TV = Pretty

After various bloggers caught on to the trend of listing their 25 favorite TV characters, I challenged my brother to a list-off to compare our own picks (see his great, and probably more serious, picks here). These aren't The Best Actors Ever, or The Most Award-Winning Actors, but the actors who have stuck with me, entertained me and, several times, moved me to tears. These are also shows that I've watched a lot of, so while I respect, say, Arrested Development or Sports Night, I've only seen a few episodes of each, and therefore can't really call one of either show's characters my favorite.

So, here are my top 25 favorite TV characters, in no particular order:

Samantha Jones (Kim Cattrall), Sex and the City -- The most uninhibited and frank female character probably ever to grace the TV screen. Think of that what you will, but in all her outrageousness, Samantha Jones always continued to entertain (and even show a little heart).

Josh Lyman (Bradley Whitford), The West Wing -- "Well, I can tell you that you don't believe in any God I pray to, Mr. Lyman. Not any God I pray to." "Lady, the God you pray to is too busy being indicted for tax fraud." Granted, those were Aaron Sorkin's words, but only Whitford could deliver them with such style. The character wavered a bit over time, and really only ended up with Donna in the way he did because the show was ending, but his storyline and development continually moved me. "The Crackpots and These Women," "Noel" and "In the Shadow of Two Gunmen: Parts I and II" are brilliant.

Dr. Gregory House (Hugh Laurie), House -- Only Laurie can pull off the acerbic wit of House while still instilling a sense of deep-down kindness in the sarcastic doctor.

James "Sawyer" Ford (Josh Holloway), Lost -- While Locke arguably has the best character development and backstory of any of the castaways, Sawyer never ceases to entertain. Season Two's "The Long Con" provided more insight into his con-artist ways, and I'll never give up on him. Oh, and I think he and Kate should get together. They've both killed people. What an icebreaker.

Malcom Reynolds (Nathon Fillion), Firefly -- So, so great. I've got a trend of "tough-guy exterior but with a good heart" going. Everyone who's ever given Firefly a chance has loved it, so go ahead: join the club.

Ross Gellar (David Schwimmer), Friends, and Monica Gellar (Courtney Cox-Arquette), Friends -- My favorite brother/sister pair, the team producing great fight scenes ("Hurricane Gloria didn't break the porch swing, Monica did!" "Ross got married - again!") and the best sitcom dance number in memory: The Routine.

Dr. George O'Malley (T.R. Knight), Grey's Anatomy -- Fumbling, bumbling George has captured many a heart on his Grey's run, probably more than McDreamy himself. After his heart was broken by a foolish, rebounding Meredith, George began to step out of his shyness and take greater command of his life. He's just a great guy, the kind of guy a girl would take over a cocky McDreamy any day.

Dr. Gaius Baltar (James Callis), Battlestar Galactica -- You try keeping your composure while the sexy Cylon in your head is having sex with you. Yeah. Seriously. I will not go into the awesomeness of this show here, though every critic loves it and it's one of the best dramas you're not watching. If you're not watching specifically because the title turns you off or you hate anything remotely Sci Fi, guess what? You make me very sad.

President Laura Roslin (Mary McDonnell), Battlestar Galactica -- President Stands With a Fist, who was the Secretary of Education but was the next alive in line to assume the presidency after a near holocaust of the human race, has a lot on her plate. She's gotta command respect, lead the human race to safety and try to find a place called Earth. Oh, and deal with her impending death from cancer. This show tears me apart.

Eric Cartman (voice of Trey Parker), South Park -- Still going strong after eight seasons, South Park never ceases to entertain with overweight, expletive-laced diatribe spewing Cartman. When I saw the Season Five episode "Scott Tenorman Must Die," in which Cartman enacts revenge on the bully Tenorman by killing Tenorman's parents and feeding their bodies to him in a bowl of chili, I knew I was watching something insanely awesome.

Grace Manning (Julia Whelan), Once and Again -- Man, I loved this show. Grace's character was intelligent and awkward, a teenager trying to cope with high school and the coming together of her family with her mom's (Selah Ward) boyfriend's. Plus, she had a crush on her English (or Drama?) teacher, played by Eric Stoltz. And she definitely kissed him. Too bad the show ended with so many questions left unanswered.

Noel Crane (Scott Foley), Felicity -- Also loved this show, which debuted when I was ending my middle school career. Noel was the good guy, the guy Felicity should have chosen all along, not Ben. But, she kept bouncing back and forth between the two and I believe ended up with Ben in the end. Wrong choice, Felicity.

Michael Scott (Steve Carell), The Office -- Steve Carell injects so much humanity into his roles that you can't help but love Michael, even though he's painfully annoying. We always catch glimpses of the fact that he's really a good guy, and Carell makes him loveable. Somehow.

Buffy Summers (Sarah Michelle Gellar), Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- It can't be easy balancing high school with killing vampires. Joss Whedon's cult gem brought great storytelling and drama to the TV screen, and he definitely knows how to tear a viewer's heart out. In his works, people die, and not just minor characters. Same with Battlestar. These storylines are just as emotional as anything you'd see at a movie, some times more so.

Executive A.D.A. Jack McCoy (Sam Waterston), Law & Order -- I'm pretty sure that if someone, who was actually on trial, hired Waterston to be their attorney, they'd win. If I were on a jury and listened to Waterston defend his case, I would believe him.

Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel), Gilmore Girls -- I felt compelled to put a Gilmore character on here, but most of them are incredibly annoying. Seriously, slow the crap down and try to keep the neurosis at a minimum, Lorelai. So, I picked Rory. Jess might be the most normal character, but I missed a lot of the seasons he was on. He sure beats Logan, though.

Detective Robert Goren (Vincent D'Onofrio), Law & Order: Criminal Intent -- This character is only cool because Vincent D'Onofrio is cool. His eccentric characterization makes Criminal Intent one of the better of the franchise.

Seth Cohen (Adam Brody), The O.C. -- Though the show's quality has rapidly deteriorated, and it wasn't really quality to begin with, Seth's witty dialogue and devotion to Summer was the highlight of the heydays.

Xander Harris (Nicholas Brendon), Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- The perfect sidekick, even though he was part of a group. Loved him from the beginning.

Dwight Schrute (Rainn Wilson), The Office -- Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight Dwight ...

Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter), The West Wing -- The delightful Southern Republican in a Northern and Western Democrats' world, Ainsley was an energetic asset to Season Two. Unfortunately, The West Wing writers don't know how to write characters off the show, so she just disappeared. She should have wound up with Sam. Ah well.

Dr. Niles Crane (David Hyde Pierce), Frasier -- Season Three's "Moon Dance" episode was great, and Niles took unrequited love to a new height of painful. Niles and Daphne were better before they got together (as just about all on-screen couples are), but Niles was always delightful.

Steve Brady (David Eigenberg), Sex and the City -- The best male character on the show.

Stephen Colbert (Stephen Colbert), The Colbert Report -- It's a character, and I say it counts. Besides being robbed at last night's Emmys (Barry Manilow? For the love...), Colbert's turn on the Report always has me in tears. Don't know what I'd do without his show and The Daily Show. An appearance on Late Night with Conan O'Brien this summer showed him out of character, just regular Stephen, a guy who is obsessed with The Lord of the Rings, has a family and teaches Sunday School. This quote from him says it all:
"I love my church, and I'm a Catholic who was raised by intellectuals who were very devout. I was raised to believe that you could question the church and still be a Catholic. What is worthy of satire is the misuse of religion for destructive or political gains. That's totally different from the Word, the blood, the body, and the Christ. His kingdom is not of this earth." -- Stephen Colbert, June 2005, Time Out New York


The End.

An actual conversation with my parents:

At dinner:
Me: Yeah, I go out walking in the mornings sometimes. I drive to a nearby neighborhood and walk there.
Dad: Now, are you carrying some sort of stick with you?
Me: Why?
Dad: You need a walking stick. You could also use a cane.
Mom: Be sure to have your phone with you, and your keys.
Dad: You'll need the stick in case neighborhood dogs come at you.
Me: Um, I don't have anywhere to put my phone or keys.
Mom: Well, why don't you just get a fanny pack? That way you can put all your things in there. You also need to have your ID on you.
Dad: Some form of identification. What if something happened and no one knew who you were?
Mom: Yeah, you could put that in the fanny pack, too.
Dad: You can't be too careful.
Me: Umm...

Earlier:
Dad: Your Mom and I did something crazy. We splurged.
Me: What did you do?
Dad: We actually bought a DVD online. We had seen this rendition of South Pacific on PBS with Reba McEntire, so we went online and ordered it.
Me: Why didn't you just buy the CD?
Dad: Because we wanted to watch it! It's wonderful. You'd like it.

