. Time, learning, reading, and a little degree in gifted education (in which I learned a lot about perfectionism and how it manifests) has solidified what I didn't want to believe: I am a perfectionist, and this is not entirely healthy. Though I'm pretty secure with myself and have a shiny self-esteem (ahem--some scholars/psychologists might say that I am not too much of an inwardly-focused perfectionist), I really take it hard when I make a mistake in front of someone else. Falling on my butt, flubbing my words, etc.--that's usually fine, because I can laugh at myself first. But making a mistake that may make the other person perceive me as dumb? Oh, boy. That is really difficult to take.

That man at the rock show, the one I sold the CDs to for almost-free? Wow. He probably thought nothing of our interaction, probably thought what I would have if I were in his shoes: "that girl done got confused, guess I'd better tell her what's what." But that's not what I imagined, and not what I still imagine he was thinking. Oh, no siree. You see, he was thinking about how this little young thing in a dress was hired to sell CDs but can't even multiply by tens and do simple subtraction. He was wondering how much money I'd lost the band thus far. He was trying so very hard not to roll his eyes, thinking I might have looked a little cute but was probably not all that smart.

Let's face it, kids. Very few people in this world are as harsh as the way I imagine(d) that man to be in that moment. In fact, he handled the situation gracefully and I probably did as well. I am well aware that I need to get over making mistakes in front of people. People don't need to know that I'm smart. It's just...

Oh, shut up.


Anyhow. Today I went to the soon-to-be-closing nursery on the East Side of town, Charmar. The drought is making it so this quaint and usually successful family-run business is closing its doors in 17 days. (I originally heard about the store after they made the decision to close while listening to a local NPR story. I think that's right, but perhaps it was the UGA channel or 100.7. Whatev.) It's really a shame. I'd never been in before this afternoon, when I dipped in between tutoring appointments in the hopes of scoring one of their pretty Christmas trees. (30% off, and the only Christmas trees I've seen in town, truth be told. There were only five left when I was there. I think I'm a late bloomer.) When I handed the woman at the cash register a twenty and a ten to pay for the tree, which was $28.45, she gave me a ten and change in return. I rewound time in my head to be sure and then said, "Oh, um. I think I gave you thirty, not forty." "No, you gave me forty." "I'm pretty sure I didn't. It's hard to tell by my wallet since all the cash is jumbled together, but my ten is gone." She looked in the drawer, and sho' nuff, there was a ten dollar bill in the space where the twenties go. She reddened a bit and smiled gratefully. "Oh, THANK YOU!" "No problem," I replied, handing the cash back to her. She must have said thanks four more times, blushing all the while. I threw her a bone, mentioning I'd done a similar thing recently. That cured any awkwardness I'd sensed (maybe I was projecting it all the while?) and we chatted for a moment.

While I was there, three ladies bought plants for their houses and talked to the cashier/owner as they did so. "I just can't believe it," one woman in her sixties said, referring to the imminent closing of the store. "It just makes me start to tear up!"

"Well, don't start, 'cause then we start. We have eighteen days left now. Let's make them good."

A nice young feller carried my tree out to the car and lay plastic in the trunk so the needles wouldn't get everywhere. Feeling suddenly rich since I'd momentarily had a ten dollar bill and given it up so valiantly (ho ho ho), I whipped out a fiver and said, "Is it strange to tip? Is that done?" "It's not strange," he said, and I handed him some money and thought about holiday tipping and my blog and how much of a dork I am.

The end.

Go get yourselves a little plant or something.

tipping the babysitter...?

So one of the top stories on Google News talks about holiday tipping. And babysitters are mentioned as one of the people in one's life who should be tipped. Now I have been babysitting for years and have never received a holiday tip. I'm not complaining, just noting.

In New York, I was what a family called the "alpha babysitter," or the main babysitter. I watched an adorable and hilarious four-year-old boy four nights a week in his rather upscale Gramercy Park home. Now that's a family you'd expect a holiday tip from, eh? But no. No tip.

Before that NYC job, I babysat a lot but never regularly enough to be the recipient of a tippy tip tip. Nowadays I am the regular babysitter for a couple of families (I share this duty with Kelli M.!) but didn't get any holiday tippage last year; I don't expect it this year. That being said, I won't be disappointed not to receive it.

It's almost strange to me to see that people are supposed to tip the folks that help them out throughout the year even more over the holidays. Does anyone else do this? I am already so overwhelmed with needing to get presents for my family and the boyf--I can't go spending money on my elevator operator and parking lot attendant.

Anywho. Mainly I wanted to know if anyone else out there gave holiday tips to his or her hairdresser, handyman, or pet groomer. It seems such an adult thing to do. Surely I can be excused since I only have a part-time job and little to no cash. Tee hee.

Josh on TV

Thank goodness for youtube.com.

Check this out--it's nothing like seeing Josh with a live audience that's there to see him, nothing like experiencing his fun and silly and occasionally serious banter, but hey! I'm guessing the clip is from 1999, when Useful Music was out, and before the Josh Joplin Band morphed into the Josh Joplin Group. (The reference to Shawn Mullins as a semi-star also dates the performance.)

Anywho, this is for the likes of Lieeish and Dallas and Sweet, assuming they ever read this blog. It's also for any of you who feel like watching. The end.

My So-Called Life

My So-Called Life is online for free! I fully support buying the newest DVD set, which has lots of cool features. But hey--for those of us who can't afford that, let's truck on over to abc.com and watch Angela Chase.

It's SO good. If you've seen it before, watch it again. If you've never seen it, you owe it to yourself to watch the episodes. It's amazingly written and so well-acted.

The end.

candle in the wind

As I think I mentioned a while back, I'm reading Donald Spoto's biography of Marilyn Monroe. This 500+ page book is taking me FOREVER to read. It's full of facts, names, places, and sadness. It's not boring, though--not in the least. I can't quite get a grasp on all the names and faces, and that's my fault. What I want to grasp onto but almost hate learning about is how beautiful and fragile and funny and smart Marilyn was. I've rented two of her films while making my way through this book--I watched The Asphalt Jungle (a movie in which she has only a handful of lines and just a couple minutes of screen time) and Bus Stop. I wanted to see them for their own sake but also because I'd just read about her auditions, the other cast members, her agonizing self-criticism that caused her to ask for take after take until she got things somewhat right. A classic perfectionist (and not a narcissist, as it's erroneously believed), she would make and remake her face for hours before going out into public, terrified of any possible scrutiny, feeling as if she always had to look her best. The reasons for this fear were founded in her upbringing as well as her own temperament, I'm sure.

