Monday, February 28, 2005

It's been a while... I have been busy. I went up to New Hampshire and got my grandmother's car, a Toyota Camry. It's very matronly, but I am enjoying the automatic locks and power windows and working rear speakers. Now I have to deal with the extremely annoying RMV about it. Apparently "grandmother" is not considered "immediate family" ("That is INSANE" I told the bitchy RMV lady) and so I cannot use the "motor vehicle transferred within a family" form. No, instead I need another form that says that the vehicle was a gift, a donation if you will, and that form requires my nursing-home-bound, 3-hours-away grandmother to sign it, within the week. So not only am I going to have to get "her" to "sign" it, I also have to say that she received no money in the transaction. Which, um, she didn't! I am not implying it was not a gift, sirs! Please don't take my car away!

The Oscars were the very definition of "eh." It was bland and toothless. Chris Rock had some good lines early on, but most of the time he was way too restrained. And the less said about the music, the better.

And no word about the NYC thing yet. They've failed to meet their answering-me deadline yet again. My head is gonna asplode soon.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

This group, Improv Everywhere, does commando performance art pieces. Sort of like what happens on Trigger Happy TV, but it's not filmed for television. I've only read a few, but I can tell at least my musician friends that they must read Best Gig Ever, and then the Band Response. I also loved No Pants 2002 and the MP3 Experiment. Both made me very happy to live in a world where such things happen. Thanks to Agent Roberts for the link.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Being the artsy little fucker I am, I had to go down to the city to see Christo's Gates in Central Park. I knew it would be crowded and crazy and it was. It was also strange and beautiful and festive. I created an Ofoto album, my first one. These were all taken with my fairly crappy little camera, but they give you an idea of what it was like.

Also included: bonus koi footage!

Thursday, February 17, 2005

So I heard something, but it was not at all what I expected - not even in the imagined realm of possible scenarios. I am not allowed to talk about it. Suffice it to say, I may not be moving after all. I feel like I've been knifed in the heart. Or kicked in the stomach. Or bludgeoned, in general. Not much more to say. I will know more next week but wheels are turning well out of my control, making the arrow point towards "no move for you." It'll be a miracle if I can move to NYC now, with the job I was offered.

Monday, February 14, 2005

Apparently, Superman is a total dick. Check out some of these old DC comics covers.

Most of these are also exceedingly strange. One of my favorites:

It's now been more than two weeks and I still haven't heard about the job thing.
I did a major clean yesterday, and during it I sorted through some old college papers, including a folder of contacts and cover letters and job leads all relating to getting a job at a museum or a gallery in New York. I never got one, obviously; there just weren't any openings, and I couldn't afford to work for free as an intern, so. And here I am 11 years later, working for the man in a field that's not art-related at all. Pretty damn depressing. My relocation momentum is slowing way down. Maybe I shouldn't move at all. Maybe I should try getting a full nights' sleep again, somehow.

Friday, February 11, 2005

No, I still haven't heard anything. Sigh. There's an office clean-up afternoon scheduled today, and when I heard about it a week and a half ago, I thought, "Great! That'll be a great time to get rid of a lot of the free junk I've accumulated over the last nine years, in anticipation of my leaving the office." But no. I mean I can still do that, but it won't have the same triumphant feeling. Plus I have a headache from not sleeping. (The past few nights, I stay up until 12:30, at which point I am very sleepy, then I get into bed and my brain starts whirring, and I can't fall asleep for an hour or more.)

I was in NYC visiting the sister and the baby for most of the past week (well, four nights; Sat-Weds.). I had been hoping to also look for apartments while I was there, but since I HAVEN'T HEARD YET, I couldn't. There was another reason for my visit, though, a reason I didn't tell anyone here, because I figured you wouldn't understand. But I feel compelled to tell you now.

I went to a fan convention for The Amazing Race.

TAR, being the most entertaining and least-loathesome reality show out there, is one of the three shows I try to catch on a weekly basis (and unlike with Lost and Arrested Development, I usually succeed). Television Without Pity (see links at right) recaps the episodes, and also organizes a mass viewing of the final episode; somehow the website is popular enough that they convince the Amazing Race contestants to show up. This particular event was known as TARcon6 (for the sixth season of the show) and was held at Play by Play, the sports bar inside Madison Square Garden. My sister and I went, and even though we came a little late we lucked out and managed to score some seats at a primo table with a friendly trio of ladies (two middle-aged, one teenager). The place was packed with about 350 people.

Watching the show was quite fun, with everyone booing the more hated players and cheering the more beloved ones. Most of the people there looked like they could easily have been friends of mine - for the most part, I didn't get any creepy uber-nerd vibes from anyone. It helps, I think, that TWoP is very snarky and cynical. However, there was a stout gentleman who kept standing in front of us and heckling the people on the television, then turning around to see our reactions. Some of the crap he was yelling (at the people inside the TV) was over the line and too angry, like "Just shut the hell up, bitch!" I made a point of not making eye contact with him, though I did let him high-five me once.