Back to dinner, clearing the table:
Mom and Dad: (Humming and singing songs from South Pacific)
Me: Stop, stop, stop, stop. No more singing South Pacific.
Mom and Dad: (laughing)
Me: (shaking my head and leaving the room)

The End.

Why Bush Can't Possibly Agree With Camus, Part 2

I've been thinking way too much about this, but there's no way Bush believes Camus' writings. That's a hard statement to make because Camus' writings differ; just because the characters think one thing doesn't mean Camus thinks it. The Stranger is an amazing book, but I prefer The Plague. Side note: Do you think Bush watched Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, saw the French villain reading a French edition of The Stranger while driving his race car and, intrigued, decided to read it? Probably.

Anyways, if we look at The Plague and Camus' points about humanity, we can clearly see that Bush doesn't understand a thing he's reading this summer in his Crawford Book Club. Lucky for you, I wrote my term paper in my Existentialism & Literature class on "Albert Camus, La Peste, and Religion." I'll include bits of it here. I stayed up all night writing it, so it's pretty bad, but it has its moments. (I've tried to abridge it as much as possible. Yes, there are holes in the attempted logic, but that's what happens when you try to write from midnight to 8 a.m. the last day of finals, a day before graduation.)

First off:

"I am not an existentialist in the current sense of the term," wrote Camus in a 1956 letter to Harvard student Nicolas Daniloff. "Sartre's existentialism seems to me a contradictory philosophy in which confusions and bad faith abound ... Far from leading to a decent solution of the problem of freedom versus authority, [existentialism can only lead] to servitude." Camus cringed at being labeled an existentialist, especially as "existentialism'’s number two man," behind fellow Frenchman Jean-Paul Sartre. Although he didn'’t accept the label, many of Camus'’ works are still considered existential in that they examine human nature and our approach to dealing with our existence and, ultimately, our death.

Next:

Published in 1948, The Plague depicts an Algerian village struck with the bubonic plague and how its citizens reacted to the enormous death toll -- an allegory for the Nazism and occupation of the time during World War II. Dr. Rieux is the novel's protagonist, if he can be called that, but of main concern here is the village's priest, Father Paneloux, who gives two dramatically different sermons during the plague to his parishioners. Paneloux first speaks at the onset of the plague, chastising the villagers, who are hoping the plague will just go away, for their sinful lives, claiming it was this that brought on the plague. "The just man need have no fear, but the evildoer has good cause to tremble. For plague is the flail of God and the world His threshing-floor, and implacably He will thresh out His harvest until the wheat is separated from the chaff." ... Camus' use of religious figures is interesting, especially here and in The Stranger where he shows how many use religion as a crutch and an excuse to not think critically about their existence and whether or not their actions are genuine or meaningful. Paneloux didn't want to accept the plague and its death toll and chose to chalk it up to a demanding God who strikes fear in his creations and does what he pleases when he pleases. (Pat Robertson, anyone?)

Once the plague begins to spread, however, and the death toll raises, Paneloux's and the villagers' views on the destruction alter. The priest's second sermon comes in stark contrast to his first, and here we are able to glimpse into Camus's character and perhaps his true feelings about religion, or at least his feelings on how one who is religious should approach issues such as human suffering. After witnessing the absurd destruction caused by the plague with the deaths of thousands, Paneloux changes his positions and makes comments in his sermon that appear to the listening Rieux to be borderline heretical. The priest still holds fast to his faith and convictions, but is now edging away from the bombastic claims he once had and admits he doesn't understand everything about God and his reasons behind human suffering. He again clings to what he's been taught, but this time it's because it is all he has left. In his first sermon, he could blame mankind for causing the atrocities of the plague, but now, seeing how innocent mankind actually was in regards to the problem, he takes them off the stand. Even so, he's still reluctant to put God on the stand, saying he'’d rather keep faith with the great symbol of all suffering -- Christ hanging on the Cross -- than denounce God or question him. (This is hard for me to translate when considering the Nazis - they were a part of humanity, therefore humanity can't really be innocent.)

His situation has made him categorize his options into two extremes: either to believe everything, or deny everything. "And who among you, I ask, would dare to deny everything?" We must believe in God no matter what, he says, because he can't imagine a life without doing so. The priest's faith was weaker than he thought it had been and, even in the face of human suffering, he chose to have it remain weak. Paneloux's main virtue comes, though, in his call for action, which shines through his existential breakdown onto a line of hope that Camus seems to find as well. Paneloux describes in his sermon the chronicles of the Black Death at Marseille and how only four of the 81 monks in the stricken Mercy Monastery survived the epidemic, and of the four who survived, only one remained to stay with the ill. Paneloux slams his fist on his pulpit, declaring, "My brothers, each one of us must be the one who stays!" It is not enough to just get by in life, or provide sympathy to those suffering; rather, we are required to stay with the suffering, no matter if it brings us harm as well. "We should go forward, groping our way through the darkness, stumbling perhaps at times, and try to do what good lay in our power."

Camus was highly involved in the French Resistance during the war, editing an underground newspaper called Combat and using his writing platform to speak out against the Nazi occupation and the absurdity of the suffering the Nazis caused. He took action -- something that appears to almost go hand in hand with many existentialists who, although they have no answers for their suffering, choose to protest, question, debate, consider and examine life in its every aspect instead of sitting idly by why the absurdity trudges on. Paneloux can't explain why the suffering is occurring, though he won't hold God accountable, but he chooses to not run from it and places himself in the midst of it, treating victims of the plague until he succumbs to his own, mysterious sickness soon after his second sermon and dies.

Finally:

It's not enough for those who claim religion to only cling to the ideals they've been raised with and not question God at all. Camus is showing the dangers of false hope and, ultimately, the dangers of religion when those who claim it do so shallowly and without regard for humanity. At the end of the novel, Rieux has a sense of hope that future generations will continue and hopefully learn something from their predecessors, each group trying to make due with the hands they've been dealt. His hope is in humanity, not in God or any other form of god. He puts his trust in man, though he knows man is fallible, but in light of the plague, Rieux decides to take his chances. Neither Camus nor the reader can blame him.
-------
The Bush administration and countless others could learn a thing or two from this. Bush's callous comments about the death toll of innocent Iraqis, guessing about 30,000 had died thus far in the war but chalking it up to collateral damage for the sake of spreading democracy, is anyintellectuallyellectualy honest. I'm glad he found The Stranger a "quick read." I suggest The Plague. Here's praying some of it will sink in.

Have you thanked Stephen Colbert today?

This Web site isn't up to date, as it was started after the White House Correspondents' Association Dinner, which was April 29. According to Wikipedia, the blog logged almost 50,000 Thank Yous in its first five days. People are still thanking our beloved Mr. Colbert, though, for sticking it to Dubya, and you should, too. I did. And I feel better.

You teach? I teach: Computer-aged philosophy

In between sessions at the Crawford Community Center titled "Heidegger: Is being a Being really being?" President Bush popped back to the ranch, made a pot of Earl Grey and settled in to read Albert Camus' The Stranger. Reported press secretary Tony Snow after the fact: "He found it an interesting book and a quick read. I don't want to go too deep into it, but we discussed the origins of existentialism." (actual quote)

Now, I like The Stranger, and I think that's what's pissing me off. I don't like Bush. The merging of one thing I cherish with another that I abhor is disconcerting. Many are mocking Bush for reading a book many were required to read in high school (but probably didn't understand). Others are confused at the message his reading the book is sending. In it, without remorse, the character Meursault kills an Arab after a skirmish on the beach (the sun was in his eyes, cut him some slack). He's seen as cruel and inhuman by his peers and, after a quick and unfair trial, is sentenced to death. Maybe it's not the best foreign policy move at first glance, but if Bush actually takes seriously what he's reading, there might be more hope in store for us yet.

One would hope he'd consider the topics of free will, choice, the criminal justice system, perception versus reality, freedom, etc. An honest discussion of these, which usually leads to more confusion than clarity, is at least honest - a trait seemingly lacking from most discussions around W. I wonder what he thought of the book? Is this a ploy to make him look smarter? Or did he appreciate Camus?

One MSNBC writer wrote:

For a man whose defining philosophy during his tenure has been a policy of pre-emptive action against terror threats, his interest in a philosophy emphasizing that meaning is not provided by the natural order but can be created by human action, seems apt.

Is that true? If it is, maybe that's what's upsetting me so ... Do we actually like the same thing? This could be my own Existential breakdown. Darn you, Bush.

I've gotta agree with others out there: I want a book report.

I had In-N-Out three times in two days. Two of those times were during the same day.

"I don't want to move to a city where the only cultural advantage is being able to make a right turn on a red light." - Woody Allen (Annie Hall)

I survived four days of no central air and my brother insisting on driving with the windows rolled down, no matter how hot it got at 4 p.m. on the 101. I also survived LAX after the foiled terrorist plot, and my experience was at the least a disappointment. The time from when Daniel dropped me off to when I sat in front of the gate was about 10 minutes. No pat-down to make sure I wasn't concealing hair gel. No interrogation on whether or not I had toothpaste tucked into my shoe. You let me down, LAX. You let me down.

