Weekend Report

Friday- Attended a surprise going-away party at a local bowling alley. I hadn't been bowling in years, and it was a blast, and almost like entering a time warp. The decor and most of the clientele appeared to be twenty years behind the times, as evidenced by the rare sighting of a mohawk/mullet hybrid, circa 1986. By bowling, I mean candlepin bowling. It's just known as "bowling" by Massachusetts natives, whereas the other kind of bowling is referred to as "big ball bowling" or "cartoon bowling" because, like anvils and people cheering by clasping their hands together and silently raising them from one side of their head to the other, the type of bowling where the balls and big and heavy and you stick your fingers in them only exists in cartoons. I was stunned the first time I went bowling in Indiana: "Oh my gosh! Big ball bowling! It's real! Wow, the balls are so heavy! And you stick your fingers in the holes! Dirty!" To my dismay, the new, trendy bowling alleys that have popped up in downtown Boston over the past couple of years all offer big ball bowling instead of candlepin. I'm a big fan of regional cultural differences, be them accents, cuisine, or bowling styles in the United States, and am therefore personally opposed to the homogenization of bowling styles. Viva la candlepin.

Saturday- Went out to breakfast, swam at the gym, put in some face time at an NFL draft day party, and visited some friends and their brand new baby at the hospital. The proud new parents are from Spain, and I learned something new about Spanish baby clothing: in Spain, it's traditional to dress both boy and girl infants in a fancy gown called a faldon. The baby's grandmother had brought a whole set of faldones and traditional handmade outfits from Spain, and had a great time showing them to the visitors at the hospital. After visiting hours ended, I went home and watched Capote. I enjoyed it, especially because I had read In Cold Blood several years ago and was therefore familiar with the story and interested in how the movie would portray the relationship between Truman Capote and the killers he interviewed for his book. Philip Seymour Hoffman obviously excelled in the title role, and I was pleased to see both Chris Cooper and Catherine Keener in their supporting roles. It's strange to think that Harper Lee worked as Capote's assistant, considering that she is currently probably the more well-known of the two writers.

Sunday- Went to a bridal shower, then shopping. How very girly of me. I did have a grilled steak for dinner, though.

Recent Observations

I cooked dinner for three college friends last night, and made the following observations:

1. Thouroughly cleaning your apartment (as opposed to frantically shoving clutter into closets and under beds) makes it look a lot nicer.
2. Drinking a stiff cosmo before cooking is a Very Bad Idea, unless you like your broccoli burnt.
3. Adding the word "face" to any insult makes it ten times better. Examples: nerd face, douchebag face
4. The best way to prevent yourself from making ill-adivsed drunken phone calls is to delete the tempting number from your cell phone.
5. Nothing cures a hangover like a greasy bagel sandwich.

TGIF, everyone!

Snoop involved in airport brawl

Fellow representative of the LBC (yes, I was born in Long Beach) Snoop Dogg was arrested at Heathrow Airport on Wednesday after a few members of his entourage were denied entrance to the British Airways VIP lounge. Here's my favorite part of the article:

"There were all these huge 20-stone men smashing up display cabinets and throwing people around," said a Heathrow worker who witnessed the fracas. "I saw Snoop Dogg on the ground with four riot police trying to put him in handcuffs.

"His minders were throwing bottles of duty free at people. They were throwing people around like pillows. Then the police used pepper spray on them."

20-stone? Minders? Gotta love those wacky Brits.

Whorepresents

Check out this list of hilarious easily mispronouced domain names. Is it bad that the pervy name is the one I see first, and I have to think for a minute to figure out the real name?
For example: Lumbermansexchange = Lumbermans Exchange, not Lumberman Sex Change

via Freakgirl

He wears it well

Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon is sporting a mohawk. His new 'do is the result of a wager he made with fellow Sox youngster Kevin Youkilis.

Music Genome Project

I recently discovered Pandora.com, a free music site designed to introduce music lovers to bands they might like. You create a "radio station" by entering the names of one or more bands or songs you like, and the program searches a database for songs/artists deemed similar to your selection. So far, I made three stations, a Rolling Stones station, a Cure/Clash/David Bowie station, and a hipster station (Devotchka/Arcade Fire). The Stones station plays rock bands like Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam, plus some other (new, I presume) bands I've never heard of. The other two stations play mostly music I'm unfamiliar with, but so far, I like most of it.

