God bless you.

In celebration of the fact that next year, the Tonight Show will be hosted by someone who's actually funny, here's some clips from the king of them all, y'all. First up, my all-time favorite Tonight Show clip, featuring George Gobel. Being a comedian on Carson's show would be nervy enough but having to follow Dean Martin and Bob Hope? Yeah, I have to shampoo a dog. But Gobel is great. In fact, the line that the title of this entry refers to is one of my all-time favorites to quote.



( Several more... )

This Twilight thing has gone too far. The other morning, I caught the last bit of Glenn Beck's show as I was making coffee at work. His guest was Stephenie Meyer. If you're familiar with YA, you know her as the author of the ridiculously successful Twilight series (soon to be a major motion picture!) and the new book, The One That's Not About Vampires (later shortened to The Host). If you're not familiar with YA, you may want to play a game of solitaire for a moment. Anyway, Beck had just introduced Meyer to the TV audience, listing her accomplishments ("She was just named to Time magazine`s top 100 most influential people of 2008 list, where they call her the new J.K. Rowling. Her first three novels have spent a combined 143 weeks on "The New York Times" bestseller list. She`s sold over five million copies") and that was normal. What was not was the outright fangirling by Beck that followed. The transcript from CNN:

BECK: I have to tell you, my daughters have been talking -- I mean, yapping about "Twilight" forever. Both my daughters, Mary and Hannah, are fans of it.

I started reading this one just a few days -- I`m only a few pages in. I don`t mean this -- I hope you don`t take this as a slam. Are you familiar with Cormac McCarthy?

MEYER: No, I`m not.

BECK: OK. He`s a brilliant writer. Very, very different. He wrote the book "The Road."

Your book is art. It really is. And it is fascinating to read.

Good Lord. For those of you who don't know, Glenn Beck is a conservative talker--radio program, TV show, books, etc. I don't watch him that often but I like him better than most talking heads. I don't want to get into a discussion of my feelings about him, because that's irrelevant to the story, but I think he's a little lighter, has more fun, etc. than most commentators. However, he has got to get a grip. It was bad enough to find out about this whole Twilight Moms phenomenon; I don't need my conservative hosts flipping out, too. The next thing we know, he's going to be analyzing the trailer shot by shot (which MTV actually did). Gah.

However, omg--I love the way the van scene turned out, especially that second after when both of them have their own respective "Oh, shit" moments. And toward the end of the trailer, that look he has after he says "You really shouldn't have said that"? Eee! So cute. I wonder if he's seeing anyone...

What--where were we? Oh, yeah. Reading. So after my last final on Tuesday, I have a little over two weeks off from school before summer semester starts. I plan to spend it by indulging myself in deeply satisfying yet healthy ways. My plan has two steps--Step one: Lots of bubble baths. I like to buy cheapish kinds because I am 5 and like a lot of bubbles. Also, I like being cheap. These days, I usually use Bodycology's Vanilla Amber Musk. Step two: YA book explosion! I don't know how many books I'll be able to read during my break but I have two to start. The first is The Westing Game, which I read and loved in fifth grade, but have forgotten enough about to enjoy it when the mystery is solved again. The second is Summer of my German Soldier, which I have never read. In fact, I didn't realize until I read the post on Jezebel, that it was set in the United States. I'd completely forgotten that there were POW camps in the US for Axis soldiers. The first one I noticed for Alabama was in Aliceville and I was curious so I checked out the official city site for more info. I learned that the Aliceville camp was one of the largest in the country, holding 6000 prisoners. Then I read this: "On June 2, 1943, the first prisoners arrived by train form [sic] North Africa." Train from North Africa? To Alabama? Yeah, I don't think that's how it happened.