This is my favorite picture from the trip. We took another one where his head wasn't cut out of the frame, but the "get me the hell out of here" expression didn't change. This was taken on a balcony at the The Getty Center, a very cool art gallery on top of a hill. He humored me in going, but we didn't have the foresight to anticipate the insane amounts of children and tourists who'd be there. Several day camps were also in attendance, with loud, uniformed minorities running in front of and disrespecting the French Impressionists. Guides had groups of them sit in front of the best paintings, talking to them and having them draw their own versions. They were quite annoying in the Rubens and Brueghel exhibit, which we enjoyed nonetheless. Is a seven year old going to remark, "I do appreciate Rubens' paintings of women, in all their fleshy glory, but give me an Ingres odalisque any day." No. No, they're not. Take them to the zoo or something.

Other events:
- Visiting cool used books stores
- Eating at Tere's Mexican Food, at which Daniel once saw Cameron Crowe (a situation I would have freaked out in, with a reaction Daniel actually called "gauche").
- Visiting Amoeba Music twice, dodging snotty hipsters and digging for cheap CDs and DVDs
- Going to The Grove and watching locals marvel at the concept of a contained strip mall
- Seeing Little Miss Sunshine at The Arclight. I'm now even more obsessed with Steve Carell. You must see this film.
- Speaking of Carell, we verified the location of the fictional SmartTech store his character Andy works at in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. It's on Ventura next to a Bed Bath & Beyond and a Western Bagel. I was probably too excited about this.
- Watching part of Dumbo on TV one afternoon and concluded that it's the trippiest of the Disney movies.

- And last, but not at all least to Daniel, seeing Kristen Bell (Veronica Mars) at the Pulse premiere at The Arclight. I willingly took pictures and acted like a tourist, but I couldn't snag a shot of her face. I don't think that mattered to Daniel.

Those are some of the highlights. Quite a relaxing adventure in California.

Finally...

My new 30G toy is pretty. It took a while to set up, though, perhaps because my computer is possessed and has been trying to kill itself the past two years. At first, the iPod would stop downloading songs after it hit one song -- a song that happened to be in my iTunes library thanks to an Ode to the 80s mix CD I made, which is awesome -- Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive."

I tried several times, restarted, uploaded new crap from the Apple site, freaked out, started crying thanks to PMS, was nearly convinced that all technology hates me, then eventually concluded I should delete said song. Then it worked. Maybe the iPod can detect bad music? "'Wanted Dead or Alive?' What the crap, Sarah? I'm not uploading that. Delete it from my presence." OK.

The advertised ability of being able to hold 7,000ish songs is also a lie -- I uploaded about 1,300 and it's already half full. Lame. I mean, no, you're not lame, iPod, don't freak out on me again. You're pretty.

This is going to be a high-maintenance relationship. But I still love my new toy.

French Vanilla

This is from last week, but it's just so hilarious. All should watch.

Seriously...

Dear Mr. TV Network CEO, Online and/or print news editor,

I do not care what Mel Gibson said or did. Really I don't. If he shot a Jew, that would be news. This = not news.

Hey, what's going on in the Middle East? I heard a lot of innocent civilians died in Lebanon last weekend. How's Castro doing? What would him dying mean for Cuba? By the way, how's that whole Communism thing working for them? I've heard it sucks. But hey, if you're going to cover these, just cover them. No fancy graphics, no puns, no elementary phrases.

Horrendous acts of violence and hatred occur every day in just about every neighborhood of this country, but these events many times go unreported by you because the perpetrators aren't celebrities. If Mel was an Average Joe, would his arrest and comments have made headlines?

Also, if he or anyone else had been yelling bigoted epithets about Christians, would the coverage have been the same? Let's say it was a director who had made a film many believed to be anti-Christian who was arrested. Would that arrest and the directors comments have made so many headlines? Is it because Christians are in the majority -- does it just not count as much?

Basically, I'd like for you to actually report the news. Not celebrity gossip, not sensationalized tabloid fodder. News.

Thanks.

Yours truly,

Sarah.

P.S. You're contributing to the downfall of our society.

Tom DeLay's goons didn't know it was satire?

While watching The Colbert Report, my favorite show, I enjoyed Colbert's bit on Wikipedia and his chosen word of the day, Wikiality. He discussed the ever-changing Web site and the everyman's ability to update pages on the free encyclopedia as they like, no matter if the material they are uploading to the masses is true. He then said that in about 15 minutes, his TV show's page will be updated with the tidbit of him talking about Wikipedia on his show.

Well, it took less than that. Within a couple of minutes, this was on his page:

"Wikiality
Stephen creates this word in his segment on Wikipedia on his July 31st show. It refers to changing meanings on wikipedia"

Now there are even more references to the show. There's also a warning on the page saying that because of recent vandalism, editing of the article by anonymous or recently registered users is disabled. Maybe too many freaks like me immediately went to the site and tried to throw their two cents in.

In a few more minutes, a video of his broadcast will surely be on YouTube.com. The information cycle seems to be speeding up. It's freaky, but oddly comforting. Maybe it gives us the feeling that somehow we're contributing to pop culture, spreading its messages along. We appreciate the art, and now we can instantly own it, manipulate it and send it to someone else. Or maybe we just think it's cool. Either way, I like it.

Hustlers, grab your guns

Things my brother brainstormed that we can do when I venture out to LA next week:

We could:
Get tattoos
Get something pierced
Go to the beach and pick fights with kids
Go to the grocery store and pick fights with old people
Go to the library and enact a short play

That's what we've got so far. We're taking suggestions.

I've read she hated Danishes

I know it's a classic, but Breakfast at Tiffany's has always struck me as odd. I won't even begin to ponder the beyond-politically incorrect supporting role of a very white Mickey Rooney portraying a very Asian Mr. Yunioshi, which is just disturbing.

Hepburn is of course delightful, but I feel like I need to have been alive in 1961 -- or at least be better acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of Truman Capote -- to appreciate the randomness. I approached the film expecting to like it because it's a classic and you're supposed to like classics, right? It's interesting, but it's not something I'd want to own and pop in every now and then. The older, hillbilly husband of Holly's storyline is just weird, as is her relationship with Paul. The eccentricity is appealing, but not enough.

I think the film's effect on pop culture -- with Hepburn's iconic black dress, huge shades and cigarette holder -- has surpassed the film itself. I'm more familiar with Deep Blue Something's one-hit wonder of the same name, but I've heard Capote's novel is good. Actually, I think I heard a character in a movie say it was good. The black dress is up for auction at Christie's in London and is projected to fetch about $130,000, all for charity.

I'll just remember the style and nice ending of Breakfast at Tiffany's, and not my confusion upon viewing the classic. Though I can attest to the truly magical feeling of walking into a Tiffany's and being blinded by sparkles. So wonderful.

This has been your random Sarah Ponders Cinema moment for the day. Sorry.

Whatevs.

Dear Mr. Quizno's Sandwich Maker Guy,

When I ordered my sandwich in your store Thursday, I did not appreciate you teasing me about not putting veggies on my sub. I don't like veggies. Lettuce is only good on a salad. All I was looking for that day was a nice, toasted turkey sandwich, and someone behind the counter at Quizno's who could make one.

"Really? No vegetables?" Yes, really. Why would I lie to you? Would I really have had you begin making my sandwich only to say "Sike! I was totally kidding - give me tons of lettuce!" I think not.

I've never liked veggies on sandwiches or burgers, etc. Blame my parents for not force-feeding them to me. Asking me again, "No veggies?" then smiling and saying "I'm just trying to keep you healthy" was the last thing I needed to hear. At least I don't work at Quizno's for a living. Ooh! Snap! Cold!

Is adding lettuce and tomato to a sandwich that already has turkey, cheese, ranch and bacon (mighty tasty) on it really going to up the health factor? Again, I think not. To make that healthy, why don't we take off the bacon, ranch and cheese. And then maybe the turkey. If you're so focused on health, why do you even work for a chain that carries sandwiches of this nature? Huh? HUH?

Today I went to Subway. They made my turkey sandwich, minus vegetables, no questions asked. Ha.

I win.

Have a nice day,

Sarah

You should all read this. I was able to thrown in my two cents on the best and worst TV-to-film adaptations in the paper today. You will probably have to register to read it, but if you love me, you will.

I Conquered Google. And: My high school Prom date is now ... gay?