Donald Spoto's biography of her is well-revered for many reasons: it's well-written and very well-researched. He strips away layers of myth surrounding her, myth that was often created by people on her periphery (or even people who didn't know her in the least), people who used her name to make themselves some money. The whole JFK "love affair"? Yeah, that was one time. The two of them met exactly four times and shared a bed once. The way that story spun out of control is all documented.

Most of the book isn't made up of Spoto unraveling myths. On the contrary, he paints a beautiful picture of this vivacious, loving person who made her place in Hollywood and the world.

Right now my reading has slowed to a snail's pace. Look at me as we speak: I'm writing about the book instead of reading it. Why, you ask? I've reached 1962, the year of her death.

And I've just come to love her.

more fun (and occasionally painful) local stories

I'm not inspired to write, but I am inspired to share...

1. From the Oconee County Blotter:
Theft: On Nov. 23, deputy William Elrod was dispatched to the Waffle House on U.S. Highway 441 where a manager had counted the previous shift's cash register drawer and found it came up $83 short.

2. After I read the following little blurb, I actually sighed, "Oh, man!" aloud. Truly, I say!

From the Madison County Police Blotter:
Arrest: On Nov. 20, deputy Jason Luke was dispatched to a home on Cherokee Road, Comer where the dispatcher said a man was armed with a BB gun. When Luke arrived, he took cover behind his patrol car while he waited for backup. However, a woman and man exited the house and he asked them who had the gun. "This is him. He ain't got the gun now," the woman responded. Luke then patted down the man and secured him in the patrol car. The deputy asked the man what was going on and the man said he was "raising hell." The family said he had been drinking most of the day and earlier that day took a machete and damaged the kitchen floor and wall. Joseph M. Collins, 50, was arrested for disorderly conduct.

3. Police on lookout for window climber
(I didn't include link because it came with all these attached ads. Ew!)

A woman in an apartment near Lexington Road was awakened Friday morning by a man climbing through her bedroom window, Athens-Clarke police said. The man opened the unlocked window to her Woodlake Place apartment, and when the woman woke up, he told her he was looking for his sister, police said.

The man was polite and left without taking anything, the woman told police.

But after going back out the window, he tried the same thing at the window next door, again telling the woman inside that he was looking for his sister, according to police.

Police put out an alert for the unidentified suspect and were able to lift a fingerprint from the window, police said.

Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 120207

4. Pitched potato knocks out husband
(again, no link due to the ads--visit onlineathens.com to search for the article yourself, if you so desire.)

Jackson County sheriff's deputies were called to a Nicholson home early Thanksgiving morning after a 43-year-old woman knocked her husband unconscious with a potato during an argument, according to sheriff's reports. The woman told deputies that she and her husband started to argue in the kitchen about 1 a.m. Nov. 22. He had used an expletive to describe her, and she threw the potato at him, hitting him in the nose and causing him to pass out, deputies said. The couple told deputies that they been drinking.

She told deputies that she didn't mean to hit her husband and called police as soon as he fell unconscious. The man, who suffered from a large knot on his nose, told deputies he did not want to press charges. The woman was not arrested and no charges were filed.

Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 120607

5. Okay, I admit I'm getting on a roll here. But the following little snippet from the Madison County blotter is pretty funny. It's very small-town Georgia.

Arrest: On Nov. 23, Lt. Steve Kimbel was patrolling on Neese Commerce Road about 11 p.m. when his radar showed an approaching Toyota Corolla traveling at 69 mph. When he turned to catch up to the car, it continued at a high rate of speed and suddenly turned onto Dillard Road. Kimbel caught up to the car when it stopped for a stop sign at Martin Griffeth Road. The driver, Ashlei Elizabeth Baker, 23, denied attempting get away and explained she was going to visit her father. Kimbel told Baker he knew where her father lived and it made no sense for her to take a longer route. At this point, she admitted she tried to elude the officer. She was arrested for speeding and attempting to elude and taken to jail.

6. The person writing the Madison County blotter has got to be having some fun here and there. Despite some challenges he or she faces when it comes to grammar and how to make words plural, the little tales are pretty convoluted and funny. Perhaps a stenographer writes down exactly what the officers say? I'm not sure. I like how the writer seems so sure of the characters' actions and feelings in this real-life drama.

Assault: On Nov. 25, Lt. Steve Kimbel and deputy Jason Ring responded about 8:15 p.m. to a dispute in Danielsville where a young man's father engaged in a fight with his son's in-laws. The young man said he and his wife went to visit his parents, but his wife doesn't like to visit there and often finds an excuse to leave early. When she wanted to leave this time, the man's father confronted her and she became upset. The woman and her father-in-law argued and when she pointed her finger at his face, he slapped her finger. Afterward, the couple left and drove to a nearby convenience store, where the woman's mother and sister also arrived. The wife said she would ride home with her mother. But as they left, the husband saw that they were returning to his father's home. He followed with the intent of trying to keep the peace. The father came outside and met the three women. When he called his daughter-in-law an uncomplimentary name, the sister hit him in the face. The father then pinned the sister against a vehicle and as his son tried to pull him off, the mother hit the father on the head with a flashlight. They eventually separated and left. Kimbel questioned the father, who said he only was trying to defend himself after the sister hit him. The father had some knots on his head and a cut under his eye. The deputies told all those involved to stay away from each other and if they wanted to take out warrants, they explained the court procedures.

Marfan Syndrome

While perusing the facebook.com "Causes" application and signing up for all the things I believe in (anti-smoking, "let's stop drunk driving," etc.), I decided to do a quick search to find out if anyone had a Marfan's awareness group. Lo and behold, there were three.

One of my very best friends died from Marfan Syndrome on the first of October, 2001. The very day (or night? I'm not sure) of the Josh Joplin show I mentioned in my previous post. Jeffrey was already dead or was about to be dead while I sat in a room crowded with people listening to a song that, even then, made me disarmingly nostalgic about the past, especially my days growing up in Chamblee, GA.

In any case, one of the Marfan Syndrome Awareness groups had this youtube.com video posted. It's pretty interesting. Never before had I heard that Jonathan Larson, the creator and director of the smash hit Rent, was probably suffering from undiagnosed Marfan Syndrome. Assuming Larson did have the disease, he and Jeff were in the same boat: neither one of them had any idea of their condition while alive.

