The Choreography of a Coincidence

For your edification: HOW

For your edification:

HOW TO FOIL A UFO ABDUCTION

1. Control your thoughts.
Do not think of anything violent or upsetting--the extraterrestrial biological entity (EBE) may have the ability to read your mind.

2. Resist verbally.
Firmly tell the EBE to leave you alone.

3. Resist mentally.
Picture yourself enveloped in a protective shield of white light, or in a safe place. Telepathic EBEs may get the message.

4. As a last resort, go for the EBE's eyes--you will not know what its other more sensative areas are.

Anyone want to go see

Anyone want to go see The Life of David Gale tonight?

College made me a slow

College made me a slow reader.

I feel terribly embarrassed that I posted the books in "I'm Reading" well over a month ago, yet I haven't finished a single one of them. (Truth be told, everybody but Jeeves has been sorely neglected). I'd change up the titles but for fear that one of you would ask me about the former books I supposedly read. And then my secret would be out.

Even if you hate F.

Even if you hate F. Scott Fitzgerald (and you probably do, if you had to read The Great Gatsby in school), you should find a copy of his short story "The Offshore Pirate" and read it as soon as possible.

Quick, former roommates! I am

Quick, former roommates!

I am trying to pick out my 12 free BMG music selections, and cannot for the life of me remember the names of all of your cds that I would kidnap for weeks on end. (I'm specifically looking for Ben Folds - I think - and somebody with the initials J.J. And whatever Harry Connick CD Jen had in her bathroom).

Sorry the posts have been

Sorry the posts have been so terribly noninteresting. The major stuff going on in my life right now is either highly boring (like 3 weeks worth of laundry) or not for public domain.

Was it just me, or

Was it just me, or did the majority of the Grammy performances last night sound wretched? Even the Dixie Chicks couldn't get it together onstage.

And, although I am just thrilled at Norah Jones's sweep of awards (especially considering that she beat out Brittney Spears, Eminem, and No Doubt), I have to say that she is an appallingly bad public speaker.

Living with Jennifer warped me.

Living with Jennifer warped me. I bought a copy of Center Stage this weekend.

Every time I see the

Every time I see the movie Clueless, I mean to start awarding people snaps for fabulous outfits.

Lightbulb Jokes How many secretaries

Lightbulb Jokes

How many secretaries does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
None. It's not in her job description.

How many sopranos does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
One. She just holds on, and the world revolves around her.

How many people from Wyoming does it take to change a lightbulb?
All of them.

How many college students does it take to change a lightbulb?
They don't technically CHANGE the lightbulb, they swap with
their roommate's desk lamp when he's not looking.

How many magicians does it take to change a lightbulb?
Into what?

How many poets does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two. One to reflect on his mother’s grave, and the other to stare out the window at the driving rain.

How many telemarketers does it take to change a light bulb?
One. But he has to do it while you're eating dinner.

How many Jewish mothers does it take to change a lightbulb?
That’s alright....I’ll just sit here in the dark.

How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?
That’s not funny!

How many straight San Franciscans does it take to change a lightbulb?
Both of them.

How many surrealists does it take to screw in a lightbult?
Two. One to hold the giraffe, and one to put the clocks in the bathtub.

How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
To get to the other side.

How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?
Who knows, it's never happened.

Spring (or whatever you want

Spring (or whatever you want to call this weather we've got going on here) is one of the few times in my life that I am ever really truly tempted to steal something. And that something is flowers. Anytime I spot daffodils and narcissuss I make a mental note of the street address. Late at night I have the urge to put on dark clothing and walk around the garden district with a pair of snippers and a vase.

I do have my own daffodils and narcissus growing in my yard, of course--but this is a problem of pure selfishness. These bulbs only bloom once. There will be no more flowers until next year. And if I cut my own flowers to put in my house, I will have none left to decorate my yard.

(Incidentally, the only other thing I have been known to "collect" and never give back is RUF t-shirts).

In a post that will

In a post that will embrace the doctrine of catholicity and unity that is pervading from our pulpit, I would like to state that I am a huge fan and a solid endorser of Veggie Tales. It is one of my minor points of contention with Pastor Steve; I also had an argument with my 2 neighboring Geneva boys about whether or not these videos are worthwhile and acceptable to show to children.