Water is wet

And Charlie Sheen uses drugs, gambles, and hires prostitutes. Normally, I'm above dishing out celebrity gossip (okay, that's a complete lie), but check out this doozy of a document (courtesy of The Smoking Gun) that Denise Richards filed during divorce proceedings. Or save yourself some time and just read the transcripts from the crazed phone calls. Yikes.

You're Beautiful

and not in that melodramatic James Blunt kinda way. Hannah the bulldog was named Most Beautiful Bulldog in the 27th annual Beautiful Bulldog competition.

Book Review: No Country For Old Men

My number one, all time favorite book is All the Pretty Horses, by Cormac McCarthy. Yes, it has a sissy title, and yes, it was made into a movie starring Penelope Cruz and Matt Damon (which I never saw- has anyone seen it?), but if you make fun of it for those reasons without reading it, fuck off, because it's an awesome book. (I know I sound defensive, but it's a sore spot.) I read all three novels in the Border Trilogy (All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, and Cities of the Plain), all following male protagonists through Texas and Mexico during the 1940s and 1950s, and loved them all. I also read Blood Meridian, set during the Westward expansion during the 1840s, but it was too disturbingly violent for my tastes. Since McCarthy hasn't published anything since Cities of the Plain in 1998, I was eager to read his latest novel, No Country For Old Men, which came out last year. I was planning to wait until it came out in paperback, but I found a cheap used version for sale on amazon.com and purchased it.
No Country For Old Men lacks the rich language found in the Border Trilogy, but the setting is similar. It takes place along Texas and Mexican border, but in modern times. Llewelyn Moss is out hunting in the desert when he stumbles upon the remnants of a drug deal gone bad: dead bodies, shot up trucks, heroin, and a briefcase containing 2.4 million dollars in cash. He takes the money and runs, knowing full well that whoever the money belongs to will never cease looking for it. Sheriff Bell arrives on the scene, connects the dots, and figures out that local boy Llewelyn has no idea how much trouble he's in. The man hunting Llewelyn is pure evil, a cold-blooded killer who leaves a wake of death and destruction in his path. Bell aims to find Llewelyn before the killer does, and ponders his own life and the dark world that surrounds it during the pursuit. The novel is a bit confusing in the beginning, but once you figure out who the main players are, it is easy to follow. I liked it, not as much as the border trilogy, but far more than Blood Meridian. Rumor has it that No Country For Old Men is being made into a movie by the Coen brothers, of Fargo and O Brother Where Art Thou fame.

Let the sun shine in

This morning, I awoke to a strange glowing light outside my window. Was it a Japanese firefly squid? No, it was the sun, which hasn't shone its light in these parts for many a day. I was starting to feel like one of those eyeless cave-dwelling salamanders. Hey, that's two freaky animal links in one post.

Notre Dame nets top QB recruit

Jimmy Clausen, the high school quarterback from California that has college coaches drooling, has verbally committed to ND. Clausen chose Notre Dame because he believes that playing under coach Charlie Weis would best prepare him for a future in the NFL. He was also heavily recruited by USC, but one look at Pete Carroll's sissy website made him nauseous. Okay, that may not be true, but would Charlie Weis ever have a personal website whose sole purpose is do declare his own greatness? Of course not. Hey, Pete Carroll, talking about how awesome you are on your own website makes you look like a douchebag. Do you know who else brags about himself on his personal website? This guy.

Weekend Update

This weekend, I decided to pretend that I was 24 again, and kicked things off a day early by going out to 80s night at the Common Ground on Thursday night and dancing to the likes of Cyndi Lauper and ABBA. I had a blast, but staying out until 2:30AM on a school night probably isn't the wisest idea.