164. That's the magic number. Apparently, you can only keep a single conversation thread going for 100 e-mails using Gmail (by just hitting the reply button back and forth). Once you hit 100, the system kicks the thread back to you and starts a new one. But, the second one only went 64 e-mails. 164. Try it. I defeated the system (with help from my brother). Yes, from June 19 to July 22, we sent 164 e-mails. Some interesting, many not so interesting, but all worth it. Take that, Google.
_______

Zach Braff has now made it his mission to chronicle the different stages of adulthood every few years. First, we had the gem "Garden State," where he examines the randomness of being a mid20sish guy. Now, with The Last Kiss, he's moved on to what it's like to be 30. I kinda like having him chronicling these milestones for me ahead of time. I hope he keeps going. What it's like to have kids, what it's like to have a mid-life crisis, what it's like to not live off of Social Security because it won't be there. All would be helpful.

Strikes against the movie already:
* Paul Haggis (the jerk who won an Oscar for "Crash") wrote the screenplay. Boo.
* Summer (Rachel Bilson) of "The O.C." fame is the temptress.
* Peter Sarsgaard isn't in this one.

If he inserts a couple of songs from The Shins, he might redeem himself. Either way, I'm sure I'll see it.
________

Someone bent my car antennae. Seriously. Like, someone was walking past my car in a parking lot and felt the urge to randomly bend my antennae. Well, that really pissed me off. The radio still worked, but it looked dumb. So, going to Star Dodge Hyundai, I was able to have it bent back into shape. While I was there, one of the workers noticed that my vehicle registration expired in April. About four months ago. Not sure how I didn't notice that one. And of course, to give me a pass on inspection, I had to install new windshield wipers. The trip I took to have my antennae fixed ended up costing $41. It's always something.
_________

What do you do when you find out that a childhood friend of yours is gay? Especially when the means by which you found out were a phone call from another childhood friend sparked by rumors, and later verification of the new lifestyle thanks to MySpace? He was engaged to a girl six months ago. Going from engaged to leading an openly gay lifestyle with a boyfriend in six months is quite a jump. There's a story there. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough.

Uh, you're old enough to be my dad...

Current listening: "Under the Iron Sea," Keane.
Current reading: "The Time Traveler's Wife," by Audrey Niffenegger
Current watching: "Battlestar Galactica," season one (soon to be followed by season 2.0)

I work with some fairly odd people. A lot of the reporters at the paper are sociable and can form coherent and non-awkward sentences with strangers. But, as a copy editor, I don't really work alongside them. No, I work on the copy desk, which is next to the design desk. Thus, every day, I am forced to work with Creepy Design Guys.

Now, CDGs are pretty common at publications. I mean, how many creative and sociable people are willing to paginate inside pages for a living? Exactly. So, those of us on a career track have to cooperate with older people (in my case, men) who've given up on life. Or really, they don't want to give up on life, but they've found themselves stuck in the rut of working an average job, making below-average wages, yet not mustering up the ambition required to advance. So, they haunt newsrooms across America and annoy the crap out of the rest of us.

The CDG I have to work most closely with has got to be in his 50s or 60s. All he does is design the feature section pages, handling two sections for Sundays, as well as the paper's calendar. That's it. And I have to edit those pages. Let's call him Ned. Unfortunately, Ned is kinda crazy. Like, I-turn-around-at-my-desk-and-see-him-talking-animatedly-to-the-computer-screen crazy. We're afraid one day we're going to find him in a closet, talking to himself in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. Or else he'll just go postal and bring a gun to work. I really hope I'm off that day.

The other CDG, let's call him Joe, is about 42 and lives by himself in my apartment complex. He's short and insecure, and his eyes have the habit of wandering if you catch my drift. He tries to make conversation, but it usually just creeps me out in a Has-he-ever-been-on-America's-Most-Wanted? kind of way. He likes to shoot Styrofoam airplanes at us, or toss us his stress ball, or whatever. But mostly, he pouts when he doesn't get his way and no matter what we're doing, if I turn around and scan my eyes across the newsroom, I'll always meet his eyes. Always.

So, all this to say, pray for me. Pray for all the young people out there who must work with social pariahs who are holding on to our entry-level jobs. Pray for the young go-getters who are attempting to climb the corporate ladder, stepping over one old person at a time.

This is weird...

Watch me walk the graduation stage on YouTube.

I knew it.

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern. A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock. A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything. No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

What's cooler than a Storm Trooper playing bass guitar? Nothing.

Most recent download: "Crazy," by Gnarls Barkley. You should watch the group's performance from the 2006 MTV Movie Awards. Yes, they are dressed as characters from "Star Wars." And yes, they are awesome.

Obama '08

Illinois Senator Barack Obama is my new favorite person. You should read his speech from Sojourers' Call to Renewal conference about religion and politics. It's long, but worth reading regardless. It's excellent, and one of the most intelligent discussions on religion by a politician I've ever read.

OK, this has got to be Photoshopped. This magazine cover is reported to have been taken a week ago, but the scary picture of her being interviewed by Matt Lauer was like three weeks ago. I guess she finally paid for a stylist, but there's no way they didn't airbrush some weight off of her arms, chin and thighs. I am not fooled, Britney. NOT FOOLED.

my life is brilliant.

Hooray for parodies. You should watch these parodies of James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." Weird Al is at it again; a case of mistaken identity; and my favorite, an ode to the cubicle. I relate to those lyrics now all too well.

Oh, how the mighty do fall

This is one of the saddest, yet oddly vindicating, things I've seen in a while. This is Mrs. K-Fed at her recent "Dateline" interview with Matt Lauer. How did she get to this pitiful level of skankiness so quickly? Is it because she's pregnant? If she got worse after pregnancy, what's going to happen to average-looking women once they have kids? Either this doesn't bode well for the rest of us, or it just demonstrates that money can't buy style, or more importantly, class.

As one Washington Post writer wrote: Spears fidgeted, blathered and wept through the interview last week and one couldn't help but gape in amazement at her astonishing aesthetic meltdown. It's hard to recall the last time someone as famous as Spears -- without any accompanying substance-abuse rumors -- appeared so startlingly, slovenly wretched. The pop singer's golden glow of stardom had been dimming, but this was the moment when it dropped below the horizon.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Catching up on my morning reading:

The damage done to U.S. honor and prestige around the world, and to America's ability to mobilize support for the fight against Islamic extremism, far outweighed any intelligence gathered.

The point here isn't to go all bleeding-heart over three men who may well have been the type who gleefully slaughter innocents in the name of a warped religiousness. The point is that when our government mocks transparency and tries to conduct this war of ideas in the shadows, away from prying eyes, we defeat ourselves.

And of course, on the subject of the Devil incarnate:

Her toxicity is more about salesmanship than citizenship, more high-decibel attention whoring than true ideology. The problem is, a public that would make Coulter's "Godless: The Church of Liberalism" the top-selling book in the country (it was still holding steady at No. 2 on Amazon.com as of Friday) can't differentiate between the pontificating preacher and the profiteering promoter.

Beelzebub even says so herself, on her Web site:

The establishment's current obsession with me is the mainstream media's last stand. They've deployed the whole lineup of yesterday's power brokers against me, and all they've accomplished is to make my book the No. 1 book in the country. In other words, their efforts to defeat me have just created more people like me. Now who's stuck in an unwinnable quagmire, losers?

I must caution you, though, that visiting her sight could lower your IQ, produce cold sweats and blurred vision, and force you call on all that is holy to make the harsh, hissing sounds in your ears subside. Say 10 Hail Marys, take a shot of tequila, hug someone and watch The Daily Show to redeem yourself.

Prettiest town I've ever seen

(OK, so that movie was set in Abilene, Kansas, but it's still cool).

Top Reasons to live in Abilene, Texas:
20. It's the "Friendly Frontier!"
19. You get to explain to outsiders what the "Big Country" is.
18. We've got more churches per capita than any other U.S. city.
17. You can't go anywhere without seeing someone from ACU, and/or an ACU car decal.
16. The Mall of Abilene now has a Chucky Cheese (with a bar for the disillusioned parents).
15. The college football games are held at the high school football stadium. Convenient.
14. With three universities in town, who needs student movie ticket prices? Not us!
13. The sculptures along N 1st, including a giant cow skull.
12. Hey, David Copperfield came here. That puts us on the map, for sure.
11. The best entertainment in town is provided by a local university's theatre department.
10. For all the creepy bars and clubs located on that sketchy street, Industrial Blvd.
9. Cruising Sayles and S 1st on a Saturday night, using Sonic as the turnaround mark.
8. George Hamilton IV wrote a song about it! (It better not be about Kansas. Kansas sucks.)
7. You can contract syphilis at the Westwood Twin Theatre.
6. We're in a D-level movie market, so if a movie does come here, it will only be at one theatre. Heck, let's just stay home and watch "Let's Make a Deal."
5. Randall "Tex" Cobb was born here and went to ACU, until he was expelled for shooting a flaming arrow off the roof of Mabee Hall.
4. Even more famous people are from here.
3. Downtown shuts down by 8 p.m., and most streetlights start blinking by 10 p.m.ish.
2. The male prostitute, with daisy dukes and knee-high white tube socks, who cruises Sayles and S 1st (It's a popular thing to do).

