Not to get all political and shit, but...

I had to watch Obama's speech and Bobby Jindal's rebuttal online after I got home from work last night. At midnight. You don't think that when you go into higher education, that you'll be working from 6am to midnight, but oh well. Anyway, I'm not sure if it was because I was barely lucid or if there is a real similarity, but... Bobby Jindal = Kenneth from 30 Rock.

Let's compare photos:

Kenneth

Bobby

Here are some clips. I especially appreciate the "oh God" courtesy of MSNBC. That Matthews.

Bobby

Here's the full speech.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Kenneth




Seriously? Really? Seriously?

Today's the day!

Good luck, BF!

Live Blogging the Oscars

Ok, not really. It's 10.13pm, CST. So far, I'm underwhelmed. I'm also confused by the "musical" numbers. Especially this one where Queen Latifah sings for the dead people. It's morbid, but the dead people montage is my favorite part of the show. It reminds me of high school graduation. Some people get respectable amounts of polite applause (Paul Newman), while others (Mort Dillman, craft services on the set of Bird on a Wire) get sporadic hand slapping sounds from seat fillers who have no idea who the poor schmuck was. I'm half surprised Jake Gyllenhaal didn't bust out an airhorn for Heath Ledger.

Check out the goods.

Also, is it just me, or do most presenters need to enroll at the Derek Zoolander School for Kids Who Can't Read Good? Seriously.

I am a bar exam widow.

The BF is days away from the bar, which means that he's studying at warp speed, creating a permanent butt imprint in his spot at the library. I can barely remember what he looks like. I do know what BarBri books look like. In any case, it's left a lot of "me time," which isn't really a great idea. Things I've been doing to pass the time so I don't drink and shop online...

• Watching copious amounts of TLC and Bravo. The BF hates these channels. Shocking, I know. I however, cannot get enough of the Real Housewives of Orange Cunty. I love to hate this show. Bitches can't say no to tanning beds, bad hair and bedazzled boob shirts. Love it. Also, I've never followed Top Chef, but now I'm in it to win it. Hootie hoo! Team Carla will prevail! And yes, I needed to watch the oldest Duggar spawn wed his virgin bride. It's anthropoligical.

• "Writing" terrible blog posts.

• Reading online snark, then feel guilty about said snark. Dlisted is my favorite source for celebrity snark. I check it more than Kate Moss has nip slips. Everything was all well and good till I was listening to Morning Edition or some shit and David Denby was talking up his new book about how snark is ruining America. Way to make me feel guilty, turd.

• Learning how to become a perfect woman. Sarah Haskins is brilliant.

• Reading about yogi warfare.

• Lusting over other blogs. Specifically Design*Sponge and Orangette and Brooklyn Bride (no, I'm not getting married, it's part of practicing to be a perfect woman.)
  

• Memorizing the lyrics to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

• Misunderstanding Twitter.

Save me.

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Tuesday edition.

Let me tell you a secret. I don't like any new music right now. None of it. Yeah, sure I bought the new Andrew Bird album (he's coming to Cain's in March!!!*) and The Bird And The Bee, but they're not really doing all that much for me. It's kind of like getting the Guiltless™ Chicken Pita at Chili's when what you really want is the Awesome Blossom (p.s. have you seen this website yet?). Everything that's out there is a big fat meh. Here's what's stuck in my head:

You Left the Water Running - Otis Redding

Erotic City - Prince

Train Song - Vashti Bunyan (but all I can find is the new Feist/Ben Gibbard version)

Got To Get You Into My Life - Earth Wind and Fire version (I know, I know)




What the eff is wrong with me?

I think I'm going to turn things over from now on to some locals who know what they're talking about. Check out Salad Days Music.*

*Salad Days, be prepared for your traffic to soar by 0.

New York: The city that never pees.

That's the trouble with New York, no public restrooms. I blew my budget on soy chai lattes (chosen over what I'd normally drink because the state has the audacity of making consumers aware of the calories they are set to consume - gasp!) just so I could take a piss at a Starbucks (it was a vicious cycle). Such is life in the big city. Here it is, photo essay style:

This is my favorite grocery store of all time. I putzed around for quite some time, imagining a cart stuffed with delectable morsels. I actually contemplated shipping groceries home, but snapped out of it. While I was in the neighborhood, I found my way to my dumplings and stuffed my face with Sichuan goodness. Ah.


So (friend from college visiting NY by way of Germany), K (her sister) and I joined gpulp for a symposium she organized for her school. It made my brain work, which hurt.


Look! It's Harpoon UFO! Thank the Lord! I can now die happy.



I can't remember which evening it was, but gpulp checked her mail and lo and behold, there was a package from none other than M5K. It's true! It all makes sense if you read this. Even though it makes sense, it doesn't make it any less surreal that real life friends and blog peeps have intersected all over the place.


My first Pinkberry. It was pretty good. Not gonna lie.


$240 worth of pudding, try $960 worth of Mexican food, mostly pitchers of 'ritas.

I wish there were lots of funny stories to tell, but mostly it was just a nice retreat from daily life involving lots of walking, subway riding, store gawking, coat wearing, bagel eating (finally!) and sleeping in. Delightful.

Happy VD! Tomorrow!

You all know no one cares that some years ago, my heart was callously tossed into the deep freeze, eventually rendered as a lump of cyborg. Fortunately, soon after, I conned someone into hanging out with me, and my robot heart started to thaw a bit. Well, I might be fully recovered (as much as one can be) because my heart melted into a puddle at my feet when I saw this. Read about it here.

Top Ten Signs You're Not Ready to Procreate.

When I was in the NYC, I saw lots and lots of babies and preggers chicks. They're fucking everywhere. And then there's octomom and her litter. And, of course, Brangelina. And those Duggers. Also, FaceBook reveals news of knocked up high school mates left and right. I don't really feel the ol' biological clock ticking, but I do know that my body makes horrible cracking noises during yoga and one time last week I got a cramp in my hip during naughty time = I'm getting old. But among the thousands of reasons I'm aware of (there are surely more I am not) that would make me an unfit mother, I think the most telling is what I'd consider naming spawn. Here are my top favorite bebe names in no particular order:

Charlotte

Valentina

Savannah

Simon

Anouk

Sebastian

Clementine

Evangeline

Annabelle

Liam

Ruby

Tabitha

Oscar

Can you imagine being named Ruby Valentina?

I'm back.

But there's a tornado in my office. More later.



I'll regale you all with tales of Awesomefest09 tomorrow.

See you next Tuesday!

I'm leaving. On a jet plane. I suppose I'll be back again. In the meantime, I'd suggest watching this. Fucking. Brilliant.



Boom! Roasted.

NYC -

I want to go to there.

I took this from the window of where I stayed last time. Not bad, eh?

Get ready. The Bee-Spot is hitting the road (air) for a much needed jaunt to NYC. This week! In like two days! I will catch up with long losts (including gpulp) and eat sichuan seafood dumplings by the bowlful! I haven't been on a plane in two freaking years! I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO EXCITED! I'M SO scared. Anyway, if you're in the NYC area later this week, and you want to meet me even though I reference Jessie Spano on a regular basis, just let me know. No one? Oh, ok.

I am drooling, here, big time.