Friday- Eri's boyfriend Ryan was in town for a wedding, so we went and saw Thank You For Smoking, an entertaining movie starring Aaron Eckhart as Nick Naylor, a tobacco lobbyist. He feels no guilt or shame in his defense of cigarettes, and meets weekly with two friends, an alcohol lobbyist and a gun lobbyist, who refer to themselves as the MOD squad, for Merchants of Death. Despite the moral flexibility required for his profession, Naylor is a loving and caring father for his 12-year old son. Eckhart is perfect as the modern day anti-hero, and most of the other casting is excellent as well, with the exception of Katie Holmes as a reporter/seductress. I'm sorry, but Joey Potter just wouldn't use the F word. The movie is filled with cynicism and funny moments, and avoids a feel-good ending, which surprised me.
After the movie, Ryan and I went on a impromptu Southie pub crawl and eventually met up with a few of his friends and found ourselves drinking beers at Murphy's Law at 2AM.

Saturday- Since I still can't run and I'm bored with the stationary bike and elliptical at the gym, I decided to try a new form of exercise...swimming. I'm not a very strong swimmer (my normal stroke is a breaststoke-dog paddle hybrid), and I've never used the pool before. I was worried that I would inadvertently breach pool etiquette, so I decided to go on a Saturday afternoon when the gym is usually fairly empty. There were only a couple of other people in the pool, so I didn't have to share lanes and it minimized the number of people who saw me in my ridiculous new swim cap, which makes my head look tiny. I swam for about 45 minutes, varying the strokes, and felt satisfied with the workout, even though I can't do the flippy thing to turn around at the end of the lane. Saturday night, I went out to a karaoke bar for my friend Joe's birthday, and we sang I Got You Babe as a duet. What we lacked in talent we made up for in enthusiasm. The dance floor was packed with college kids grinding and making out. I felt too old and too sober for the scence, and only one of those two variables could be altered. A few $1.50 drafts largely increased my tolerance for the environment.

Sunday- I went swimming again, and now I'm in the lab writing this instead of doing actual work.

100 Unsexiest Men

The Boston Phoenix recently published a list of the 100 Unsexiest Men, with Gilbert Gottfried claiming the number one spot. Here's the list (I had trouble getting the original article). Some of the choices I agree with (Randy Johnson, Richard Simmons), most made me laugh (Art Garfunkel, Don Zimmer), and one I object to- Brad Pitt at #100?
Here's the Friday discussion topic- from the list, and you're not allowed to choose Brad Pitt, who would you do? And who would be your worst nightmare?
I pick Chevy Chase (#19)- he's a little old but not that bad, honestly.
My worst nightmare would be #43 David Gest (shudder), with Dick Vitale (#84) announcing play-by-play.

If George Foreman can have his own grill

can Larry Bird get his own vintage wine? Apparently, the answer is yes, with a California winery pairing up with the Celtics great to produce a line of wines known as Legends. Larry likes wine? Who knew? Personally, I think Bird is much more suited to produce a line of Budweiser, or even better, Rolling Rock...the green, the 33, it's a match made in marketing heaven.

Duke rape scandal continues

The Duke lacrosse rape scandal continues, with two players arrested and charged. Regardless of whether they are innocent or guilty, something bad happened at that party, and one thing sticks out in my mind. Based on my own reaction and that of several commenters on this blog- none of us were surprised. At elite universities like Duke, Notre Dame, and Wake Forest, male athletes (especially rich, white ones) get away with a lot. I thought this article on ESPN.com makes some good points- these athletes received all of the benefits of their status without the intense scrutiny of basketball or football programs. The warning signs, like 15 of 47 players having arrest records, were ignored the by the coach, the AD, and the administration.
The incident reminded of an unpleasant encounter my friend Teri and I had with a few hockey players at ND. At the end of a night out, we hopped in the same station wagon taxi as a group of hockey players and decided to share it to campus. The guys were drunk and incredibly obnoxious, insulting the cab driver, a black man who looked to be in his sixties, shouting things like "shine my shoes!" and singing "I don't want to grow up, I'm a taxi cab driver" at him. Teri and I were growing angrier and angrier; we could hardly even believe what we were witnessing. When the cab stopped to let the guys out, one of them leaned over and said goodnight to Teri and me. Teri replied "I am ashamed that I am associated with you by school." The floodgates opened- the guy was like "What???" confused and angry, his friends all started yelling at us, and then I started in with a tirade that went something like "You think you're better than everyone because you play hockey? You think you can just go around treating people like crap and that's okay? Well, it's not, and you're all f#$ing a#$holes!" Then they retorted with something intelligent like "you stupid ugly bitch" and I yelled "at least I'm not a f^$#ing racist!" More shouting, then the guys ended up mooning us as the cab drove off. Teri and I were furious. Guys like that, who think they're better than everyone else, and have never suffered any repercussions from unacceptable behavior, who get drunk and mean when they're in a group, are the kind of guys who would end up raping a stripper.

