the funny men are on top of things

for the second day in a row, a funny man has made a very clear [and witty] argument with regard to the election. such a strong, concise reasoning. i love this. i want to have coffee and make lists and talk about 'magical thinking' with john hodgman.

the excerpt [from the a.v. club]:

McCain had a reality-based argument for why he should be President. It did not rely on magical thinking in any way. It was simply that Barack Obama was too young and inexperienced to be President and McCain is old enough, certainly, and experienced enough to be President. You may not agree, but that's what we need. You may not like McCain, but that's reasonable. That makes sense. In choosing Sarah Palin for whatever benefit you might get from it politically, he's throwing out his whole argument about experience. He negated his only reasonable argument to make and instead put him on what we now see is a disastrous path—potentially disastrous, at least, of pure magical thinking. That is I think exactly what people are tired of with regard to the Bush Administration. This idea that the Bush Administration… That if I say black is white, then that makes it so. If I say Sarah Palin is tried, tested, and ready to take the national stage and is going to save my campaign on the sheer energy of her enthusiasm and rhetoric, then it will happen, but not really.

[the full piece]

YES

from a recent david sedaris piece in the new yorker regarding the election [thanks to my co-worker john for pointing it out to me]:

To put them in perspective, I think of being on
an airplane. The flight attendant comes down the aisle with her food cart and, eventually, parks it beside my seat. “Can I interest you in the chicken?” she
asks. “Or would you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broken glass in it?”

To be undecided in this election is to pause for a moment and then ask how the chicken is cooked.

[the complete piece]

name shame

in reading the new york times online wedding announcements for the past however many years [whichissomethingidoonaweeklybasisbecauseiliketosodon'tjudgeme] i've come to the following conclusion:
if your name is SPANKY JOHNSON, you do not - under any circumstances - put that name into print. ever. anywhere. for any reason. not even if you're president. not even if you're named to time magazine's list of the 50 most influential people. not even if you win an oscar and have to have the statuette engraved. YOU. LEAVE. IT. OFF.
think of your wife. for the love of god. think of the children.
[why did no one tell him this prior to the listing? how did he get the name SPANKY in the first place? actually, forget that last question. i think we're all better off not thinking about it.]
[also? if you are 'known as spanky' -- which causes us to assume it is a nickname -- why not use your ACTUAL name? there is no way it is worse than spanky. no way.]

[link via the times]

showtune 'em up

i love showtunes more than is probably wise to acknowledge.
i did shows in elementary school, middle school, high school and college -- as encouraged by my mother, i've always been deeply ensconced in the world of musical theater. road trips with my mom always featured lengthy sing-a-longs to tapes [and, later, cds] from movie and broadway musicals. phantom, evita, music man, hello dolly! -- you name it, we knew every word. it was grand. [i'm not sure why i'm talking in the past tense. we still do this. in fact, my niece has memorized lyrics to songs from both wicked and the sound of music; it's ridiculously cute. and hilarious.] so. i'm a broadway baby. i have friends [brad, kendall...i'm talking about you] who are equally fanatical [brad moreso than anyone i've ever met. ever. ever.] i have no problem admitting it, which is why when i see clips like this one:


my heart soars. i remember watching this when it was first posted to youtube, a year or so ago. i stumbled back onto it today, after reading this excellent interview with neil patrick harris on the onion av club site, and have been laughing about it for hours. tres hilarious.

he knows how to use them

saw this guy in starbucks this morning. he was at least 65 -- possibly older -- but trapped in the body of a 30-year old. and he was wearing a shirt from this weekend's rochester marathon, which would account for these:



his legs are defying the laws of aging. this man KNOWS things.
if john mccain had legs like this, i think we'd be less worried about his choice for vice-president.

the [queer, squinty] eye of fashion

had lunch with my dad today.

his outfit: black jeans, black sneakers, [faded] black tee shirt under [more faded] black button down shirt. black baseball hat.

my outfit:



i enter the restaurant, sit down across from him. he looks at me, squints his eyes, and says:
"i don't think that black and brown go together."

such is the sage advice given by a man who dresses like he's johnny cash.

lunch scene

overheard at camille's restaurant while waiting to place my order:

CUSTOMER: ...absolutely right. i think this smoothie is a much better idea. healthier.

BOY BEHIND COUNTER: oh, definitely. with all the fruit and the...blueberries.

CUSTOMER: blueberries are so good for you!

BBC: it's all those anti-oxidants. they're really good for your eyesight...[visibly thinking]...no, your memory! i'd forgetten.

