Shameless plug for my friend's band

Last night, I went to see the fabulous Muy Cansado at Bill's Bar. I ended up going by myself, which wasn't a big deal because I knew some people who were going to be there, but considering that the people I knew were the three younger siblings of my friend from the band, the rock star MULVEY,(who is also younger than me), I was definitely the geeky old person at a rock show. The youngest of the clan had my older sister as a teacher in high school, so she introduced me to her friends as "Ms. Dunne's sister."

Anyways, Muy Cansado is really good and you should check them out if you get a chance.

Hot enough for ya?

How hot is it?

So hot that ascending each floor to my third floor apartment is the climactic (and moral, perhaps) equivalent of descending to a lower level of Hades.

So hot that people aren't even using the vile cliche "It's not the heat, it's the humidity" because when it's 100 degrees, it is the damn heat.

So hot that the Red Sox are issuing warnings to fans after a pregnant lady died at the game over the weekend (although her death was probably due to a heart condition). Yikes.

Simpsonize yourself

You can create your own Simpsons character using The Simpsons Maker. I tried to design one that looked like me, but this was the best that I could come up with:



The setting and the hair aren't a bad match, but that outfit is definitely not me.
Hint: to save your cartoon, here's how to do a screen capture.

link via Max

Mel Gibson is a crazed anti-Semite, blah blah blah

Not meaning to beat a dead horse or anything, but if you haven't read the transcript from Mel Gibson's DUI, here it is.

Two words: sugar tits.

Weekend Report

Friday- Went to dinner with my parents, then went over Kim and Mike's, where I watched the season finale of The Office (hooray for Tivo) and a few of the webisodes.

Saturday- Played in a all-day soccer tournament in the blazing heat. Unfortunately, my team did not fare very well, but we had a good time nonetheless. Afterwards, we went out for beers and food, and later on hit the tournament party at Lir. Throughout the tournament, they videotape the games and then play a highlight reel during the party. Since I knew the guy videotaping, there was a lot of footage of me, including a close up of me misjudging a high ball and totally missing a header. I hate seeing myself on video- I'd much prefer to go through life unaware of my slouching problem and general awkwardness. This time wasn't quite as embarrassing as the time my neck fat appeared in a closeup on the jumbotron at Celtics game:

Oh, look, the camera is totally zoomed in on someone's neck fat. How awful! (camera pans out a little bit) Jeez, it's still up there. (camera pans out a little more and I notice that the neck fat belongs to someone wearing the same green jersey that I have on) Uh oh. (camera pans out a little more and oh yes, it's me up there) Nooooooooo!

Sunday- Acted like a good worker bee and spent all day in the lab. I did talk one of my coworkers into going out to lunch with me at Victoria's Diner; my bus passes by there every day and I've always been curious about it. It was a fairly standard diner, catering towards old people and workers from the surrounding warehouse district. I ate a roast turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwich (yum!) but I'll have to try it again in the morning; breakfast seems to be the specialty.
Sunday night, I did another thing I've always wanted to do- I went to see Shakespeare on the Common, a free production on Boston Common that takes place every evening during the summer. This year's play is The Taming of the Shrew, and I really enjoyed the production. The slight modernization and Italian-Americanization (okay, I made that word up) of the plot kept things light and audience-friendly, but the adaptations did not stray too far from the bard's original work. The success of the play hinges on the performance of Petruchio, who must "tame" the shrew without coming across as a chauvinist pig, and lead actor Darren Pettie excels at this task. I'm glad I finally took advantage of the annual free summer Shakespeare production and would recommend it to other city-dwellers.

Why I love the Onion

Sparrow Aviation Administration Blames Collision On Failure To Detect Pane Of Glass: Mysterious Phenomenon Kills Millions Each Year

I especially love the pictures that go along with the article.

New cooking blog

Meg has a new blog, Meg's Way. It's all about cooking, with recipes, tips, and more. I've eaten many of Meg's delicacies (she makes a mean snickerdoodle) and I'm looking forward to trying out some of her recipes, once I get off my beer and hot dog kick.

Not quite The Answer

The Celtics signed undrafted rookie Kevin Pittsnogle, a center from West Virginia. He might not be half bad. And there's no way he can be worse than Scalabrine.

Musta got lost

Which makes me a bigger dork: the fact that I was genuinely thrilled to spot Peter Wolf in Copley last night, or the fact that I was really excited to write about it on my blog this morning?

Book reviews

I read two books last week, and these reviews contain spoilers (but not major ones), so be warned.

1. The Memory Keeper's Daughter, by Kim Edwards, is a novel whose entire plot is hinged upon one moment. In 1964, a set of twins are born with only three people in the room: the doctor and father, the wife and mother, who is unconscious, and the nurse. The baby boy is born healthy, but the doctor quickly recognizes the signs of Downs Syndrome in the baby girl. He hands her off to the nurse and gives her the address of a home to take the baby to, and when his wife regains consciousness, he tells her that the baby girl was born dead. Nowadays, such an action seems unbelievably cruel, but, in those times, this attitude towards Downs Syndrome were more common, and the doctor believed he was doing what was "best for everyone." Instead of following the doctor's orders, the nurse takes the baby girl, moves out of town, and raises her as her own daughter. The story follows the two families over the passing decades, and one sees how the outcome of the doctor's decision destroys one life and rejuvenates another.

2. Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro, is the story of Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy, three English children who grow up in an elite private school. Right away, the reader realizes that something deeper and more sinister is going on. They are not normal children, but clones created to serve as organ donors once they reach adulthood. Their lives are planned out for them- they will become "carers" until they begin their "donations," and after four donations, they "complete." Their true fates are never openly discussed, and instead the Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy grow up with a heartbreaking innocence. Once I figured out the whole cloning business, the plot felt a little bit like a one-trick pony and reminded me of the movie The Island, but the writing style, depth, and interaction among the characters was enough to keep me interested. Kathy, the narrator, is a keen observer of others, and always looking for the deeper meanings behind the words and actions of her friends, especially Ruth. I was impressed by how accurately the male author captures the tenuous, intense, and competitive friendships many girls have during their early teenage years. The one unanswered question the book left me with is why they accept their fate instead of trying to escape it or fight it.

I enjoyed both of these books but didn't particularly love either one of them. 7 out of 10 for both on the Eileen scale.

I just can't take it anymore

You guys, there's a bearded lady who rides my bus. A frickin BEARDED LADY. Every morning. I'm talking a foot-long, wispy, white Pai Mei beard. I try not to stare but end up concentrating so hard on not looking that my not looking is just as blatant and rude as staring would be. I cringe at the though of her sitting next to me. I'm sure the poor woman suffers from some sort of endocrine disorder or something, and I should feel sorry for her, and I do, but seriously, lady, trim that shit!

Weekend Report: NYC

I went to New York City this weekend for the second annual Girls' Trip with three friends from Framingham.

Thursday- I headed in a day early to catch up with college friends Amanda, Liz, and Beth. We met up at Amanda's apartment in the financial district, then went out for food and drinks on South St. Here we are looking very happy:


Friday- Convened with Yuki, Kim, and Tejal, and we checked into our hotel and went for a walk around Central Park. After that, we saw Bodies...the Exhibition, an exhibit on human anatomy using preserved cadavers and organs. I enjoyed it and would recommend it to anyone who isn't an M.D. or particularity squeamish. Our afternoon took a turn for the worse when we got trapped in a rainstorm, couldn't catch a cab, and ended up stuck on a boiling hot subway car due to a medical emergency in the train ahead of us. I'll never complain about the MBTA again...for all its glitches, it runs much more smoothly (and coolly)than the NYC metro. When we finally got out of the station, we were so exasperated that we sat down to eat in the first restaurant we came upon, a really crappy Mexican place in the Village. Back at the hotel, we lounged around watching T.V. and chatting. We tried to extract government secrets from Yuki (she designs nuclear weapons), but she stonewalled us, even denying offers like "If Kim tells you the name of her baby, will you tell us a government secret?" I wasn't feeling well and took a Nyquil, which somehow caused me to make a weird squeaking noise while I was sleeping.

Me, after suddenly jerking awake: Was I just making a weird squeaking noise?
Everyone: Yes.

