otherwise known as sheila the great...

Last week, Sheila told me she was planning to write a deliberately pretentious review of The Gates mainly to take the piss out of some of the people vehemently pooh-poohing the display. I became giddy at the prospect and gave her a few suggestions. She then opened up the floor to her entire readership and what unfurled was a magnificent tapestry of italicized Latin-based words, multi-syllabic adjectives, tongue-twisting terms and the usual artsy-fartsy verbal suspects. 'Twas a thing of beauty.

Sheila cobbled all of the words, phrases and paragraphs together and created an essay rife with sentences that bend, twist and turn and ultimately -- and deliberately -- lead to series of brain-teasing cul de sacs. Sheila, the piece -- and you -- are pure genius. Go read it!

call the police, there's a madman around...

Jess: I really wanted a buttered roll for breakfast today but Cafe Metro was all out

Yours Truly: I hate when I have my heart set on food and when I go to get it, there's none left. It makes me want to riot and torch shit

Jess: HA!

YT: That visual is killing me

Jess: Me too

YT: In your visual, did I overturn any tables? 'Cause I did in my visual. I'm also doing a lot of roaring and primal screaming

Jess: No. You were running through the streets setting fire to open storefronts

YT: With a flame thrower? Or Molotov cocktails?

Jess: With a medieval torch

YT: Awesome

hang the dj

While most people were out and about enjoying various and sundry long holiday weekend activities, I was home getting busy...

... with some JavaScript. Now before you go branding me a nerd of the highest order, I must add that I'm illin. I've been battling either a) the longest build-up to a cold in the history of the human race or b) a nasty bout of allergies. In short, I've felt like ass for the past week and a half. Factor in some PMS and well, I've just been delightful to be around lately. So in the interest of not beating people senseless and/or sneezing on them, I sequestered myself in my wee studio and made with the freelance site building and nose blowing.

I did manage to emerge from my bitchy, congested cocoon Sunday night to attend a lovely Sapphic soiree in Queens. We ate, BS'd and giggled all the while ogling the hot women of The L Word. Jennifer Beals, if you're out there and decide that the whole married with children thing ain't doin' it for you no mo, do give me a jingle.

After my lone night out socializing, I got right back to work yesterday redesigning a site for my friend. I built the original site for her kick-ass biznatch a couple of years ago and it's high time the thing got an overhaul. I blush at the thought of any techie types viewing the source code of my first-ever website. It's tres embarrassing.

ANYhoo, throughout my weekend of web developing, I relied on the random shuffle on iTunes and the 80s Alternative channel on AOL Radio to keep me movin' and groovin'. Yesterday I decided to mix it up a bit and listen to my LAUNCHcast radio station. I've been very diligent in programming this station. I take great pains to rank songs and artists and/or banish others completely. The process has thus far been successful in forming a genre-crossing playlist devoid of most shit I can't stand. It's become a source of pride, really.

But my world came tumblin' (tumblin') down yesterday. Somehow... blech, the mere thought of this makes me skeeve... Atlantic Starr's "Secret Lovers" made its way onto my station. The euphoria from the previous track ("Float On" by Modest Mouse) was short lived when that rogue 80s ballad began seeping out of the speakers. I felt helpless... paralyzed. The keyboard and soft drum machine intro surrounded me like a poisonous fog and held me captive. But miraculously I broke free of the sleeper hold and skipped that fucker into oblivion. So let that be a lesson to the rest of that soft rock ilk. You dig, Richard Marx? Stay out!

slaves of new york

Want to help write an art review of The Gates that deliberately smacks of pretense?! I assure you it's a lot of fun. Dust off your fancy-sounding foreign language skills, bust out the thesaurus, sharpen your claws and then head on over to Sheila's to participate in her delightful interactive project.

who's the spaz?

I really have had no use for Tony Danza since Taxi ended. He just bugs me. And, um, excuse me but who told that man he could tap dance anyway? I've seen it and believe me, it's a revolting sight. Is he really that high-powered that people are afraid to tell him he sucks? I seriously want to shuffle his ass off to Buffalo in a box.

I think his ratings are okay so it seems like cancellation of his talk show is out of the question. Since he won't go away, I'll gladly settle for some full-colored fun at his expense. I present to you this gem found in today's New York Daily News:

Click on the image for an enlarged version of Tony taking a tumble.