CUSTOMER: yes! it's for memory. i read that once in an article but forgot.


thank god for blueberries.

dirty tissue birds

i am not fond of birds, to put it mildly.

but this flattened tissue that surfaced from underneath my pillow this morning [hooray for dormant allergies] sort of charmed it's way into my heart:

doesn't it look like a parrot?!

kind of?

no?

whatever. it was like 3AM when i found it.

i'm tired.

go away. and take the dirty tissue bird with you.

this...

is the giant, melted gummy bear orgy...

...that i ate.

coffee

before i went into work last saturday, i stopped at starbucks to grab a cup of coffee. this is my ritual, every saturday morning. same starbucks. same drink. being that i work in a bookstore [where i'm always on these saturdays] it would make more sense, financially, to purchase coffee once i arrive given my employee discount. but, instead, i insist on having the same debate every saturday in the starbucks parking lot: pull into the parking lot, mull over the plan to go inside and buy coffee, from within my car i think to myself, "you're being irresponsible with your money," and then i proceed to open the door, pop inside and order my venti decaf. as i headed out, drink safely procured, i noticed this on the ground next to my car:



so sad! this errant, lonely pile of coffee grounds. my mind flashed to tom hanks in 'castaway' attempting to lap up spilled coconut and pictured myself in a similar, desperate, needing-a-morning-beverage-in-a-dire-situation type way with these grounds.

i'm gross.
buying your coffee brewed is definitely the way to go.

creepy!

i took this picture while waiting for the elevator after a long day at the office.

and...i...totally look like an insect. my left eye is huge! and my right eye looks like it's gone rogue. i don't normally enjoy photos of myself but this one makes me happy. oh, and take notice of the earring in my left ear. there's a story about that coming up shortly.

why big lots is the best store ever.

because they carry fine products such as this:

hey...

...why won't my planner/coffee mug fit into my purse?

oh. it must be that MOLDY BANANA taking up all the space.

i'm officially that crazy woman who carries rotten fruit around with her.

juiced grapes

what you thought was a tiny, unripe tomato...

was really a GIANT, overstimulated grape!

[this is the roger clemens of produce.]

i'm psychic! let's go to the races...

i had a dream last nite wherein (amongst other happenings) my old friend joshua shaved his head and obtained a giant bird tattoo at the nape of his neck. when relaying this news to him today, via email, he smartassed, " my big bird tattoo? it's closer to my shoulder than to my neck." i told him that actually it was a tattoo of toucan sam. he then sent the following picture of his desk:



yeah. that's right.
IT'S TOUCAN SAM...recently obtained from a road trip to toronto.

i should absolutely go hit up the bingo palace tonite. i'm feeling incredibly lucky.

my date with john krasinski (or: the dreams i have after i drink wine)

i was in maine -- which, not-so-coincidentally, is where i'm headed tomorrow for a week -- putzing around what appeared to be a farmer's market. my hair was looking exceptionally good in spite of the humidity and my face looked thinner than usual (whee!) i stopped to inspect some cucumbers (that is not foreshadowing -- it's not that kind of dream) and lo and behold - john krasinski, weighing lemons. he looked very new england - white polo, khaki shorts, flip flops. we struck up a conversation about produce -- he seemed to favor the summer squash -- and went to part ways when he asked about my plans for later that day. i told him that i was staying in maine for a week with my family, and would he like to come out for dinner with us that evening. it just so happened that we met on my birthday (this is not a stretch; vacation week incorporates my birthday.) so. john krasinski, who found time to go back to wherever he was staying and change his clothes, came to birthday dinner with my family. now, it's uncertain as to whether or not we knew he was famous as there was no mention of 'the office' during dinner conversation. although, i did comment on how much i liked the sneakers he wore when he and rainn wilson were on 'ellen'. so, scratch that. he was obviously famous. but apparently we're too evolved/busy eating to make mention of that. dinner ended. the family evaporated, as they are prone to do in the subconscious, and john krasinski and i went for a walk on the beach (which was looking a bit more south florida than northern maine. who cares.) i think we talked about some seemingly insignificant things (this part is kind of a blur.) but he did ask if he could see me again before i left. ("i'm sorry. i'm just not interested." yeah. i'm not that dumb in my dreams.)

now, i'm assuming that i saw him again. but the cat woke me up at this point and i never returned to john krasinski-ful maine. severe sadness.

also: this does not bode well for my actual vacation, as i'm sure to be disappointed.

i want...candy?

i just pulled a semi-eaten bag of sour patch kids of out my purse, left over from a recent trip to the movies to see 'live free, die harder' with jimmy. for reasons that are entirely without concern, the majority of the spk's remaining were orange and yellow -- but when i opened up the bag, safely fastened with a rubber band, i wafted toward me a familiar scent. that scent was not sour patch kids, as one might imagine. it was fruit loops. i do not know why, or how, fruit loops infiltrated my sour patch kids -- who, it can be said, form a mean and ragged army when necessary -- but had better believe i shall get to the bottom of it.