The quick video is informative and interesting. As Anthony Rapp says (in badly synced vocals, if your computer plays it the way mine did!), knowing the signs could help you save a life.

no Josh Joplin show for me. :(

I bought tickets to the sold-out Dec. 8 late show at Eddie's Attic to see the incomparable Josh Joplin only to find out that my three fellow concert attendees could not go. Lieeish and her main squeeze have a company holiday party to attend. Jim had a feeling there was something going on that night (Lawd o lawd, won't somebody buy him a cheapy-cheap pocket-sized planner?) and remembered what it was when he got a wedding reception invitation in the mail. So now none of us can go and I am quite sad.

The drive to Decatur isn't particularly thrilling, nor is the wait to get seats at Eddie's, assuming they 're still doing that name-calling thing. (If you buy online as most people do nowadays, you wait as the names get called according to the order in which tickets were purchased. You try to scramble in the rather small but every-so-homey "listening room" to get the best available seats.) In the olden days, the teensy tables were up for grabs, too--now they're more expensive and sell more quickly than the general admission tickets. Alas.

I love Josh Joplin. Only recently have I realized that this admiration has somewhat cheesy connotations to some--a few of my Athens friends tend to think that he's dorky and not so talented. These are folks who've not seen him live, or so I'd like to think. Verily I don't know their history with Josh. I am the one who drove to Borders after Borders to see his free shows the summer that Useful Music came out (for the first time, before it was rereleased by a major label and screwed around with). I sent funny, dorky fan/friend emails with Dallas and later, in the midst of Josh's short-lived radio popularity, sent him an email requesting that he sing a then old song, "Better Days" at his crowded NYC show. He played it for me and gave a little shout out that prompted the newbie fans in the crowd to look around for the girl who had requested the song.

Despite the ticket agency's denial of my request, Eddie's Attic reassured me kindly that they'd be more than happy to refund my ticket purchase. I'm $60 + service fees richer again but sad to be missing out. Guess I'll get drunk at some strangers' wedding and wax nostalgic for times past.

My #1 band has the #1 record!

Check this out. My new Paste arrived today, and The National's album Boxer got best album of the year. The online article is here. I'm very excited for them. Earlier this year, I saw them in Paris for free with Sweet (the story there is pretty exciting--if I've not told you it already, please encourage me to do so). Sigh. That was my first time seeing them up close. I'd seen them just three weeks or so beforehand when they opened up for The Arcade Fire in Atlanta, but my seats were far back and I missed part of the show (that story's not so happy).

Upon my return to the States post-Paris, I saw them in Atlanta in June with the Crackbaby Mack and then again in September with Nancy.

If you're one of the folks who've not heard them, buy their record. You can even do that emusic.com thing where you sign up and get 25 downloads + an audiobook for free (no gimmicks--even I did it). Make your downloads a couple of albums by The National.

If you're a folk who's heard 'em but not seen them, buy tickets to a show--IN ADVANCE, mind you.

Okay, bye.

Love,
moi!

you know you're in love when you buy...

THIS.

yelp me, yelp me!

I didn't feel inspired to write a blog post today, but I have written a few things on my homepage here at yelp.com. I know I've put a plug in for it before, but I again encourage you to visit this handy-dandy website. There are more and more people posting reviews about Athens places, and if you're getting set to travel, it's a great resource! Find places to eat based on customer recommendations and
not advertisements. What a novel concept!

Nighty night.

Mitch Hedberg & his widow

For those of you who don't already know it, let me say it to you now: I adore (adored?) Mitch Hedberg. He died in March 2005 and I sincerely wept upon hearing the news--for several months there, I wasn't able to listen to his comedy CDs at all. It was just too unbearable.

Clearly my grief is nothing compared to that of those who knew him. I ain't claiming that in the least. But it is strange when someone whose words you've laughed at uproariously and memorized for their wit and humor is suddenly gone from the world. His wife Lynn Shawcroft was one of those left behind to mourn him, and just tonight I stumbled across her blog. I don't necessarily recommend it unless you're really curious about her as a comedienne or wondering what her life (or life as Mitch's widow) is like. In my few minutes of browsing, I did come across a few particularly candid entries dealing with her loss and grief--in these particular entries the writing was really bare and unflowery. It made me scared for the time when I will begin to lose those who are close to me because she tossed neither herself nor her readers the smallest morsel of comfort. If I knew her, perhaps I'd commend her on the bravery it took to put those words to paper (or screen, as it were). What does it say that she then posted them to the internet? I'm not sure.

In any case, now I'm thinking about love and loss and Mitch and what it must be like to lose your partner when you and he make your living as comedians. You must perform and make others laugh if you are to succeed in the business--but how do you do that when you're mourning? I suppose it's the quintessential question all actors face. Truly, it's probably what most people face whenever they're going through a period of loss. I would guess that most people struggle to maintain a somewhat normal facade to cover up what's going on behind the scenes.

Ramble, ramble, ramble.

The end.

my lotion's been stolen!

Man allegedly robbed of his lotion, beaten

Story updated at 10:35 PM on Sunday, November 25, 2007

A man selling body lotion door-to-door flagged down a police officer Friday and said a man beat him up and stole the lotion, Athens-Clarke police said.

The man told the officer he was trying to sell the lotion to a woman in an apartment in the Athens Garden complex. Another man known as "Hamp" then attacked him and stole the goods, the man told police.

The unidentified victim, who police said is homeless, had a scraped knee and cheek, police said.

The officer went to the apartment to check for witnesses, and when he returned, the victim was gone, police said.

The lotion was valued at $5 and "smells good," according to police.

Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 112507


I think what I like best is that it smells good "according to police" and not to the victim. Ha. This story seems so not worth writing about in the paper to begin with, but I'm glad it was.

about that 2000 Anne of Green Gables sequel...

...don't watch it. It's pretty bad. Anne's charm can only go so far. I consider the two hours or so of occasional TV-turning-on-ing this evening a public service for you all. Were I still in AmeriCorps, I would ask Audrey, "Do I get service hours for this?"

The end.

Anne with an e!

A couple of hours ago, I turned on our local PBS channel (GPB, Georgia Public Broadcasting). As often happens when it's time for the seasonal fundraiser, the lovely public TV folks are airing one of the miniseries featuring Anne Shirley. This evening's delightful showing is Anne of Green Gables: The Continuing Story, a movie I never even knew existed! Anne and Gilbert were engaged when I turned on the TV. I just came back in the room after having had a shower, and I gather they're married now. A quick internet search leads me to the information that in the last installment of the story, part two, the couple was already married--at the beginning of part three, they're not yet married. Um, where are you, continuity editors...?