Book review: Three Junes

Apparently I am all about the reviews these days, which means I haven't done anything interesting so I have to fill in the void with books and movies. Anyways, I recently read Three Junes, by Julia Glass. The novel centers around a Scottish family and has three sections, each one detailing one summer over a ten year span. The first section centers on the father, Paul, on a trip to Greece following the death of his wife. The central (in both location and significance) section of the book chronicles the life of Fenno, the oldest son, the reserved gay owner of a bookstore in Manhattan. The last section features Fern, a young American woman whose life crosses paths with both the Scottish father and son. I really liked this book. It reminded me of The Corrections in how it switches points of view in different sections and realistically captures all of the struggles and emotions that come along with being part of a family. However, it wasn't nearly as dark. I prefer Three Junes to The Corrections, because due to my self-absorbed nature, I always prefer books where I can relate to the characters, when their thoughts and actions occasionally remind me of myself. I had nothing in common with any of the characters in The Corrections, whereas in Three Junes, I could see little bits of myself in Paul, Fenno, and Fern.

Movie Reviews

V for Vendetta. When is a terrorist not a terrorist? According to this movie, when said terrorist is fighting against a corrupt and brutal government. Based on Allan Moore's graphic novel, V for Vendetta is set in futuristic and fascist England, where a masked figure known as V fights against the oppressive government and is eventually joined by Evey, the young heroine played by Natalie Portman (with shaven head). Although the novel was written as a critique of Margaret Thatcher's England, the use of fear tactics to persuade citizens to surrender their individual freedoms and rights bears some resemblance to our current political climate. Hugo Weaving plays V in a role challenging because throughout the entire movie, his face is covered by a Guy Fawkes mask. Unlike a Batman mask, this mask covers the entire face, so it's sort of weird to hear him talk without seeing the lips move. James Purefoy was originally cast as V, but he quit because he hated wearing the mask so much. Overall, I really liked the movie- the characters were compelling and the story interesting. Some of the special effects during action scenes seemed a little silly, like they were just thrown in to please the Matrix fanboys in the audience.

A History of Violence. Viggo Mortensen (hot) plays Tom Stall, an upstanding family man who runs a diner in a small Indiana town. When the diner is held up by violent criminals, he jumps to the defense and ends up killing both men. After the news coverage, mobsters from Philadelphia show up on the scene, claiming that Tom is actually a former gangster who disappeared. Is it true? And if it is, does his family really want to know? In order to avoid spoilers, I'll just say that I enjoyed this movie. It's intense. The wife is the one put in the worst predicament by the situation, and Maria Bello does a great job in the role. Ashton Holmes also excels as the teenage son.

Could Tom Cruise get any weirder?

No. Please tell me that he's kidding, and that he's not really planning to eat the placenta. He is kidding, right? RIGHT?

Weekend Report

Friday- Went to a dinner party for Kim's birthday. Food + friends + wine + The Office on TiVo + more wine + karaoke = loads of fun.

Saturday- My friend Brian arrived in town for the marathon, and it was a beautiful day, so I decided to fire up the grill for the first time all year and invited a few friends over for swordfish kebabs. Afterwards, we headed out to the Cantab lounge to see Little Joe Cook, a.k.a the Nutman, a name reminiscent of both his short stature and his 1957 hit song "Peanuts." If you live in the Boston area and you've never seen him perform, I'd highly recommend it, and sooner rather than later, because the guy has got to be pushing eighty. The music is fun, the beers cheap, and the entertainment is, well, entertaining. The people-watching is also unparalleled, a prime example of which on Saturday night was a man in a polo shirt and spandex bike shorts who alternated between hitting on girls and dancing by himself on the dance floor. I've known about Little Joe Cook for years, because he lives right near my elementary school in Framingham and was often spotted cruising around in his yellow convertible with a NUTMAN vanity plate.