Saturday- We ate breakfast at Popover Cafe, then shopped for a little while in the Village. On Friday, we had purchased discount tickets to the Saturday matinee of The Producers, so we went to see that. I liked it, and had the catchy "Springtime for Hitler" stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Although it was funny, it wasn't as good as I had expected, considering that it won 12 Tony awards. Some parts seemed too cliche- the horny old ladies, the gorgeous Swede, etc... After the show, we walked around in another rainstorm and had dinner at a Greek tapas restaurant. We met up with my friend Jonny and had drinks at a couple of places on 9th Ave.

Sunday- We awoke to discover a giant street fair right in front of our hotel. Oh joy, oh rapture! Blocks and blocks of cheap jewelry, purses, scarves, and other goodies! I bought a bunch of $2 necklaces and a pair of shoes.
We then headed to Chinatown for Dim Sum, which I had incorrectly believed involved a boiling pot of broth that you dip raw meat and vegetables into it. What I was imagining is called Hot Pot, and it's Japanese, whereas Dim Sum is Chinese and involves people pushing carts of food around the room and when you point at things, they put them on your table. Luckily we had Kim with us to identify the items, because the ladies pushing the food around were difficult to understand. I liked the pork buns and the sticky rice the best. After chowing down for a while, we left, and I caught the Chinatown bus back to Boston. Overall, it was a great weekend catching up with friends and enjoying New York.

Best day of the week

Thursdays have always been my favorite day of the week. I enjoy the anticipation of the weekend almost more than the weekend itself. Today is an especially good Thursday, because I'm leaving for New York City this afternoon on the Fung Wah- $15 each way, you can't beat it, even if the busses occasionally catch fire. Ern and I overheard an old man talking about the Chinatown bus the other day, he said "When you get on, they give you a fortune cookie. It says: I hope we make it to Hartford."

Have a good weekend, everyone!

Betty La Fea

Okay, this little news tidbit will probably be of interest only to my Peace Corps friends and anyone who routinely watches Latin American television. Several years ago, one telenovela captivated millions of viewers. The power of the novela is difficult to imagine unless one has witnessed it. Picture a country, with only one television station, that shows one show, every weeknight, from 8 to 9 P.M. Now imagine that every single person in that country watches said show; those with no electricity hook television sets up to car batteries, and those with no televisions watch the program at the neighbor's. Now multiply that country by every single country in Latin America. And keep in mind that there is no gender bias when it comes to the novelas, even the toughest, machete-wielding farmer tunes in. And the best part? These telenovelas only run for a few months, so interest never wanes before the finale. The most popular telenovela in history was Betty La Fea, a Colombian series about an ugly girl trying to make her way in the fashion industry. And guess what? ABC is doing an English version of the show, called Ugly Betty, this fall. It's produced by Salma Hayek. Even if it bombs in the U.S., I will be watching.

Chappelle Show's Greatest Hits

Okay, I realize that the Chappelle show is so three years ago and was overquoted by white frat boys to the point of annoyance, but it's still pretty darn funny. In case you missed it, here are the 11 Best Episodes.
My favorites are:
The Wayne Brady skit (#4)- During the previous season, the show mocked the "Whose Line is it Anyways?" comedian: "White people love Wayne Brady because he makes Bryant Gumbel look like Malcolm X." In this clip, evil Wayne Brady takes Dave for a night on the town. Best part? When he kills that cop.
and
The Prince skit (#1)- Prince and the Revolution take on Charlie and Eddie Murphy's pals in a game of hoops.

Big Dig

Most of you have probably heard about the woman who was killed when a concrete ceiling tile (ummm...I think there's a reason why ceilings aren't normally made of concrete) fell and killed a woman in one of Boston's new Big Dig tunnels.

Well, today, the Big Dig is the topic of my favorite part of The Onion, American Voices.

Who knew the Finns were so unhappy?

This video by The Complaints Choir of Helsinki is one of my new favorite things.

Idiots don't know which side to stand on escalators. The employment agency only needs Java programmers. Our ancestors could have picked a sunnier place to be.

I love it!

via I'm just sayin

The Nerdiest Guy on Earth

I am certainly no fashion diva, and was looking worse for the wear when I hopped on the T after my soccer game in the blazing heat. I was wearing my neon green "E. coli Happens" t-shirt and suffering from a visible case of buttsweat. However, the Nerdiest Guy on Earth stepped on the train and stole my thunder.

Fanny pack? Check.
Enormous backpack with wheels? Check.
Foam earplugs? Check.
Not one, but two huge Computer Programming textbooks which he proceeded to take out and study? Check.
An old-school, big, pink eraser? Check.

Alone, everything except the fanny pack and the foam earplugs could have been overlooked, but the combination was deadly. The worst part is that the guy was in his mid-thirties and clearly should have known better. That level of dorkiness can only be excused in teenagers and the elderly.

How's the weather up there?

Check out The Tallest Men And Women Who Lived On Earth. I like how the title clarifies "on Earth." I mean, where else would really tall people live? Neptune?

via Gorilla Mask

Weekend Report

Friday- Went out for a beer after work, which turned into several beers on an empty stomach, which resulted in me A. stopping by the workplace of a guy I have a crush on (he wasn't there, thank goodness), B. befriending some African man on the T and giving him my phone number after professing my love for Zindine Zidane, and C. getting completely lost in Jamaica Plain and showing up two hours late to the cookout I was going to. All in all, a pretty typical evening.

Saturday- I went down to Rhode Island to visit my friend Colann. She picked me up at the train station and we ended up going to a scooter rally. What's a scooter rally, you ask? Well, it's like a bike rally, with Vespas instead of Harleys. I had no idea of the extent of the scooter underworld until we arrived on the scene: hundreds of people (mostly tattooed punk types), camped out in a field, all with scooters. Colann participated in one event, in which a one person sits in a plastic sled attached to a scooter with a rope, and whomever gets pulled the farthest wins. Here are some pictures:


In case you're wondering what's going on in this one, yes, that is Colann and I sitting in a tractor in front of a large bonfire. Later on, we attempted to take the tractor for a joyride, but unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view) the battery was dead.

Sunday- My wanton ways finally caught up to me and I woke up with a nasty cold- sneezing, coughing, and cloudy-headed. I went back to Boston and lounged around in front of the air conditioner, loading up on Vitamin C. Boooo.

Here come the Irish

There are very high hopes for ND football this fall. Here's ESPN.com's team preview and an article about Weis's impact on the program. ND opens on the road against Georgie Tech on Sept. 2, but the game I'm eagerly awaiting is their home opener against Penn St. on Sept. 9. I've always liked the Nittany Lions (although I have no idea what Nittany means) and Joe Pa, so it should be a great matchup.

In other sporting news, Bruce Arena is out as the U.S. national soccer coach. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Juergen Klinsmann, who did so well with the German team, will take the job. He's married to an American and lives in California, so it is a possibility.

Horror stories, laboratory style

The other day I received a junk email that said "Have you checked your cells today?" in the subject line. Something about it struck me as... ominous. It reminded me of one of those horror/ghost stories we used tell to scare each other when we were kids, the one with the babysitter who answers the phone and a strange voice says "Have you checked the children?" then she checks them and they're dead or something, I can't remember how it ended. They recently made a movie about it, When A Stranger Calls, which is actually a remake of a 1979 film of the same name. Apparently the original film is what spawned the ghost story used to scare legions of pre-teen girls during sleepover parties. Other scary tales included the one about the teenage couple in their car who hear a warning on the radio about a man with a hook who escaped from prison, and I bet you know what happens next. Cut to dead girlfriend and hook hanging on the side of the car. There was another story we used to tell about Wheelchair Mary, but I don't recall the details. There also existed an entire camp genre of ghost stories- the Indian women whose son got pushed of the cliff and her ghost haunts this very campsite and can be heard scratching on the tent walls at night, the girl who killed the other campers with a fork and sucked their blood, etc.
Anyways, now I'm rambling (too much iced coffee this morning), but for the record, I did check my cells and they were fine.

British Invasion

Rumor has it that cast members of the British version of The Office will be appearing on the U.S. version of the show in the upcoming season. I'm hoping for some sort of Gareth-Dwight office rivalry.

via GitM

Viva Colombia!