But back to the good stuff. I love Anne Shirley. I just love her. I've seen the first Anne of Green Gables (originally aired in 1985) about 1,985 times. The one I'm watching now was created and aired in 2000. The beginning of this new chapter was charming. Anne was living the dream--writing a novel, serendipitously having gained employment at a New York publishing house while Gilbert had a prestigious position as a doctor at Bellevue.

It's all downhill now that I decided to take a shower break. Gilbert's in the war, Anne went to the front to find him, and I discovered thanks to this Wikipedia entry that this particular installment was not written by novelist Lucy Maud Montgomery at all. That somehow cheapens it.

Anywho. That's your Anne update. Anne with an e, she'll have you know.

I must share this Found post

I was just showing Jim a little snippet of the glory that is Found Magazine's website. (I plugged it in an earlier entry, don'tchyaknow.) And look what we came across! It truly is a gem. If you don't have someone in your life writing you notes like this, then you truly have something to be thankful for.

By the way, here's a little convo I just experienced in this very room.

Jim: "Who are you talking to?"
Janet: "No one."
Jim: (slight intake of breath) "Is this what a blog is like?"

Nighty night.

new & old fun things of the day

My new iBook battery arrived today. $113 brought me happiness and a blissful relationship with my baby computer once again. The old battery died what I now know to be a predictable death after 18 months or so of working like crazy to keep my computer on almost constantly. (I never turn my computer off. Apparently that's a bad habit.) I charged the new girl up and it's been running for nearly three hours so far--over two to go 'til it conks out. Worth the investment, I tell you. I'll take a more expensive Mac with the more expensive, long-life batteries over the quick-to-decharge Windows-based laptops any day. At least the laptops I had, for they never lasted longer than 45 minutes or so before needing to be plugged in.

In other news, I rediscovered my online persona here today. I think this evening marked the third time I stumbled across my internet self on 43things.com. Interesting to see my goals outlined like that. (Check it out if you remain clueless--it's kind of cool, but only if you can maintain 44,123 personalized websites at once. I obviously cannot.) After months of not logging in, it was rather satisfying to click the "I've done this!" icon next to a couple of my goals. It seems I'd not logged on since my trip to Europe--before that trip, I must have added "travel to Europe" to my list of goals.

Anywho.

I'm also going to buy a replacement battery for my iPod mini. Most folks would get a new iPod for tons of money. Not I, said the cat. I have friends like F'n Jimmy who let me know about replacement batteries that are cheap and can be replaced by yours truly or by Jimmy himself, who likes to tinker with electronics. I love you, Mac, but if I can spend less than $20 getting a replacement battery kit on ebay, I'm going with that instead of a $200 iPod. Yip dee do, working iPod, here I come!

Time to finish up packing. Jim and I head to Florida tomorrow. We must leave bright and early to make sure we arrive in time for the IRCC happy hour. Entertainingly drunk old folks, here we come!!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

inspiration during the drought

For those of you who don't know much about Found Magazine or their accompanying website, I encourage you to look it up, listen to the This American Life episode(s) related to it, and spend lots of time sifting through the amazing "finds of the day" that date back to a few years ago. That's all I'll say in regards to the content.

Check out this find from November 21, 2005. Weird--tomorrow would make that two years ago exactly!

I like the dude passed out on the shore. Doesn't seem like he sees this place as the land of sun and fun.

true love is...

...a shared myspace profile.

I know this guy who is in a couple, you see. And he and the now-wife have a COUPLE profile on myspace.com. Does anyone else find this to be strange? There are blog postings to each other on there. This is what the blog headline proclaims: "A diary for just us to share our thoughts and feelings with just us. So Honest, So Open, So Exposed. No Hiding, No Walls. Just us Free with each other."

What the hell...?

Here's one of the two blog entries that's not set to private. Perhaps you, like me, will wish instantly that it was while also feeling a strange sense of mysterious glee while reading it:

SUBJECT: whatever

I'm sorry baby..

There are just some things I cannot forgive nor should I forget. Vengeance. Retaliation. Retribution. Big words with a simple, common meaning -- that good will always prevail. She will pay.

Perhaps I'm just not hip to all that is cool for internet-savvy couples these days. I mean, Liz and I had to force our beaux to make myspace profiles after all--clearly my relationship is not ready for his-n-hers romantic profiles and utterly candid blogging.

Why did I go to this page in the first place, you ask? It has everything to do with the fact that I decided to log into my Friendster account for the first time in a month or three. If you so choose, you can turn off the "anonymously view profiles" function when on the Friendster site. I turned off this function long ago, which means everyone whose page I visit can see that I've visited; in turn, I know when people have seen my page, so long as they've not made it so their visits are anonymous. The wife in this hyper-web-love-dyad-delight has looked at my profile recently, so I looked at hers. There's a link to the myspace page there.

Anywho. The myspace page in and of itself is nothing to be that entertained by; the concept of it is really what I'm trying to wrap my head around.

Does anyone else have a couple's page out there? Am I crazy to think that this is freakin' nutso? A little invasive? When I'm on their page, I feel like I'm in the middle of a coffee shop, wedged immobile between couples whispering loudly in incessant babytalk. (Maybe that's because they repeatedly refer to each other as "my baby" on the page--it's mainly written in first person, but there's clearly a dialogue between Baby 1 and Baby 2 going on. Who's who? In love, it doesn't matter, don't you see??)

It's horrendous for me, yet I look anyway.

Luckily for us all, it's time to head out the door for more tutoring. Adieu.

family dinner!

Today is Nancy's birthday. I'm going to Atlanta to celebrate, and I'm SO excited. Bethany, Todd, Heather, and I will be heading there from Athens. Jimmy's there already, of course. We're going to have an Athens family dinner before heading to her small get-together (at another friend's apartment) later in the evening.

I haven't gotten together with this crowd in a long time. I'm really happy at this prospect. Tee hee.

That's all. Carpool of friends and slobbery dogs, comin' right up!

the strike continues

The more I learn about the television writers' strike, the more irate I become. It is scandalizing, ridiculous, horrific, terrible, insulting, etc., etc. that the writers aren't paid for DVD sales and internet viewings of shows they've written.

Reading the articles and blog entries on this site is pretty useful, and watching videos online of the strike are pretty entertaining and informative. (One featuring The Daily Show writers is here. A couple with Sarah Silverman & friends are here and here.)

