Feeling S.A.D.?
Ukulele sensation Ballard C. Boyd just sent me this very important video about cheering up one’s friends.
That’s a bronze joke
For years, one of my staple, never-fail jokes was about how I was secretly very tan. Bronze, even. Tomorrow, for a story, I’m actually going to a tanning salon. It was tough to choose a salon, as it turns out there are many in Manhattan. Would it be Faux Glow? Tanning in the Shade? Sundara Airbrush Tanning?
Luckily, there was a video that sold me — hard — on Beach Bum Tanning, which has five locations, one not too far from me. I can’t embed the video here, but I’m begging you to go and watch it.
Pay special attention to the owner’s description of “the open-air P-90″ and “the CaliforniaTan auto-bronzer,” which is from Italy.
Also, when I mentioned that I’d be doing this to friend and fellow try-it journalist Jennie Dorris, she said, “Oh god, I did that very thing. Let me just say, you’re going to be naked and sliding around in your own sweat. And then you’ll smell weird.”
Also, I’m re-designing this site. Just you wait.
Reprieve
Crazy week. Really crazy. But tonight: shrimp and lobster spring rolls, fillet mignon, red wine and champagne. Plus tastes of crabmeat-crusted mahi mahi and eggnog creme brulee. I haven’t eaten like that in a pretty long time. Last time would have been somewhere in Colorado Springs.
In honor of eating…
Epilogues
Last night I read a few stories at a delightful show called BIG NIGHT OF AWESOME. Lately, I’ve been really appreciative of epilogues, which seem to sort out all the tangles and loose ends so quickly. Therefore, I’ve placed a lot of emphasis on writing epilogues lately.
More emphasis, I dare say, than on the stories themselves. I hope you’ll appreciate these stories and epilogues.
Jarrod’s mail
In a cocoon of silence, he drew a pair of scissors from his new desk to open the letter Sara had sent him over two months ago.
Epilogue.
The letter was of no significance; it had been a silly note she sent with a picture of a piece of toast she had made with a novelty press that imprinted the face of Jim Jarmusch on any regular slice of bread. Sara had moved on quickly and Jarrod had fooled himself into carrying around what amounted to little more than an empty envelope for eight torturous months. He kept the photo over his desk as a reminder that sometimes problems are problems and sometimes problems are just toast that looks like a hip-ass director.
The whole time, back in Missouri, Sara knew that it was actually a Bob Dylan toast.
So it turns out Jarrod still didn’t know anything and, for thinking that a crusty outline of Dylan was a crusty outline of Jarmusch, was even more pretentious than Sara.
Jim and juice
Without the underground stash of “Inspector Gadget” collectibles, the avocado farm quickly lost its magic. Read the rest of this entry »
To-dos.
My head hurts. My neck, too. Could be a big weekend. To-do list time.
Send beret by Express Mail. Send inside-joke-fueled Internet holiday card to classmates. Plan more environmental posts. Write several one-sentence short stories for show tonight. Read Steve Martin’s book, continue to be amazed by it. Take journalism and law exam. Do holiday shopping. Eat breakfast three times. Etc.
Ray Parker, Jr.
Party music video of the century. And it’s so good that even though it was made in the last century, I’m talking about this century.
Last night, I watched and logged “Ghostbusters” for important lessons about journalism. I’ve been thinking about forming a live presentation that’s sort of an introductory journalism course in 30 or 45 minutes, supported exclusively by the teachings of that film. I got plenty to work with, but it’s looking like it might work better as a video.
Also, today I almost slipped on frozen vomit. I LOOOOOVE THIS TOOOOWN!
P.S. Is that… Al Franken?
P.P.S. Gozer the Traveller will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldronaii the Traveller came as a very large and moving Torb. Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the Meketrex supplicants they chose a new form for him, that of a giant Sloar. Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar that day, I can tell you.
At this point in the 2004 primaries…
In case you’re already figuring out who’ll be on H. Clinton’s ticket, Wikipedia has another nugget worth re-publishing:
December 17 [2003] - A CBS News/New York Times poll of likely Democratic primary voters shows Howard Dean getting 23% of the vote, with Wesley Clark at 10%, Joe Lieberman at 10%, Richard Gephardt at 6%, Al Sharpton at 5%, John Kerry at 4%, John Edwards at 2%, Carol Moseley-Braun at 1%, Dennis Kucinich at 1%, and the remaining 28% undecided.
Dean, Clark, Lieberman. Kerry was behind Sharpton.
Change of pants: gimmicks to politics
On assignment with steak.
I was supposed to cover the 80th anniversary dinner at Manhattan’s Gallagher’s Steak House tonight. They invited Jerry Stiller and 80 people named Gallagher. I was going to ask all of the Gallaghers why they thought Jerry Stiller was invited. But when I called up to get my name on the press list, I was told they had overbooked on Gallaghers and celebrities and they had no room for me.
Instead, I’m going to cover something way more interesting that I hadn’t noticed before — a bunch of pollsters talking presidential politics at Baruch College. I’m going to ask them which candidate is most likely to appeal to people named Gallagher and also why they think Jerry Stiller was invited.
One of my beeves with Facebook
Plural of beef.
OK, now that we’ve got that question out of the way, we beging our mild-mannered blogging. It comes as no surprise that in my actual schooling at an actual school, I have been warned to not publish photos of myself being drunk or in otherwise embarassing situations on social networking sites like Facebook and Myspace because employers also have nothing better to do with their time and will look to see if I have been photographed with any attractive young women.
A cursory Googular search reveals that other news sources are also hip to the trend:
Fine. I won’t. But my real problem is this: nobody ever takes pictures of me when I am working hard. I work hard frequently. Sometimes even in fairly public places like libraries, parks and zoos. And yet there is always something going on around me that is more picturesque (particularly, it seems, at zoos).
I have performed another series of Google searches for images relating to hard work and it appears that the Internet is a bunch of wiseasses. Here is the closest picture I could find to what it looks like when I work hard:
I will soon be asking people to take photos of me when I am hard at work. Then I’ll make an album on Facebook called “SPRING BREAK” and write a bunch of captions that explain how hard I work while on Spring Break. The answer, potential employer, is very hard.
A.K.A. Fetch ‘n’ Kvetch.
Ukulele sensation Ballard C. Boyd is the recipient of most of the weird links I find while perusing the digital webscape. 
Typically his response is, “what the hell were you searching for?”
Fair question, sir. So now I will attempt to make public this information.
While searching the interfjords for “silly elephant pictures,” I found my new favorite product line:
Chewish treats: Yiddish-themed dog toys ranging from Meshugeneh the Monkey to Tuchis the Donkey to Schlep the Camel. Tuchis the Donkey is the funniest to me because it’s not just an appropriate Yiddish name but a pun, to boot.
I did not find any good silly elephant pictures, though.
P.S.: My roommate’s purchase of egg nog-flavored ice cream today kicks of the season of anticipation of the newest Ballard C. Boyd Christmas Album. If you’ve never heard a ukulele sensation Ballard C. Boyd Christmas Album, pester him at his blog about it.