There is no question that the videos are hillarious and very well-made. They are good entertainment. All disagreements I have ever heard question the theology the vegetables are spouting. While it is certainly not Calvin's commentaries for children, I don't believe I have ever heard anything erronious in a video; it is at worst harmless.

I've heard it said that the videos are not good because the humor makes the Bible stories seem irreverent; also that the alteration of Bible stories is not appropriate. (An example of story alteration: the re-telling of David and Bathsheba revolves around a king who collects rubber duckies. Even though he has shelves and shelves of rubber duckies, he sees Jr. Asparagus playing with his ONLY rubber duck, sends him off to fight in the peanut butter and jelly war, and takes his duck). I remember being concerned about similar teaching methods while I was working at a summer camp; now, quite frankly, it just doesn't seem like that big of a deal to me.

You are the peach.

You are the peach. Good hair. Coolness. So popular it hurts. But sort of stuck up.

Take the test, by Emily.

Have you ever noticed that

Have you ever noticed that in all the old movies and musicals, the tragic spinster/old maid character is always a librarian? Why is that?

I am not afraid to

I am not afraid to stand up and admit that I like cheap wine. I will even go so far as to say that I prefer cheap wine over the nice stuff. And cheap wine is the only wine that I will keep in my house, as I do not own a corkscrew.

I never ever ever feel ashamed of my wine preference except when I am actually at the grocery store buying it, as I was last night around 10pm. It was just routine grocery shopping, and I picked up a couple of bottles of Boones to fill in the gaps in my wine rack. But as I stood looking at the 8 million people in line ahead of me (the scary social demographic that inhabit the Wal-Mart ghetto after hours), I noticed that they were all purchasing cheap alcohol too. I felt like I needed to explain to the cashier and the rest of the store that I was different--I was not going to go home and immediately consume these 3 bottles of hooched koolaid in a row and then sleep till noon the next day. My cheap liquor was going to be used for respectable purposes.

HOW TO TAKE A

HOW TO TAKE A PUNCH

1. Tighten your stomach muscles.
A body blow to the gut (solar plexus) can damage organs and kill.

2. Do not suck in your stomach.
Doing so increases the risk of internal injury.

3. Shift slightly so that the blow hits your side, but do not flinch or move away from the punch.
Moving away only gives the punch more momentum. Try to absorb the blow with your obliques: this is the set of muscles on your side that wraps around your ribs.

Does anyone honestly really like

Does anyone honestly really like Bob Dylan anymore?

I bring this up because he has recorded a song (and made a music video) for the upcoming movie that is going to be ripped to shreds by the American public, Gods and Generals. I'm not knocking the guy's incredible songwriting abilities (as he wrote every famous song that came out of the 60's); I'll even admit that I like alot of his old stuff (Freewheeling, Blonde on Blonde, etc). I just think it's time for him to throw in the towel. He's done all the good for music that he's ever going to do, and quite frankly, his voice (which was not that great to begin with) is shot.

Because someone finally finally finally

Because someone finally finally finally asked me what the name of this site means, I'll post some clarification. The title that is as long as the alphabet is from a David Wilcox song called "Big Mistake". David Wilcox is a pagan who can't keep Christianity out of his music. You should make all efforts to get ahold of his albums Home Again and Big Horizon.

Anyway, this song pokes fun at the theory of evolution, laughing that anyone could suggest that breaking chromosomes and waiting a zillion years could produce "an ostrich, a jellyfish, a kangaroo, and a Romeo.'' The last verse (below) is my favorite, as it is less sciency and more poetic. [WARNING Jon and Erin: there is a line about kissing in here. Read at your own risk.]

The choreography
of a coincidence--
At the turning point, there was eternity
behind a moment's glance.
It was for you and me,
timing made us laugh--
The fact that anyone could find their only one
along this darkened path.

It was a Big Mistake
to have eyes that see
to have love like this
inside of me
to have lips that smile
as I swim your kiss
to have lives that will forever
every part of this
And the moonlight shrouded in the clouds above
and the autumn leaves and the falling love
The still reflection in a moonlit lake
All, they said, it was a Big Mistake.

If I ever have to

If I ever have to grab lunch while I'm out running office errands, I like to go to Subway. It's clean, it smells like fresh bread in there, and there's not a long wait. I always feel guilty afterwards, though. I think to myself, I just paid $5 for a turkey sandwich and chips. I have turkey at my house. And bread. I even have honey mustard and Baked Lays. What was the point of going out to eat?