I'm sure I'll miss my TV shows once they stop soon (some, such as The Daily Show, already have ceased for now), but this is so important. The only way to figure out what's really going on with the strike is NOT to watch coverage on TV, of course. Whether or not you're a frequent TV watcher, it's important to keep yourself informed. Unless you've never rented or bought a DVD of a TV show or watched a TV show online, I shall not excuse you from visiting the official writers' union blog and some independent news source that will give you a relatively unbiased take on the goings-on.

The end!

I scream absurd! (or, I care about what strangers think of me)

I have loved listing all the books I've read (and want to read) on goodreads.com. There are other sites similar to it--librarything.com, shelfari, etc. For me, Goodreads had the prettiest and most coherent format.

Most of the books I finish I like. Many of them I love. (See my Goodreads books page here--most of my reviews are 3-5 stars.) Am I too kind in reviewing books? I think not. Perhaps one could argue that I am too specific in choosing them in the first place. But I can read whatever the hell I want, right? Who's to say I have to force myself to muddle through a book I'm not enjoying?

And speaking of that, let's get back to the topic, shall we? Awhile ago, I finally got my hands on a copy of Wigfield, a book I'd long since wanted to peruse. To my dismay, I didn't enjoy what I read of it. I posted a brief review about it online. (The link follows.) Last night, an email appeared in my inbox: "Notice: Shannon has posted a response to review on Goodreads.com! Click here to read it!" So I did, and I ended up feeling rebuffed. Here it is.

Why am I ever-so-slightly upset by this stranger's feedback, you ask? Because I am absurd! I scream fairly-deep-sense-of-absurdity-instilled-within! I understand her comment, as the book is goofy and strange--hey, I mentioned that in my review. But my not liking the book has noth....

Okay. I don't need to defend myself.

Let's rewind to the late 80s for a minute, for just a little context. A gangly, outgoing girl named Janet attends Huntley Hills School. Happily surrounded by friends in this very small elementary school right outside of Atlanta, Janet enjoys reading, playing outside, creating imagined worlds, bossing her next-door neighbor Jeffrey around, and writing novels whose heroines are either thinly disguised versions or herself or cats (one of her more lengthy stories was called "Ginger Kitten"). Slowly but surely, she has begun realizing that the way she thinks is markedly different from most kids and adults she encounters. Her reactions to situations, her answers to questions, her inability to pick just one "right" answer on a multiple choice test. Though she tends to remain well-liked throughout her school career, this is the age when some fellow students start pointing out that she is, in a word, weird.

This throws her into quite a state at first. Should she try to be normal? Should she pretend that the thoughts racing through her head are not actually there? Should she just pick answer b and pretend that she can't make an argument for a, c, and d as well?

This confused state doesn't last long, for Janet has an answer: she will embrace her oddities. She will let the world call her weird and smile back at them. Rather than insulting herself first before others can, she will consider this complimenting herself first before others can. Then another idea hits her oft-obnoxious mind: she will TELL others to call her weird! Aha! She tells friends, neighbors, and classmates, "Hey, call me weird, 'cause I'm weird!" She goes so far as to tell teachers (most notably third grade classroom teacher Ms. Jackson), "Ms. Jackson, call me weird!" She has now unwittingly set in stone a nickname for herself, one that will last for at least two decades to come: Janet "Call me 'Weird' " Geddis. (Only one or two friends, one of whom has a birthday in 6 hours, calls her this in the year 2007, but hey. It stuck.)

So this is why I am ever-so-slightly irked when I am called not absurd.

The end.

young ones, beware!

I was looking at Christa's ceaselessly entertaining blog tonight and, as usual, felt as if I'd come across a little wonderland of treasures. Some websites I visit every day: gmail, myspace, facebook (gotta check those Scrabble games!), and the news. But people's blogs, especially the blogs I listed on the links to your left (look somewhere to your left now), are sites I go to every week or so. And by the time I do, I'm almost guaranteed to find something new and exciting. That is, of course, unless I've clicked on the pages belonging to Joe or Amy or Kate. In that case, one is almost always met with disappointment, as they NEVER (okay, rarely) update their pages.

Back to the illustrious Christa T. Look at her blog, and look also at the Atlanta ladies' blog she writes for, Pecanne Log. It, too, is really well-written and interesting.

This particular entry by Janet Geddis is not, so I'll stop.

I did click on a link to determine my website's reading level. That was pretty neat-o.

So beware, those of you who are under the age of 18! I may be confusing you with my multisyllabic words or my run-on paragraphs. I dare you to read on. Challenge yourself. Ha.

chug a lug

Today I spent a couple of hours outside playing with a young little lad I babysit. While we were running around his yard and the cul-de-sac his family's house is on, a big ol' TruGreen ChemLawn (sp?) truck drove up. The driver sat in his truck for a good five minutes, engine loudly idling, while he did who knows what. The windows were down, so I know he wasn't using the engine to supply power to the AC or heater. (It was, after all, in the mid-70s this afternoon.)

He eventually emerged from the truck without having turned it off. Maybe he needs to hook up some hoses to the back of the vehicle or something, thought I, but instead he took out a simple pushable fertilizer dispenser and went on his way. For ten minutes he pushed this thing around the yard WHILE THE HUGE TRUCK WAS STILL ON.

I was quite confused.

And peeved.

Had he been just one house closer, I would have asked him why the car was on and wasting that much gas as toxins needlessly spat into the air. Instead, I remained timid and continued to be victim to the whims of a five-year-old, who kept insisting that we were astronauts or bratty teenagers at a birthday party. Walking up and accosting the man with a machine full of chemicals? Not such a comfortable prospect. Pretending to be a bitchy teenager at a party? Perhaps a role I could play a little better.

Passively, I stayed where I was. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to give the company a call and ask them what's up.

The end.

Wondering why I posted this on here,
Janet

Marilyn Monroe

I was never really intrigued by Marilyn Monroe. Not like most people tend to be, that is. Her life didn't intrigue me, and neither did her tragic death. Sure, dying alone was heartbreaking and sad. What I heard of her life was vaguely interesting, but not enough to even, say, watch an A&E Biography on her.

Reading Joyce Carol Oates's Blonde changed everything for me. Granted, it's a fictionalized version of her life. JCO described it as a project she hoped to make psychologically accurate despite its not being historically accurate--writing a biography was never her goal. (The book is excellent, by the way.) Since finishing the book a year or more ago, I've wanted to read an actual and factual account of Marilyn's life. And there are many to be had.