Yesterday, I purchased a ticket for Colombia. I'm meeting Carolina down there right after Christmas and staying for a couple of weeks. Wooohooo! (You know how I'm always broke and complaining that grad school takes forever? Well, this is why.) I've been feeling the wanderlust lately, and I'm hoping that this trip will curb my occasional urges to drop out of grad school and move to Venice and work in a hotel.
I'll have to brush up on my Spanish, which is still passable but has atrophied significantly over the past couple of years. I was still able to book my flight over the phone in Spanish, though.

p.s. RT, Australia will be my next big trip, I promise.
p.p.s. Although I am going to Medellin, try to refrain from the drug cartel jokes. They don't go over so well with the Colombians.

Zizou apologizes, sort of

During an interview with a French TV station, Zinedine Zidane did not reveal exactly what Marco Materazzi said to him to provoke the headbutt, but he said that it was an insult to his mother and sister (read translated transcript here).

For a more complete, and very interesting, profile of Zidane the man, check out this article written in 2004:

Zidane's occasional violence may well be a product of this internal conflict: the French-Algerian who is for ever suspended between cultures. But it is equally likely that, although in public he presents a serene and smiling face, he is underneath it all every bit the same hard nut he had to be to survive the mean streets of La Castellane. 'Nobody knows if Zidane is an angel or demon,' says the rock singer Jean-Louis Murat, who is himself a fan of the player. 'He smiles like Saint Teresa and grimaces like a serial killer.'

And here's an email one of my coworkers sent that sums up how most soccer fans (except Italian ones) feel about The Headbutt:

On the one hand, Zidane lost his self-control, sold out his teammates, besmirched his legacy, reversed the game's momentum, ruined France's positive karma, destroyed a nation's hope for a World Cup, detracted from the French team's larger symbolism as a force against racism, broadened the cultural divide in an ethnically torn country, and sullied the reputation of the world's most popular sport.

On the other hand, he dropped that Italian guy like a bitch.

P.S. Don't worry, Roger, despite my recent obsession with Zidane I haven't forgotten about you. Congratulations on winning your fourth Wimbledon.

Michael Bolton is following me

Has anyone else noticed the recent outbreak of Michael Bolton posters plaguing Boston? Who is behind this vile campaign? He's everywhere. At the dry cleaner. At the nail salon. At the pizza place. Michael Bolton, leave me alone!

My new phone and Ron Jeremy

Two notable events occurred yesterday. The first is that I got a new cell phone- the Razr, because I'm trendy like that. I've heard that they lose their charge very quickly, so I'll post an update on that later on in case anyone is interested in getting one.

The second is the discovery that one of my professors was friends with Ron Jeremy. Yes, that Ron Jeremy. Our department has a softball team, and after our game we went out for drinks. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but one of the faculty members told us that he and Ron Jeremy grew up in the same neighborhood in NYC. They once got into a pencil fight during Hebrew school (dirty!) and Ron Jeremy stabbed him, and he still has a bit of pencil lead embedded in his arm from the incident. Apparently they made amends, because Ron Jeremy attended his bar mitzvah. And no, they didn't know anything about Ron's..ahem...talents until after high school.

Madonna in concert

My friend Colann won two tickets off the radio to Madonna's show last night, and she was sick, so my roommate Ern and I ended up going. I've been a fan of Madonna's music for a long time but had never seen her in concert. Madonna has made a career out of danceable music, pushing the envelope, and making a spectacle of herself, and the Confessions Tour is vintage Madonna. She mocked world leaders, she crucified herself on a giant disco cross, she dressed in leather and humped dancers and inanimate objects, and she danced her ass off for two straight hours. The majority of the songs were from the new album, but she did throw in Like a Virgin and La Isla Bonita, as well as Ray of Light (my personal favorite of the evening) and Music, which she performed in a white suit a la Saturday Night Fever. The only song I didn't like was "I Love New York," not because I have a Bostonian inferiority complex about the Big Apple, but because I think the song is lame: "I don't like cities, but I like New York, Other places make me feel like a dork" C'mon, Madge, you can do better than that.
Most of the crowd was on their feet dancing (and sweating....yeah, Madonna doesn't do AC) the entire time, except for a stodgy man in a suit sitting behind us. We became enemies after he tapped me on the shoulder to complain that my purse almost hit him while I was dancing to Ray of Light. Dude, these are $165 seats, and it's a Madonna concert. Have fun or go home!

P-town

Lisa and I went to Provincetown for the weekend. For those of you not from Massachusetts, P-town is located on the very tip of Cape Cod and is very, very gay. Gayer than Elijah Wood. P-town is also very fun- it offers both beautiful beaches and a wild and crazy nightlife, and we indulged in both. We hit the beach, the pool, watched the World Cup, explained that we weren't a lesbian couple, and drank some delicious pina coladas, and ended up dancing to Madonna in a fog machine amid a sea of shirtless men. One of the highlights was the drag queen show- hilarious! They did impersonations of Celine Dion, Dolly Parton, Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Michael Jackson ("only in America can a poor, black boy grown up and become a rich, white woman"), and my personal favorite, Cher in the Turn Back Time leotard. Here are some photos of Lis and me, and old lady getting harassed by a drag queen, and possibly the shadiest "help wanted" sign I've ever seen:

It was fun while it lasted.

So, the World Cup is over. I am currently feeling symptoms of withdrawal. No more sneaking out of work to drink beers and watch soccer? No more discussing all of the games and the drama with friends and coworkers? No more watching hot, sweaty men exchange jerseys? This was the first time I've followed a World Cup from start to finish. Last time around, the 5AM and 6AM game times prevented me from watching a lot of it live, and back in 1998, I don't know what I was doing, but I wasn't watching World Cup. This time, I loved it all....USA's tie against Italy, France's masterful play against Brazil, Ronaldinho's smile, Rooney's nutstomp, Christiano Ronaldo's wink, the English inevitable chokejob in PK's, the diving Italians, crazed fans from all over the world, amazing goals, and Zizou, headbutt and all.

Here are some thoughts on the tournament:

-Like I mentioned before, FIFA needs to do something about all the diving. It's become too much a part of the game.

-I hope the US gets better. It's not necessarily the coach's fault, but I think Bruce Arena should have used more young talent instead of sticking with players like Landon Donovan. McBride, Keller, and Clint Dempsey were the only players who performed consistently well for the Americans. I'm guessing that Dempsey won't be playing for the Revolution for too much longer...I'm sure one of the top European clubs will be wanting to snap him up.

-Kudos to Mayor Menino for throwing a World Cup party and broadcasting the game in City Hall Plaza. "Boston is an international city," said Mumbles. "Nothing has illustrated that more than the excitement of the World Cup."

-Did you catch Bill Clinton in the audience? Coolest Former President Ever.

-As for the match itself, although I love Italians, I don't like their soccer team. I can't stand their whining, cheating, and diving tactics. I'll give them this, though: they do have a stellar defense (only 2 goals allowed through the entire world cup), and those tall forwards are deadly on corner kicks. Plus, they're fairly easy on the eyes, even if their D & G ads border on the homoerotic.

-I like France's coach, because he's just so very French, but I don't think he should have subbed for Henry or Ribery.

-The headbutt heard round the world. So, maybe the Italian deserved it after giving Zidane a titty twister and allegedly making some sort of racist remark about Zizou's Algerian heritage ("dirty terrorist" is the current rumor), but it was a bad thing to do. Not because it was "vicious" or "classless" (Don't you love how the broadcasters kissed Z's butt all game and did a complete 180 after the headbutt? It reminded me of Joe Buck freaking out when Randy Moss fake-mooned the crowd.) but because he let his teammates down. He KNEW it was a guaranteed red card and he did it anyways. He's the captain, and he missed the end of a World Cup final because he couldn't control his temper. So, yeah, it was stupid, and it sucks that it happened in his last game ever. Seriously, though, a headbutt? Ridiculous...yet 100% badass.

-Goodbye, World Cup, I'll miss you. See you in South Africa in 2010.

List #29...Worst Movies I Actually Paid Money to See in the Theater

I am not a very picky person. I like almost every person I meet, beer I drink, food I eat, and movie I watch. However, the things that I dislike, I dislike vehemently. They say hate is a strong word. Well, I hate these movies:

6. Joe vs. The Volcano. Even my thirteen year old self didn't think this movie was funny. The whole beginning part when they portray how dull, monotonous, and tedious Joe's life is pre-volcano was so dull, monotonous, and tedious that it ruined the entire movie.
5. Maid in Manhattan. Yes, I saw this in the theater. Willingly. I have no idea why.
4. All three of the new Star Wars movies. They all sucked. But the one with Jar Jar Binks sucked the most.
3. Blair Witch Project. I would have liked this movie a lot more if the painfully annoying girl had died first.
2. Diary of a Mad Black Woman. I ended up seeing this movie because Million Dollar Baby was sold out. I should have just gone home instead.

and the movie I hate most of all in the entire world....

1. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Utter and complete crap.

Happy weekend, everyone! I'm headed to P-town and then the Madonna concert on Monday night.

My lucky day

I knew today was going to be a good day when I put on a pair of (dirty) jeans and found a five dollar bill in the pocket. Then, I found this video of the old Be Like Mike Gatorade commercial on YouTube. Love it! I don't even mind that the song will now be stuck in my head for the rest of the day....Sometimes I dream, that he is me...
Then, my friend Colann emailed me to say she won two tickets to see Madonna on Monday night and asked if I wanted to go with her. Score!
Good things DO happen to bad people.

A tip for the gentlemen

Men, if you are starting to lose your hair, do yourself a favor, and buzz it! Trust me. It looks much better.

Hot:



Not hot:



Can you believe Andre Aggasi used to look like that?

As an aside, congratulations to the hot, bald Zinedine Zidane and the rest of the French team on reaching the World Cup finals. I hope you crush those crybaby Italians.

Nicaraguan presidential candidate dies

This update will likely be of interest solely to my Peace Corps friends, but there's a lot of political shakeup going on in Nicaragua. Herty Lewites, the mayor of Managua, was expelled from the FSLN (the original Sandinista party) last spring after challenging the leadership of Daniel Ortega. Herty formed a new political party, the Movimiento de Renovación Sandinista, and several former FSLN party members joined him. From the article:

Lewites' political profile may originally have been that of a traditional FSLN militant engaged in the anti-Somoza struggle, but his rupture with Daniel Ortega and the latter's eternal presidential candidacy earned him respect among two distinct groups. Sandinistas anxious not to continue eternally losing with the same candidate turned to him, as did many disillusioned Nicaraguans who were seeking a real change from an old politics defined by a pitiful choice between two caudillos: Arnoldo Alemán and Daniel Ortega himself, partners in a dark political enterprise that has multiplied corruption, impoverished the country and weakened its institutions.

Lewites died of a heart attack last week, and with the presidential election just a few months away, it isn't clear if his party is going to choose a new candidate. I was living in Nicaragua during the last presidential election, and the country's political fervor blows America's out of the water. Since the country's economy hasn't improved much over the last five years, it's entirely possible that a leftist candidate will be voted back into office.

Weekend Report

Friday- While waiting for my friends Jeff and Heather to arrive from a long road trip from West Virginia, I decided to meet up with my friend Bob and one of his coworkers for drinks. The good news? Bob had won $500 on a scratch ticket, so we drank a zillion beers, leading to conversations like this one:

Bob: Hey, what was that 80s movie with the dead guy?
Eileen and Mark: Weekend At Bernie's!
Bob: No, not that one.
Eileen and Mark: Weekend at Bernie's II!
Bob: No! Oh, now I remember. Animal House.
Eileen: What? Animal House doesn't feature a corpse.
Bob: I meant John Belushi- he's dead.
Mark: Well, you shouldn't have phrased it "80s movie with a dead guy," because that is clearly Weekend at Bernie's.

Saturday- Jeff went on a fishing trip for the bachelor party, so Heather and I did the Boston tourist thing: Freedom trail, swan boats, Faneuil Hall, North End. We also watched France defeat Brazil, stopped by a barbecue at Sue and Phil's house, and did a mini Southie bar tour.

Sunday- My Peace Corps friends Jake and Gina got hitched. We had a great time at the wedding, and were on our best behavior until the reception ended, at which point I got yelled at for playing the piano and Jeff berated for climbing up on the sign in front of the restaurant in an attempt to rearrange the letters spelling "Congratulations Gina and Jake" into something more comical. We ended up partying back at the hotel with the happy couple and their crazy friends into the wee hours.

Monday- We went up to the Crane's beach on the North Shore with Jeff's cousin and her four daughters, three of whom are little, hyper, and hilarious. As soon as I walked into the house, they pounced and made me an offer I couldn't refuse:

"Hi! We have an albino hedgehog named Billy Idol and our dad dyed him blue with food coloring! Wanna see?"

After a few hours at the beach, we had dinner in Newburyport and then drove the strip in Hampton Beach, NH, so Jeff and Heather had both the high and lowbrow New England summer experience.

Tuesday- Watched more World Cup, and attended my niece Nora's 1st birthday party. Isn't she cute?

Happy 4th of July weekend

I started the celebrations early by sneaking out of work to watch the Germany vs. Argentina game (Germany won in a shootout), and now I'm back in the lab, pretending to be sober.


I'll be staying in town for a wedding on Sunday. On the 4th, I'm hoping to catch the annual turnaround sail of the longest commissioned ship in the Navy, the USS Constitution. I fucking love Old Ironsides. It's also my adorable niece's first birthday party. I decided to ix-nay my plan of selling glow necklaces (I fucking love glow necklaces!) at the fireworks on Tuesday night after someone told me that he got arrested for selling them without a license last year.

Have a happy and safe Independence Day, everyone!

Restaurant Review: Cafe Polonia

Ever since I read this book, I've been obsessed with Poland and all things Polish. When I discovered that Boston has a traditional Polish restaurant, Cafe Polonia, and that it's practically in my neighborhood, I had to try it. I went last night with some friends from grad school, and we really enjoyed it. The restaurant, located in Andrew Square, is small and quaint, with sturdy wooden furniture and Polish pop music playing in the background. The prices are very reasonable for a grad-student budget. I had never tried Polish food before, so I went for the combination Polish Plate, containing stuffed cabbage, pierogi, kielbasa, and some unidentified sauerkraut-like substance. It was very tasty; the stuffed cabbage roll was my favorite. Cafe Polonia also serves a variety of Polish beers, and since I had never heard of any of them, I asked the waitress for a recommendation. She told me that Zyweic is the most popular, and a Polish man overheard us and agreed that it was a good choice. The dessert menu shouldn't be ignored, either. I tried the Polish apple cake. I'd definitely recommend Cafe Polonia if you're in the mood to try something different- a cozy atmosphere, friendly service, and good food and beverages for low prices.

Dutch fans forced to watch soccer in their underwear

Hundreds of Dutch fans arrived at the stadium wearing orange lederhosen to cheer on their team in the World Cup. The problem? The orange lederhosen were part of a promotion by Bavaria beer and displayed the Dutch brewery's logo. Since Budweiser paid a hefty price to be the official beer of the tournament (ironic, considering Germany is quite well-known for its own brews), fans wearing the Bavaria lederhosen were required to remove them before entering the stadium. The result? Hundreds of Dutchmen in their skivvies.

Here's a quote from the article:

"I understand that FIFA has sponsors but you cannot tell people to strip off their lederhosen and force them to watch a game in their underpants. That is going too far."

Damn straight.

I have a confession to make

I have always considered the reading of sci-fi/fantasy novels to be something beyond my level of nerddom. I'm a nerd and all, but I'm not THAT much of a geek. However, I recently read all three books of His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman, and I loved them. Yes, a series of books that involve two child protagonists from different worlds, a knife that can cut openings from one world to another, gypsies, witches, armored bears, angels, an interworld war, and all sorts of physics and mystical stuff. I blame Carolina, who lent them to me, for this recent spike in my nerdiness. If I start trading Magic cards or attending battle reenactments, somebody please slap me.

P.S. A movie is in the works for the first book of the series: The Golden Compass. I'm very excited.

More baseball

I made it to Fenway again last night to watch the Red Sox defeat the Mets, 9-4. Here are pictures of Phil, Sue, Kim, and me at the game, and Pedro getting a well-deserved standing ovation from the crowd. I'm still not used to seeing him in a Mets jersey.

List #28...Best Nicknames

I'm going to the Sox vs. Mets game tonight at Fenway, and they're having a pregame ceremony to honor the 1986 Red Sox. In attendance will be the owner of the Best Nickname Ever, Oil Can Boyd. As far as nicknames go, I don't think they count unless A. They are always used in place of your real first name, to the point that many people do not know your real first name or, in extreme cases, have no idea that your nickname is not your real first name (Satchel Paige) B. Said nickname is an adjective that goes with your first name and first name is rarely/never spoken without the nickname (Sugar Ray Leonard).