Speaking of Jezebel, last week's Pot Psychology was my favorite ever. And also, I was reading their Harper's Bazaar Index, in which they add facts from the latest Harper's Bazaar to the Index in the other Harper's magazine, when I noticed this curious fact: Percentage of Britons who believe that Winston Churchill is a mythical figure. That percentage? 23. Now "mythical" is perhaps not the best word. I understand that it's accurate, but I was picturing Churchill as a leprechaun. Then I read that fact. I realized that when I think 'mythical,' I think of Greek gods or some shit like that. I found this Telegraph article, which explains that the teens (and it was teens who were polled) think that he was a fictional character. Some of those poll results are scary but I don't really think it's unusual that almost half thought that Eleanor Rigby was a real person. The Beatles famously wrote about real people in their lives [Jude, Prudence, etc.]--how are these kids supposed to know she wasn't real?

You know what else the Telegraph reported? This!

Sorry about your heart exploding.

My plans today:

PARIS — Albert Hofmann, the mystical Swiss chemist who gave the world LSD, the most powerful psychotropic substance known, died Tuesday at his hilltop home near Basel, Switzerland. He was 102.

NY Times

Merci beaucoup, Dr.



Albert Hofmann, gone fission.

I am (still) lovin' the John Adams miniseries on HBO and I haven't even seen the whole thing. I was going to wait until July to post a clip but like Nu Shooz, baby I can't wait. One of the things I like the most about the series is that it provides fuller, more fleshed out portrayals of the Founders. Too often in school, at least in the bulk of my experiences, they're presented as almost abstract ideas--like something akin to storybook characters or superheroes. [I may or may not agree with the premise of that linked entry. I definely agree with the last line. :)] I don't think I considered for the longest time how absolutely terrifying it must have been for all of them, especially when they'd gone past the point of no return.

And on that note, we have our clip. I'll set it up for you in case you didn't learn US history or slept through it. It is 1775 and the colonists had fought the British soldiers at the Battle of Bunker Hill that June. A month later, the Continental Congress sent the King the Olive Branch Petition, hoping for reconciliation. However, around the time the petition arrived, King George got an intercepted letter from Adams to a friend, in which Adams said that he wasn't pleased with the petition and thought the war was inevitable. Unsurprisingly, the King doubted the colonists' commitment to Sparkle Motion and so he sent them a little love letter called the Proclamation of Rebellion. In this scene, John Adams (Paul Giamatti) is discussing some of the King's previous demands regarding British soldiers in the colonies and before you can say, "That is some bullshit," John Hancock (Justin Theroux) reads the Proclamation to the assembly, which also includes Samuel Adams (Danny Huston), Ben Franklin (Tom Wilkinson), John Dickinson (Zeljko Ivanek) and omg, I love you, Jefferson. [Uh, played by Stephen Dillane.] Now cease ado.



Ohhhhhhh.

I go to Calhoun for school, which I'm not sure I've mentioned here by name. It's a community college but it's huge for one. (Here's a picture I took as I was leaving the Math & Science Building--where I took uh, French--last semester--and that's like, a fourth of the campus.) In fact, with the two other campuses in addition to the main one, which I attend, it's the largest 2-year college in Alabama. Anyway, it was named after John C. Calhoun, the seventh veep of these United States, who was kind of a handsome fellow in his younger years and apparently went into carnival spookhouse work when he was older. No one really seems to know why he's the namesake--he was a South Carolinian and his links to Alabama are pretty flimsy. I know he had some relatives here but still, it's not like he had an enormous influence on the state. So that's kind of a mystery. But whomever named our mascot had a funny sense of humor. Um, if you're an American history geek. Now Mr. Calhoun, if you don't know, [WARNING: NERD ALERT] and a group of his colleagues in the Twelfth Congress were way into war. Their fervent calls for war against Great Britain, which did indeed lead to a tussle that became known as the War of 1812, earned them the nickname War Hawks. So yes, we are the Calhoun Warhawks. (By the way, it was Virginia Congressman John Randolph who coined the term "War Hawks." But to be fair, he had apparently just gone through puberty so he was probably having lots of mood swings.)

Anyway that was all to say that I bought a Calhoun Warhawks t-shirt today so that I may bask in American history nerdery. I am not ashamed. (It looks like this--I got one like the ones in the basket, charcoal with hot pink lettering. Because nothing says let the bodies hit the floor like hot pink script.) I also defined phallic for the THIRD time in psych class today. It's amazing. Some of these girls are barely out of high school and already have toddlers, yet they won't say "penis" in the classroom.