Sunday- Went for a jog with Brian, then had a big breakfast with MJ and Jamie. We had a traditional Easter Dinner at my parents house, where I got busted for skipping church and probably caused some initial confusion when I showed up with a married guy. Sunday night, I saw V for Vendetta, which I really liked, despite the cheesy Matrix-like special effects in the final fight scene.

Monday- Patriots' Day! One of my favorite holidays, which I believed was celebrated nationwide until my freshman year at ND, when I mentioned it and no one had any idea what I was talking about. Patriots' Day commemorates the battle of Concord and Lexington that kicked off the revolutionary war, and is also known as Marathon Monday. Most people have the day off and spend it drinking beer, eating junk food, and cheering on the runners. I did exactly that, and even spotted Brian cruising by at the 25 mile mark. Congrats to him and to Tricia.

You know you're having a bad day when

strangers call you "creepy" on the internet. My friend Jason, who has a part-time gig as an assistant to the Celtics' mascot Lucky (yes, Lucky has an assistant), recently appeared in the corner of a photo that popped up in a basketball chat site. That's him in the very bottom right of the photo.

For the record, Jason is not creepy and does not look like Will Ferrell, but the fact that strangers are making fun of him on the internet is very, very funny.

TGIF

Happy birthday to Kim!
Happy anniversary to Kerry and Adam!

And happy, um, er, Good Friday to everyone who celebrates it! When I was a kid, I never understood why the day Jesus died was called Good Friday. It was always explained to me as "Well, Jesus died to give us eternal life, and that's why it's good." but I still couldn't get past the whole death on the cross thing. Nothing good about that, at least not for the big J. Additionally, I always hated the mass where the liturgy is more like a play of the trial of Jesus, and the parishioners are supposed to read the part of the angry crowd and recite lines like "Crucify him!" and "We want Barabbas!" I knew you were supposed to play along and read the lines, but I just couldn't do it. Saying it made me feel terrible, and not saying it made me feel guilty for not participating. Ahh..Catholic guilt will get you every time.

On a cheerier note, if you haven't seen Peep Research yet, do so immediately. Cracks me up every time, especially the Fear Response.

In the tiki tiki tiki tiki tiki room

Disney is selling a replica of the dress worn by hostesses in the Enchanted Tiki Room during the 1960's. The dress itself is a bit fug, but I must admit, I have an irrational love of the Tiki Room and all things tiki. The silly song, the singing birds and flowers, the tropical cheeriness....I LOVE IT! It might just be my favorite thing at Disney. Maybe the attraction to the hokey displays and get-stuck-in-your-head anthems is genetic; my father's favorite ride at Disney is It's A Small World.

Link via Scrubbles

Baaby Sarsgaard-Gyllenhaal

Peter Sarsgaard and Maggie Gyllenhaal are engaged and expecting a baby. They plan to name it Aaron if it's a boy and Aann if it's a girl. Ba-dump-bump. I'll be here all week, folks.

I'd wager $100 on Jay Leno making an equally lame joke about it tonight.

Excess social activity will not be tolerated

Speaking of coffee, I just received some bad news regarding the free coffee station in the office area at work. The email states:

We have decided to discontinue the coffee and tea service from Keurig. There have been issues of clean-up, replenishing the water supply and excess social activity in the office. For these reasons we have decided to discontinue the service.

It's the excess social activity line that kills me. Apparently friendly conversation over caffeinated beverages is a big no-no in the anti-social land of academic research laboratories.

Man, this sucks! No more free coffee.

Movie Review: The Squid and the Whale

I rented the Squid and the Whale, movie written by Noah Baumbach (of the Life Aquatic fame) and based on his childhood experience of dealing with divorcing parents in the 1980s. If you like your entertainment cringe-inducing, then this movie is for you: it's filled with painfully awkward moments, like the elder son pretending he wrote Pink Floyd's Hey You and performing it at a school talent show. Jeff Daniels is perfectly wretched as the washed-up academic with a superiority complex, and Laura Linney plays his (understandably) unfaithful wife. I've heard some people think the movie is hilarious, but I found it sad and uncomfortable more than anything else.

