Like maybe I'm just doing a quick smell check? But still looking really cool. Unfortunately, I think I probably more often look like this.
Like a really sleepy zombie. That's probably what I felt like too.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Canned Heat
Oh man, I really hope I look like this all the time when I'm dancing.
Like maybe I'm just doing a quick smell check? But still looking really cool. Unfortunately, I think I probably more often look like this.
Like a really sleepy zombie. That's probably what I felt like too.
Like maybe I'm just doing a quick smell check? But still looking really cool. Unfortunately, I think I probably more often look like this.
Like a really sleepy zombie. That's probably what I felt like too.
Jay Smooth
Okay, as usual, I'm the last one to find out about anything on the internet. That is to say, I'm not a very aggressive blogger (note the weeks of absence), and I'm pretty useless when it comes to finding new blogs to read. I love me some Jezebel, and my WIG Lauren's blog is always a source of witticism and insight, but I think a combination of laziness and lack of internet savvy keep me in the dark. Oh, and as proven by my recent discovery, anytime I find anything new and awesome to read/watch, I tend to just sit down and do that for hours and hours instead of doing, like, anything else.
It was the Jezebels (as usual) who led me to ill Doctrine: a hip-hop video blog with a post on the whole Miss California v. Perez Hilton debacle. That's right, I may be in France, but I am mostly up to date on shit. Mostly. Anyhow, I watched Jay Smooth's take on the whole thing, and I was like, Who is this guy? And who edits his videos?
I still don't know the answer to that second question, but answer one is he's the host of the longest running underground hip-hop radio show in NYC, and he makes video blogs that at least make him seem like he knows what he's talking about. Plus he's adorable and energetic.
[Update: the embedded video doesn't seem to be working, so here's the link.]
See? Also, I watched that episode of Oprah, too. I usually watch Oprah because it's effing formulated to make you cry and fight it as I might, it pretty much works every time. That's right, I usually watch Oprah to exploit other people's horrific stories for a good cry, but this particular time, I had just stumbled upon it while channel surfing. I was similarly annoyed by the episode, particularly the division which pitted a panel of dudes representing "hip-hop" against a group of young women representing "feminism." I found it problematic that only men were representing the voice of hip hop (although they were really representing the voice of the industry), and that the women were made to seem whiny for not wanting to be called a bitch or a ho. But I wasn't able to deconstruct Russell Simmons' argument the way Jay Smooth did, and I am grateful to him for laying it out for me.
So in conclusion, ill Doctrine = my latest internet obssession and Jay Smooth = my new internet crush. Now to catch up on more videos and also back blog on my last two weeks in Italy. Whew. When will the madness end.
It was the Jezebels (as usual) who led me to ill Doctrine: a hip-hop video blog with a post on the whole Miss California v. Perez Hilton debacle. That's right, I may be in France, but I am mostly up to date on shit. Mostly. Anyhow, I watched Jay Smooth's take on the whole thing, and I was like, Who is this guy? And who edits his videos?
I still don't know the answer to that second question, but answer one is he's the host of the longest running underground hip-hop radio show in NYC, and he makes video blogs that at least make him seem like he knows what he's talking about. Plus he's adorable and energetic.
[Update: the embedded video doesn't seem to be working, so here's the link.]
See? Also, I watched that episode of Oprah, too. I usually watch Oprah because it's effing formulated to make you cry and fight it as I might, it pretty much works every time. That's right, I usually watch Oprah to exploit other people's horrific stories for a good cry, but this particular time, I had just stumbled upon it while channel surfing. I was similarly annoyed by the episode, particularly the division which pitted a panel of dudes representing "hip-hop" against a group of young women representing "feminism." I found it problematic that only men were representing the voice of hip hop (although they were really representing the voice of the industry), and that the women were made to seem whiny for not wanting to be called a bitch or a ho. But I wasn't able to deconstruct Russell Simmons' argument the way Jay Smooth did, and I am grateful to him for laying it out for me.