Then I went to buy a cheap saucepan, because my very successful break-most-of-the-ones-I-own program has drawn to a close, and I have dreams of making tea AND soup at the same time. I went to Fred's, a discount store, and after I found the saucepan I looked around because sometimes you can find interesting stuff in there. Like this. Is your soul bland? I also bought a little bottle of 4711. It's billed as the "original eau de cologne" and they aren't lying (almost)--the phrase "eau de cologne" was originally created to mean water of Cologne, as in the German city where it was first created. This isn't the first FIRST company to make a scent in Cologne but it's up there. Anyway, the bottles are lovely and classic and they were a whopping $1 each at Fred's.

Muelhens created 4711 in 1792. It is the result of the following top fragrance Notes: bergamot, lemon and orange. The middle notes are: rosemary and rose and the base of the fragrance is: musk, petitgrain and neroli.

It's...interesting.

Saturday was the 65th anniversary of Bicycle Day, which I completely forgot about. I also forgot that the Chief would be appearing on a special on the History Channel that night called "Peyote to LSD: A Psychedelic Odyssey." It will repeat on Saturday at 5PM (est, I'm assuming). Yes, I set my Tivo.

Today, of course, is the day of the Earth. So on that note, and speaking of the Chief, here is a gentleman and scholar, a raconteur and rogue, my Chief, my friend* Mr. Bob Weir and the rest of Ratdog doing "Ashes and Glass." Er, after a brief segment in which he tries to complete an interview as certain people who are definitely not anything like your upstanding hostess, work diligently at distraction behind the interviewer's back.



[Part 2]

And if that roll takes us to France
Teach them Froggies how to dance
Keep on dancin', sing the tune
We'll be dancin' all around the moon

And if that big old moon go bust
Well ashes to ashes, baby, dust to dust
Baby it's time for one last rave
Keep on dancin' on our own graves.

*Also, a guy I keep forgetting to email. Oops. Tonight. Tonight I will do it.

I am halfway through my trip account, so I'm going to work on my French again since it has to be done by tomorrow night and I still have 2.5 lessons to go through. But first, a picture--I got highfived because I was the first person all tour (and at the next-to-last show, no less) who understood the (non-Obama) campaign sticker below:

Here's another video about Simon's Cat. Last time he was trying to wake up Simon, now he's trying to get back inside the house.

I am working on my trip account now and it will go up when my camera batteries recharge and I can upload the miserably small number of shots I was able to squeeze off (3). So, in a few hours then. I am also trying to catch up on the many posts from my friends list that I've missed, do a staggering amount of French homework, and then maybe think about finishing my study work for American history. Oh, and do some actual work. No sweat.

Wow, this week has been insane. Sunday was Salome and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. It started with an attempt to take out the garbage at my office that should have taken five minutes tops and fifteen minutes later, culminated with beer on my shirt and garbage juice on my foot. Upon returning inside, I realized that it was the foot with the toxic wound--a couple of weeks ago, I woke up at the time I'm usually leaving for class. I stumbled groggily into the bathroom as quickly as I could...and promptly stepped on the plug for my iPod speakers. My reaction? "Eh."

[I have a long history of sustaining brutal foot injuries that I barely notice as other people are cringing. I once stepped on my boyfriend's razor and trailed blood around the floor for ten minutes before I noticed--and it wasn't until I was perched on the bathroom counter watching him clean the cut that I even blinked. Maybe I was bitten by a Goliath Bird Eating Spider and don't remember it. Oh and by the way, if you don't read Cracked, I recommend it. I was thinking of it as the magazine, like a Mad-alike, but the website is great. They combine funny and interesting trivia, which I love, with lists, which I love. Win/win! My only wish was that they'd do something about the comments, so they weren't just scores of spam posts and it looks like they're trying now. But really, it's a worthwhile read. And it's given start_0ver and I the wonderful, all-purpose excuse, "There's a spider near the door." Oh and by the way #2, like many of the commenters, I obviously disagree with their choosing Andrew Jackson. Assbad, maybe. I'll be going to see Some Band tomorrow and missing history, which is a good thing, because we're discussing Jackson. I don't care for him. I always say that I don't hate anyone and I don't hate him but I don't care for him. I don't care for him a lot. And the horse he rode in on. Whoa, this is a big bracket. Let's move on.]