And, the number one reason to live in Abilene:
1. To work at "a place" that pays you way too much money to sit around and write lists like this on your blog.

This is the scenic downtown view from outside of the office, which is on the right off camera. Ah...the good life.

Single in the City

One month ago, I was a college student, who happened to not have a boyfriend.

Now, I'm 'single.' A young, single adult. Filing my tax returns as a single person, signing up for insurance as a single person, and - what I dread most - attending church as a single person.

Before this morning, I had only attended church by myself one other time. I sat in the back that Sunday morning Freshman year, felt horrible and left immediately after the service concluded. Today was better, though, yet still not pleasant. For some reason, churches - which should be the most inviting and comfortable of places - can make someone feel incredibly isolated. Looking around at all the couples and families, us singletons in the back rows just try to blend into the pews.

But wait - How did I get here? A month ago, I was pulling all-nighters, writing crappy papers and staying up talking with my roommate. Now, I have to call the electric company in the morning, have had conversations with HR reps about 401(k)s and stock options and signed up for Accidental Death & Dismemberment insurance ($100,000 is going to you guys, Dad and Daniel. You're welcome). As only a few weeks shy of that age when the grey starts to show - 22, I probably should hesitate from using the word 'singletons,' a la Bridget Jones. I've got a good 10+ years before I achieve her level of insanity. I promise I won't have cats. I would like Colin Firth, though.

Bible Class afterwards went much better, sitting next to someone who graduated a year ahead of me who's also braving the single yet employed life in Abilene, the Mecca of Western Civilization. Afterwards, I ran into my sophomore year roommate's parents, had a good chat, then continued out the door, to the car, then back home.

I didn't die, so that was good. Tomorrow, I'll head back to the office, working alongside people in their 20's, 30's, 40's, 50's and probably 60's who are single. I think I picked the wrong profession. Or maybe I attended too many summer camps and disturbing youth retreats in my earlier years, making me think it's now or never to find happiness. They really shouldn't teach that to the impressionable youth of the world. They should tell us that we should take time to have fun, embark on adventures and whatnot. Like moving to Los Angeles. Or to New Zealand. Or better yet: Abilene.

I guess I'll have to reeducate myself.

Thanks, Dr. Mann

How grammatically correct are you? (Revised with answer key)

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

Congratulations! If your mission in life is not already to preserve the English tongue, it should be. You can smell a grammatical inaccuracy from fifty yards. Your speech is revered by the underlings, though some may blaspheme and call you a snob. They're just jealous. Go out there and change the world.
Take this quiz!








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On the strip the kids get lit so they can have a real good time/Come Sunday they can just take their pick from the crucifix skyline

On my way home from work Saturday, I stopped by the Sonic on N 1st to get a snack. There I sat, in a striped Oxford shirt and hoodie, waiting for my Coke and mozzarella sticks to arrive, and was bewildered by surroundings.

Apparently, the N 1st Sonic on a Saturday night in Abilene, Texas, is a stop on the small-town cruise circuit. Countless cars were circling the building, most filled with teenagers or small-town folk who've given up on life and/or ever leaving A-Town. One girl - let's call her Tiffany - was walking around to various cars (I guess the cruisers aren't strangers), flirting with pimply faced, Hollister-wearing hot shots. Two of them in the truck next to me wanted to get out, but couldn't because they had pulled up too far. So Tiffany, in her mini bluejean shirt, cowboy boots, tank top and no underwear, exerted herself to push the truck backwards so the boys could jump out.

Now, I just wanted my mozzarella sticks. They're so yummy, especially with marinara sauce. So, I wasn't enjoying watching Tiffany run around and wave at people. I also wasn't enjoying the dizzying effect the cars whipping around the building were having on me. Watching the Abilenians at the fast-food place made me self-conscious, though, looking down at the clothes I wore to work and wondering what these people do or will do for a living. Is a career in store for them? Or will they end up working the graveyard shift at Allsups?

The waitress came out and seemed to think that Tiffany pushing the car was funny. I couldn't really speak at this point. I was so confused as to why people were driving around Sonic for the Hell of it on a Saturday night that I just looked at her, took my food and mumbled a thanks. It took a while for me to back out because the heavy stream of cars entering, with their drivers just dying to see who they know at Sonic, wouldn't let up.

I managed to escape and made it home. This is my home, now. Maybe I should have rolled down my window to talk to Tiffany. I could use some more friends. Then again, maybe not.

awesome

An e-mail I received:

(This e-mail is the text of a letter sent to your permanent address on May
19, 2006.)

This letter is to notify you of your placement on Chapel attendance
probation. The paragraphs below will provide you with additional
information about your status at ACU.

Chapel Attendance Probation
Your Chapel record for the spring 2006 semester indicates you did not attain
the required number of attendance credits. Therefore, you have been placed
on Chapel attendance probation for the fall 2006 semester.

If you attain the required number of attendance credits in the fall
semester, your Chapel attendance probation will be completed. However, if
your required Chapel attendance for the fall semester is not met, you will
be placed on Chapel suspension and you will not be allowed to enroll for the
spring 2007 semester.

It is policy that students may only be placed on Chapel attendance probation
twice during their career at ACU. The third failure to attain sufficient
Chapel credits may result in immediate suspension.

Probation Contracts
Since ACU is dedicated to helping students achieve success, we encourage you
to draw up a probation contract with Mike Spell in the Office of Judicial
Affairs for the fall semester. Contact his office at (325) 674-6818 to
schedule an appointment with Mike during the first two weeks of class.

If you do not agree to a probation contract for the fall semester and you
are suspended, it is very unlikely that an appeal for your suspension will
be considered.

Contact Us
For questions regarding the Chapel probation process, please call the Campus
Life office at 325-674-2631 or email shane.hughes@acu.edu.

Sincerely,

Wayne Barnard Ph.D.

Assistant Provost for Student Development
Dean of Campus Life

So Dark the Con of...oh whatever

Without risking any spoilers, I can tell you this much: An underground gnostic sect has spent the last 2,000 years guarding an unspeakable secret, a secret with the power to shake civilization in its very boots. And that secret, against all reason, involves the messiah and Audrey Tautou. ...

But despite its purported iconoclasm, The Da Vinci Code is at heart deeply religious, and monotheistic at that: It wants us to believe that there is one secret truth that can change history, that that truth is knowable, and that only through Tom Hanks can we know it. Our salvation depends on Forrest Gump. Read the rest of the review here.

It's been highly entertaining ready all the scorching reviews of Ron Howard's The Da Vinci Code, which seems to suck because it stays too true to the book. I'm reminded of a post I made almost a year ago when I attempted to read the book (it didn't last long). Dan Brown's writing = bad. Maybe I'll rent this flick one day when I'm bored. Then again, maybe not.

But I’m still having fun and I guess that's the key, I'm a twentysomething and I'll keep being me.

My family always teases me at my uncanny ability to remember what I and others were wearing on almost any given day, any year ago. Well, really only on days when something important happened, or days when pictures were taken. Sifting through my wardrobe, deciding what to donate and what to take with me into my new life of pseudo-adulthood, I keep stumbling across articles of clothing that take me back years in time. I've found shirts I wore in my high school senior pictures, during Welcome Week and the outfit I wore on my first day of college.

I remember that day because I kept debating whether to wear sunglasses across campus or not. I mean, it was hot and sunny, and it was hard to see things as I made the walk from Nelson Hall to Gibson Health Center for my Personal Wellness or Fitness or whatever those intro classes are called.

The campus had been filled with eager-eyed fish like myself during Welcome Week, along with the occasional upperclassman with a different colored T-shirt telling me where to go. But now - oh man. The campus was a sea of older college kids who looked so much smarter, mature and ready for the world than I did. As I walked past the Bible building and the creepy statue in my pink Old Navy tee, I was freakishly self-conscious about whether I should keep my sunglasses on or not, not to mention doubting my entire identity in general.

I've collected about 50 ACU-related shirts over the past four years. I bought most of them (sorry, Dad), but a few were given to me or were picked up along the way. I don't really need these shirts, 10 of which are purple, so I guess I'll donate them along to someone who does. Maybe some kid will wear an ACU shirt and be motivated to attend the school, thus going on to earn an education and, in turn, change the world. It could happen.

It's weird to think that it was less than four years ago that I looked at people my age with such a sense of awe. Now, I've been spit out of the system that I had once been so excited to enter in to. The whirlwind of finals and all-nighters only led to a lame Graduation Celebration, complete with a laser show, and then Graduation. Now, my roommate is gone and I'm left trying to comprehend the past four years and the notion that I can never have them again. I'm folding up my T-shirts and giving them away.