I don't think you can ever have a truly enjoyable and satisfying restaraunt experience if all you get for your money is a sandwich.

Pssst. The word on the

Pssst. The word on the street is, if you would like to witness one of our own reinacting the fish scene from Jerry Maguire as he bids adeiu to his job this afternoon, you should strategicly place yourself in the lobby of AmSouth Bank on Cypress Street at 4:00. Pass it on.

Did anyone enjoy (or even

Did anyone enjoy (or even understand) The Royal Tennenbaums? It seemed to have such potential (as does any movie featuring comedic mastermind Owen Wilson), and yet it seemed to fall completely flat. The only explanation I can conjure up is that maybe it's not a movie to be watched after a night of margaritas. But then again, if it's as awful as it certainly seemed, alcohol could only help it.

8 things on your

8 things on your desk:
CD player/Clock Radio
makeup mirror
The Riverside Shakespeare
laptop
address book
Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary
The Norton Anthology of English Literature
The Complete Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald

7 things you touch every day:
Toothbrush
Keys
Mail
Lip Gloss
Socks
tea kettle
steering wheel

6 movies you can't live without:
The Importance of Being Earnest
Moulin Rouge
Chicago
Bridget Jones’s Diary
Notting Hill
Much Ado About Nothing

5 Nicknames you have had in your life:
Miss Micah
Pumpkin
Sopharcules
Carmen (Spanish class)
invent 1 for yourself

4 places you want to visit:
New York City
Maine
London
Italy

3 Careers You’d Love:
Chef
Florist
Musician

2 phone numbers you call most:
Wilkins
Leta

1 task you loathe above all others:
Washing Dishes

I can't dance. This statement

I can't dance.

This statement must be qualified a bit; if the dance is one that involves specific steps, I can at least have a point of reference. Yes, I did successfully complete the 8 beat waltz, oops, I missed the kick turn here, etc. I'm referring here to the seemingly random, invent-as-you-go dancing that takes place whenever we have these splendiferous weddings, complete with DJ's and margaritas. Patheticly, even vast quantities of frozen alcohol cannot conduse me to get Jiggy with It. I feel that the problem probably stems from not watching enough MTV as a child, possibly coupled with not having any knowledge of contemporary music until college. What this amounts to is that if I participate in the dancing at any point (namely, becoming part of the circle) I must strategicly position myself beside a person known to be a good dancer, and try to nonchalantly copy their every move. If it gets too complicated (or crosses the line of appropriate booty shaking), I have to quit.

My quandry is this. I know of kids (particularly my 3 surrogate siblings down the street) who live in homes where MTV is frowned upon--yet they can all dance fabulously. How so?

Stephen Sondheim, the horrific mastermind

Stephen Sondheim, the horrific mastermind behind such broadway blockbusters as Cats and Jesus Christ, Superstar, has written a musical entitled By Jeeves. When I first heard of this production, I thought the name had to be merely coincidence; however, my worst fears have been confirmed. The play is a musical retalling of the tales of Jeeves and Wooster by P.G. Wodehouse.

I am certainly a huge fan of the majority of musical theatre out there, but this crosses all lines of decorum. Under no circumstances would Jeeves ever conceivably burst into song, especially not the wordy musical rabbit-trails that Sondheim composes. And Wooster would never sing anything but a rousing drinking tune.

This is just to say

This is just to say
I have eaten the plums
That were in your icebox.

And which
you were probably
saving for breakfast.

Forgive me.
They were delicious.
So sweet
and so cold.

I would just like to

I would just like to go on the record and state that if I am ever so lucky as to have someone throw me an (ahem) pajama shower, my mother is to be nowhere near the premisis. It's really great that Mrs. Rockett and Mrs. Huntington and all the aunts and sisters are so cool about all that and can laugh and have fun at such an occasion. My mother would fall into a dead faint and have to undergo Victorian Shock Therapy.

I watched Grease out of

I watched Grease out of sheer boredom the other night...and noticed that during the song "These Magic Changes", the backup singers are actually singing the guitar chords. Seriously. They're saying, "G, G, G, A, A, A, A, F, F, F, F, G, G, G, G, 7, 7, 7," etc. You will notice that that's only 4 guitar chords to keep up with. And yet, they had to sing it to remember.