So after that garbage indignity, I fell asleep at my mom's house and woke to an awesome combination charley horse/leg asleep sensation. If you are in the market for a new kind of pain, you should check it out. My leg is still weak. Oh but the best was yet to come: I had to get some cat fud and stuff so I went to the place where they sell walls. Apparently I missed two things in my cart when I was checking out. When I stopped to drop off the cart, I saw them and assumed they'd slid out of a bag, especially since one was on its side. The greeter swooped over and yanked the receipt from my hand, kicking off a ten-minute ordeal in which I was repeatedly asked if I "still wanted" the items I thought I'd bought, heard not one "please" or "thank you" and was generally treated like I was Carlos the effin' Jackal. So that was really sweet. In the store's defense, I filled out a web comment late Monday night and the local store called me yesterday to ask about the incident and apologize.

(I guess it could be worse--I could be like that guy in Ohio who was arrested after he forgot about some Coke* on the bottom rack of his cart. Yeah, he's a master criminal. The $160 worth of groceries he bought was just a ruse for the ultimate prize, the $4 case of Coke.)

And that was basically it for this week so far, minus running around like a maniac trying to get things done so I can go out of town for one measly weekend to see the cutest boys in the world. I made an 87 on that history exam and I guess my instructor doesn't dislike me, because we wrote "Great work" on my essay answers. Multiple choice, not so much. But I wasn't the only one. And I hope he does like me, because he'll be seeing me next semester!

My grandmother's health condition is going to kill me. It's like, "She's doing much better!" Next day: "Her kidneys are failing." Next day: "She looks great!" Next day: "It doesn't look good." I may or may not have tried to strike a bargain with the universe and ooh--my bad, Heston. But I think I'm doing better with that. Now if only the rest of my family would stay safe--my uncle broke his neck yesterday falling off a dropoff in his yard (they live on a very steep hill). The doctors say that they don't think it's a paralyzing break but come on! I gotta get a haircut today. I hope she doesn't accidentally slip and shave me bald.

I could feel sorry for myself, I guess. But I have a house to live in and I go to a good school and I have amazing friends, some of whom I get to see this week. And I know they wouldn't beat me and videotape it just for myspace fodder, so I got that going for me. (Oh and for anyone finding that story hard to believe, I refer you to Cecilia in Virgin Suicides: "Obviously Dr., you've never been a 13-year-old girl.")

*Not soda. Not pop.

I stayed up until an ungodly hour Monday night studying for my AmerHistory exam and okay, finishing the study guide that I totally slacked on, obviously...only to be reminded when I got to school that it was an open journal test. Oh, did I tell y'all about our journals? No, I did not.

He required that we get notebooks dedicated solely to our history notes. Usually I just get one three ring binder and keep my stuff for all my classes in there but nooooo. Now I have a journal. I will not call it a vade mecum. He cannot make me. He also requires that we take notes his way. Like this:

date........................definition........................term

(Date and term being in the left and right margins, respectively.) He graded the journals while we took our first exam. I forgot mine (because I'd been busy trying to recopy the notes in my style into his style) so I escaped his judgment, but when he gave the tests back, he gave a lecture again about taking notes in his style. He broke his laptop, so we no longer have PowerPoint and lots of times, I find myself just listening to him lecture rather than taking notes. So to sum up, for the purposes of the test, my notes were pretty crap. The test is a pretty standard format--50 multiple choice questions then mini-essay questions. He gives us around 15 terms and we have to answer 10 of them. He said that since this test was open journal, he'd be grading more critically than usual. So I was throwing everything in there, whether it was relevant to the chapters we were studying or not. For example, in my answer for Crispus Attucks, I mentioned that he became a symbol for abolitionists. Was he? Sure, why not?