List #24...Things That Annoy Me about Starbucks

Inspired by Brigita's recent post, here's the list:

1. Overpriced.
2. No breakfast food. Coffee shops should sell bagels and muffins, at all times.
3. "Barista." There's no need for a fancy name for a coffee shop employee.
4. The goddam way they name the sizes. HATE IT.
5. Even worse then the name of the sizes is when the "barista" corrects you when you refuse to use the pretentious Starbucks terminology. Yeah, I know it's a "Tall," but I think that's stupid, so I'm ordering a Small and I know you know exactly what I mean.
6. Do-it-yourself cream and sugar. When you ordered a sandwich at a deli, do they expect you to make it yourself? Of course not. You're paying for the convenience, and everyone knows things taste better when someone else assembles them. When I buy a coffee, I want it to come the way I like it, not have to put down my purse, newspaper, and whatever else I may be holding to take off the lid, rip open sugar packets, find a stirrer, etc... If I wanted to make my own coffee, I'd do it at home.
7. The coffee tastes burnt.

Book Review: Water, Carry Me

I recently read Water, Carry Me, by Thomas Moran. The story centers around a young Irish woman, Una Moss, who leaves home, starts college, and falls in love, all against a backdrop of political violence that she tries, and ultimately fails, to avoid. The characters are believable and easy to relate to as they struggle with classes, make friends, get drunk, hook up, and adapt to their newfound independence, things many of us experienced when we left home for college. I was impressed by the fact that the author, Thomas Moran, writes so adeptly as a female character. The only other novel I can think of in which a male author succeeds equally in crafting a female protagonist is Memoirs of a Geisha. I don't want to spoil the ending in case any of you do read it, but I highly recommend Water, Carry Me.

Once a year I understand why people vote Republican

Federal taxes: I am getting a $118 refund. Woohoo!
State taxes: I owe $517. Booooo.

But does it have sharp, pointy teeth?

Monster rabbit terrorizes English gardens. Either the man in the photo is a midget, or that's one effing big bunny.

Weekend Report

Warning: long post ahead

So, last week, the guy I had been dating for the past couple of months (Bim, for you devoted readers) basically ended things due to some unresolved issues in his life. I don't feel like rehashing the whole thing over the internet, but essentially, I was Not Dumped by my Not Boyfriend. It's okay, though, we parted amicably (now there's a breakup phrase if I've ever heard one) and when the discussion came, I felt relieved more than anything, because I knew something was wrong so it saved me the anxiety of wondering about it, and it turns out that wasn't my fault, which, being a completely self-absorbed person, I had assumed it was. Anyways, so I'm fine, yadda yadda yadda, but was looking forward to a fun weekend filled with friends and booze.

Friday- It was pouring rain when I left work, so I bought an umbrella from the convenience store in my building, which lasted all of ten minutes before a gust of wind turned it inside-out while I was walking across Copley Square. You know how when there's bad weather in Boston, the news always shows a clip of a girl with the inside-out umbrella walking somewhere scenic? Well, I was totally that girl. The wind was so strong that I couldn't get the umbrella to invert again, plus I looked especially ridiculous battling the wind and the umbrella in high heels and a skirt. A bunch of stupid striped shirts laughed at me. I hate umbrellas.
My friend Kim is finishing a certificate in design program this spring, so a group of us attended her art show and went out to dinner at Cottonwood Cafe afterwards to celebrate. We ate, drank, and were merry, and margarita upon margarita put me in a festive and rowdy mood. Because I had seen the podiatrist that afternoon and gone straight out afterwards, I was carrying around my night splint in a shoebox all evening. My friend Phil, who has an Achilles tendon injury, showed up wearing a light-colored boot, which we dubbed Day Boot, and therefore renamed my black sleeping splint Night Boot. After several drinks, Night Boot became a song based on Bob Seger's Night Moves. We played pool, put some silly songs on the jukebox (Man In the Mirror, for example), drank more beers, and I slept soundly in the night boot.