Alright all you Elizabeth Posts

Alright all you Elizabeth Posts out there. How many wedding showers do you have to go to before you can legitimately stop buying gifts? Don't get me wrong, it's really nice of everyone to invite me, and the showers are usually lots of fun, but this is like the fourth gift I've had to buy for the same couple. Do you just politely decline the invite, or can you go to the party and not bring a gift?

There are such definate perks

There are such definate perks to my job.

Not that this is what I want to be doing in real life. This little English major had far more grandeiose ambitions than sitting at a desk and typing appraisals all day long (not to mention that after my 6 month secretarial stint in high school, I swore up, down, and sideways that I'd never do this again).

Our office is a pretty old building masquerading as an antique shop. Due to its age and a large commodity of tall trees near the street, any time we have a good thunderstorm here, the power goes out for the rest of the day. It's fantastic. A completely unexpected mini-break.

Numerous animals run through here all day long...the Horton's hunting dog, Aleta's english setter (Dabney), and the office cat, Mr. Darcy. Most recently, we aquired an office infant, who can make more noise and cause more hubub than all of these animals combined. It's become my responsibility to keep baby Gus whenever Aleta has to go look at a house; this is usually the most fun part of my job (as you can't really do much typing while holding an infant). It's easy to sit there and get all misty eyed and nostalgic about babies.

And then there are mornings like this one, where he cried unconsolably for 2 hours. And that's when I think, Nah, motherhood can wait.

HOW TO ESCAPE FROM

HOW TO ESCAPE FROM A CAR HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF A CLIFF

4. Reassess your situation, and make your escape.
Exit throught the rear doors if possible. If not, use a steering wheel lock to break a window.

So to add to the

So to add to the list of scandalous things I did last weekend...

I saw Chicago, and it was fantastic. I suppose it will have to fit into the category of movies that you loved but you're not sure if you should recommend; however, I can safely say that if you enjoyed Moulin Rouge (for reasons other than that you think it was the most Christian movie of 2002), you will like this film. The vocals are consistantly better than those in Moulin Rouge, with the possible exception of Richard Gere, who hits all his notes but sings in a funny nasal accent. John C. Riley's "Mr. Cellophane" blows all of Ewan McGregor's warbling out of the water. The choreography is truly stunning, albeit a tad racy at times. (Gere's tap dance received a standing ovation from the audience in the movie theatre). The story seems to flow so much better in the movie than in the play; instead of being entirely comic and vaudvillian, all musical numbers occur in Roxie's imagination--so you see everything from 2 points of view--reality (where much is hidden), and the real reality (as perceived by Roxie).

As far as I can tell, there is not a particularly great theological message in the plot; the murduresses get off in the end, and the strikingly dumb "white hat" is left out in the cold. Chicago is fantastic as an achievement in movie musicals, and is my pick for Best Picture, but it probably won't merit any kudos from Moscow.

"Punky's Delimma" Wish I was

I'll try to strictly limit

I'll try to strictly limit the number of these that I post--they're just so much fun.

And it's amazing, because this is my favorite album. It includes the song about the Kellog's Cornflakes.

I'm Bookends!

Which Simon and Garfunkel album are you?

I got to go to

I got to go to a wedding shower this week wearing a towel and carrying a rubber duckie.

Ellen has informed me that

Ellen has informed me that my blog is boring and needs updating, so here's a bit of explanation for the four of you who are actually reading this.

My purpose here is not necessarily to be entertaining (though I will certainly try). I'm also not really going for the humor category, as I feel Christen and Duane have that pretty well covered. And I am seeking with every fiber of my being to stay miles away from theological debate. The point of this blog is really just to make me write a bit every day, a habit I am trying to establish now that the year-long celebratory hiatus from writing that followed my graduation is at an end. Writing papers (writing anything, really) was the absolute worst part of college for me (making English an odd major to choose). To this day, all of my back in college nightmares involve having an unwritten paper due in a few short hours--as opposed to showing up to class naked or something.

In all of my New Year's Resolution zeal, I decided to begin keeping a journal. That lasted for about a day and a half. Journals/Diaries are so stupid. You write down all your innermost information with the intention that no one should ever read it. What's the point of writing something no one will ever read? I certainly don't want to go back and read about how mad I was at Mr. X or how Miss Z has the hots for Mr. Q. I also don't want any volitile personal information lying around waiting to fall into the wrong hands (i.e. any hands but my own). As a person who has read a few roommates' diaries in her life, I realize the great danger inherrant in this situation.

Hence this blog. I write, and you read it. Woohoo!