Hi, The point (if there is a point) of this blog is to post liner notes and playlists of mix CDs originating from moi and hopefully fanning out into a chain of mix CDs. If you get a CD from me, make me and a friend one, and email me some liner notes and I'll post them. Then your friend should make you and someone else a mix CD etc etc. Maybe it will work PS If you want to be on my knit list, let me know what you want and I'll see what I can do!

Wednesday, October 26, 2005


Oh, Turd Blossom, Tom, Bill and Scooter (Dick's Dick). Line up for your perp walk. Doesn't ruining a blue Gap dress seem like small potatoes these days?

Of course, I'm gearing up for Rove and Libby anyway to get off the hook. I have a feeling Patrick Fitzgerald is going to file for an extension, and my gratification is at least going to be delayed.

The Times has posted the list of John Peel's singles. As you can see, John had eclectic and wide-ranging musical tastes. I don't know how familiar most Americans are with John Peel, but listening to him was part of growing up in Britain, and he was instrumental in launching the careers of David Bowie, The Smiths, Nirvana, The White Stripes, Blur and Joy Division, amongst many, many others. Sort of like a Zelig of music. Plus he was a funny, funny, loveable bastard.

Via the new Salon women's blog, Broadsheet, the new Kotex packages with flowers on them. I have to admit, slowly opening red flowers on period supplies ain't doin' it for me. Neither is describing one of the flowers (tulip, tampons), as 'promising a world of color'. I thought the whole point was to prevent a world of color.

Speaking of tampons, Charles and Camilla are coming to Washington DC. I bet they have a blast - I can't imagine Bush being a very genial host right now, with bad news coming thick and fast (see above).

The new face of H&M is Mariacarla Boscono (warning: boob alert, albeit tiny ones), replacing the disgraced Kate Moss. I sort of think the new girl totally looks like she snorts a barrel load of coke. But then I always liked Kate, trashing hotel rooms with Johnny Depp and sleeping with highly unsuitable rockstar boyfriends. And she's so pretty.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Scary Stories

After many, many years of receiving the kind of junk mail befitting a dyed-in-the-wool liberal (Planned Parenthood, Sierra Club, Democratic party fundraisers etc), I got a piece of right wing junk mail, inviting me to join the American Compass book club. Now how did I get on this mailing list? Is it because my son is attending a charter school? Is this the thin end of the wedge, and by the time I'm 50 I will be harrumphing into my brandy about damn immigrant single mothers? Here's a quote from that skank, Anne Cooter, I mean Coulter that was on the flyer:

"I am often asked if I still think we should invade their countries, kill their leaders, and convert them to Christianity. The answer is: Now more than ever". No comment necessary...

Anyway, I diverted myself by combining book titles from this book club into one mega-evangelical, family-valued, trickle-down volume of self righteousness:
Whose Bible Is It?:Deliver Us From Evil, God and George W. Bush Running On Empty

You get a free duffle bag for joining, perfect for smuggling pipe bombs into your local abortion clinic! I'm tempted but I'll pass.

Speaking of school, my son is doing an animal observation project on one of our cats. It's pretty difficult to do this, as they basically don't do anything but sleep, eat and lick their butts. Unless you extrapolate their thoughts.
"God, I hate that Opal bitch. She's so goody-goody, like she never hocks up a hairball. I don't know why Marianne likes her better. Opal's so obvious, with the purring and fawning and attention getting. I'm so above that. I'm fixating my glare of death on her right now, if she would just look this way. I spat into the food bowl and she never noticed, heh. What IS that - oh, it's my tail. Ouch. Oooh, I feel a crusty bit on my butt. Better eat it. Not that I like it or anything, but you know".

I, like Pinky (but not with Pinky, unfortunately), saw MirrorMask. It was beautiful, but a rip-off of so many other movies (some of which Pinky identified). The plot was B-O-R-I-N-G and utterly predictable. I thought the best parts were the beginning and end, and the middle was a muddle.

This packaging tape rocks my world (I think this is the British version, but I bought some here). No scissors required! Sad, isn't it?

I have a horrible confession. I like America's Funniest Home Videos. But only the ones with cute babies or animals in them. I think it's because I'm starting to embrace family values.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Nature Notes

Mykull told me about squirrels on crack, and I didn't believe him, and I looked it up and it's true! Of all the animals in the world, aren't squirrels the worst to be crack addicts? They're already twitchy and hyperactive and obsessive-compulsive, what with their nut gathering and burying and counting, not to mention all the squirrel sex they must have to ensure their complete domination of every yard I can think of. The only animal I can think of that might be worse on crack are hummingbirds. Now cats could do with a little crack probably, because they're such lazy, nonchalant bastards.