Upon investigation, I discovered that Donald Spoto's biography of Marilyn Monroe was the most well-revered and supposedly the most accurate. Reviewers claimed it was well-written, to boot. I'm only 52 pages in--it's dense and, understandably, it's filled with information that I don't want to glean over. But it is good! And I continue be intrigued.

Each time I've mentioned my reading this book, Amy has said, "I want to read Jenna Jamison's biography. I've heard it's really good." So since she doesn't comment on my blog, I'll comment on her behalf. There you go, Amy.

past lives

Sometimes the other places I've lived, the things I did, the jobs I held--they all seem so far away and unreal. Tonight I'm thinking of the Pittsburgh chapter of my life, in particular.

Those of you who've ever heard me mention my love of Pittsburgh know how deep and abiding that love goes. I think--nay, know--it's an amazing, gorgeous, magical place, one that is slowly being discovered to be what it really is: not the dirtier, industrial city of the past but a vibrant, young, and cultural center of today, mixed with lots of elements of the past that give it a strange and welcoming (to me, at least) flavor. I love it some much there.

Tonight I was at a birthday party, talking to a really nice girl who lives in New York. Usually my former NYC life is the one that strikes me as long ago and confusing--can it be that I really lived there for four years, taking subways and taxis and walking the streets as if they were my own? (I'll stop there, for I'm trying to focus on Pittsburgh right now.) I mentioned to her the time the Daiai Lama jaywalked in front of my car near Pitt in Pittsburgh's pretty Oakland neighborhood as I was trying to make my way to my grandparents' apartment. (If you've not heard this story, please ask me to tell it. I like to tell it.)

Four years and a week or two ago is when I got my job at The Coffee Tree Roasters in Squirrel Hill. Not long after getting the job, the weather got much colder than I ever remembered New York being. It was frequently snowy and icy outside, and I had to drive to work in the morning to open the store at 5:30. Could it be that I really did that several days a week? It seem so unlikely now.

This evening I got home from downtown around midnight. After the aforementioned birthday party, I headed to the Max Canada to meet up with my friend Laurie, whom I've known since birth. (Well, her birth, not mine, as I began my life a few months before she began hers.) She and her husband were in town for the game. Jim was working, and Denise and Daniel were at the bar, too, so that was a pleasant surprise--all these people I loved from various stages in my life, all in one place. I loved it. While taking to Laurie, Pittsburgh came up again.

So it was a little after midnight that I clicked on the Firefox icon and decided to check email and such. No reason, as I'm sure reading a book would be much more pleasurable right now. But I found myself looking at the pages of people I worked with when I lived in Pittsburgh, friends of mine from the coffee shop that I started relationships with that never got to go very far because I moved the February after I started the job. (I will mention that one guy and I still keep in touch sporadically and I hung out with him this summer--Jim's friend's fiancee is a friend of his, too, oddly enough, so we all had a fun get-together at a hole-in-the-wall ping pong bar.)

My GHP crew came to visit me when I lived in Pittsburgh, and of course my relatives were there since they live in the suburbs. But no one in Athens has any real reference point for my life in Pittsburgh. I don't mention the good ol' times too often (apart from talking too much about bowling at Arsenal Lanes in Lawrenceville--college night meant 50-cent games and 50-cent drafts!) and don't talk to my old friends from the 'Burgh other than the darling Sarah Beth Shapiro, who's sort of transcended the Pittsburgh category by now since we've hung out in other states.

Anywho. I miss Pittsburgh. I think I could move back. I don't know if I will, but I could. My life there was somewhat solitary, definitely cold and icy, and full of fun acquaintances and lots of family gatherings. I really miss it sometimes, especially as I bundle up in ol' puffers, my burgundy winter coat, and get ready to go into temperatures that are about 40 degrees warmer than my average Pittsburgh morning.

some books

I was snooping around Liz's blog and came across a website she recommended, a friend's blog. I don't know this friend, but the girl's most recent posting (one she claims to have taken from another girl's site) piqued my interest. So I, in turn, am taking it upon myself to steal it again!

What you do is take the following list of books (the top 106 marked most often as 'unread' by LibraryThing’s users) bold the ones you’ve read, italicize the ones you started but couldn’t finish, strike through the ones you really sort of hated, put an asterisk next to the ones you’ve read more than once, and mark in green the ones on your own personal To Be Read list.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey*
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
A Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius* (didn't like it as much the second time around)
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books (I read the first little bit while staying with someone, as I always need to read before bed and hadn't brought a book. I really liked it and wanted to hold onto it. This reminds me that I must start it again!)
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex*
Quicksilver
Wicked : The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales (We just read excerpts in high school and in my English lit classes in college)
The Historian : A Novel
A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man
Love In the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead (I started this 2-3 times when I was in high school and college. It never stuck.)
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible
1984
Angels & Demons
The Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables (I tried to read this in French. Noble goal and all, but it took longer than I thought to get through a few pages. I gave up.)
The Corrections*
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-Present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved*
Slaughterhouse-Five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake (I can't remember if I read this or not! I think not.)
Collapse : How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road (to Jim's dismay, I recently reported to him that I did not like this book when I attempted it several years back. Maybe I'd like it more now? I'm thinking not.)
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : A True Account of A Multiple Murder and Its Consequence
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

another jannygirl! + a book recommendation

I know that Jannygirl is not an uncommon nickname for anyone whose name starts with Jan. (Jan, Janet, Janice, Janise, Janiqua, Janith, Janicia, you name it...) But I just came across a girl who had a blog with a web address that almost matches mine. Hers is jannygirl.livejournal.com--and obviously you know mine if you're here. Two people with the same nickname, chronicling their lives day by day. Interesting. Or not. Somehow I feel infinitely more boring now that there's another one out there.



I finished Anne Lamott's book on writing, Bird by Bird. If you've ever written anything, or thought about writing anything, or thought maybe you could be a pretty decent writer if only you'd put your mind to it, or have been told that you had talent but were too lazy to do anything about it, I highly recommend that you read this book. It is, by far, my favorite book I've read that focuses on the writing process itself. Lamott is really funny, really personable, and completely realistic about the entire enterprise. I had hoped to quote a few excerpts here, but I already returned the book to the handy-dandy Athens Regional Library.

Most sincerely yours,
The other Jannygirl

The Writers' Strike: NOW I get it!

The concise, well-made video I put at the end of this blog entry explains the Writers' Guild strike and should take care of any bitching and moaning on the parts of viewers who think that television writers are just rich gluttons who are holding out for even more money.