My current state of confusion is only fitting considering my complete lack of motivation this past semester. Thank God for being able to take classes credit/non-credit, meaning I was aiming for 60s in three of my classes. My other two I actually had to take for a grade, and earned one A and one B (Whatever, Dr. Ash. Whatever.). Oh well. That's over with. Now for the real world?

I'm still packing. Maybe moving out will bring some closure. Probably not, though. Here's to the next years of being a twentysomething with no clue who they are or what they want to do. At least I had a great four years to help delay the inevitable: growing up.

Oh Holy God No

No no no no no no no not another one no no no no no.

Jeb Would Make a 'Great President,' Bush Says

By Bill Brubaker
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, May 11, 2006; Page A06

Coming soon: President Bush III?

The second -- and current -- President Bush suggested yesterday that his younger brother, Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, would make a "great president."

"I would like to see Jeb run at some point in time, but I have no idea if that's his intention or not," Bush said in an interview with Florida reporters, according to a story on the St. Petersburg Times Web site.

If that sounds familiar, the Bush brothers' father, former president George H.W. Bush, made a similar statement last year, telling CNN's Larry King that Jeb Bush would be "awfully good" as president.

"This guy's smart, big and strong. Makes the decisions," the first President Bush said then.

Two brothers have never been elected to serve as U.S. president.

Jeb Bush, 53, who cannot seek reelection after his second term as governor ends in January, has repeatedly said that he will not run for president in 2008, just before his brother leaves the White House.

But that has not stopped at least two fellow Republicans -- his father and his older brother -- from planting the idea.

President Bush said in the interview that he has "pushed" his brother "fairly hard about what he intends to do."

The president said: "I have no idea what he's going to do. I've asked him that question myself. I truly don't think he knows."

In May 2005, King asked the senior Bush if he wanted Jeb Bush to run for president.

"Someday I would, yes," George H.W. Bush said.

"Is the timing wrong now, though?" King asked.

"Yes. The timing's wrong," Bush said. "The main thing is, he doesn't want to do it. Nobody believes that, but . . ."

In yesterday's interview, President Bush said his brother could have a "very bright" political future.

Reality check for 'Dreamz:' film's not funny

April 28, 2006

Stephen Colbert is brilliant.

Monday through Thursday nights on Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report," Colbert takes on the persona of a right wing, in-your-face TV news pundit who'll defend the Bush administration to the death. He's like Bill O'Reilly, only likable.

It's all an act, though, and his shtick only works because his impersonations of the pundits are dead-on, inane outcries about the government and all. He's studied his targets and by taking on their characteristics, he is able to in turn make fun of them by pointing out their flaws through irony, sarcasm and wit. That's the nature of a satire.

American Dreamz wants to be as funny and satirical as an episode of "The Colbert Report" or "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart" but fails miserably. In what could have been an interesting look at pop culture, writer and director Paul Weitz (American Pie, About a Boy, In Good Company) instead overreaches in this silly excuse for a satire that draws more yawns than chuckles.

The film attempts to be an indictment on American society - one that is at war in Iraq, lead by a less-than-smart president with a chief of staff who does all the talking, and in which a popular TV show that finds the next big pop star garners more public interest than current affairs.

Sounds familiar. Still, the film pulls punches left and right and takes easy shots at the president and other Americans that never follow through.

Martin Tweed (Hugh Grant) hosts the phenomenally popular reality show "American Dreamz," a play on "American Idol," and is a cross between the real show's snotty British judge, Simon Cowell, and pretentious host, Ryan Seacrest. Tweed has no morals or integrity and only cares about the bottom line: what will bring in more ratings.

For the next season of "American Dreamz," Tweed scours the country in search of the next poor soul he and his producers can market to America. Playing the blonde, small town girl-next-door is Sally Kendoo (Mandy Moore). Providing the ethnic variety for the show is Omer (Sam Golzari), a trained Iraqi terrorist, with a passion for show tunes, sent to live with relatives in Orange County, Calif.

While Tweed is casting the next season of the show, trouble is brewing in Washington. President Staton (Dennis Quaid), fresh off re-election and an obvious parody of President Bush, has decided to take a break from running the country by closing himself off in his room and reading newspapers and books, items he usually has avoided. His chief of staff (Willem Dafoe), who looks a lot like Vice President Dick Cheney, does the talking for him, and along with the first lady (Marcia Gay Harden), consoles Staton and encourages him to stop reading and get back out in public.

Once members of the press begin questioning the mental stability of the president, the unnamed chief of staff swiftly attempts to save face by scheduling back-to-back public appearances for Staton, including one as a guest judge on the "American Dreamz" finale.

Making Staton have the mental capacity of a third-grader is the easy way out, and here's where Weitz could have learned a trick or two from Colbert. Staton is the version of Bush that some critics assume is the reality, not the persona presented to the American public. Bush has his verbal gaffs and incredulous facial expressions, so why not use those as a starting point for a characterization?

One scene shows Staton describing his belief that he's been appointed by God to his position of power, and another shows the chief of staff telling the White House press core to not ask questions about the president and to remember that, because the country is at war, they should focus on what's really important. These critiques of current trends in our society are not without merit, but they're not fully developed.

Because Weitz doesn't delve into the real problems behind these characters, based on real people, the critiques are barely noted and come across as merely whines from self-proclaimed martyrs. These issues deserve more than the canned presumptions displayed in the film.

The scenes between Staton and his chief of staff fall flat because there's no meat to them. There's a line somewhere between imitating a person and imitating an idea of a person or a caricature of them. It's thin, but it's there. Will Ferrell impersonating Bush on "Saturday Night Live:" funny. President Staton in American Dreamz: not funny.

Moore makes an impressive turn as Sally, proving she's grown past her teen pop days. Too bad this film's humor isn't as biting as another film of Moore's, Saved! It's also unfortunate that Jennifer Coolidge (Best in Show, American Pie, Legally Blonde) wasn't given better material to work with to deliver her usual, hilarious deadpan. Grant's portrayal of Tweed is confusing; we see glimpses of humanity coming from him, or a deeper sense of self-awareness than you'd expect, but they're few and far between.

In American Dreamz, Weitz apparently wants to comment on the state of American society and our preference to choose our own reality - believe what we want to believe - rather than accept the reality that's been dealt to us. He's got a point, but it's lost amid the fruitless noise coming from the underdeveloped and stereotypical characters' mouths.

His previous films, mainly About a Boy, have had a certain charm and wit to them that American Dreamz lacks. The only thing I left the theatre with was a bitter taste in my mouth and a shared sense of his disillusionment.

Toward the end of the film, one of the characters says that Americans can't be held responsible for the actions of their country, which was surprising to hear. Perhaps Weitz forgot to take his own advice and did what he is criticizing others for: he created his own version of reality.

American society deserves its share of criticism, as does the current administration, but American Dreamz doesn't cut it.

Pieter Bruegel, "The Parable of the Blind Leading the Blind"

My friend and I thought this painting would look great on the back of a Students' Association shirt. We'd have the SA logo on the front, then Bruegel's piece on the back. No description necessary. We could probably sell them to the rest of the student body and use the revenue on something they want instead of on, you know, office supplies and executive officer scholarships. (I still love you, Mr. Scott).

Where the crap is Walt?

The definition of Senioritis: At about 4:30 p.m. today, I realized I had completely forgotten to go to my 1 p.m. class. It hadn't even crossed my mind all day. Only when I saw the textbook for that class in my bag did I realize I had missed it. I'm going insane.

- - - - - -

It's disappointing that I've been able to guess the major plot twists on "Lost" the past two episodes. If I'm half-heartedly guessing the big secret at the end, J.J. Abrams, you just aren't trying hard enough. Get it together, man. Season's almost over. Impress me.

- - - - - -

I've already been to the new Starbucks on campus three times today. You will rarely see me without a Starbucks cup in my hand from now until graduation. I'm testing how much caffeine one person can handle.

I Like This.

My look-alike, J.K. Rowling (I just call her Jo when we hang out), recently posted this article on her Web site. It's been picked up by various media, some praising her, some critisizing. I'm not sure how you can make a strong argument against her opinions that our society is weight-obsessed, but then again, people will argue about anything. Just look at me.


For Girls Only, Probably...

Being thin. Probably not a subject that you ever expected to read about on this website, but my recent trip to London got me thinking...