According to my rules, nicknames like The Big Unit, although a hilarious moniker, do not make the cut.

10. Eri and Ern (tie). My sister and roomate, who are both technically named Erin.
9. Jeff the Neph. During a biology review session first semester freshman year of college, a guy named Jeff asked a question about the kidney. He went to the board and drew a detailed diagram of a nephron, much to the amazement and annoyance of his classmates, who were much further behind in their studies. For the next four years, he was known as Jeff the Neph.
8. Coco Crisp
7. Huggy. My friend Lauren's brother. I have no idea what his real name is.
6. Pistol Pete Maravich
5. Twinkletoes. A friend of Kevin's whose feet twitch when he sleeps.
4. Sugar Ray Leonard and Marvelous Marvin Hagler (tie)
3. The Fridge
2. Magic Johnson
1. Oil Can Boyd

I'm sure I'm forgetting a ton of good nicknames. Any suggestions? A couple nicknames that I enjoy depsite the fact that they haven't caught on yet are Jiri "The Jirinator" Welsch and Jonathan "Pap Smear" Papelbon.

Stevie Wonder on Sesame Street

Here are a couple of YouTube Videos of Stevie Wonder performing live on Sesame Street in 1973: A funky Sesame Street song and a rockin' version of Superstitious.

Stevie Wonder + ridiculous 70s fashion + dancing kids = pure awesomeness

via Boing Boing

The Answer in Boston?

Rumors are flying....A.I. could be traded to the Celtics? My favorite player on my favorite team? Please, please let this rumor come true! Danny Ainge, if you make this happen, I will forgive you for everything you've done wrong over the past few years.

Weekend Report

Friday- Happy hour at work, followed by dinner out with friends, followed by drinks with Tina, who now lives in Geneva, a fact that makes me quite envious. I've been feeling the wanderlust lately...to bad I still have 2-3 more years of grad school to go.

Saturday- Went to see the Red Sox play the Phillies at Fenway Park. Brett Myers did pitch, despite the fact that he was arrested less than 36 hours before the game for beating his wife in public in downtown Boston. I completely agree with Boston Globe columnist Dan Shaughnessy...the Phillies should have benched his sorry ass, and the fact that they didn't reflected poorly on their organization. Aside from that, it was a great game. I went with three friends who had never been to Fenway before (Carolina, Jose, and Monica), and we had the classic Red Sox experience: beers at the newly remodeled Cask n' Flagon (it looks great- similar setup, more TVs, cleaner bathrooms) before the game, bleacher seats, Fenway Franks, expensive beers during the game, peanuts, and best of all, a David Ortiz game-winning homer in the bottom of the 10th. The bleachers were packed with Phillies fans. I've never seen so many fans of the opposing team, even at Yankees games. The majority of them had road-tripped in for the weekend to catch the interleague play, and the Red Sox fans in the stands had fun giving them a good-natured welcoming to "friendly" Fenway Park.

Sunday- Watched A Prairie Home Companion, the movie based on Garrison Keillor's popular, and very Midwestern, radio show. The film didn't have much of a plot, but was worth the price of admission just for the musical numbers. Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin shine as the singing Johnson sisters, and Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly entertain as singing cowboys. Some of the other characters didn't really do it for me...Kevin Klein as the bumbling detective, Virginia Madsen as the angel, and Maya Rudolph as the pregnant stage manager all fell flat. It was refreshing to see Lindsay Lohan, who plays Streep's daughter, in something other than a tabloid for once. Despite the fact that Garrison Keillor wrote and stars in the film based on his own show, this is Meryl Streep's movie. She NAILS the Minnesota accent, sings surprisingly well, and seems like she's having a great time doing it.

I'm definitely booing this guy tomorrow

I'm going to the Red Sox vs. Phillies game tomorrow, and guess who's scheduled to pitch for Philadelphia? Brett Myers, who was arrested last night after hitting his wife in the face on Boylston Street in downtown Boston. What an asshole. I have a feeling that Philadelphia's going to change their rotation, because that guy's gonna get booed louder than Johnny Damon in pinstripes.

You'll never look at George Washington in the same way

Very strange, very funny take on the Father of our Country.
Enjoy!

via Goldenfiddle

U.S.A. eliminated

The U.S. lost to Ghana 2-1, and is therefore eliminated from the 2006 World Cup. Lisa, Meg, and I watched the game at the Phoenix Landing, which was packed with rowdy Team USA fans playing hooky from work. The U.S. fell behind early, when the one player on the team I can't stand, Claudio Reyna (he is such a Peyton Manning- scowling at his teammates whenever he messes up, like it was their fault), screwed up on defense and got the ball stolen from him, leading to a Ghana goal. Although he was carried off on a stretcher, I think the only thing injured was Reyna's ego. The U.S. did have a moment of brilliance, when Clint Dempsey one-timed a beautiful cross from DaMarcus Beasley into the back of the net to tie the game. However, the momentum was destroyed when a lousy call against American defender Oguchi Onyewu gave Ghana a penalty kick, which they scored. Replays demonstrated that Onyemu made a clean play for the ball and the slight contact with the opposing player was purely incidental, but once the referee makes the call, nothing can be done. During the second half, the United States had several scoring opportunities (like McBride's header that hit the post), but were unable to score. Ghana picked up some bad habits from Italy and did quite a bit of acting on the field, much to the annoyance of the American fans. For the next World Cup, I hope FIFA comes up with a way to cut down on the time-wasting fake injury theatrics; it's very unbecoming to the sport. Better luck in 2010, U.S.A.

Brazil finally played their joga bonito today, beating Japan 4-1. I was almost ready to jump on the Argentina bandwagon, but yesterday's 0-0 tie against the Netherlands was a snoozer, so I think I'm sticking with Brazil now that the U.S. is out of the running.

Kavalier and Klay, the motion picture

The stellar novel The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay, by Micahel Chabon, is in the works to become a movie. A recent update on the author's blog indicates that Natalie Portman will likely be cast as Rosa.

via GitM

The great Fluff caper continues

I wasn't the only one upset by the proposed ban on the Fluffernutter- Universal Hub has quoted some bloggers, including me (it's strange when I discover that people aside from the regular commenters are reading this blog), on the subject. My favorite comment on their site:
"They can have my fluffernutter...when they pry it from my sticky, dead hands."

Now, a state Representative has filed legislation to make the Fluffernutter the official sandwich of the commonwealth.

Ill comminication

A beagle named Belle saved her diabetic owner's life by biting his cell phone to call 911 after he collapsed. From the article:

"Belle was the first canine recipient to win the VITA Wireless Samaritan Award, given to someone who used a cell phone to save a life, prevent a crime or help in an emergency."

Aren't dogs the best?

Dark history of the Fernald School

Last night, I played soccer at the Fernald School in Waltham. The school, once known as "Massachusetts School for Idiotic Children" (well before the days of political correctness, obviously), has a long and dark history. I'm amazed that it's still open. Many of my teammates were aware of the scandal associated with the school- during the 1940s and 1950s, scientists from MIT and Harvard performed experiments on the children. The boys thought that they were participating in "Science Club," but they were actually being fed radioactive oatmeal and injected with radioactive isotopes. Yeah, that's fucked up. Many of the boys kept at the institution were not mentally disabled, but poor and from broken homes. Here's an article about the school and the Eugenics movement in early 20th century United States.

I carried a watermelon

A black and white, silent, old-timey version of Dirty Dancing.

via Sore Eyes

R.I.P., Lenny Bias

Twenty years ago today, the Celtics first round draft pick, Maryland star Lenny Bias, overdosed on cocaine and died. To this day, his name evokes shock and despair in Celtics fans, and many people note Bias' death as the end of the Celtics dynasty. The story has all of the makings of a Greek tragedy- a young superstar, on top of the world, makes one mistake and loses everything, including his life. For me, the most notable outcome of Lenny Bias' death is that it left me with an intense, life-long fear of cocaine. I can't understand why on earth anyone would do a drug that could potentially kill you (um, except for alcohol).

Here are a couple of articles on Lenny Bias and the impact of his death- an old one from the Sports Guy, and a new one from SI.com.