Here's a petition you can sign if you're in accordance with their mission. Also, check out this website for more information about the current goings-on.

Last but not least, the video. Check it out!

I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!!!

I feel racist every time I'm on the phone with a costumer service person for almost any airline or online travel company. I ask questions and cannot understand the answers I'm given. My muscles tense up, I lean forward, I squint. I feel myself trying to focus all my energy on my phone ear. What is he saying? What is this man named Nick* or Sam* saying to me? Am I unforgivably rude if I ask him to repeat himself for a fourth time?

Right now I'm on hold with Travelocity.com, attempting to change a flight for my dad. He's famous for misunderstanding anyone with even the slightest accent and finds being on hold intolerable. No wonder he asked me to do this for him.


*obvious pseudonym

cell phone technology "deeply unsexy"?

"It's costly, arduous and at times a deeply unsexy job of supporting customers day by day in launching phones."
"Deeply unsexy"? I would have loved to have heard the guy say that firsthand. I'm imagining that Joe Lennon would be particularly phond of that frase.

Ta ta.

Mission: Space

I was just watching a show on PBS about space exploration. I tuned in during a synopsis on the Apollo 13 mission and, as always, got nervous as the astronauts in space and scientists on the ground had to figure out a way to get the men safely home despite a huge hole in the spacecraft, a defunct second oxygen tank, and a possibly malfunctioning heat panel. And when they landed with success in the water? Of course my vision went blurry with tears. Space exploration always gets to me.

After some unknown force guided my hand to ABC's supposedly addictive Dancing With the Stars, a show I found to be intolerable for more than two minutes, I flipped back to ol' trusty PBS, right in time to see the Challenger explode. It's funny--when I think back to the Challenger disaster, I remember being in Miss Johnson's class. I seem to recall learning about it then. I knew for sure it was in 1986, but this Wikipedia article confirms that it was in January of '86 and not after my first grade school year with Miss Johnson would've started in August. Funny how the mind convinces you of these things.

When I was younger, I remember feeling especially saddened about the death of Christa McAuliffe (back row, second from left), the teacher who was to be sent up in space along with the all-astronaut Challenger crew. In reading about her now, I understand that my sympathy was somewhat constructed by NASA and the media--one of the goals of her presence and of the Teachers in Space program was (and is) to generate more public attention for the space program. Well, it worked for me. Any time photographs of the deceased astronauts was in the paper or on television, my eyes would drift straight to hers. She had a daughter my age, and she was a teacher. A teacher. And everyday person.

Now when I look at the photo of the seemingly energetic and ecstatic crew, it's Ron McNair's face that gets my attention. He's the one in the front row, sitting on the far right. He just looks so eager and ready. I just know he was the nicest guy, quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. I get the feeling--the altogether faulty one, I'm sure--that this photograph was taken minutes before they boarded the shuttle, ready to face the final frontier.

I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in sight of the Challenger when it took off, let alone to know someone on board as we stood and watched it leave from its port. Seventy-three seconds between blast-off and explosion. Imagine the noise--the machinery, the rumbling, the vibrations, the crowd, the running.


My parents can see and hear shuttle takeoffs from their house in Melbourne, FL. Cape Canaveral is just 10-20 miles away. Oh, why do I shy away from exact mileage here? My parents tell me the exact distance frequently. It's 17 miles away. At least I think so.
The first time I went to their house after they relocated to Florida, I was up in the middle of the night. I started sensing a rumbling in the tiles under my feet, the keys under my fingertips as I typed late-night emails to my friends. What was that? I checked the dryer; I felt the dishwasher to see if it was running. I pressed my palm against the warm glass of the window. The window was vibrating, ever so gently and rapidly. Nervously, I stepped outside the front door and onto the driveway that was brand-new to me. The vibrations and rumbling were much louder out here and getting more intense by the second. Everywhere, sound. Nothing was visibly shaking, but there was an energy to the thick, humid air. I was shocked to see that my parents, their neighbors, the cops! weren't outside on the streets, curious and demanding to see what the ruckus was about. An earthquake in Florida? Doubtful, plus it was going on for too long...right?

A few minutes passed, and the sound began to subside. I crept back into the house, where things were suddenly serene and eerily quiet.

The next morning, I mentioned the strange incident to my mom--the light of day made the whole thing less alien-invader-like but I was still discombobulated. "Oh," she remarked lightly. "I told you--we're right near Cape Canaveral. There are shuttle take-offs in the middle of the night sometimes....it's really loud." With that, she left the kitchen.

my friend is a superstar, or "Matt McConkey" is from "Waverly" (to help you googlers search better)

My dear friend Matt McConkey, whom I met when we were wee little freshmen at NYU, has been living in Los Angeles since 2001. He's one of those guys who's so amazingly hilarious and talented that I can't believe he's not been discovered by some sort of reputable talent scout yet. Who knows? Maybe he has and he's going to be on some fantastically successful HBO show come next fall.

For now, I will praise him for a couple different things.

1. A few years ago when I was living in Pittsburgh (Shadyside, to be exact), he landed a commercial. This was really exciting to me, but as I didn't have any TV service during the time the commercial was airing, my actually seeing the commercial proved to be impossible. Matty explained the thirty-second plot to me so that I could, in turn, explain it to my Pittsburgh relatives. That way they could call me in from the other room if I happened to be at their houses and I could catch him "live" on TV. While they never got the chance to call me in excitedly, they did get to see the commercial themselves--my cousin Margie's husband Larry tells me he saw the commercial many times, and even during really popular sporting events! Very exciting.

I'm proud to announce that I've finally come across the youtube.com link. (Thanks, Matt.)
Watch it. My friend's a star. Tee hee.




2. Matt and his friends also wrote a piece that recently premiered at L.A.'s Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre. It was so popular that the folks at the venue asked them to come back again...and again...and again...and now again! Very well-respected and well-known guest stars are gracing the stage with their presence during the performances, lending their stories and voices to the troupe's said-to-be hilarious piece, which is called Worst Laid Plans. Janeane Garofalo and Mary Lynn Rajskub are going be in an upcoming performance, if I understand correctly. And Sarah Thyre, the coach from Strangers with Candy, will be performing on November 30th!!

I really, really want to go. But since I can't, you should, you L.A. folks. You hear me?!

dreams...they can come true--ueee

I just fell asleep while reading.

Had a dream that I founded the Horse's Ass Drama School.

I'm awesome.

Darius Goes West

I missed the showing of Darius Goes West at Cine several weeks back (it was completely booked!), but I will probably be buying a copy of this documentary when it comes out.

