Palpably Inadequate

A Fond Farewell

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 21:55:50 +0000

I think it's about time I just packed it in and stored this blog away somewhere. I don't ever even have the urge to write in it anymore and hardly care that it exists. So I'm in the midst of deciding what to do with this space. I think I might just turn it into a big online storage for myself (my videos, for instance), as well as housing for Lyrical Munchies and Epic of Rovere and... various other things. While I decide that, here is a small collection of my favorite animated gifs for your enjoyment (those of you who still come here... if you even come here anymore...):

Note: I made none of these. I have no idea where most of them came from.

Babies!

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 20:02:09 +0000

Hi!!! My name's Sara, and this is my blog. You may notice that January 2008 doesn't exist in my archives -- that's because January 2008 never happened. Neither did the latter half of December 2007 and most of February (until today).

I came back from the dead, you see, to post this:

It's fake. But it's amusing. I've been meaning to look it up and watch it for a long time now, having heard references to it many a time... it was worth it.

Cleansing bar!!!

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 09:15:00 +0000

Monday was Mike's and my 2 year anniversary! Just two years and two days ago, we met in New York and decided to give it a go long-distance, sparking a year and a half of driving every one or two weeks to see each other 260 miles away. (For a recap, see Mike's blog here [though he makes it seem, out of context, like some sleazy tryst... typical male] and here.) I have very fond memories of those long months afterwards -- I even have fond memories of the drive (I miss those 4.5 hour drives through forested Pennsylvania and the excitement that would hit me when I reached the 3/4 way point at Hazleton) -- but we're extremely happy to be living together now. Holidays are stalking us. There Christmas is, right in front of us, lazily munching on some grass; we raise our rifle to take the shot, but then BAM! New Years and a whole host of inadequacy issues attack us from the sides. We never even knew they were there. I can't believe it's going to be 2008 soon. My youth! My youth! In other juvenile news that I'm sure will solidify your impression of me as a shameful time waster, I've discovered that the best way to play Starcraft is with 80s music on in the background. The other day Kyrie Eleison (not the prayer, the Mr. Mister song) came on in the background as I wiped the Protoss off the map, and hoo boy it was amazing. (Dork.)

The Most Wonderfullest Time Era

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 14:45:00 +0000

It's funny what an hour surfing the net looking for Christmas gifts can do to you. I had to stop myself when I felt a growing sense of panic and desperation threatening to overcome me. And that was just an hour. Gift-getting is supposed to be simple in my family, since we decided a few years back that only the children should get presents. It was a little awkward for a while there, since for some reason I was classified as a child (with my nephews and nieces, all under 10 at the time). I was pretty glad when that all stopped. Anyway, now my nieces and nephews are, with the exception of the two youngest, impossibly old: I have no idea what to get for them. What the hell does a 15-year-old want in 2007? That doesn't cost $300? So this year it'll be the same as the last. Target gift cards for everyone! That leaves me with the youngest, Lucy, and maybe I'll get some chocolate or candy items for the kids to go with their gift cards. There's also my parents, but that's taken care of. Oh, and I should get something for my grandparents, which might make for some difficulty. Mike is 3/4 taken care of. I just need to figure out where I can buy a catapult.... And there's "Secret Christmas." Here's where I hope that my outside-of-Dutchess-County family doesn't happen to find this blog. Because they're not supposed to know about Secret Christmas. On Christmas Eve, my local siblings give small gifts to each other -- mostly because it's too weird NOT giving gifts when my parents are showering us and Olivia and Lucy with presents. A few days later, when the long-distance sibs come for Christmas, we pretend Secret Christmas didn't happen... because we're not supposed to cheat on the no presents for sibs rule. Well, Secret Christmas is driving me a teensy bit crazy right now, because I want to get non-crap for everyone. And I don't think a Jon Bon Jovi action figure for my sister counts as non-crap. I'll figure it out. In other news, we were watching Star Trek VI last night, and I noticed something oddly familiar about a certain character.

Kurtwood Smith, President of the Federation

Kurtwood Smith, father in That 70s Show

Now that I look at his IMDB page, I see the guy's been in everything, so this isn't exactly a great or rare find. He's a character actor. But damn, that moustache.