Notice the impressive amount of air he catches in the third frame and his obvious pain and humiliation in the last photo. It's a thing of beauty. Thank you, Daily News. Thank you!

meltdown

For some reason which baffles and confounds tech support at my webhost provider, my site was down for the last hour or so. I'm not going to lie to you... for a brief second I thought an outraged Tesh fan nuked my site. But I'm up and running again and the faux worshipping of The Maestro of New Age Schlock can resume. Carry on my wayward [friends].

kudos to the cavefish

The Lovely Jessica, often mentioned here, is well on her way to superstardom. Well, she's always been a rock star in my eyes but now I can officially begin my days of coattail riding. You see, Jess has been hired to pen Cosmopolitan's brand-spanking-new and oh-so-saucy Bedroom Blog. You need to be a subscriber or have a current issue to get an access code but it's well worth it! Go there now!

Jess, I'm officially making myself a member of your entourage. Starting now, I will accept gifts of swag while I glom on to any and all of your social invites. Oh wait, I do that already. I'll just have to do it hardcore now. Congrats!!!

the tesh experiment

One day Jess and I got to talking about John Tesh and how we're both simultaneously intrigued and horrified by his fame. During our conversation, memories of the Tesh Cam came flooding back and I excitedly informed Jess of this virtual playground. A former coworker had tipped me off to it several years ago and many a day was spent in her office staring at The Tesh as he composed love songs to God and his beloved Connie Selleca. You know, for years I watched Entertainment Tonight completely oblivious to the fact that he was a holy roller.

But that's neither here nor there. So, I scrounged around Google and found us the Tesh Cam. Jess and I were hoping to see that freakishly-tall towhead tickling the ivories in real time. We were SO ready to be all snarky and judgmental. However, much to our dismay, the camera was fixed on an empty mailroom. Where was The Tesh? How come we couldn't see him writing his patented brand of bland instrumental cheese?

We checked back several times that week and the same disappointing visual awaited. While annoyed, there was a shared concern about the disturbing lack of activity in his mailroom's in-box. Where was the love from his rabid fan base? I didn't admit it outright but I felt kinda bad for The Tesh.

So for the next couple of weeks Jess and I took turns checking in and reporting on the disheartening lack of camera movement. And then we grew bored and found something else to obsess over. The Tesh was soon forgotten.

Fast forward several months later to me looking for a site I had bookmarked. During my search, the words "John Tesh Website - Tesh Cam" leapt out of my Favorites menu just screaming to be clicked. So I obliged... and saw that fucking mailroom again. What the hell?!? What kind of user experience is this?

No longer content to just sit and stew over the static camera placement, I took action this time! Okay, so I assumed a new identity and used a disposable Gmail account created just special for the occassion but it was action nonetheless. Behold!

The Tesh Experiment (Day 1)

--------------------

From: onthewingsoflove@gmail.com
To: jtesh@teshmedia.com
Date: Thu, 20 Jan 2005 15:23:23 -0500
Subject: Tesh Cam

DEAR MR. TESH,

FIRST OF ALL, I HAVE TO START BY SAYING THAT I'M A BIG FAN. YOU'RE MUSIC IS AMONG THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MUSIC I'VE EVER HEARD IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. YOU HAVE SUCH A GIFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SECONDLY, I WISH ONLY THE BEST FOR YOU AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL WIFE, CONNIE. ALTHOUGH, I DO HAVE TO ADMIT THAT I'M JEALOUS. SHE'S A VERY LUCK WOMAN! LOL!!! :-)

I DO HAVE ONE ITTY BITTY COMPLAINT THOUGH. I'M GO TO YOUR SITE LIKE EVERY DAY AND EVERY TIME I LOOK AT TESH CAM (MY FAVORITE PART OF YOUR WEBPAGE BY THE WAY), IT'S ALWAYS SHOWING THE MAIL ROOM!! IF I WANTED TO LOOK AT BUBBLE WRAP AND TAPE GUNS, I WOULD JUST TURN MY HEAD (I'M A SHIPPING/RECEIVING CLERK IN A MAIL ROOM). I WANT TO SEE YOU COMPOSING YOUR BEAUTIFUL MUSIC BECAUSE IT INSPIRES ME. I ONCE LISTENED TO YOUR A DEEPER FAITH II CD IN THE CAR ON MY WAY TO MY BOWLING LEAGUE AND I GOT 3 STRIKES AND A SPARE IN THE FIRST FRAME!! I HOPE YOU UPDATE THIS SOON! AND PLEASE, KEEP MAKING YOUR WONDERFUL MUSIC! GOD BLESS AND KEEP YOU.