In the early 1800s, as the Abolitionist movement gained momentum in Boston, Attucks was lauded as an example of a black American who played a heroic role in the history of the United States. Hey, alright!

Before that, we were discussing reinforcements in Psychology. Dr. E brought up the topic of serial killers and the attention they get--how probably everyone knew the name Son of Sam but not many, if any, knew the name of the Navy Seal who will be posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor next week for throwing himself on a grenade to save the rest of the men in their hideout. (His name is Michael Monsoor.) Then he was off on a discussion of serial killers and I inadvertently showed my vast and somewhat scary knowledge of them. Off on a tangent about Charles Manson, he asked if anyone knew what Manson's ultimate goal was. Ooh ooh, I do! (He was trying to spark the race war that he saw as inevitable.) I'm amazing!

You know who else is amazing? Pearl Cornioley. She passed away this past February, but during WWII, she was a resistance fighter and an all-around badass. The files on her have just been declassified, so her badassery is becoming more well known. They didn't think much of her at first, although they acknowledged that she was "probably the best shot--male or female--we have yet had." According to the International Herald Tribune:

"After parachuting into France, Cornioley passed on secret messages to her first handler in France that she had carried in the hem of her skirt. Following the capture of her leader, she assumed control of the cell in the north Indre department of the Loire River valley, about 240 miles southeast of the Normandy beaches. She interrupted the Paris-Bordeaux railway line more than 800 times and attacked convoys in June 1944, the month of the D-Day invasion. All told, she led 3,000 French Resistance fighters in a host of guerrilla warfare missions. She proved so crucial that the Nazis issued a 1 million franc award for her capture, hoping to quash her pivotal role in the Resistance."

But she could not be quashed. Years later, the British government tried to honor her...with an award for civilians, being ineligible for a military award because she was a lady. She refused the civilian award, because "there was nothing civil about what I did" and that "the work which I undertook was of a purely military nature in enemy occupied country. I personally was responsible for the training and organisation of nearly 3,000 men for sabotage and guerrilla warfare." She was awarded her Parachute Wings from the RAF in 2006.

Of course, I can't think about the resistance without thinking of this scene. "Fun" fact: Many of the actors and actresses playing refugees in this scene were refugees. The tears were real. Vive la France. Speaking of France, I love this commercial for a French movie network, which uses the French title of March of the Penguins (in France, March of the Emperors) to fun effect. Speaking of movies, I finally saw Sweeney Todd Sunday night. It's my favorite musical so I was nervous but I loved it. I've been walking around singing the songs, which I should probably stop before I bust out in public with "They aaaaall deserve to die!" from "Epiphany." [That's the scene from the movie, so you know, slightly spoilery I guess.]

And I've got some other stuff to ramble on about, but this entry is long enough, so I'll do that later. Later!

monooka got her present so now I can tell y'all what it was. I got her a peanut butter and jelly charm from Pancake Meow. Because like I said inside the box, room service may have excellent peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but now M will always have one. As I mentioned, it's a reminder of a most excellent night. Excellent? Yeah, excellent.

I was very pleased with Leslie's work. I've been a fan of it for a while but I'd never actually ordered from her and it was amazing. She hand makes all those charms from clay and the detail is astounding--the little holes in the sandwich's bread were just...wow. She's gotten mentions on Daily Candy and such, which raised demand so now she typically just does preorders for just a few charms at a time but if you want a cute little present that someone's not likely to have, I highly recommend it. There are other people who do food replica jewelry but I haven't seen anyone that does as realistic work as she does.

And of course, I ordered a charm for her to honor my best friend, the other half of my brain, whom I love like lightning, rainbows and springtime. In a Neanderthal sort of way.

So I just got this letter in the mail:

Dear Voter:

Enclosed you will find a new Voter ID card. There has been a change in your Polling Place because of a past error. We have recently found these mistakes through our new computer system as well as finding that we had maps with incorrect Precinct lines.

WTF. I don't live in a metropolis. My regular voting location has been city hall. I can drive to city hall, check in and vote, and be back home in ten minutes. Apparently this new location is pretty close--it's just in an area I never visit--but I am slightly befuddled and mostly bemused that we are big enough to need multiple polling locations.