It started in the car on the way to Leavesden film studios. I whiled away part of the journey reading a magazine that featured several glossy photographs of a very young woman who is either seriously ill or suffering from an eating disorder (which is, of course, the same thing); anyway, there is no other explanation for the shape of her body. She can talk about eating absolutely loads, being terribly busy and having the world's fastest metabolism until her tongue drops off (hooray! Another couple of ounces gone!), but her concave stomach, protruding ribs and stick-like arms tell a different story. This girl needs help, but, the world being what it is, they're sticking her on magazine covers instead. All this passed through my mind as I read the interview, then I threw the horrible thing aside.

But blow me down if the subject of girls and thinness didn't crop up shortly after I got out of the car. I was talking to one of the actors and, somehow or other, we got onto the subject of a girl he knows (not any of the Potter actresses – somebody from his life beyond the films) who had been dubbed 'fat' by certain charming classmates. (Could they possibly be jealous that she knows the boy in question? Surely not!)

'But,' said the actor, in honest perplexity, 'she is really not fat.'

'"Fat" is usually the first insult a girl throws at another girl when she wants to hurt her,' I said; I could remember it happening when I was at school, and witnessing it among the teenagers I used to teach. Nevertheless, I could see that to him, a well-adjusted male, it was utterly bizarre behaviour, like yelling 'thicko!' at Stephen Hawking.

His bemusement at this everyday feature of female existence reminded me how strange and sick the 'fat' insult is. I mean, is 'fat' really the worst thing a human being can be? Is 'fat' worse than 'vindictive', 'jealous', 'shallow', 'vain', 'boring' or 'cruel'? Not to me; but then, you might retort, what do I know about the pressure to be skinny? I'm not in the business of being judged on my looks, what with being a writer and earning my living by using my brain...

I went to the British Book Awards that evening. After the award ceremony I bumped into a woman I hadn't seen for nearly three years. The first thing she said to me? 'You've lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you!'

'Well,' I said, slightly nonplussed, 'the last time you saw me I'd just had a baby.'

What I felt like saying was, 'I've produced my third child and my sixth novel since I last saw you. Aren't either of those things more important, more interesting, than my size?' But no – my waist looked smaller! Forget the kid and the book: finally, something to celebrate!

So the issue of size and women was (ha, ha) weighing on my mind as I flew home to Edinburgh the next day. Once up in the air, I opened a newspaper and my eyes fell, immediately, on an article about the pop star Pink.

Her latest single, 'Stupid Girls', is the antidote-anthem for everything I had been thinking about women and thinness. 'Stupid Girls' satirises the talking toothpicks held up to girls as role models: those celebrities whose greatest achievement is un-chipped nail polish, whose only aspiration seems to be getting photographed in a different outfit nine times a day, whose only function in the world appears to be supporting the trade in overpriced handbags and rat-sized dogs.

Maybe all this seems funny, or trivial, but it's really not. It's about what girls want to be, what they're told they should be, and how they feel about who they are. I've got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don't want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before 'thin'. And frankly, I'd rather they didn't give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons. Let them never be Stupid Girls. Rant over.

Where's my billion-dollar income?

Thanks to the folks at MyHeritage.com, as well as those at VHI's Best Week Ever who told me about the Web site, I'm now certain that 70 percent of my face looks like J.K. Rowling. In the running: Daryl Hannah, 68 percent; Demi Moore, 66 percent; Glenn Close, 64 percent; Ricki Lake, 62 percent; Jennifer Garner, 59 percent; Jennifer Love Hewitt, 58 percent; Neve Campbell, 57 percent; Debra Winger, 57 percent; and Holly Marie Combs, 57 percent. OK, OK, so I don't look like any of these women, but one can dream.

Funny, yet wrong on so many levels.

(From Sojourners' April Fools Edition) SATIRE: Pentagon investigation clears Cheney of wrongdoing in seal-clubbing incident

Cheney, wearing his custom- tailored seal-clubbing suit, prepares to club a baby seal.

ANCHORAGE, Alaska - Dentist Michael MacKenzie is in serious but stable condition following an accident while on an Alaskan baby seal-clubbing expedition with Vice President Dick Cheney. Cheney was in the process of clubbing a 1-week-old baby harp seal when MacKenzie somehow got in the way, sustaining a concussion, broken jaw, and several missing teeth.

Asked to comment, MacKenzie stated, "Umph schmph fluh shuh buh fuh," as his jaw is wired shut and his mouth stuffed with gauze. In comments scrawled on hospital stationery, he said that he harbors no ill will towards the vice president: "I realize that it's all just part of the sporting risk and giddy thrill of baby seal clubbing. More morphine, please."

A Pentagon investigation into the matter has determined that Cheney did nothing wrong, as his executive office affords him the privilege of ignoring international conventions regarding the clubbing of both seals and dentists. A Pentagon spokesperson also indicated that the vice president overpaid $7 for his baby seal clubbing license, and should seek reimbursement from the state game warden.

Animal rights leaders have expressed outrage; they're very good at it. Seal-clubbing safety experts have also expressed concern.

In response to waves of criticism, Cheney plans to go on FOX "News" in four days and say he's sorry for clubbing his friend but that the Iraq war is an unparalleled success.

Reports have also noted that Cheney has restricted his outdoor sporting companions to members of unpopular professions in order to mute public outcry in the event of an accident. MacKenzie, 65, is a dentist, 78-year-old Harry Whittington, whom Cheney shot in the face with a shotgun earlier this year, is a lawyer, and Ronald DuPre, a campaign donor who was accidentally harpooned while on a dolphin hunting tour earlier this year, is a DMV attendant. Reports indicate that Geoffrey Payton, a parking enforcement officer with whom Cheney had scheduled an outing to go dynamite fishing this June, has since cancelled the trip and moved to an undisclosed location.

Lee delves ‘Inside’ realm of NYC power players

Published March 31, 2006

Going in to any movie helmed by director Spike Lee ensures only one thing: You'll be challenged to think about life's everyday situations more critically than perhaps you had before.

"Inside Man" is more than your average bank-heist caper, with writer Russell Gewirtz and Lee interjecting sharp glimpses of American society and racial tensions still present on every street corner, no matter the neighborhood. In addition to the ever-present racial dialogue normal to Lee, here we examine the corrupting power of wealth, and power in general.

Dalton Russell (Owen) has planned the perfect bank robbery, targeting Manhattan Trust in New York City with a team of three, apparently thinking of every possible flaw to his plan beforehand. His team walks into the bank dressed as painters with hats, sunglasses and fabric covering their faces, taking the customers and workers hostage and waiting for the police to begin negotiations.

Detective Keith Frazier (Washington) is no stranger to negotiating with criminals, and he and his partner Bill Mitchell (Chiwetel Ejiofor) set up camp, working alongside the police and strategizing their next move. Washington himself is no stranger to playing a cop, and here we're treated to his typical genial mannerisms and wit, but not much more.

While Frazier negotiates with Russell, a new problem in the form of Madeline White (Foster) appears at the blocked-off street corner in front of the bank. Madeline's a key power player in New York, though we never know her exact job. Bank owner Arthur Case (Christopher Plummer) contacted her, asking her to use her skills to protect his mysterious belongings kept in one of the bank's safety deposit boxes.

Foster brings a level of class and artistry to her films that most actresses would murder to have. Here, as the powerful Madeline, she never loses her smile and posits her, at times, unethical requests with a serpentine sweetness you know has carried her to her current status.

The story weaves between action inside the bank and future interrogation scenes of the hostages, each one carrying his own story, stereotypes and opinions on how the robbery went. New York City is its own character, an undeniable melting pot of the American Dream. But what are these dreams built on, and more pertinent here, what have those who've risen to power done to achieve them?

Owen is brilliant in anything he does and can command attention on the screen even when concealed behind sunglasses and a mask. Though we don't see as much of him or learn as much about his character, what Dalton does do and say is never without great consideration and purpose. He says it himself in the opening dialogue of the film: You'd better listen to him carefully, because he never repeats himself.

Entertaining and thought provoking, the film dabbles in civics lessons and sociological studies in addition to its thrilling twists and turns. Unlike certain films, like "Crash," which tell you in practically every frame how important and serious it is, "Inside Man" allows the viewer to decide for himself the lessons to be learned.

Though more mainstream than Lee's typical work, "Inside Man" is a smart thriller that asks important questions, which are all too relevant in our present society to be ignored.

Visit rouses questions, not answers

March 29, 2006

Battling sleep deprivation, stress and nerves, I followed members of Soulforce's Equality Ride around Monday, talking one-on-one with several of the riders and attending various forums.

Each hour brought with it more unanswered questions, and when people occasionally asked how my day was going, I probably unnerved them when I relayed my ensuing existential breakdown before moving to the next event.

My confusion probably mirrors many students' with Soulforce's visit producing more questions than answers. Aside from our now-permanent red handprints from self-congratulatory pats on the back on how we handled the situation, th repercussions of this visit are far from over and the journey ahead for the university in regards to its discussions on sexuality remains unclear.