I saw in a Target flyer, that they are selling pitcher plants, except they call them carnivorous cobra lilies, which sounds so much cooler.

I saw this headline on CNN: 'Oscar Winner goes topless on Italian TV', and clicked on it, only to find in my horror that the topless star was Roberto Benigni, who starred in one of the worst, shudder inducing movies I have ever seen, his version of Pinocchio. Imagine a fifty year old man (and an ugly one at that) dressed in a satin sailor suit with a five o'clock shadow pouting 'But Papa, I didn't mean to be naughty!'. That man is certifiable in my opinion, like Robin Williams crossed with one of the crack squirrels.

I'm twelve, because I snortled at this story. Hee - a man exposing himself to a hot dog vendor. With his hot dog in his right hand.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Questions of the day

I saw these two related memes out there: which movie scenes make you cry and which make you laugh?

The crying one's easy:

  • Dumbo, where the mum elephant is locked up and she cradles Dumbo in her trunk. It bums me out just thinking about it.
  • The Snowman. The whole bloody thing - the music, the angelic singing, the fantastic animation, the idealized childhood in a country farmhouse, the inevitable melting scene. Oops, I didn't spoil it for you, did I?
  • Finding Neverland. That little Freddie Highmore is a phenomenal actor, and adds real pathos to kind of a cheesy tearjerker. Mykull and I bawled like babies when we saw this, much to the chagrin of my son.

    I also have to put in a shout out for the anti-drug commercial where the old lady is waiting for her grandkid to show up for dinner (except he or she is out getting wasted instead), and she optimistically rearranges the cutlery over and over again. Even the transcript is sad.

    And the ones that make me laugh:

  • Meet The Parents. The water volleyball scene makes me laugh everytime. The speedo, the social discomfort, the blood-letting. I know Ben Stiller is ubiquitous, but he's still hilarious.
  • Napoleon Dynamite. The dance scene of course. It's funny and heart-warming, and I know this is not a mainstream opinion, strangely sexy. Shut up.
  • The Big Lebowski. So many moments. Donnie's ashes blowing back all over everyone, da Jesus in his jumpsuit, Walter's Vietnam rants, the incessant swearing. Actually, anything the Coen brothers do is funny.

    And, I have to saw, just the sight of Rowan Atkinson's rubbery face.

    I'll add another question. Which movies can you never, ever watch again? Mine are:

  • Requiem for a Dream. My god, this movie is harrowing. I didn't even want to pop a Midol for weeks afterwards.
  • Trainspotting. The dead baby on the ceiling did it for me. Also, you need nerves of steel to to even read Irvine Welsh, in spite of the fact he's a fabulous writer. He'll sap any faith in the goodness of humanity out of you.
  • Dancer in the Dark. Bjork is amazing in this. Unfair, bad stuff just keeps on happening. And the end is just about unwatchable, it's so tragic. In my opinion, Lars Von Trier has a dark heart that's two sizes too small. Opinions, please, readers!

  • Monday, October 10, 2005

    Dollar Spot

    I thought becoming a parent would change my sense of humor to be a little more wholesome but no. I now have a pre-adolescent to affirm my wit, which only encourages me and makes me worse. Look what my son found in the Dollar Spot in Target:
    Not bad for a dollar, especially considering that you can't get Viagra on Medicaid anymore. Check out the instructions - pretty impressive:

    My son and I went to see the Stones on Saturday. I figured it was like taking him to see Caruso sing, and I'm not sure if there will ever be an intersection of him tolerating going to a concert with his mom, and the Stones playing near us ever again. It was a very good show; exactly what you would expect, with Mick doing his Mick thing and pyrotechnics and gigantic inflatable stage sets. But in terms of emotional response, Sigur Ros in concert really did it for me much better. And good God, the Stones are so incredibly, incredibly old. I have to admit, I was a little afraid for Keef - he looked so tired. And there is no way you could say Mick is sexy anymore. He just isn't.