also: i'm noticing that i have a lot of random candy on my desk. in general, i don't eat a lot of candy. but as i look around i see:

• 90% depleted bag of dark chocolate m&ms. we keep those around for bi-annual hell weeks.
• sweet-tarts suckers (is it one 't' or two? the logo splits it down the middle...)
• lemon heads

i also have a grapefruit. apparently just to balance things out.

my week: the numbers version

number of ex-boyfriends from whom i've heard: 1
number of pseudo-ex-boyfriends i've heard from/seen at random: 2
number of non-dates: 2
number of movies i've seen in the theater: 2
number of 'the o.c.' reruns watched on july fourth: 3
number of cups of coffee consumed: 9
number of cups of tea consumed: 15
number of pairs of shoes purchased: 0

speaking of movies: go see 'transformers'. and the new 'die hard'. and 'knocked up'.
favorite line from all movies seen this season thus far: "please take the chairs away. i don't like them. the big one is staring at me and that short one is being very droll." hee! running a close second: "i am optimus prime."

and now the transcript from an email conversation between nate and i, based on his recommendation that i read this and this. warning: weirdness abounds.

johanna: the term 'virtual sex' is so offputting. but 'erotic geppetto' is seriously fantastic.
nate: it's way way way beyond fantastic.
j: that's totally the title of my next album.
n: Nice. Or maybe that should be the name of your bakery.
j: people will have far, far different expectations than what i'd be willing to deliver.
n: mostly grotesquely shaped baked goods?
j: dirty pastries.
n: exactly.
j: "erotic geppetto, specializing in naughty noshing for any event"
n: I hate hate hate (clicks heels three times) the word noshing.
I also think it might as well be spelled gnoshing and accompanied with nails on a chalkboard and a dead baby (every time it is spoken or typed).
j: weirdo. "erotic geppetto, specializing in kinky cuisine for any event."
n: "erotic geppetto...dirty inevitibility"
j: "erotic geppetto...x-rated edibles"
n: "erotic geppetto...pastry delights for more than growing noses."
j: dirty. "erotic geppetto...more than just a kick in the pants."
n: I don't get it.
j: "erotic geppetto...our dough isn't the only thing rising."
n: erotic geppetto...pedophiles are creepy...eat a danish
j: erotic geppetto...pastry. puppetry. perverts.
n: there's a winner.

diamonds are forevahhhh.

this past weekend, i went to the wedding of a very dear friend of mine from high school. i'll have pictures to post soon, including one of brad sporting a very sharp, glittered hat. heh. he's pretty.

have you seen ads for this show? i caught a preview for it the other night. my mom was convinced that mark consuelos was the one being set up -- and seriously, he and mark phillippoussis do resemble one another. it's kind of creepy, actually. also creepy: where are the thirty year old women? phillippoussis is thirty-one. do the producers not think he should be dating someone his own age? do they think that that women in their 20s and 40s make for better drama/entertainment? reality tv makes my brain hurt. and really, who gets married to someone they met on television? trista and ryan don't count.

excitement: my dear, dear lovely friend kendall got engaged last friday to her dear, dear lovely boyfriend ciro. it would have come as quite the shock, had they not been dating for EIGHT YEARS. in all seriousness: i couldn't be happier for my friends. i'm ecstatic, and cried joyful tears when she told me. and not just because i get to buy a new dress. and shoes. i met kendall my freshman (her sophomore) year of college in the class 'theater 101', otherwise known as 'don't try to meet straight men here.' we both knew the entire book and score to the movie 'evita' -- and sang aloud during the class screening -- and our friendship was solidified from there on out. we did one musical together (the cast party for which we recall with fond memories of sitting on someone's kitchen counter, drinking rolling rock), were cinema majors together (she being the far superior student in that realm) and lived together for a year, during which we held many a dinner party, all-night study session, and one memorable thanksgiving feast. many episodes of 'friends' were watched together, accompanied by many cartons of chinese food. when she graduated, and subsequently moved out of our house, i was both excited (for her) and traumatized (for me.) we don't see each other as frequently as we would like, but when we do get that opportunity to reconnect it's as if no time has passed. congratulations, kace. love love.

they always go for the funny hats.

the man who jumped the popemobile today was described, on the morning news, as being "between twenty and thirty years of age with significant mental problems."

i believe that quote perfectly sums up my entire dating pool from the past 7 years.

(i shall refrain from making the obvious, "but at least the popemobile was jumped!" joke. but i may start wearing funny hats.)