YOUR FRIEND,
HARRIET MCNAMARA @<----

--------------------

The Tesh Experiment (Day 22)

Findings:
Still no response from subject

Theories:
Subject is either much busier or much smarter than anticipated

Optional Next Steps:
1. If still no response by Day 30, send follow-up email expressing disappointment in the lack of acknowledgement. Subsequent mailings will reflect the following states (in this order): agitation; depression; despondency; resignation; and finally, violent rage.

2. Send collage via postal mail. Materials needed: poster board; X-acto knife, spray adhesive; glitter; sequins; mini pom-poms; puffy paint; Bedazzler or similar ornamental beading device.

Updates will be posted as/if they become available.

Further Reading: The New-Age Cheese Diet
The Tesh Experiment: An Update

the gates

I headed up to Central Park with a friend yesterday to see The Gates. Truthfully, I was a little underwhelmed in person. However, seeing aerial photos in today's paper and on the news has softened my original stance.

During our jaunt, we heard applause and saw a motorcade driving through park. When it passed us, we realized that it was none other than the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude. Some people were enthralled by this celebrity sighting whereas I uttered a lackluster "Oh, look" and then became distracted by a nearby Boston terrier who just puked on the jogging path.

But rest assured, I was able to tear myself away from the vomiting pooch long enough to snap a few pix of the exhibit:

Click to enlarge



Click to enlarge

so when's the photo shoot?

Beth over at Grand Mental Station had a great idea -- she posed a few blogging-related questions to everyone on her site's Blogroll. I'm never one to shy away from talking about myself so I accepted the offer. Please go read my interview and check out some of the others Beth compiled. It's time well spent. Thanks for including me, Beth!

duck and cover

I think I want to crawl under my desk and sit there until it's time to go home. It might offer a modicum of protection against what is gearing up to be one of those days. The day's events so far (as of 11:13 AM EST):

1. I overslept. Twice. I crawled out of bed at 8:02, turned on Today and sat down on the couch to wait for the weather report... and promptly fell back asleep. A half-assed shower and a mad dash out the door ensued.

2. I stepped on someone's foot on the subway. I'm wearing a light Oxford as opposed to my boots with honkin' heels but the victim didn't seem to appreciate the apology much less the weight and pain differential my choice of sensible footwear provided.

3. A pigeon decided to take off precisely at the same time I was walking past it. Mercifully there was no mid-air collision but its wings flapped against my hair causing me to jump and spasm. I think I may have pulled something in the midst of my freak-out.

4. Today is payday... which means for the past few days, I've had no money in my wallet. I didn't have time to go to my bank's ATM this morning so I decided to use the cash machine in the deli I visit daily. This deli makes the most delicious coffee ever. I want to do dirty things to this coffee it's that good. Alas, the ATM in there was out of service and I remained penniless. As I was about to leave and resign myself to the free swill served in my office, I saw the woman who usually rings me up. She knows of my love affair with their coffee and questioned my empty-handedness. I informed her of the malfunction and she told me to go ahead and take my cup o' coffee and pay her tomorrow. It embarrassed me but at the same time, it's nice that she trusts me. Or more accurately, she knows I'm an addict and can't stay away from her establishment's intoxicating brew.

Here's hoping the rest of my day is pigeon-free and filled with functioning ATMs.

panned

I signed on to AOL this morning and one particular Welcome Screen promotion immediately caught my eye:

I clicked on the Five-Flirty-but-Fun Gifts under $50 link in the hopes of getting some ideas for a possible Valentine's Day gift for the Dating Prospect. Now, mind you, I detest Valentine's Day but I'm not sure that the Dating Prospect does so I'm adhering to the Cover Your Ass (CYA) policy just in case. We've been seeing each other for about a month and I'm not quite sure where we stand but I think a "fun-but-flirty gift" is appropriate at this juncture. I followed the link and found the following recommendations:

Romantic Gifts
1. Britney Spears Curious
2. Mini Pancake Pans
3. Red Leather Photo Album
4. Valentine Tote Bag
5. Jewelry Box

Let's go through this list, shall we? While I wouldn't want my woman stanking like Ms. Federline, I see nothing wrong with a gift o' perfume. A jewelry box is a nice idea too. I'm not crazy about the photo album or tote bag ideas but they're well meaning, I guess. All in all, these suggestions ain't too shabby.