    Mykull and I went to see A History of Violence, mainly to see beautiful, beautiful Viggo. It's a good movie too - it reminded me a lot of The Unforgiven. It's supposed to be an allegory of Bush's administration, specifically, it's foreign policy, but without spoiling the movie, it also seems very symptomatic of the values that are revered right now in this country, and the denial inherent in holding those values. Or maybe I'm a cynical old bat. And the little girl in the movie sucks.

    The sprog and I went to Centerfest yesterday, which is always a good time. We had mango on a stick, which was awesome, especially with chili powder. And they had some bouncy inflatable thingies which were fun. Except for the worm/snake which had an exit that looked horribly vulval. Watching kids pop out of there was really disconcerting.

    Wednesday, October 05, 2005

    Storm in a Coffee Cup

    I like these rejects from the controversial The Way I See It Starbucks campaign. Mine would be something like:

    "The Way I See It #666
    It's way too early in the fucking morning to read a coffee cup and tilt my head at an unnatural angle and potentially pour scalding coffee all over myself and I can't believe I paid $3 for a cup of coffee even if I do have a crush on the barista (or should it be baristo if it's a boy?). I'm such a corporate sheep. Mehhhh".
    but guess what - they didn't ask me.

    I have been knitting like crazy but I can't post pictures because the results are going to be birthday/Christmas presents. Who will the lucky, lucky recipients be? Right now, I'm knitting with this yarn I dyed with Kool-Aid. It is amazingly indelible; a lesson to mothers everywhere. I want to try some more ambitious dying sometime - it's really a lot of fun, and if you screw up, you can just dunk it in a shitload of grape Kool-Aid and get a nice dark gothy purple.

    This news skeeves me out. Ever since Magnolia, my mental image of Tom Cruise involves tighty-whities and a huge fake erection, and makes me want to join AVEN immediately. Anyway, here's my haiku written in honor of the proud parents:

    TomKat with kitten
    Scientology cures all
    Results fool no-one

    This is sort of interesting: a map of relative values in different cultures. I'm surprised the USA isn't further down on the traditional/secular-rational scale than it is. I'm sure if this survey was split into blue and red states, the red states would be hovering near the bottom. I want to live in a yellow country! A houseboat in Amsterdam would do nicely, thank you.

    I thought the two-day stubble thing was low maintenance. But apparently not. Laser beard sculpturing is de riguer. Try telling that to the lovely scruffy men I work with. There's something exceedingly off-putting about that amount of grooming. Like let's pretend we're not human but malleable Ken dolls. Bleaugh.

    Have you noticed the 'kid brother' in the current Olive Garden ads is strangely like a junior Carrot Top? Note: please do not click this link if you have any kind of sexuality or clown issues. Where's that link to AVEN again?

    Monday, October 03, 2005

    Pit Bull in size 6 shoes

    This is how Bush describes his latest nominee for the Supreme Court. I was at the gym listening to music and working out when I saw Bush announcing this on the news this morning; I guess the lack of verbal input made me notice this more, but he has the wierdest body language. He was looking at her like he was going to launch himself at her neck. I think his mock Southern courtliness needs a little honing - he looks downright predatory. Anyway, with this nomination he gets to reward loyalty and appoint a 'minority' at the same time.

    Anyway, I started thinking - if I met Dubya in a bar, and he was just a guy, and I could completely expunge my opinion of him, what would I think of him? And I think I would think that he was sort of cute but totally not my type because his face is just sort of unimaginative, and his eyes are too close together. Plus, and I hate to say this, he looks like he should drink. He looks like his eyes should be slightly unfocused, and that he should be swaying gently.

    I love this story: the lowly thrash-metal playing cobbler who marries into Ukraine's political elite. The bride's mother is beautiful and controversial, and I believe, unemployed these days. I think Sean Carr looks too exotic to come from prosaic old Leeds. He looks like he should be Ukrainian or Moldavian or Slovakian, and has a sort of sexy gypsy vibe. The whole thing is just like a modern day fairy tale.

    I saw this on Stereogum. I love the cover of The Reaper - that's such an awesome song to start with (with or without cowbell).

    Work is reminding me these days that I am basically extremely shy and uncomfortable talking in front of people. I forget this, because I'm lucky enough to know people who are tolerant of my shyness, and I avoid stressful social situations. But I'm determined to stretch myself, as yucky as it is to me because I think shyness really is kind of self-centred. It does make me want to come home and have a stiff drink though.

    This is so very sad; Gorgeous George is in bad shape. I'm not a big sports fan, but he was such a beautiful, glamorous, talented man, and he just squandered everything he had.