It's easy for a group of straight Christians to come to a conclusion on homosexuality, but when you're looking a gay man, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered person in the eye, you're forced to reconsider the lessons you've been taught.

The most telling conversations during the visit occurred in closed sessions, mainly during small groups' discussions during meals or in invitation-only forums where students were allowed to ask Soulforce members anything they wanted. Yet even these conversations were stilted to a degree, and upon reflection of the day's events, neither ACU nor Soulforce truly engaged in an open dialogue with the other.

Yes, we were nice to them and cared for them. We opened our doors; provided ARAMARK meals, microphones and PowerPoint presentation capabilities; but were we fair to them? Our constant call was to love them as Christ loves us, but how can you love someone without really listening to them? Not hearing -- listening.

We -- ACU and Soulforce -- each entered the arena with our minds made up. We knew where we stood, but avoided turning to scripture for fear of inciting a feud. Those planning the event feared overindoctrinating us, and a point-counterpoint battle about scripture would have served no purpose. Still, the conversation about why we each believe what we do should have been had in a more public venue.

So we stood there, gazing at each other from across the confusing divide, mainly thankful that violence hadn't erupted, but our intellectual dishonesty damaged our chances of making headway on the topic of homosexuality.

When students mingled with the riders in the afternoon in the Hilton Room, many asked questions and listened to the personal stories of the 34 people traveling cross-country to make their point. To say the least, the sight of the various clumps of talking students and Soulforce members was inspiring. But this much honesty could not be found during official meeting times when university representatives spoke, constantly aware of the image they must maintain and the stances from which they were told not to stray.

The conversations must continue, and perhaps the administration will provide more opportunities for students to ask questions openly in a non-threatening environment - a place we can productively delve into scripture, not use it as a trump card to stifle conversation.

Although it's understandable this type of environment can't occur with 4,000 people in a coliseum, more small-group gatherings and forums should be formed to address the issues brought to students' attention because of Soulforce.

Surely there must be a balance between yielding your time on the floor without yielding your position. We haven't found it yet, but we stepped closer to it Monday. Now we just need to start walking.

Remember, Remember, the 5th of November

I thoroughly enjoyed V for Vendetta, and you should all read its review by my friend Dee Travis. It takes a while to get used to watching the character of V on screen, him never taking off his mask and having to use his body language to make up for the loss of using facial expression to convey an emotion. But, even though we can't see his face, I couldn't help picturing the actor behind the mask, Hugo Weaving, throughout the film. I mean, it's Elrond. Or 'that guy from The Matrix.' Still, he's great, and watching the anarchy he initiates was highly entertaining and disturbing all at once. Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture" will never be the same for me again.

i want one.

I'm not sure what chemicals in my brain are triggered when I see this picture of Tai Shan, a panda cub at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., but I smile, squint my eyes and start making baby noises. Daniel said he saw a show about this reaction on TLC one time, saying that when we see something like this panda, or a baby, or hear one crying, something in our brains clicks and we go into defense-mode, wanting to protect it. All I know is that this panda is freaking cute, so here are more pictures to make you smile this Friday (I'm so cheesy).

S-E-N-I-O-R-I-T-I-S

I'm losing my mind. All spring break while at home, I had the feeling that I had left my apartment unlocked. I had daydreams of my roommate coming home early to find our apartment emptied of its valuables, then calling and yelling at me. I mailed of job applications this week, realizing too little too late that I had a typo on my cover page. I sent jobs for copy editing positions that mentioned looking forward to discussing a reporting internship position at the bottom of my letter. At least I didn't misspell California (Daniel). When I drove back to Abilene today, I missed my turn after Brady and ended up having to double back (because I don't have a map in my car), adding a good 45 minutes to my trip. I have no desire to go to class or do schoolwork and have spent the past few days only caring about rereading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which is still amazing.

All this to say, please don't ask me what I'm doing after graduation, or if I'm still looking, or what I want to be when I grow up, etc. I am fully aware that I need to find a place of employment. So, for now, please think of another conversation starter. If you can't and choose to small talk with me about future plans because you can't think of anything else, then you probably don't know me very well anyways, and I'll just make this easy and say now that I don't feel like talking to you.

Side Note: PAUL ANTHONY: WHERE IS YOUR BLOG? I AM UPSET.

Wikipedia, which helped me not completely fail my Judaism midterm, has a great page about Senioritis. A great excerpt:

Medically speaking, Senioritis is an affective psychological disorder, similar to other affective disorders (depression, anxiety, and in particular attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder). It is not recognized by the American Psychological Association as a distinct illness, but may generally be considered as a combination of attention-deficit disorder and amotivational syndrome.

Senioritis does not affect all people in the same way. While some show apathy, others show mania. In this way, the syndrome can prevent students from performing routine tasks because of the heightened stress associated with preparing for graduation. When taking excessive course loads to fulfill scholastic requirements, many seniors show an inability to find work, control emotional swings, consummate relationships, maintain personal hygiene, etc.

I understand completely.

God's Lovin' It

You need to go and watch this video - The McPassion. I think it's hilarious, but then again, like the filmmakers, people think I'm bitter and blasphemous, too. Here's Terry Mattingly's column explaining it:


WASHINGTON BUREAU: Terry Mattingly's religion column for 3/15/06.

People are supposed to meditate in church, but the epiphany that rocked
filmmaker Rik Swartzwelder two years ago was different.

It started when he visited several churches in Charlotte, N.C., while
visiting family. In service after service he heard preachers telling
people it was their "Christian duty" to rush out and buy a ticket for "The
Passion of the Christ." There were brochures for Mel Gibson's bloody epic
in the bulletins, posters in sanctuary lobbies and preview clips for the
faithful.

Swartzwelder began thinking about the biblical drama in which, as St. Mark
said, "Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold
and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers,
and the seats of them that sold doves; And would not suffer that any man
should carry any vessel through the temple."

So he pounded out a sarcastic -- some would say bitter or blasphemous --
script entitled "The McPassion," a feverish vision of what would happen if
Hollywood and the fast-food industry teamed up to sell Holy Week. The
script sat on a shelf until Swartzwelder decided that Tinseltown's love
affair with born-again marketing was growing instead of fading.

The results have been posted at www.TheMcPassion.com, a 4-minute blast
that opens with chipper children scarfing down their McPassion meals,
complete with a crown of thorns and round fries that the announcer notes
are "shaped just like the Eucharist." Then there's the McLast Supper from
Burger King of Kings or the McLoaves and Fish Sticks dinner (all you can
eat, while supplies last). The meals come with toys, like the pretend
stigmata tattoos, a simulated leather cat of nine tails, Shroud of Turin
towelettes, a kid-sized crucifix and the "cool McPassion hammer."

The pitch ends with this call to commerce: "Buy one today! Make Jesus
happy! ... Alleluia, God's lovin' it!"

None of this is terribly subtle.

"I want people to wince," said Swartzwelder. "I wince when the girl says
that dipping the body of Christ in ketchup is fun. I wince when the boy
hits the girl's palm with the toy hammer and you hear that clink, clink
sound."

The goal was to inspire heated discussions and Swartzwelder and director
Benjamin Hershleder were more than willing to infuriate many Christian
viewers in order to get their point across. The result was an online
firestorm that has been both painful and gratifying.

"I keep reminding people that I am a Christian and that, if they really
want to know, I am a big fan of what I thought was a courageous movie by
Mel Gibson," said Swartzwelder, a freelance filmmaker in Burbank, Calif.
He is best known as the creator of "The Least of These," a short film
released in 2002 that won 27 awards and played at mainstream and religious
film festivals around the world.

The Emmy Award-winner stressed that he is glad that "The Passion" rang up
$370 million at the U.S. box office, opening doors for more artists to
make more films -- From "The Exorcism of Emily Rose" to "The End of the
Spear" -- that can tap into a faith-friendly marketplace out in Middle
America. As an admirer of Christian apologist C.S. Lewis, he is glad that
the "The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" is
rising toward $290 million in U.S. ticket sales.

Swartzwelder is even pleased that many evangelicals, after decades of
merely throwing stones at Hollywood, are now seeking positive ways to
engage the world of entertainment.

The problem, he said, is that some religious leaders have allowed movie
publicity campaigns to bleed out of the marketplace and into the church
sanctuaries that are supposed to be safe havens for vulnerable souls.

"At some point we have to ask: What is the purpose of worship? What is the
purpose of the pulpit?", asked Swartzwelder, who also has led filmmaking
workshops at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Mich.

"Even with the best of intentions, using the pulpit to push movies -- even
good ones -- is dangerous. And what happens when we start seeing more
people making more movies for this audience? How do we decide which movies
to plug? There could be, no there will be, abuses and that's going to lead
us into murky waters."

so much free time on my hands

Sarah -- [adjective]: Pretentiously academian 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com