Eat fluff or die

I realize that childhood obesity is a growing problem in the U.S., but isn't this taking things to far? A Massachusetts state senator has proposed an amendment to the upcoming junk food bill banning the sale of Fluffernutters in school cafeterias. Fluff, a marshmallow cream substance manufactured in Lynn (City of Sin), is combined with peanut butter and served on white bread to form the Fluffernutter, a New England cafeteria staple. Inn my elementary school days, we could choose between hot lunch and a sandwich (because some days you don't want American Chop Suey or an oddly-shaped taco), and the sandwich of the day alternated between tuna, bologna, and fluffernutter. The Fluffernutter was the obvious favorite. Yes, it's 50% sugar, and that's not exactly healthy. However, I think the recent rise in childhood obesity has less to do with what kids are eating, and more to do with the fact that they sit indoors playing video games all day instead of running around outside. In addition to the nostalgia factor, my personal pro-Fluff bias stems from several fond memories involving the substance, like the time in college when we dared Ern to eat an entire tub of it in under an hour, and she promptly vomitted up a white, fluffy goo, or the time when my labmates and I snuck a tray of fluffernutters into the department holiday pot luck, and watched on in amusement as baffled foreign scientists investigated the strange sandwiches. And here's another opinion from the article:

``A lot of my friends eat Fluffernutter because they don't like school lunch," said 12-year-old Simone Rivard , a sixth-grader . She isn't a big fan of the marshmallow spread herself, but doesn't think it should be restricted either. ``There shouldn't be laws saying what you can and can't eat," she said.

A ban on fluff is a ban on freedom!

P.S. For future reference, running a Google Image search on the term "fluff" is NOT RECOMMENDED.

Oye como va...mis zapatos

I went shopping this weekend, something I do only a couple of times a year because A. I'm perpetually broke and B. I work in a lab, so I wear jeans and sneakers almost every day. While perusing the local mall for a pair of sandals, I made an alarming discovery. Carlos Santana has his own line of women's footwear, called Carlos. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos....have you completely given up on you music career? Some of those duets weren't half bad. I cannot think of anything less rockin' to attach your name to than women's shoes. And, let's face it, the man is not known for stylish clothing. Would you buy shoes from this man?

Weekend Report

Friday- Saw Nacho Libre, starring Jack Black as a Mexican priest who becomes an amateur wrestler to raise money for the orphans who live at his monastery. Yes, it is a completely ridiculous plot. Or is it? Turns out a real-life Mexican priest wrestled in Lucha Libre for twenty three years under the name Fray Tormenta, or Father Storm. (article via Mr. Jinxy) I must admit, the movie wasn't Jack Black's finest work, and relied a little too heavily on gross-out gags instead of bizarre, witty nonsense. Although I think it's worth seeing, just to watch Jack Black parade around in stretchy pants.


Saturday- USA ties Italy, 1-1! I went to the Phoenix Landing to watch the game with Lisa- it's a great spot to watch soccer, and I was happy to see that it was packed with American soccer fans instead of the usual European clientele. The Irish owner handed out little American flags to everyone before the game started. We got there early enough to watch Ghana defeat the Czech Republic, and the USA fans were buzzing with excitement. Ghana's win means that the bracket is still wide open, and the U.S. has a chance to advance, despite their woeful performance against the Czech Republic. Their performance against Italy was the exact opposite- it was one of the most exciting soccer games I've ever seen. McBride's bloody face (and gratuitous shots of his shirtless torso, thanks ESPN!), one well-deserved red card on the Italians, two questionable red cards on the Americans, goalie Kasey Keller's amazing saves, Beasley coming off the bench to score a goal that was later called back, and, most of all, the obvious heart that the U.S team demonstrated. No wonder the rest of the world refers to Italy as the Italian Diving Team- true to their reputation, they played like whiny bitches more interested in drawing a call than going for the ball. Watch this hilarious clip of them at practice. After the game, Lisa and I bounced around Central Square and met up with her sister Meg at the Tavern, where we watched game 6 of the NHL finals. A few hours and several more beers later, I boarded the T home, still carrying my little American flag, which I plan to take with me to the Phoenix Landing on Wednesday morning to watch the U.S. play Ghana.

Sunday- I'm in the lab right now, getting some bacteria growing for tomorrow, and I'll be heading to Framingham tonight to celebrate Father's Day and my mom's birthday.

List #27....Levels of Nerddom

While talking about the World Cup, I let it slip that I liked Trinidad & Tobago because, as a kid, I collected stamps, and Trinidad and Tobago had the best stamps. Wait a minute....stamp collecting? Nerd Alert! Sticking with the theme, here's my ranking of Nerdliest Activities:

10. Star Wars (so mainstream it barely makes the scale...but bonus points for people who read the books or collect figurines)
9. Boardgames (except for Risk, that one gets bonus Nerd Points)
8. Scrapbooking (people into arts and crafts hate on it, but whatever, it's cooler than knitting. Oh, the heresy!)
7. Comic books
6. Stamp collecting
5. Belonging to a They Might Be Giants fan club
4. Star Trek
3. Show choir
2. Sci-fi/fantasy fiction
1. Dungeons and Dragons (or the current equivalent). The pinnacle of Nerddom.

Journey out of Darkness, continued

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about attending the opening of a photography exhibit on American POWs in Germany in WWII. Today, there's an article on Boston.com about the exhibit and the photographer, my friend Jorg: POWs, portrait taker look past their own scars

Home De-POT

Large stashes of marijuana and cocaine have been found in several vanities and cabinets purchased at Home Depots across Massachusetts by unsuspecting customers. Heh. Personally, I would be pretty freaked out if I opened my new cabinet and it was chock full o' blow. Somewhere, some drug lord must be FURIOUS at whomever screwed this up.

To capri or not to capri

For a long time, I shunned capri pants. Like three-quarter sleeve shirts, they reminded me of all the times in my childhood that my clothes didn't fit (I was a gangly youth) and my mother tried to convince me otherwise. "No, your sleeves aren't too short, your wrists are supposed to be sticking out of them like that!" Even though I knew she was lying, there wasn't much I could do about it until I started buying my own clothes. I completely avoided the ankle-length pant trend. (Do you know any tall girl who wears them? Probably not, because we've all spent years avoiding the dreaded highwater look.) I finally succumbed to the capri trend and bought a pair of flowy black ones. But after looking at this website, I'm having second thoughts.

Right to Play

Remeber how Olympic speedskater Joey Cheek donated his medal winning money to charity? Well, ESPN.com has a long and interesting article on his trip to Zambia with the Right to Play organization.

#1 sign that women have taken over the life sciences

The salespeople that come in selling laboratory equipment are hot men instead of beautiful women.

Book review: In the Time of the Butterflies

I recently read In the Time of the Butterflies, by Julia Alvarez. The story is a fictional account of the four Mirabal sisters, three of whom played important roles in opposing the dictator Trujillo, who ruled the Dominican Republic from 1930-1961. The sisters were known as The Butterflies, due their revolutionary code name, Mariposa. They became national heroes, and their murder became a turning point in the revolution, inciting public outrage against Trujillo's regime. In her novel, Alvarez attempts to humanize the sisters and their struggle. Minerva is the leader, the true revolutionary, and the first to join the rebellion. Maria Theresa, young and beautiful, joins the cause, partly in admiration of her older sister, and partly because she has fallen in love with one of the activists. Patria is a devout Catholic, who becomes inspired to participate in the underground after attending a pilgrimage. Dede is the only one who is not actively involved in politics; she later becomes caretaker of her sisters' children and their legend.

Although I wasn't overly impressed by Alvarez's writing style (check out Isabel Allende if you're into Latin American writers), I was completely captivated by the story of the Mirabal sisters. Before reading this book, I knew nothing about the history of the Dominican Republic and had never heard of them. Many Latin American countries have a similar pattern of history: years of a brutal dictatorship eventually overthrown by leftist rebels, and the socialist aspect of these revolutions has always scared the bejeezus out of the U.S. government. This novel will undoubtedly cause readers to sympathize with and admire both the Mirabal sisters and their cause. It was amazing how much the setting reminded me of my time in Nicaragua, despite the fact that the majority of the book takes place 50 years ago. In one scene, Minerva discovers that her father has four children with a poor woman who lives on his property. The image of the four illegitimate children, dressed in rags while their father drives around in an expensive car, is all too familiar. Overall, I really enjoyed the book and was impressed by how Alvarez manages to transform the legendary martyrs into living, individual women.