So in conclusion, ill Doctrine = my latest internet obssession and Jay Smooth = my new internet crush. Now to catch up on more videos and also back blog on my last two weeks in Italy. Whew. When will the madness end.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Dear France,
Sidewalks are for walking on, not parking your effing cars right in the way of pedestrians or MAKING U TURNS on narrow roads.
Side. Walk. For walking on the side. In French? Trottoir. Not put-your-car-on-me-all-the-time-oir.
Also, I really appreciate how your sidewalks are low enough for cars to pull up onto without popping a tire, but just high enough to be handicap inaccessible. Even at corners and driveways. Bastards.
-Disgruntled Pedestrian
Side. Walk. For walking on the side. In French? Trottoir. Not put-your-car-on-me-all-the-time-oir.
Also, I really appreciate how your sidewalks are low enough for cars to pull up onto without popping a tire, but just high enough to be handicap inaccessible. Even at corners and driveways. Bastards.
-Disgruntled Pedestrian
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Ew, gross
Some things are delicious, but should not be made available in canned form. Like this*:
Mushrooms. Blech.
This reminds me of when I used to go to Kindercare† and they made us eat all our peas before we were allowed to go play, only they were peas from a can and I seriously had to suppress my gag reflex every day forever that I ate lunch there. Canned peas are not the right color and I'm pretty sure stored in some kind of preservative syrup to make them not only last longer but be swallowed more easily by babies and the elderly. Gross. Mush. Gross.
*From my roommate's shelf in the food cupboard. Silly Germans.
†We switched to Kindercare after the assholes at La Petite did mean things like not let my sister give me a hug when I got there after school. And then yelled at her when she cried. This event seriously influenced me when I worked with kindergarteners last year. I always let them hug their siblings in the hall or the cafeteria, and tellingly, this was not an uncommon request. This has been a long side note.
Mushrooms. Blech.This reminds me of when I used to go to Kindercare† and they made us eat all our peas before we were allowed to go play, only they were peas from a can and I seriously had to suppress my gag reflex every day forever that I ate lunch there. Canned peas are not the right color and I'm pretty sure stored in some kind of preservative syrup to make them not only last longer but be swallowed more easily by babies and the elderly. Gross. Mush. Gross.
*From my roommate's shelf in the food cupboard. Silly Germans.
†We switched to Kindercare after the assholes at La Petite did mean things like not let my sister give me a hug when I got there after school. And then yelled at her when she cried. This event seriously influenced me when I worked with kindergarteners last year. I always let them hug their siblings in the hall or the cafeteria, and tellingly, this was not an uncommon request. This has been a long side note.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
New Conchords
Okay, I mostly love this song for the first line.
FOTC is putting out some good stuff this season. I think the music is a little bit less congruous with the episodes than it was in the first season (obvs because they're writing all new songs, rather than having years of previously-written work to choose from), but you can't not love Sugar Lumps. The dialogue continues to be amazing. I love Murray.
FOTC is putting out some good stuff this season. I think the music is a little bit less congruous with the episodes than it was in the first season (obvs because they're writing all new songs, rather than having years of previously-written work to choose from), but you can't not love Sugar Lumps. The dialogue continues to be amazing. I love Murray.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
No sleep til London
So, the adventure started late Friday afternoon when my plan was to go straight from work to the train station (okay, with a leisurely beer stop-off on the way, I had an hour!), but then I realized on the way to work that I had forgotten my passport. An essential item for international travel. So I had to trek the 20 minutes back home after all was said and done, though this did give me time to make some delicious garlic sausage sandwiches for the journey. They made my bag so stinky! But it was worth it.
Back to the train station I went, an uneventful ride into Paris followed, and then BAM, the metro happened. That is to say, it's always an adventure in trying to make it somewhere on time*. This time, there was some kind of medical emergency† one stop down the line I was on, so everything was super delayed. Luckily I had hours until the overnight bus from hell, which I obviously wanted to be spending underground anyway since Paris is boring and ugly. Right?
La la la, finally make it to the bus station, wait around for a while, read some Tolkien, check in, get on, and have a seat to myself. That is, until an older man comes by and asks if anyone is sitting next to me. So I was forced (out of kindness) to give up the dual-seat luxury and allow this man to sit down.