Mon, 03 Dec 2007 15:42:00 +0000

Oh, hey, December! Nice to see you again.

In which I act snotty

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 13:00:00 +0000

From a 5-star Amazon user review of a wooden Hogwarts Express (platform 9 3/4) sign: i was very impressed with the speed in which i received this purchase. it was in great condition and my son who is in college loved it. he hung it above his door so that everyone who leaves his dorm room will be heading for platform 9 and 3/4. I ordered several Harry Potter items for my son for his birthday. He took them all to college withhim and his friends have designated his dorm room "The coolest room" in the hall. it is "the" room to hang out in. thanks for helping me make my sons birthday a huge hit! I bet...

Half-man, Half-tree

Thu, 15 Nov 2007 12:38:00 +0000

Note, coming much too late, for anyone who hasn't clicked this link yet: The photos are disturbing. The man's extremities are covered in root-like growths. It is an unbelievable and, apparently for some people I know, nauseating sight. Just look at this poor guy. Apparently he's featured in a show on the Discovery Channel tonight at 9. I'd like to watch it... but my stupid Thursday shows are going to get in the way. I've always had a fascination with medical mysteries. Especially ones with happy endings.

Uh-oh, it's magic

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 10:56:00 +0000

Had a lovely Saturday night/Sunday early morning with Anna and Dave (who was in the city for a short visit). Dave and Mike and I got off to a fairly early start with the drinking, and after having a Frenchy dinner continued the theme by going to a bar called Dirty Pierre. We didn't stay long though, since we had to intercept Anna on her way from the subway to our place, so we ended up booking it down Austin St. It's cold -- I got a bit of lung burn from walking fast and gulping cold air. Mike made us his new specialty: a drink he calls "Red-Headed Stepchild." He created this drink a few days ago when we were partying by ourselves. It's quite similar to our Famous Dwaynes, except for Heightened Taste Sensation. Just combine vodka, triple sec, grenadine, orange curacao, a splash of orange juice, cranberry-grape juice, and Red Bull. Yeah, fruity, but don't knock it till you've tried it! I pulled out the Super Nintendo, and we all played Mario Kart and (when Mario Kart kept blacking out in the middle of races) Super Mario Bros. 3. So, basically it was a flashback to college. This went on till roughly 3:30, and we were all pretty tanked. It was oodles of fun! Last night Mike and I went to bed at 9:30. It was splendid. And yet I still wanted to sleep more this morning. You know how David Copperfield is being charged with rape? And you know how it's come out that his assistants would, at his instigation, interview and photo audience members that he was interested in, then invite them to his islands in the Bahamas? And you know how some women have come out saying that he ogled them at shows and that his assistants would try to get them away from their husbands/boyfriends for the purposes of interviewing/photographing/luring-them-to-the-Bahamas? No? Oh. Anyway, Mike and I tried to get tickets to David Copperfield when we were in Vegas. And all I can say is, thank God it was sold out. Because what would have happened if we had gone? What if David Copperfield had seen me? What if he had seen me?

On dingles and cockroaches

Fri, 02 Nov 2007 12:40:00 +0000

And the prize for Best-Named Bygone (I Think) Chicago Theater Company goes to... the "Dinglefest" Theatre Company. They have an ad in an old journal series I'm deleting from our library holdings. I thought it was amusing. In other horrific news, I had a cringe-worthy encounter yesterday morning. I'm blind as a bat without glasses or my contacts in, so when I take my morning shower before work, my surroundings are nothing but fuzzy colored blobs because a) I can't put in my contacts when my eyes won't open at 6:48 AM (okay... 6:57 on most days, 7:06 on others), and b) it's silly to wear glasses in the shower. I started the water, as usual, got in once it was hot enough, and noted that the hair trap (or hair-trap-shaped blob) looked dark. "Ew," I thought, "I must have not cleaned it out when I washed my hair yesterday. I'll have to do that before Mike yells at me." I continued doing what I was doing. Two minutes later, my eyes caught movement. I looked down and saw a rather large dark blob emerge from the center of the hair trap and start moving rapidly towards my feet. I yelped and dove out. No, my leftover hair had not become mobile and vengeful. It was a cockroach. About an inch-and-a-half long. My eyesight is so bad that I had no idea the darkness in the hair trap was in fact a huge-ass bug. I threw a towel on and literally ran to the kitchen to get the Raid. Then I sprayed the fucker. It ran in circles around the tub, trying to get away from the flaming stream of death I was raining down upon it. Then it finally died on its back, and I had to get rid of it. I used about four paper towels. And then I sprayed down the tub with Lysol. I was shaken for a while after. I've started checking the tub very closely before getting in.