After the first hour of the two-hour finale, I noticed some hubbub nearby, and realized that Charla, the little person from one of the teams last season, was about ten feet away. "Look! It's CHARLA!" I said to my sister. There was no hesitation on my part - I WOULD get a photo with her. Years of working my very particular media job have made me quite comfortable at being pushy enough to get my photo taken with various semi-well-known strangers. I got a nice one of me crouching next to Charla, who was very nice. (I also got one of me and my sister with Charla, but my sister is blushing a lot, and she'd hate me if I posted it).

(You, dear reader, likely have no clue who I am talking about. This is why I didn't tell anyone about this before. Feel free to stop reading, as it only gets worse.)

Near the end of the show, the final detour challenge the players had to do was to finish a smallish-size deep-dish pizza. Which was very lame. "Aw, COME ON!!" shouted the stout fellow. "This is BULLSHIT!!" A couple who were not the crowd favorites won the million bucks. It was sort of a let-down.

After the show was over, we hung around waiting for more racers to show up. My sister was a bit unsure about approaching them but I was all gung-ho about it, instigating all the photo ops. We left our seats and went to the entrance area, where a roped-off recieving line had been set up. The racers would walk past the line and then enter the bar and hang out for a while, talking, taking photos, and drinking. For fans who had the time and the right questions to ask, they could get some behind-the-scenes dirt on the show. We were not those fans.

The first people we saw were Chip and Kim, the much-loved winners from last season. I grabbed Chip and got someone to take his photo with us. I said, "I was rooting for you guys! I actually cried when you won!" (This is true.) "Aw, that's so nice! Thanks for your support!" he said.

Like most of the racers we encountered, he seemed to be having a total blast. After all, these people are just normal people who happened to be on a TV game show for a little while, and we're all treating them like they're big stars. The whole thing was absurd and hilarious, yet I couldn't stop taking pictures. I took photos of most of the racers who showed up: Lena and Christy, the girls from Queens whose names I can't remember, and:

Aaron and Hayden:

MaryJean and Don:

Hera and Gus:

The bad, bad Jonathan and Victoria. When they came, most people ignored them.

But the show's recap writer, Miss Alli, really got into it with Jonathan. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but he was not happy:

Adam and Rebecca:

... and finally, me and my sister with the very attractive Kris and Jon. Her boobs were blindingly perfect, and she was sweet as the dickens.:

We had a great time, it was all very surreal and fun. We really didn't know exactly what to expect, but it was as great and as weird a time as I had allowed myself to hope it would be. Hooray!

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Well, not that any of you cared (you know, WHATEVER), but here are the answers to my Disney word list below (1/31 post). After I posted my list, and made up four words, I decided to see if anyone else had come up with the same ridiculous (ridicutacular?) words I did. Here are the results.

Magication: The first google hit doesn't count as it is for a humor piece, a made-up interview with the makers of Clutch Cargo. But then you find that Magication writes how-to books for magicians.

You can also go to in order to get "magicated." I'm at work, so I declined.

Playtorium: My favorite hit is this story about this casino/restaurant/bowling alley in Kentucky, which eventually crumbled under mob pressure (though apparently the bowling alley is still open).

There are several Playtoriums attached to public libraries and the like. This article, about an elementary school (also in Kentucky) turning 150 years old, says the building's playtorium "is like a gym without spectator space." It was built, and I presume named, in the 1980s. Figures.

Wonderquarium: No matches! I thought for sure this one would get lots. New England Aquarium, call me - I have a genius concept for you.

Teenspiration: There's a Christian youth group based in California by this name, at no less, but I can't access it for some reason. Instead, you can find teenspiration at ezeeDiabetes. And I quote: Hey Teenager!! ...get on over to Teen Central: Real Teenspiration is right >here.< (Sadly, the linked page doesn't appear to contain the word "teenspiration," though it does provide lots of inspiration for diabetic teenagers.)

I also came up with Animazement, but did a search before I posted and found it's the name of a big anime con. And after that happened, I thought I'd be better off not searching...

I met a new guy last night. His name is Miles.

He was tiny, and kind of orange, and didn't talk to me at all - how rude! He is only three days old, though, so. I had forgotten how weird newborns are: So small, eyes usually closed or rolling around all uncontrollably, little squeaky noises of complaint, skinny chicken legs, easy to fold into a compact swaddle sausage. Miles has a nice head of straight hair on him. Dad Max said I could brag on my blog that I was the first of our friends to meet him, so here I am. (His parents haven't even met the baby yet, because his mom has a cold! That must be KILLING her. I think my mother would have exploded if that had happened to her.) Mom Anya says Max is the best dad ever, which I do not doubt. They both seem tired and a little bit put-upon with having to deal with the anti-jaundice electric light machine and supplemental feedings, but they are very happy. And cute! They are a cute little family now. And did I remember my camera? No I did not. Max and Anya had given me a big grocery list over the phone before I came, so I went to Stop and Shop and got important supplies like trash bags, cans of soup, and 12 Stonyfield Farm yogurt smoothies (effectively cleaning out the store). That was my mission, which made my tiny single-tasking brain forget my camera. So. Pictures will be taken next time.