Watch the World Cup on your computer

I've been using TVUPlayer to watch the games at work (yes, a model employee as always). You can download it here and watch the games on ESPN2 for free. It only takes a couple of minutes to set it up, and although the screen comes out small, the picture is clear and without any annoying stutters in the broadcast. Enjoy!

Best news I've heard all day

A recent study concluded that drinking coffee may reduce risk of alcohol-associated liver disease. So, one of my vices may cancel out the other? Sweet.

Weekend Report

Friday- Ditched work early to watch the opening match for the World Cup at the Phoenix Landing. It was such a blast- the bar was filled with Germans, Costa Ricans, and various soccer fans from all over the world, everyone excited for the start of the world Cup. Friday night, we had a pirate party for my roommate Ern's birthday. We had ordered a bunch of pirate supplies (eye patches, hoop earrings, bandanas, tattoos, etc.), and guests were immediately converted into pirates upon arrival. One of the funniest parts of the evening took place when my friend Monica and I, dressed as pirates, ventured to the convenience store to buy more ice. I could barely keep a straight face when Monica put her hook on the countertop while I was paying for the ice. The pirates drank and pillaged into the wee hours, but unfortunately, yours truly imbibed too much pirate punch and wasn't feeling so hot the next morning. Somehow, a bottle of Gold Strike (a Goldschlager knock-off, complete with the floating gold flakes) had turned up in the apartment, and I had the foolish idea to try a taste test between the cheapo version and Goldschlager. The verdict? Both nasty.

Saturday- Thankfully, I recovered from the pirate hangover in time to celebrate Phil and Sue's wedding. My sister Eri and I stopped at my grandparents' house on the way for some rhubarb pie. Since it was raining, we borrowed an umbrella, only to discover later that it was the World's Worst Umbrella- broken handle, broken spokes, and obvious mildew stains. We were hoping to put it away before anyone saw us using it, but the wedding photographer snapped a close-up of Eri and me sharing it on our way into the church. The wedding was great- it was nice to see the bride and groom so happy, and all of their friends and family were having a great time dancing and celebrating. Eri and I did a victory lap around the dance floor late in the evening, carrying the "Phil and Sue Just Married" sign. The reception lasted until 1AM, after which was a good old-fashioned afterparty in the maid of honor's hotel room.

Sunday- I went to Framingham and ate lobsters with the family, then headed back to Boston to clean up my punch-stained apartment.

Sporting news

The NBA finals are underway, with the Mavs beating the Heat in Game 1 last night. My pick? Shaq ain't the same dominant force he used to be. Mavs in 6.

Federer watch continues. The semi-finals in the French Open take place today, and tennis fans are hoping for a Federer-Nadal final. Meanwhile, Federer fans are hoping that his clothes fall off during a match.

And most importantly....the World Cup starts today! My pick? France and Brazil in the final, with Brazil winning it all. Even if you're not a soccer fan, get thee to a bar to watch some of the matches, preferably one packed with football-crazed foreigners. Since everyone else in my lab is on vacation, I'm going to heed my own advice and leave work early to catch the opening match between host Germany and Costa Rica. Wooot!

Happy Friday, everyone!

Fun covers for a rainy Thursday

Here's an Indian group doing a cover of the Beatles' I Want to Hold Your Hand, featuring a Mark Cuban look-alike and lyrics translated into the likes of "We also create false promises." Love it!

And here's something that it is so gawd-awful, it caused Bill Simmons (the Sports Guy on ESPN.com) to recalibrate his Unintentional Comedy Scale. It's William Shatner performing a spoken-word version of Elton John's Rocket Man. The cigarette? The superimposed Shatners? The fact that you can tell Shattner is taking himself seriously? PAINFUL! Yet, hilarious.

Still, nothing tops Hasselhoff's Hooked on a Feeling. Nothing.

Senate rejects anti-gay marriage amendment

Phew. I can’t believe our government was actually considering altering the Constitution to take away the rights of a specific subset of the population. Doesn’t that seem downright...Unamerican? Doesn’t everyone recognize this for the political ploy that it is? Pay no attention to the war in Iraq, illegal wiretapping, rising gas prices, increases in crime, skyrocketing health care costs, a slumping economy....there are dudes marrying dudes!
I, for one, am proud of the fact that my beloved commonwealth was the first state to legalize gay marriage. The right thing to do isn’t always the popular thing to do. Kudos to Ted Kennedy stating it clearly: "A vote for this amendment is a vote for bigotry pure and simple."

For a far more eloquent post on the gay equality movement, check out Jen's post on You Would Think.

Movie reviews: Israeli assassins double feature

By pure coincidence, the last two movies I've watched have featured Israeli assassins.
Munich, Steven Spielberg's latest, deals with the aftermath of the murder of eleven Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympics in Munich. A team of surprisingly undertrained men are recruited by the Israeli government and assigned the task of tracking down and killing the Palestinian terrorists suspected in orchestrating the attack in Munich. Over the course of the film, the leader of the squad, Avner, evolves from an ordinary man into an apt and haunted assassin. He and the other team members travel through Europe, facing the challenge of relying on informants who they do not completely trust, the knowledge that they themselves are being hunted, as well as their own moral and ethical doubts. Overall, I liked this movie. It did break my two hour rule and therefore could have used a little paring down. The casting was excellent, and Spielberg made the right choice in selecting relatively unknown (in the U.S., at least) actors as to not overshadow the story itself. Eric Bana, the most recognizable in the cast...at least until the new Bond movie comes out, is completely believable as Avner. I especially enjoyed the performance of Ciaran Hinds as the Carl.

The second movie I watched was an Israeli film called Walk on Water, which, unlike Munich, takes place in current times. After the suicide of his wife, a Mossad (think CIA) agent, Eyal, is taken off of active duty and given an unusual assignment by his superiors, as punishment for his refusal to go to counseling. He is to act as a tour guide for a young German brother and sister, whose grandfather was a Nazi war criminal who went into hiding after the war, and attempt to befriend them to find out whether their grandfather is still alive and, if so, his whereabouts. He spends most of the time traveling through the country with the brother, Axel, tall, friendly, liberal, gay, and the polar opposite of the serious and fierce Eyal. The actor who plays Axel slightly resembles Dirk Nowitzki, so it was kind of like watching Dirk play a goofy, gay German tourist. Distracting, to say the least. At first, Eyal resents the assignment as nothing more than a babysitting job, and becomes irate when Axel voices his sympathy for the Palestinians. Eyal counters by asking Axel what it's like to grow up German, and suddenly realize that your parents and grandparents were responsible for the Holocaust. Over time, Eyal can't help but befriend the sweet-natured Axel, and through bugging the apartment where Axel and his sister are staying, discovers the family secret. I liked this movie; it touches on several interesting political topics and provides complicated and sympathetic characters. The plot was a bit on the predictable side, especially the ending, but other than that, I enjoyed it.

Moooooo

Yesterday, I went to my podiatrist in the Back Bay and noticed the appearance of a multitude of brightly colored cows. I spotted a couple in front of Copley square and a few more on Newbury Street. Turns out the colorful bovines are part of an art project called CowParade Boston. Over 100 cows painted by local artists will be on display in the city during the summer, and come fall, they will be sold at an auction with proceeds benefiting the Jimmy Fund.

via Bostonist

List #26...Best Villains

In honor of 6/6/06...

1. David Bowie in Labyrinth
2. Gargamel
3. Stefano from Days of Our Lives
4. Dr. Hannibal Lecter
5. Cruella de Vil
6. Kiefer Sutherland in The Lost Boys

Book Review: A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole

I recently finished A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole. The novel was published in 1980, 11 years after the author killed himself, after it was brought to the attention of novelist Walker Percy by Toole's mother. Percy wrote an insightful forward to the novel; read it here. The protagonist, Ignatius J. Reilly, is a fat, lazy, and somewhat delusional slob, who rebels against modern society by hiding in his bedroom and scribbling out diatribes on notepads. After his mother drunkenly drives into a building and is sued by the owner, Ignatius is forced out into the city of New Orleans to look for work. Ignatius and society are a combustible mix, and the protagonist finds himself in a series of misadventures involving an array of colorful characters from the French Quarter. I found Ignatius' gluttony and sloth repellent, but at the same time, he's intoxicatingly hilarious. The best part of the novel is the rich language. For example, here's Ignatius describing his ordinary routine:

I am at this moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labours, I make an occasional cheese dip.