But I still hate Jordan Catalano

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 10:25:00 +0000

There's a good article in the TV section of the NY Times about My So-Called Life. I remember that when I was 14, I hated the show, even though I probably saw every one of its 19 episodes a couple times over. I never felt good after watching it, and I just smirked when my high school friends would sing its praises. Looking back, I realize I hated it because I didn't want to be reminded of what it was like to be a teenager. An angsty teenager, that is. That's how real that show was, and I think I now love it in retrospect. Is that weird?

Stupidity reigns supreme

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 11:17:00 +0000

Yesterday I decided we should invest in a fire extinguisher for the kitchen. It's generally just a good idea -- but considering we have a gas stove, it's an excellent idea. Gas stoves are wonderful for cooking, but open flame + me = trouble. Yesterday afternoon I was making sauce and had a wooden spoon sitting in the center of the stove top. On its left was the pot of sauce, and on its right was the meatballs frying. Both burners were on. I flipped the meatballs with the wooden spoon and put it down again. Without seeing, as I turned toward the sink to clean up, my hand brushed against the wooden spoon and it swiveled towards the frying pan. As I took out a sponge for the counter, I had a sixth sense that I had just done something very stupid. I looked back at the stove and noticed the handle of the spoon had swiveled into the flame beneath the frying pan. The handle of the wooden spoon. I pulled it out and threw it in the sink. The handle (which was just starting to catch on fire as I grabbed it) is now a bit burnt. I guess there are a couple things to learn from this: 1) invest in a fire extinguisher in case stupid mistakes such as the above get out of hand, and 2) for God's sake, don't keep combustible items on the stove top. Sheesh. "What's going on in there?" Mike called over when he heard me shout, "Oh dear God" or whatever it was that I shouted. "Um... nothing!" I replied. I was ashamed. This weekend we went to see Toni and Allen get married in Vermont! More on that, and a couple of pictures, next post. Congratulations to them as well as Patrick and Jaren, who got hitched last week!

The H is O

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 08:23:00 +0000

A couple days ago, it was roughly 80 degrees as I came to work. I don't generally venture outside the entire work day, so once 4 came around and I exited the building, I expected what we've been having for weeks now -- heat, humidity. I came out, and it was cool and dry. I needed a sweater. I didn't have one. So I cranked up the heat in the car on my drive back home. I love that first moment when you need to put the heat on in the car, probably because the smell reminds me of my childhood and my college days. It's a smell I used to describe as "burning dust," but I'm really not sure that's accurate. It reminds me of coming back to my dorm in November, shivering because I was a dumbass about wearing really thin coats in those days, and turning the dial on the rattly heater under the window in the Toaster (my dorm). Then, as the room warmed up and my nostrils were pleasantly assaulted with the smell of "burning dust," I would turn my computer on and, oh I dunno, play Escape Velocity. Things haven't changed too much. But my love of that smell goes a bit farther back, to when I would come home from middle school and immediately head for our kitchen and a certain kitchen cabinet. At first glance it looked like an extra pot cabinet, directly under the cabinet where we kept our plates and glasses and on the floor next to the door leading out to the porch. But I knew that within that cabinet lay a delightful row of heating... things. I don't even know what they were, but they looked like thin sheets of metal, all standing on their ends and close together like the teeth of a comb. I'd open up the doors of the cabinet, set a chair in front, and rest my stocking feet directly on the metal while the whole house made that delightful click-click-click sound. The heat's not on in our apartment building yet, and we don't generally need it yet, but I'm wondering if the same sounds we heard last winter will come back again. The place has generally quieted down -- no more constant sound of running water in the walls, for instance -- and I remember the boiler was fixed/replaced in the early spring, so it's possible we won't hear the same bangs and hisses. Last winter those sounds were a little frightening, but probably because we were sleeping on a futon in the living room, and there was nothing on the walls, and boxes were still pushed into a corner, still packed. Now that it's truly home, I'm hoping the sounds come back.