Now let's focus our attention on Number Two (very fitting in this case)... Mini Pancake Pans. WTF?!?! That is their idea of a romantic gift?! Now I realize we lesbians can be overly harsh critics since we have pretty much cornered the thoughtful romantic gifts market what with our tendency to write sappy poetry and mushy songs but this, by any standard, is a fucking piss-poor gift.

Can't you just picture the scene? "I realize I haven't known you all that long but I really like you and I thought the best way to illustrate this was through the gift of cast-iron non-stick pans. Now go make me a heart-shaped short stack and make it snappy." It just screams romance, don't it?

a couple of quick niece-isms

I spent the weekend in Jersey with the McDimples attending a going-away soiree for a family friend as well as a "Soup Bowl" party, as The Adorable 4-Year-Old Niece called it. That was just one of the many doozies she uttered this weekend:
:: One of her favorite books is No, David!. In the story, David is a wee punk constantly being reprimanded by his mother and father. Since the niece is prone to defiant, stubborn behavior herself, she found herself a kindred spirit in David. While reading the book together, I questioned, "Do you do all the bad things David does?" "Only one of them," the niece replied. "Which one?" I asked. The niece then sheepishly mimicked sticking her finger up her nose and said, "But I'm stopping."

Now, I've heard the "But I'm trying to quit" excuse applied to smoking plenty of times but nose-picking is most definitely a first. Regardless, I support her quest to kick the disgusting habit.

:: When I'm home, I'm expected to go to church. As I've said here before, I don't get anything out of it but I don't fight my mother on this issue. I just go and shut up about it. On Sunday morning, the niece was in charge of waking me up. She poked me a few times and said, "Are you going to mask?"

:: During a road trip to the cousin's house, the niece occupied her time in the car by singing to herself. Before long, the whole McDimple clan was singing along with her: "Ann Marie and ivory..." I'll never sing the correct words again. Um, not that I find myself singing that particular song all that much but you know what I mean.

:: The niece wears a yellow Livestrong bracelet in honor of a family friend who succumbed to cancer last year. When someone asked her about the meaning of her bracelet she explained, "Sick people and cool people wear them." "Well, which one are you?" "Cool," she lazily replied.

I should have plenty more of these in a couple of weeks because she's coming to my tiny wee studio for a sleepover. When I told her I planned to take her to a Broadway show, the Central Park Zoo and several other attractions, she became visibly excited. I asked what she was looking forward to most and without hesitation she exclaimed, "Popcorn!" Looks like I'm going to be scaling down my plans a bit...

my unhealthy obsession with statcounter

Writing this here blog and reading your comments is a ton of fun. Ain't no doubt about that. However, I think I derive the most pleasure from checking my traffic stats. And lawdy, do I search those logs like a crack fiend! StatCounter's Keyword Analysis in particular is where I spend a good deal of my time. It's just a treasure trove of comedy as far as I'm concerned. It's also given me a business idea -- develop and teach a course on effective search techniques. I have no idea how some of these people find anything using their current method, or lack thereof.

To this day, I think my favorite is still the person from Australia who inquired about a comeback to what appears to be a scathing insult Down Under -- being called a "freckle fart." Who knew? I genuinely hope that after conducting this online research, he/she was able to answer back with a real biting and corrosive retort. Granted, no matter how stinging the rebuke, its intensity would be dulled by the late timing. However, equal parts piss and vinegar combined with a pitch-perfect delivery can sometimes compensate for a less-than-swift reply.

Someone else found my site by Googling, and I quote, "getting paddled, or spanked on your bare ass.com." Now I have no issue with getting one's bum whacked for pleasure but my question is this -- did this person actually think that maybe this was a valid URL? I may be revealing my geekery here but um... DUH. And because I'm well, weird, I informed Jess of my rather unique unique visitor and then sent her a couple of my own awkwardly-constructed fake URLs based loosely on my site's keyword searches. A random sampling:

http://www.people fucking sheep while wearing, for example, maroon leggings and a fur-lined poncho.org

http://www.skid marks on undies; "pantaloons" where can I get them?.gov

http://www.fashion for butches - ha ha ha ha.com

Feel free to add your own. Or not.

Another visitor asked a search engine, "What do you call someone overly fond of cheese?" I don't know why Yahoo thought my blog was a valid response but whatevs. Is there even a clinical term for loving cheese too much? I honestly have no idea. Kindly inform me if this term has been coined. If not, feel free to make up something up. I heart and support the creation of Sniglets.

In other traffic news, I surpassed 20,000 page visits this week. And only about 10K of those came from moi obsessively checking for new comments. Thanks for visiting!