Not many books have made me laugh out loud, and this one did several times. Toole was awarded the Pulitzer prize in literature in 1981. It's a shame that he wasn't alive to witness the success of his writing. The fact that the author's manuscript was discovered by his mother made me think of Ignatius, barricaded in his room, yelling at his mother, and working on his own manifesto. I wonder what else the author had in common with his misunderstood protagonist.

Best Combo Ever

Hot, black coffee + macaroons from Trader Joe's = pure bliss

Nueva blog

My friend, co-worker, and fellow participant in many adventures, Carolina, has a new blog: Solo un Rato (it's in Spanish).

Weekend Report

Friday- Got together with the hometown crew at a friend's house in Hopkinton for a make-you-own-pizza dinner party. On the way home, I realized that either A. I am not used to driving on unlit back roads at night anymore, having become a full-fledged city dweller or B. my night vision is failing, because I couldn't see shit. I'm hoping it's A.

Saturday- During the day, I babysat my adorable niece Nora, and she didn't puke on me, and I didn't break her, so we'll mark that one down as a success. At night, I went to my friend Gina's bachelorette party. First, we had dinner at Siro's in Marina Bay in Quincy, and I must have angered the culinary gods, because I was singled out for punishment. When our meals came out, mine was missing, and the server apologized and said it would be out in a couple of minutes. It finally arrived about fifteen minutes later, at which point everyone else was half-done with their meals. I had ordered the grilled mahi mahi, and when I cut into it, I discovered that the center was completely raw. Clearly, they had forgotten to place my order and tried to cook one up for me on the fly (how's that for restaurant lingo?) when they realized the mistake, but rushed things too much. By the time I found a server, everyone else had finished their meals. I didn't even want it anymore, because in the meantime, I had been sampling everyone else's meal, so I wasn't hungry, and it's not like I was going to make everyone else sit around and wait for me while I ate. The staff wanted to cook me a new one and make it to go, but I told them not to because we were going out dancing, and I didn't want to be carrying around a piece of fish all night. Finally, they offered to just nix it and take it off the bill, which is all I wanted to happen at that point. The waitress felt bad and was nice about the whole thing, but you'd think at a fancy restaurant, mistakes like that wouldn't happen. We had originally planned to go to Water Works, but since it was pouring out, it was closed, so we went to the Liquor Store, a big, cheesy dance bar downtown, instead. It was a good choice for a bachelorette party. We had fun dancing, and Gina got to live her dream of riding a mechanical bull.

Sunday- I slept in, then cleaned the living room and rearranged furniture with my new roommate, Ern. With her arrival, I've upgraded from one crappy futon to two black leather couches. Pimpin'. That night, I had a much better dining experience. I went to a Peruvian restaurant in East Boston called El Rincon Limeno. It's so small that it doesn't even have a website (gasp!). East Boston is a very ethnic area, and this restaurant is situated in a South American neighborhood. The tiny restaurant was crowded with latino families and the phone was ringing off the hook with to-go orders. I can see why; the food was delicious and reasonably priced. I had the seafood ceviche, a combination of (deliberately) raw squid, fish, and shrimp "cooked" by marinating it in lemon juice for several hours, and it was SO GOOD. I went with three Colombians, a German, and a Brit, and we had a fun clowning around with the language barrier- the waitress didn't speak English, and the two Europeans no hablan espanol.

Kiefer goes bananas

Watch Jack Bauer take down an unsuspecting Christmas tree.

Friday photo: it's ba-ack!

Some people are ashamed of the questionable choices of clothing and hairstyle that they donned in their youth. Others embrace their past. I give you, Jeff and his Mullhawk:

Journey out of Darkness

Last night, I went to the opening of a photography exhibition called Journey Out of Darkness: American Heroes in Hitler's POW Camps at the Museum of National Heritage in Lexington. The exhibition features photographs and stories of 19 veterans who were prisoners of war in Germany during World War II. My friend Jorg, a photographer, decided to do a project on American veterans after watching a parade on Veterans' Day several years ago. He was struck by the image of the proud, old men, marching in their uniforms and medals. The project evolved to focus on soldiers who had been prisoners of war in Germany, and Jorg, together with writer Hal LaCroix, photographed and interviewed nineteen surviving participants who reside in New England. Their stories are powerful and incredibly varied, united only in the common themes of starvation and suffering in the POW camps, followed by feelings of shame for having been captured and guilt for having survived upon their return home. One soldier told of two escaped Russian POWs who were tracked down by dogs, killed, and paraded in wheelbarrows in front of their fellow prisoners. That night, the prisoners were served a soup with an unusually high amount of meat. Another soldier formed an unlikely friendship with one of his captors. Both were teenagers, an American who had studied German in high school guarded by a German who spoke a little English, who snuck the American extra food and treated him like a human being. After the war ended, the American sent care packages to his former prison guard, who resided in East Germany, but never heard back once the communist government began censoring the mail. After the Berlin Wall was taken down, the American received a letter and package from his German pen-pal, thanking him for good received over forty years prior. About ten of the veterans featured in the exposition were present with their families at the opening last night. Many of them were dressed in uniform, and they universally were proud to be there, and pleased to have had the opportunity to tell their stories.

One of the most interesting aspects of the project is the story of the photographer. Like most Germans, Jorg (who moved to the U.S. in 1995) grapples with the guilt handed down by his ancestors. His grandfather was an SS officer who was a prisoner of war in Russia for eight years, and returned to find his country changes, his wife remarried. He never reassimilated into society and ended up killing himself shortly after Jorg was born. During the process of photographing and speaking with these American veterans, Jorg managed to come to terms with his own personal history.

Eight new species discovered in Israeli cave

Scientists have discovered eight new species, including the pictured albino, eyeless crustacean, in a sealed cave in Israel. Would it be inappropriate to make some biblical joke about rolling away the stone in front of the cave? Oh, okay then.

Hump Day Fun, complete with good and bad customer service

Last night, I had dinner with former and current roommates MJ and Ern (you decide who's who) at Salsa's. For years, I've been on a quest to find an authentic and affordable Mexican restaurant in Boston. Salsa's is affordable, tasty, and cute (in addition to being conveniently located right up the street from my apartment), but calling it authentic is a stretch. It's owned and operated by the Sausage Guy , yes, that Sausage Guy, know for selling delicious treats outside Fenway Park and offending Beacon Hill residents with the logo (what, they've never seen a scantily clad woman riding a rocket before?). The Sausage Guy himself was in attendance last night and was very amicable with the customers. We had to wait for a few mintues to drink our pitcher of Sangria because they were out of clean wine glasses, so he came over to make sure we weren't angry. And he touched Ern's shoulder several times (however, he did not show her his sausage). Although I enjoy Salsa's and recommend it, my personal quest remains unfulfilled. All I want is a sit-down restaurant in Boston featuring Mexican food (and not Tex Mex, there are several of those) cooked by Mexicans...is that too much to ask?

After dinner, I headed out to Harper's Ferry to catch a show by my friend John's band, the Lonesomes. They sounded great and I had a good time, except for when the jerkface bartender pissed me off. Earlier in the night, I had ordered a beer that cost $4.50. I had a $5 bill and a $20, so I just left the five. Normally, I'm an excellent tipper (years in the food service industry will do that to you), and I would never leave less that an dollar, even for a beer or soda, if I were ever to start drinking sodas at bars. I felt like an ass for just leaving a fifty cent tip, but I figured I'd leave a couple extra bucks if I got another beer later on to atone for it. The bartender wasn't very friendly at all and kept frowning at the customers, so I didn't feel that bad about shortchanging him, because I'm sure he would have dramatically sighed and rolled his eyes if I had forced him to get me change from a twenty. About an hour later, I asked for a glass of water and jerkface bartender sneers and says "Bottled water is $1.50." Keep in mind that this is a somewhat divey establishment, not the kind of place where clientele regularly purchase bottled water. I said, rather nastily, "Forget it," grabbed my purse, and left. I was pissed! Fuck you, man, just pour me a glass of water! The nozzle's already in your hand, and the plastic cups are right in front of you! He was just doing it to be a prick, probably because he was mad about the 50 cent tip. Well, after that, I felt justified in the prior stiffage, and I might just have to blacklist Harper's Ferry, unless the Lonesomes play there again.