Wash the spider out

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 08:21:00 +0000

Yesterday I was in the middle of merging onto a parkway when a black thing caught my eye. I looked. It was about half an inch long, black, hairy, and on the inside of my window. Needless to say, I jerked over in my seat, gasped, and nearly swerved right off the ramp. The drivers around me must have thought I was crazy. Even as I attempted to calm myself down and stay in my lane (by this time I had merged), I couldn't keep my eyes off the spider and on the road. I rolled down the window, but the rushing air threatened to blow the thing right into my face. I tried to roll it down softly, until it was all the way down. The spider, feeling the torrent behind him (or her... even worse), started to crawl down towards the door handle. I knew I had to act. So I flicked it out the window, and the wind picked it up and probably splatted it into the car behind me. Good riddance. But this comes only a couple days after Mike found a tiny little spider wriggling under the sticker on my windshield telling me when to get an oil change. (The sticker was telling me, not the spider... though that's a hilarious image.) He squished it under the sticker. That was probably a baby. I hope to God there's not a nest under my dashboard. This morning, it's foggy and wet and exactly the kind of weather I suspect a spider would love. I checked out my car fairly thoroughly before getting in and going to work, but still had the itching feeling that something was going to crawl up over my headrest and plant itself in my hair. I thought I got away from spiders when I left Tivoli -- where huge spiders would hang down from my front door every evening. Maybe before I left they went and laid eggs in my car.... They're after me.

Because I feel like publicizing this kind of thing

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 14:13:00 +0000

I'm generally pretty horribly-read. Saw this meme on a couple friends' livejournals, so thought I would see what's what. I'm slightly horrified by how many books on the list I have started and never finished. Guess I'm more ADD than I thought I was.... These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing's users (as of today). Bold what you have read, italicize those you started but couldn't finish, and strike through what you couldn't stand. Add an asterisk to those you've read more than once. Underline those on your to-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 : a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
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
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the time of cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
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 : a novel
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
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 : A Memoir
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 : a novel
Collapse : How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an Inquiry into Values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity's Rainbow
The Hobbit
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

I'm sorry, I don't speak English

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 08:11:00 +0000

Funny thing happened the other day, when I was walking back home on Queens Blvd. after a fruitless search for the UPS Store. I was about to pass a dry cleaners. An elderly Asian man stood outside it. I became aware that he was trying to flag me down. "Excuse me! Excuse me!" he said. "I have lady here no speak English!" I looked at him as if to say, "Aaaaand?" He just repeated what he said. I still just sort of shook my head and started to walk away. "No," he said. "She no speak English. You translate? She, you know, Jewish!" I could see an elderly lady inside the dry cleaners, leaning on a cane. She had a scarf wrapped around her head and a plastic bag in her hands. This time I understood. I shook my head at the Asian man and said, "Oh no. I don't speak--" and left it that. He nodded and said, "Oh OK," and I went on my way. I have no idea if he expected me to know Russian, Hebrew, Yiddish, God knows what. I don't think he knew either. I just think it's funny that he flagged me down, when the street was full of people. You could say I feel honored he took me for Jewish or Russian or whatever -- at least he didn't think I was just some monolingual white girl. Which... you know... I kind of am. If the lady spoke Russian, I probably could have said a couple things to her. Like "God bless Mommy and Daddy" and "I'm a Russian girl" (lie) and "I learn Russian" (also a lie), which are just about the only phrases I remember from my one semester of Russian in college. Even then, I wouldn't be able to understand what she was saying back to me, and I would just start counting really loudly (but I only remember up to five). Incidentally, on the way home I suddenly remembered a song that we were taught in my Italian classes in college: Vengo anch'io! (No, tu no.) Vengo anch'io! (No, tu no.) Vengo anch'io! (No, tu no.) Ma perche? (Perche no!) Somewhat loosely translated: I want to come too! (No, you can't.) I want to come too! (No, you can't.) I want to come too! (No, you can't.) But why not? (Because you can't.) It was a weird song in Italian class. It was weirder still when I remembered it the other day.

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