Friday, September 26, 2008
the debate
I am no political blogger, but I'm going to sit here and spew random thoughts during the debate anyway.
This debate is so different from the last presidential debate I watched, in 2004. Back then, I was a senior at Northwestern, and Kevin/Joey/Erik/Pedro were having a debate-watching gathering at their place on Hinman and Davis. Dear god, was that debate boring... but why was it boring? It shouldn't have been boring- it was the fate of the next four years hanging in the balance, another four years of Bush vs. a much needed breath of fresh air- but it was. It was so boring that Pedro and Kevin took to switching between channels to see whether CNN or MSNBC had better color saturation (hey, we were film geeks).
But this debate isn't boring. This debate makes me want to turn the tv off just so I don't have to watch McCain treating Obama like he doesn't exist. It makes me wish I was there in the audience so I could stand up and yell at McCain, to hell with getting arrested (not that I would really have the guts to do that, but I would definitely think about it and maybe even imagine myself doing it!). It makes me glad that Obama's team knew enough about television to choose a tie with a pattern that doesn't moray, while McCain's team clearly has never seen a television before and therefore stuck him in a ugly striped tie that goes rainbow every time he moves, and quiety hums when he doesn't.
Ha! McCain just mispronounced both Ahmadinejad and Perestroika. Excellent.
Obama has frequently addressed McCain directly, as Jim Lehrer requested, but McCain is not returning the favor in kind. What a sniveling little fuckbucket- oh oops, should I not say that? This is why I couldn't be a political blogger. McCain has interrupted Lehrer, and of course Obama, multiple times. He cleary has no respect for Obama and won't even look in his direction. It's infuriating. He also keeps talking about all the old politicians he knows.
This whole thing is a giant clusterfuck of Obama trying to set the record straight and McCain just blazing ahead and saying whatever he wants, be it fact or fiction.
It's pretty funny nowadays whenever anything involving Joe Lieberman is referred to as "bipartisan." I suppose in the days after 9/11, Joe Lieberman was still an actual democrat, but damned if hindsight isn't 20/20... a mere 7 years later he's speaking at the RNC.
I like that the little "audience response" lines at the bottom of the screen dip WAY down- both the democratic and the independent lines, mind you- when Obama stops talking and McCain starts. And the red line doesn't do much.
I for one am REALLY looking forward to the Vice Presidental debate.
This debate is so different from the last presidential debate I watched, in 2004. Back then, I was a senior at Northwestern, and Kevin/Joey/Erik/Pedro were having a debate-watching gathering at their place on Hinman and Davis. Dear god, was that debate boring... but why was it boring? It shouldn't have been boring- it was the fate of the next four years hanging in the balance, another four years of Bush vs. a much needed breath of fresh air- but it was. It was so boring that Pedro and Kevin took to switching between channels to see whether CNN or MSNBC had better color saturation (hey, we were film geeks).
But this debate isn't boring. This debate makes me want to turn the tv off just so I don't have to watch McCain treating Obama like he doesn't exist. It makes me wish I was there in the audience so I could stand up and yell at McCain, to hell with getting arrested (not that I would really have the guts to do that, but I would definitely think about it and maybe even imagine myself doing it!). It makes me glad that Obama's team knew enough about television to choose a tie with a pattern that doesn't moray, while McCain's team clearly has never seen a television before and therefore stuck him in a ugly striped tie that goes rainbow every time he moves, and quiety hums when he doesn't.
Ha! McCain just mispronounced both Ahmadinejad and Perestroika. Excellent.
Obama has frequently addressed McCain directly, as Jim Lehrer requested, but McCain is not returning the favor in kind. What a sniveling little fuckbucket- oh oops, should I not say that? This is why I couldn't be a political blogger. McCain has interrupted Lehrer, and of course Obama, multiple times. He cleary has no respect for Obama and won't even look in his direction. It's infuriating. He also keeps talking about all the old politicians he knows.
This whole thing is a giant clusterfuck of Obama trying to set the record straight and McCain just blazing ahead and saying whatever he wants, be it fact or fiction.
It's pretty funny nowadays whenever anything involving Joe Lieberman is referred to as "bipartisan." I suppose in the days after 9/11, Joe Lieberman was still an actual democrat, but damned if hindsight isn't 20/20... a mere 7 years later he's speaking at the RNC.
I like that the little "audience response" lines at the bottom of the screen dip WAY down- both the democratic and the independent lines, mind you- when Obama stops talking and McCain starts. And the red line doesn't do much.
I for one am REALLY looking forward to the Vice Presidental debate.
a bridget jones moment
Reason #972 Why My Mom Is Cooler Than Me:
When my mom bakes a pie in a flimsy tinfoil pie pan, she puts the pie pan on a cookie sheet while it's in the oven.
When I bake a pie, I just stick the flimsy tinfoil pie pan directly in the oven, and then when I pull it out the pan collapses, the crust gives way, and there are suddenly steaming hot apples all over the door of the oven, and also sort of the floor, and one falls on my foot, and I have to hop around yelling and diving for spatulas.
When I grow up I want to be like my mom. I hope the damn pie still tastes good.
When my mom bakes a pie in a flimsy tinfoil pie pan, she puts the pie pan on a cookie sheet while it's in the oven.