Then there's the small matter of MY NAME IS NOT SALONA. I get to go to the Board of Registrars tomorrow! Oh and even weirder, they sent my sister's new voter ID card in my envelope.

An hour ago, I went to the nearest gas station to get some pain medication--yes, my headache was so bad that I left my office--and all they had was Motrin. Ugh. I was like, "They still make that?" Not to mention ibuprofen doesn't do much for me. I guess it could have been worse--it could have been just naproxen (Aleve). In terms of their effectiveness on me, ranked from maximum to least, headache treatments look like this:

*Acetaminophen, aspirin, and caffeine (I love you, Excedrin)
*acetaminophen
*ibuprofen
*aspirin
*quiet time/nap/etc
*wishing really hard
*naproxen

After all this presidential campaigning, though, I need some Excedrin for Racial Tension Headaches.

I can't conceive of a movie poster or image or thing produced by humans that could be less appealing than this. It looks a neo-noirish version of Peter Griffin. Ugh. That gives me the ickles.

Tomorrow I go back to school. Oh yeah, I've been on spring break this past week. And what a rocking good time it was, amirite? But back to school--my American history class scares me. I've gotten used to the way he lectures so I'm not trying to slit my wrists with the edge of my desk anymore but I may start trying again if he keeps asking questions. Most of the time he does straight lecture but occasionally he'll ask us questions about current events or history and I am the only one who ever answers. Last class, he asked a long series of questions--what Presidents were generals, what Presidents had military service, were they good Presidents, etc--and I answered all but one. (Another student volunteered Washington as a President who'd been a general while I was mentally searching my Presidential blind spot, the period between Lincoln and the start of the 20th century.) It's really kind of depressing, especially the fact that these people are legal to vote. It's not that I think there should be some sort of test pre-voting (and unlike my classmates, I know the negative associations of voter tests) but it always surprises me how some people move through the world completely oblivious to everything.

In other news, I sent a package to monooka yesterday and I'm so excited. Not like, "Woo, go me--I sent a present!" but it's so specific--a specific reminder of a very...very night, that is--that I can't wait for her to get it. I'm excited to tell you all what it is but in a few days, so we don't ruin the surprise.

Now if you'll permit, I'm going to say, "Scuse me" to this elephant in the room and try to focus on positive thoughts today. Happy Easter!

This isn't what I wanted to post about. I wanted to talk about something fun, something lighthearted. I'm going to try to talk about that in a bit, but this is something I should tell first. As most of you know, I live with my grandmother. I've lived with her since 2001 and in November 2004, she had a disabling stroke. She's done pretty well since then, although she's had to use a walker since then and her mental outlook took a dive.

Earlier this week, she was having a lot of shoulder and back pain. She had torn her rotator cuff before the stroke and it hadn't really healed like it should. For some reason, her doctors never thought surgery was the best choice and her weakness hampered a lot of the rehab she could do. So when she had pain, she figured that maybe she'd pulled it in the night or something. But it became clear that something different was happening when we noticed other things. She was in an enormous amount of pain and she wasn't making much sense. She went to the doctor on Sunday but they just prescribed her painkillers and sent her on her way. Wednesday, we had the EMTs take her back to the hospital and they finally admitted her. She was still very loopy and was talking about things that didn't make sense, that may have happened decades ago. ("What about the van?" "What van?" "The van tipped over and all the affadavits fell out"--she used to work in law) She was having trouble recognizing people. They diagnosed a major kidney infection and shingles, among other things.

Friday morning, her nurse reported that things were a lot better. She was speaking logically and was eating a regular diet again. I took it in stride, as an example of the way things ought to be. Of course, the universe said, ha.

This morning, my mom told me that they don't expect her to make it. I don't know all the details--they believe her kidneys are shutting down--my ears starting ringing after that. There is always the possibility of miracles--and this is the weekend for them--but a cold, hard reality has begun to set in. I'm not going to try to be philosophical or poetic about it. That's really all I have to say right now.