Saturday- Went to the gym and ran some errands, then went to a dinner party out in the 'burbs. Ate lots of delicious Italian food, drank copious amounts of red wine, and was entertained by witty conversation and dogs with unfortunate haircuts.

Sunday- I saw Spamalot with my mom. It was hilarious. Partly due to nostalgia- does everyone go through a geeky phase in middle school during which they think Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail is like the funniest, ever? Partly due to the fact that it was quite humorous, especially when the musical itself is mocking musicals in general. We had great seats, too, which made it all the better, and easier to see. After that, I went over Carolina's and we watched the latest Harry Potter movie, Goblet of Fire. I don't know how we both managed to miss it in the theater, considering we're both fans of the books and the movies, and it was out for about four months. Nevertheless, the film was well done, and quite scary.

Plantar fasciitis update

So, today I went to the infirmary and got a referral to see a podiatrist about my foot pain. Turns out my self-diagnosis was correct: I have plantar fasciitis. Here's what the doctor ordered:
1. Wear orthotics in my shoes.
2. Wear a night splint to bed. Yeah, that's hott.
3. 3 Advil, 3 times a day.
4. Stretch it before I get out of bed.
5. Ice 20 minutes daily.
6. No running until the pain goes away.
7. No flip flops. Ever.

I bought the orthotics and the doctor gave me the silly-looking big black sleeping boot, which I will test drive tonight. Obviously, I shouldn't have waited as long as I did to get it taken care of (Will I ever learn?). I'm hoping that if I stick to the treatment plan for the next couple of weeks, I'll be able to start running again.

Those wacky nerds are at it again

MIT pranksters stole a cannon from Caltech, shipped it cross-country, and put it on display in Cambridge.

Happy Friday, everyone!

It's been a long, strange week here at DCoE headquarters. I'm currently running around the city bouncing from doctor to doctor to get my foot checked out (grad student insurance sux), so I don't have time to write about it now. Here's a picture of a puppy from Cute Overload to start your weekend off with a smile. I was originally going to post a photo of the Hoff with Gary Coleman, but for some reason, it kept coming out ginormous, and there is such thing as Hoff Overload.

Chung! Chung!

Christopher Meloni gets fugged. I forgive him already, even though that sweatshirt is ridiculous.

Baby shower brawl

I've made no secret of the fact that I'm not a big fan of showers (no, not your shower, it was lovely. *cough*), and that if I ever get married, there's NO WAY IN HELL I'm having a bridal shower. Showers are evil. Read what happened at this one:

SPRINGFIELD, Mass. — A baby shower erupted into a fight among guests in which one man was shot and several other people, including the seven-months-pregnant guest of honor, were beaten with a stick, police say.

Well, at least it wasn't boring.

Eileen's Mystery Sangria recipe

Last night, my friend Ern came over for dinner, and I made fried plantains, Caribbean rice and shrimp (I love me some Zatarian's Rice Dinner mixes), and sangria. Lots of sangria. People often ask me how I make my sangria, and I'm reluctant to tell them, not because it's some Secret Recipe (did you ever have someone flat out refuse to give you a recipe for something? It's only happened to me once. I ate a delicious carrot cake at a party, and when I asked the girl who made it for the recipe, she said "It's a secret family recipe and I don't give it out." I gave her my best "Are you fucking kidding me?" face, but, alas, she wasn't joking. Then I gave her my "This isn't the 1950's anymore, when housewives apparently competed for social status based upon their baking prowess, leading to the so-called Secret Recipe phenomenon, so just give me the damn recipe" face, but that one didn't work either.) I don't like to tell people how I make sangria because, like snowflakes, no two batches are exactly the same. The recipe was created several years ago, at a dinner party when the Davidson sisters and I decided to whip up a batch of sangria and hunted around the kitchen to find potential ingredients. It came out delish, and I've attempted to recreate the original Mystery Sangria using the following guidelines:


1/2 bottle red wine (cheap is fine, but NO MERLOT. I'm not making a Sideways joke; I really don't like merlot.)
1 cup orange juice
1/2 cup cranberry juice
1/2 cup lemon or lime seltzer water
1/4 cup rum (preferably Flor De Cana, but Bacardi gold or Captain Morgan's will also suffice)
2 tbsp. powdered lemonade mix
sliced apple, lime, and orange


Makes one pitcher. Stir and add more or less of any ingredient according to taste. Serve over ice.