Most Athenians are familiar with the story of Darius Weems, the young man with Duchenne Muscular Distrophy whose friends decided to take him on a road trip of a lifetime while filming the whole thing. I'll not go into details here, as it's more beautifully shown and described on the gorgeously created website.

This evening, I was looking at The Today Show's online video archives in the hopes of finding video of my friend Nadine Haobsh, who had an interview to promote her new book this morning. I didn't find her interview, but I did see that Logan Smalley, the director of Darius Goes West, and Darius were featured on The Today Show this morning and their video footage was there!

Here's their interview. It's really good. The woman interviewing is a little cheesy, as all morning hosts sort of have to be. But she seems genuinely moved, and that's saying something.


A young boy's road trip on wheels

boo!

Another Halloween, another crazy night of dressed-up tomfoolery in Athens.

Jim had the idea that I should dress up as Olive Oyl. I do believe I mentioned this in a previous blog posting. Well, I did do this, and I pulled it off beautifully, having all the makings for a genuine Olive Oyl outfit (and body) right here in this little house and head o' mine. For people reading this who either don't know me or haven't seen me in awhile, I'm long and very lanky--and a bit too skinny for my frame. Believe you me, this makes for a good start.

I found a long, stretchy black skirt I'd bought at a NYC street fair my first or second year of college. Paired it with two shirts, both of which were tucked in to the hiked-up skirt: first, a tight-fitting white turtleneck (gross), then a red, long-sleeved shirt. I made sure to show the white cuffs of the shirt and the white turtleneck from underneath the red shirt. Then I wore big, clunky, beat-up brown boots (another 1998 NYC purchase), my old Doc Martens, on top of a new pair of bright white tube socks.

The hair was the hardest part. You know how Olive Oyl has that creepy little hairdo--it's all slicked back with Princess Lea-like loops on the side covering her ears and a little rounded ponytail-bun in the back right on her neck? I managed to recreate it! Armed with handfuls of rarely-used hair gel and never-used hairspray, I created a cement-like helmet of hair.

Next came the makeup. Had to put on lots of pale makeup, exaggerated eyebrows, rosy cheeks, and not much lipstick.

I'm thrilled to report that, when all was said and done, it was quite obvious to the casual observer that I was Olive Oyl.

As soon as my card reader is discovered in this messy house o' mine, I will post some photos.

my favorite new show: PUSHING DAISIES

I love this show. Just love it. The plot is charming, the acting is amazing, the characters are believable and flawed and adorable. Please watch it. Wednesdays at 8PM on ABC for you cable subscribers; online here at abc.com for you internet-savvy folks. At this point, all the episodes aired thus far are available online for FREE! (You can also buy them on iTunes for a pretty cheap fee if you're so moved, or if they've taken them off the abc.com site by the time you're reading this and you want to watch.)

Oh, it's gorgeously done. For fans of Amelie and Wonderfalls and Dead Like Me. Read Tim Goodman's review of it here.

For those of you who've never clicked on the links on the lefthand side of this blog, I encourage you to do so. Friends' blogs are listed there (and even those that aren't updated are pretty good--and often very funny). Additionally, I've listed just a few websites that I visit with frequency.

Among them is yelp.com. Yelp is a website that's apparently very popular in other places around the country, especially in California. You create a profile for yourself, providing as little or as much information as you're willing to submit. After that, you can write reviews for any type of local business you can think of: bars, restaurants, cinemas, banks, gynecologists, you name it. Anyone, yelp members or not, can look on the site to see what regular people--people who haven't been paid to say they feel a certain way about things--really feel about establishments.

I think it's a cool idea despite its not having taken off in Athens.

Here's my Clocked! review. I don't take too much time to write my reviews on yelp, nor do I take too much time to write my blog entries here. In any case, I don't need to give you a disclaimer. I just encourage you to visit the site and check it out.

259 W Washington St
Athens, GA 30601
(706) 548-9175

Clocked

Category: American (New)

8-14-07:
Dear Lord. How many times can a girl swear off Clocked!? I have yet to give it another try since a new guy started managing it a few months ago, but going to this place can take upwards of an hour and a half out of your day.

But let's start with the good. The decor is fabulous--colorful, sparkly walls, gloriously tacky chandeliers, and awesome posters. The food is pretty good (but not amazing, in my opinion and many of my friends'), and the outdoor seating is a plus.

The staff seem overwhelmed when the place is more than half-full. It can take a while to get your glasses of water, even longer to get your order taken, and then comes. the. waiting. for. the. food.

The overpriced diner food. I just don't get what the big deal is.

The Cajun fries are good, esp. if you order feta dressing--but let's face it, we're stealing that trick from The Grill, an honest-to-goodness diner around the corner. That one burger with blue cheese on it is quite tasty, but when you're ornery after waiting for 45 minutes it's hard to enjoy.

And yes, this experience has repeated itself many times over. And no, I am far from the only one.

So, sorry, Clocked! Maybe I'll try you again another time. When I have a lot of time. And a lot of faith.

(P.S. As for their delivering--if you're at a nearby bar on Washington St., they'll take your food to you. You'll have to ask them how far they'll walk. That's pretty awesome.)

9-03-07:
I went there again the other night, remembering this here review and thinking to myself, "I should give this place another chance. AGAIN."

First exciting thing I noticed: they'd replaced the glaringly bright fluorescent lights in the funky overhead chandeliers with good old incandescents. I am an environmentalist at heart, but I'm also one for nice lighting and happen to be photophobic when it comes to fluorescents, so those lightbulbs meant I couldn't eat indoors before. Now the glaring white has been replaced by a warmer, softer color that makes the place as welcoming as it was before. Close call, folks, as the best thing going for this place is its atmosphere.

Pretty yummy, overpriced grilled cheese. $3.75 for a medium-sized sandwich that was perfectly grilled--melted cheddar delight. But only a few slices, so the pieces of bread touched themselves if you squeezed the sandwich in the least. Not the best sign of a supa grilled cheese.

The cajun tater tots were yummy but, ya know, tasted like frozen tater tots heated up in the oven instead of in the microwave.

And
the
service
was
realllllllyyy
realllyyy
slow.

Not like the other times I've gone, but it was pretty bad. Guy put his finger in our glasses as a means of carrying them (ew!), said the food would be "just another minute" when it was ten, and we were there for quite a while. Good thing I had nice conversation and a pretty dinnermate to look at.

Clocked, you did it again, you vicious beast.