When I bake a pie, I just stick the flimsy tinfoil pie pan directly in the oven, and then when I pull it out the pan collapses, the crust gives way, and there are suddenly steaming hot apples all over the door of the oven, and also sort of the floor, and one falls on my foot, and I have to hop around yelling and diving for spatulas.
When I grow up I want to be like my mom. I hope the damn pie still tastes good.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Me fail English? That's unpossible!
The text, in case you need to go over that humdinger again, via Ezra Klein, my blog crush:
"That's why I say I, like every American I'm speaking with, were ill about this position that we have been put in. Where it is the taxpayers looking to bail out. But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those who are concerned about the health care reform that is needed to help shore up our economy. Um, helping, oh, it's got to be about job creation, too. Shoring up our economy, and getting it back on the right track. So health care reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending has got to accompany tax reductions, and tax relief for Americans, and trade -- we have got to see trade as opportunity, not as, uh, competitive, um, scary thing, but one in five jobs created in the trade sector today. We've got to look at that as more opportunity. All of those things under the umbrella of job creation."
I think the first requirement for a vice president should be a grasp of the English language, don't you? THEN maybe we can get into economics.
Maybe she was speaking in the tongues so frequently spoken at the church she attends.
Monday, September 22, 2008
for all the ladies in the place with style and grace
I feel ok writing about girl things, in moderation at least, on this here blog because i'm pretty sure that 90% of my readers are girls, 5% are either gay or bi, and only 5% are straight guys (hi Jack!). Besides, it's my blog and I can write abou whatever the hell I want. So, two quick tales related to Being A Girl:
Tale #1
Last week I was looking for a gynecologist in LA. Yuck-- the sort of thing I would really rather avoid altogether, but enough girls I know have had issues relating to cervical cancer that I finally made myself go to the Kaiser site and pick one. I've been a Kaiser member since about February, and they sure don't make anything easy for you. You go online to pick a doctor, and they give you pretty much zero information on them, so you have to resort to creative methods of deciding who gets to weigh you and tell you you're fat every year. For example, I chose my regular physician, Dr. Annette Rittmann, because she had so many double letters in her name.
So anyway, I'm looking through the OB/GYN page and I find Dr. Kimberly Calligari.
....
As in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?!?! (FYI for non-film-junkies: Dr. Caligari is a crazy German Expressionist doctor who creates zombie people and has them do his bidding.) I was both terrified and tempted- terrified because, as Kara put it, "I wouldn't want Dr. Caligari poking around in my lady parts," and tempted because how frickin' cool would it be to be able to say you're going to see Dr. Caligari? It's the sort of joke only nerdy film kids would get, but most of my friends ARE nerdy film kids.
In the end, though, "going to see Dr. Caligari" will have to remain simply a euphemism, because mine is one cabinet he won't get his hands on (in?).
Tale #2 (not really much of a tale)
Remember Porn Star?
Apparently, Porn Star told Sean that I have nice boobs. Which, I mean, I do-- if you have somehow never noticed, my boobs are inconveniently large. I've been told this before, and thank goodness this time it wasn't to my face. What CAN you say to that?
"Thanks, I grew them myself"??
No. Tacky.
I was flattered in a weird way, though-- I mean, Porn Star has probably seen thousands and thousands of boobs in his life, and he thinks mine are nice without even properly seeing them! Way to go, boobs.
End Girly Post
P.S. Ten points if you can name the R&B song the title of this post is taken from!
Tale #1
Last week I was looking for a gynecologist in LA. Yuck-- the sort of thing I would really rather avoid altogether, but enough girls I know have had issues relating to cervical cancer that I finally made myself go to the Kaiser site and pick one. I've been a Kaiser member since about February, and they sure don't make anything easy for you. You go online to pick a doctor, and they give you pretty much zero information on them, so you have to resort to creative methods of deciding who gets to weigh you and tell you you're fat every year. For example, I chose my regular physician, Dr. Annette Rittmann, because she had so many double letters in her name.
So anyway, I'm looking through the OB/GYN page and I find Dr. Kimberly Calligari.
....
As in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?!?! (FYI for non-film-junkies: Dr. Caligari is a crazy German Expressionist doctor who creates zombie people and has them do his bidding.) I was both terrified and tempted- terrified because, as Kara put it, "I wouldn't want Dr. Caligari poking around in my lady parts," and tempted because how frickin' cool would it be to be able to say you're going to see Dr. Caligari? It's the sort of joke only nerdy film kids would get, but most of my friends ARE nerdy film kids.
In the end, though, "going to see Dr. Caligari" will have to remain simply a euphemism, because mine is one cabinet he won't get his hands on (in?).
Tale #2 (not really much of a tale)
Remember Porn Star?
Apparently, Porn Star told Sean that I have nice boobs. Which, I mean, I do-- if you have somehow never noticed, my boobs are inconveniently large. I've been told this before, and thank goodness this time it wasn't to my face. What CAN you say to that?
"Thanks, I grew them myself"??
No. Tacky.
I was flattered in a weird way, though-- I mean, Porn Star has probably seen thousands and thousands of boobs in his life, and he thinks mine are nice without even properly seeing them! Way to go, boobs.
End Girly Post
P.S. Ten points if you can name the R&B song the title of this post is taken from!
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