Why Florida won the NCAA championship

In this article, the author points out that Florida star Joakim Noah (the long-haired cutie who tore it up in the final) has the coolest dad on the planet, Yannick Noah, a former tennis pro from France. Look at him- that's one cool dude. DILF material.

Once in a lifetime event coming soon

At two minutes, three seconds after one o'clock today, it will be
01:02:03 04/ 05/ 06

Dreams and workplace etiquette

When you have a dream about someone, do you have an overwhelming compulsion to tell them about it? Well, I do. I dreamt that I shot my co-worker Ajit in the leg with a BB gun. I really wanted to tell him but was worried that it would freak him out. He's a very sweet, mild mannered, fortysomething scientist from India. I don't know why I shot him in the dream; I wasn't angry or anything, but it was deliberate. He was standing across a field and I wanted to see if I could hit him.

I did tell him. He laughed, but I don't think he'll plan any hunting trips with me anytime soon.

Excellent*

The Simpsons Movie, coming in 2007. Watch the trailer.

*to be read in Monty Burns' voice

Plantar fasciitis

A couple of months ago, I mentioned having plantar fasciitis, an inflammation of the tendon of the foot that causes heel pain. It hasn't gone away. I had heard that the best thing to do for it was to rest, so I didn't go running for two whole weeks, and guess what? It didn't help. It's still hurting, even more so since I played soccer on Saturday. I've gotten some tips from people who've had it before; they've recommended stretching and rolling my foot around on a tennis ball. I also may buy shock-absorbing insoles to put in my shoes. I'm not sure if I can use the cheap ones you get in a drugstore or if I need fitted orthotics. I think I need to go see a doctor. I don't know why I've been putting it off. Okay, that's a lie. I'm 99% sure they're going to tell me that there's nothing they can do and I'm going to have to rest it for a couple of months, and I don't want to hear it. Summer's coming, and I want to be able to run outside, play soccer, and not sit around feeling like a lazy-ass. I'm also slightly worried that it might be something worse than plantar fasciitis, like a stress fracture or bone spurs, and I don't want to find out. However, I've reached the point where I'm tired of the chronic pain and I'm sick of limping around. There's something wrong with my foot and avoiding going to the doctor isn't going to make it any better.

Weekend Report

Friday- Worked late (booo), met some friends out for drinks, went to bed.

Saturday- Went to a baby shower for a soccer teammate, where the entire team gorged themselves on the buffet. I ate too much, then played soccer and stunk it up on the pitch because the majority of my energy was focused on not vomiting. After the game, I drove out to Framingham for a big night out in the suburbs: dinner at Chili's and a movie. I saw Failure To Launch, the new RomCom starring Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey. It was pretty much par for the course for the genre (chick flick). McConaughey plays Tripp, a charmer who still lives at home with his parents, who hire SJP to get him to move out of the house. Naturally, she ends up falling for him but the relationship goes haywire when he discovers the set-up. Both leads looked ten years older than their respective groups of friends (probably because they are), which hindered plot credibility . Zooey Deschanel was entertaining as SJP's sarcastic roommate, and according to her IMDB page, she's actually 15 years younger than SJP. Terry Bradshaw is fun to watch as Tripp's dad, and he even does a nude scene. Butt shot only; no full frontal (thank goodness). But other than that, the movie was predictable and had a few too many lame gags (mostly involving animals) for my liking. How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days was similar, but a lot better.

Sunday- I had intended to work in the lab all day, but it was too gorgeous outside to waste it on the pursuit of science. I ditched the lab and went shopping, ran some errands, and had dinner with Maria, her boyfriend, and her parents, who are visiting from Atlanta.

Go Bruins!

And I'm not talking about hockey. Despite the fact that I don't really follow college basketball (I'm more of an NBA fan), I am winning two of the three march madness pools I entered, due to the fact that I picked UCLA to make it to the finals.