This is what followed/what I hadn't considered beforehand. The seats seemed really comfortable because they reclined back to, like, 45 degrees. But then the person in front of me leaned back my knees were trapped. We had to get off the bus for border control. Luckily, I had brought the address where I was staying this time so they didn't give me any shit. We got back on the bus for about half an hour then had to get off on the ferry. Oh, right, Anne, you have to take a ferry when you're on the bus, it doesn't just float accross the English Channel. I got my only solid hour of sleep on a couch on the ferry. Then we got back on the bus and I was pretty sure I hadn't slept the rest of the journey.
Pretty sure. Except that I must have been asleep because at a certain point I woke up (therefore was sleeping, but dreaming about being on the bus), and dude next to me had his jacket spilling over onto my lap. So, annoyed, I toss it back over on him and OH MY GOD HIS HAND IS ON MY UPPER THIGH. This only could have happened if I had been sleeping. I am talking, fingers practically in my crotch, upper-thigh grope. I picked up that pervy old man's hand and flung it at him like a dead fish. He didn't wake up. Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all the rest for the rest of the bus ride.
Saturday morning, I got in early and went to my cousin Billy's for a shower and some breakfast, then headed out to day one of the workshop. Which was awesome. But I won't bore you with the details of my frustrations at not being open and playful enough to accomplish in one weekend what performers struggle for years to get past.
Saturday evening, instead of going straight to bed as my brain probably would have appreciated, I had some beers with the dudes I was staying with (friends of the Kiwi Doctor) and played some dice game I had never heard of before. It was ridiculously fun, and I was so good at the game until the alcohol very quickly took its effect on my fatigued brain‡ and I became a much worse at bluffing. They conveniently went out around 9, at which point I immediately fell asleep and stayed that way for the next ten hours.
Sunday, was a bit of a repeat, except minus the drinking in the evening, and with another bus to catch home. I did not get groped this time. Thankfully. I got back to my apartment in Flers for just long enough to brush my teeth and change my underwear before I had to go to my first class. I must have looked a sight, my hair all greased into whatever position I had (not) been sleeping in all night, and I'm pretty sure I probably sounded drunk at moments. I hope it wasn't too weird when I showed up again that afternoon, all showered and well-fed.
So that was my weekend. Met some awesome people at LISPA, and definitely a place I might try to go sometime in the distant-ish future for their two-year program. If I can get over my crippling voice of analysis and self-doubt. Working on it.
Sorry I was too lazy to find pictures for this post, and also that all the links are just to other stuff I've written. I just really want you to read it, because, like, I wrote it.
*Though I still maintain that le métro is far superior to the tube.
†They tv screens actually said, 'Someone is ill,' but I can only imagine that there was some kind of heart attack happening. I hope they wouldn't have stopped the metro over a cold. But maybe someone just barfed.
‡This is my official excuse.
Back to the train station I went, an uneventful ride into Paris followed, and then BAM, the metro happened. That is to say, it's always an adventure in trying to make it somewhere on time*. This time, there was some kind of medical emergency† one stop down the line I was on, so everything was super delayed. Luckily I had hours until the overnight bus from hell, which I obviously wanted to be spending underground anyway since Paris is boring and ugly. Right?
La la la, finally make it to the bus station, wait around for a while, read some Tolkien, check in, get on, and have a seat to myself. That is, until an older man comes by and asks if anyone is sitting next to me. So I was forced (out of kindness) to give up the dual-seat luxury and allow this man to sit down.
This is what followed/what I hadn't considered beforehand. The seats seemed really comfortable because they reclined back to, like, 45 degrees. But then the person in front of me leaned back my knees were trapped. We had to get off the bus for border control. Luckily, I had brought the address where I was staying this time so they didn't give me any shit. We got back on the bus for about half an hour then had to get off on the ferry. Oh, right, Anne, you have to take a ferry when you're on the bus, it doesn't just float accross the English Channel. I got my only solid hour of sleep on a couch on the ferry. Then we got back on the bus and I was pretty sure I hadn't slept the rest of the journey.
