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Fall 2000
Winter 2001
Spring 2001
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Cool
I have fallen in love with Daria. But what I can't figure out is
why they make her look like such a dork. Those huge glasses? That frumpy hair? She's the sassiest of the sassy--why does she look like such a
nerd? My favorite character is Brittany, the space-case cheerleader. Oh, did I run across a lot of Brittanys in my teaching career.
Let's hear it for this woman who goes through the drive-thu of McDonald's with a license plate that says, "XR Size 2". She's not going to be a size 2 for much longer if she keeps eating what she ordered--one of those damn Fruit & Yogurt Parfaits. (See "not cool" below)
Danny Drennan has rocked my world since I discovered his 90210 recaps. When I first discovered the Internet, his web site that recapped each episode of 90210 in bitchy detail is one of the first I saw, and I remember thinking...sweet Jesus, I'm home. I bought his book, The New York Diaries : Too-True Tales of Urban Trauma and I love it. Here's one of my favorite parts:
Every Saturday morning for the past few years my friend Robyn has called me to ask about brunch; the fact of the matter is that we might as well just go to the exact same restaurant at the exact same time every Saturday, only that would be too simple. Every Saturday Robyn calls and says "what are you doing?" and I say "being woken up by a phone call" and she says "what are you doing today?" and I say "I don't know" and she says "you want to have brunch?" and I say "okay" and she says "where?" and I say "the exact same place we go every Saturday" and she says "what time?" and I say "the exact same time we have it every Saturday" and I don't think it is possible for two people in their midthirties to act more like ninety-year-old women whose only reason for living is to pester one another.One of the reasons I loved reading his 90210 recaps was that, even though I was never really a fan of the show, his five-mile-long sentences amused the heck out of me. And they still do. This is a great book of essays about living in New York City. Highly recommended. Yes indeedy.
David Sedaris is the man. Back when I was a teacher (lo those many weeks ago) I used to read parts of his essays to my class when I wanted to shake things up a bit. They particularly enjoyed "The Santaland Diaries"...and who can blame them?
Without This American Life, there would be no David Sedaris in my world. Big kisses to this always-fascinating program (which can be found on NPR) as well.
I greatly enjoy Melissa from the Real World. She is funny and original and a goof...and she reminds me so much of my friend Amy that watching Melissa is almost as good as having Amy here. I like her, yes I do.
Not
The Palmolive commercial with the Mommies dancing around. "Spring is in the air..." sings an anonymous man as they frolic through the kitchen clasping dinner plates and doing these weird little half-leaps that don't require them to really launch themselves off the ground.It scares me. Make it stop.
Not cool is going to Subway for dinner dressed like a slob because you've been writing all day and running into someone from high school...who can see that it's clear you've gone to the dogs because you look so hideous...and realizing that although you had your back to her the whole time you shoved your sub in your face, gulping and woofing your food because you want to be home by 7:00 to watch Romancing the Stone on the Comedy Channel, she recognized you anyway. Even less cool is having spent the afternoon writing a journal entry that required perusal of your old diaries, a large portion of which discuss undying love for this classmate's ex-husband. Feel vaguely guilty, as if you've been trysting with him behind her back. Lesson learned: don't go to Subway looking like a slob.
The lady at the customer service desk at Kohl's in Crystal Lake, Illinois tonight mystified me. I brought in two packages of Jockey for Her underwear to exchange because I had bought the wrong size. On my way to the customer service desk, I picked up two more packages in the right size and noticed that they were now on sale.
When it was my turn at the register, I handed her my receipt and the two packages I wanted to exchange. "These are bad, they go back," I said very carefully. Then I handed her the two new packages. "These are good, I want them." She laughed at my little display and started doing the exchange. She didn't seem to look very carefully at my receipt, so I said, "They're on sale now, so it won't be an even exchange."
Click click, buzz buzz, fill out this form (I used the address of the house in which I lived when I was in high school), sign here, you're all done. But no money back. Hello?
"Um, these are on sale now. They weren't when I bought them. I should get money back."
"Well, yeah, if you want me to do a return and then have you repurchase them you can get money back."
"Yep, that sounds good to me." God, lady...duh! She sighed and re-did the entire transaction, all the while narrating what she was doing so I was aware of how much extra work it was for her. But this time the transaction ended with me getting $10 back.
I greatly dislike listening to service personnel narrate how much extra work is entailed in doing something that will bring me, the customer, money. I don't care. Just do it, and do it with a smile. And if you can't smile, at least don't gripe at me. Sheesh.
IHOP in McHenry, Illinois. I needed soft food last night because of a recent root canal, so we retreated to the house o' the pancakes. The service was terrible, the food was poorly presented, and there was an old man testifying...TESTIFYING...at the front of the restaurant and no one would tell him to shut his yap. IHOP used to be a Wags, where we would often convene after a night of drinking and debauchery. It was more entertaining back then. Of course, everything's more entertaining after five hours at the Gambler.
Children's beauty pageants. I'm watching a special on them right now on The Learning Channel. What is with the little girls wearing highly flammable butt-ugly dresses taking beauty and costuming tips from their grandmothers who are wearing "Born to Play Bingo" t-shirts and glasses with frames the size of dinner plates? Oh! So wrong! I am not even lying when I say that this documentary ended with the smarmy mother of this bitch-on-wheels in the training looking at the camera and raising her big, meaty arms to give herself and her daughter a round of applause for being crowned Miss Pre-Puescent Fantasy Girl or whatever, and while she was clapping, she was smushing the strawberry appliques that were, like, stapled onto her t-shirt in the process. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?
The last thing I have to say on this subject is that these pageants were all held in hotel conference rooms with no audience but the other contestants and their mothers/grandmothers/pimps. How low-rent can you be?
I'm very upset with McDonald's. They are touting this Fruit & Yogurt Parfait like it's some kind of health food...and it has
51 grams of sugar! Plus, it's
absolutely huge...this is not to say I didn't eat the whole thing, but really. I want answers, Ronald! Why can't you make us nice healthy things??