Pretty sure. Except that I must have been asleep because at a certain point I woke up (therefore was sleeping, but dreaming about being on the bus), and dude next to me had his jacket spilling over onto my lap. So, annoyed, I toss it back over on him and OH MY GOD HIS HAND IS ON MY UPPER THIGH. This only could have happened if I had been sleeping. I am talking, fingers practically in my crotch, upper-thigh grope. I picked up that pervy old man's hand and flung it at him like a dead fish. He didn't wake up. Needless to say, I didn't sleep at all the rest for the rest of the bus ride.
Saturday morning, I got in early and went to my cousin Billy's for a shower and some breakfast, then headed out to day one of the workshop. Which was awesome. But I won't bore you with the details of my frustrations at not being open and playful enough to accomplish in one weekend what performers struggle for years to get past.
Saturday evening, instead of going straight to bed as my brain probably would have appreciated, I had some beers with the dudes I was staying with (friends of the Kiwi Doctor) and played some dice game I had never heard of before. It was ridiculously fun, and I was so good at the game until the alcohol very quickly took its effect on my fatigued brain‡ and I became a much worse at bluffing. They conveniently went out around 9, at which point I immediately fell asleep and stayed that way for the next ten hours.
Sunday, was a bit of a repeat, except minus the drinking in the evening, and with another bus to catch home. I did not get groped this time. Thankfully. I got back to my apartment in Flers for just long enough to brush my teeth and change my underwear before I had to go to my first class. I must have looked a sight, my hair all greased into whatever position I had (not) been sleeping in all night, and I'm pretty sure I probably sounded drunk at moments. I hope it wasn't too weird when I showed up again that afternoon, all showered and well-fed.
So that was my weekend. Met some awesome people at LISPA, and definitely a place I might try to go sometime in the distant-ish future for their two-year program. If I can get over my crippling voice of analysis and self-doubt. Working on it.
Sorry I was too lazy to find pictures for this post, and also that all the links are just to other stuff I've written. I just really want you to read it, because, like, I wrote it.
*Though I still maintain that le métro is far superior to the tube.
†They tv screens actually said, 'Someone is ill,' but I can only imagine that there was some kind of heart attack happening. I hope they wouldn't have stopped the metro over a cold. But maybe someone just barfed.
‡This is my official excuse.
Friday, March 13, 2009
High rollin'
Hey Kids,
Not that I ever seem to need an excuse to not blog for several days in a row, but I just wanted to let you all know that I'll be jetting off to London for the weekend, so I probably won't be posting anything. And by jetting, I mean sleeping on buses for two nights, on the way there and back.
But it will all be worth it! I'm going to a Collaborative Theatre Workshop at LISPA, which is a school that I'm super interested in if I ever decide to stop being so lazy and get my MFA. Also, I feel that this is a first step in my movement away from being a (fake) teacher, and towards being an artist of some merit. Second step, get off my butt and submit a piece to the Dublin Fringe. This is totally going to happen, folks.
So, anyhow, think of me tonight (or, like, midafternoon if you're over on the other side of the world) as I am trying desperately to catch a few minutes of sleep on the 8-hour ride of discomfort. And then get up and move all day for two days.
Adventures to follow,
Anne
Not that I ever seem to need an excuse to not blog for several days in a row, but I just wanted to let you all know that I'll be jetting off to London for the weekend, so I probably won't be posting anything. And by jetting, I mean sleeping on buses for two nights, on the way there and back.
But it will all be worth it! I'm going to a Collaborative Theatre Workshop at LISPA, which is a school that I'm super interested in if I ever decide to stop being so lazy and get my MFA. Also, I feel that this is a first step in my movement away from being a (fake) teacher, and towards being an artist of some merit. Second step, get off my butt and submit a piece to the Dublin Fringe. This is totally going to happen, folks.
So, anyhow, think of me tonight (or, like, midafternoon if you're over on the other side of the world) as I am trying desperately to catch a few minutes of sleep on the 8-hour ride of discomfort. And then get up and move all day for two days.
Adventures to follow,
Anne
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