Our Sarcastic Colleague from Massachusetts

Senator Kennedy said as he pleaded to keep the debate on the filibuster on Alito:

"What's the next measure on the calendar? Asbestos? Isn't that interesting?" he continued. "Anything more important than spending time and permitting the American people to understand this issue? I don't believe so."

Have to give him mad props for trying. The fuckers who voted yes on an up or down vote are worthless. Worthless.

Bad commercials

Yahoo keeps running little banner trailers for "Flight 93," the movie about September 11 that is coming on tonight on A&E. I know that this might be an debatable point, but I do not think the are ready for movies about this. It kind of makes my blood boil, actually. At the end of the day, a TV movie is a commercial venture. People make money off it. The network gets advertising dollars. The advertisers get sales. All the uses and abuses of 9/11 (The terror alert, Rovian claims about Democrats softness on terror to manipulate elections, the war in Iraq, and the disastrous consequences of subsuming FEMA under the newly created Department of Homeland Security following Hurrican Katrina) cheapen the acknowledgements and observances of 9/11 for me. It all, ultimately, feeds into jingoistic bluster. I do believe that the filmmakers took pains to make the film believable and into a worthy tribute to the people who died on the flight, but it is still a tv movie.

I'm just not ready.

From My Daily Extended Horoscope

"There's also a certain someone who's been trying desperately to get it across to you that they'd like some quality time alone with you. Pay attention to those subtle signals they're sending out. If you get together with them -- after you do your chores, of course -- you'll be headed toward a weekend to remember. "

Liars. Liars. All of them. There is no one trying to spend quality alone time with me. They have me confused with some other oblivious Capricorn.

I went to prom in that room

American Idol is in Greensboro, NC, my hometown. They are doing me proud, particularly that guy in the National Guard and the girl who sings like Billie Holiday. I never watch American Idol, but I am totally sucked in.

Catch-ie

Two fun albums:

Madonna's new one. Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah. Gimme some sun.

Ouch

Bedbugs are epidemic in the city. Please. Don't let them come here, God. I can't fucking take it. Just thinking about them makes my eyelids itch.

Goapele

In 1993, I was a camp counselor for Goapele at the 1990's incarnation of the Encampment for Citizenship, (which was nowhere as cool and subversive as it sounds in this description when Eleanor Roosevelt founded it.) Goapele is a up and coming r&b sensation, whose poster I saw walking down 14th street this evening. I heard her sing Sweet Honey in the Rock in a big meeting full of teenagers and cooked dinner with her at her house after the summer program where I was working was over. I remember her wearing white socks and tennis shoes and being, like, fourteen. Nothing like seeing your former camper in a big poster on the streets of new york to make you feel inconsequential.

Updated to correct typos and add the EFC link.

33 lines

Yesterday I looked in the mirror in the ladies room and saw something I have never seen before. They were subtle, but they were there, around the eyes. Little tiny lines. I've never been one for extensive beauty products, but the evening found me in Sephora looking at bottle of unconscionably high-priced serums for "wrinkles, fine lines, and uneven skin tone." The one I selected suggests I not use it if I am pregnant or nursing or without sunblock. I went home and dutifully applied it according to instruction. This morning I thought the lines looked somewhat less noticeable, but that could have been the light in my bathroom.

More lyrics

More soundtrack details. This time from the Magnetic Fields. Track 8 from 69 Love Songs Volume 2.

"Dying all day in thousands of little ways/
dancing alone and drinking a lot/
closing the clubs and haunting the cabarets/
Looking for what?"

Blustery

I work on the 15th floor of a building and on windy days, you can listen to the wind keening as it whips around. It's quite dramatic and yesterday was no exception. Also. It rained. It rained a lot.

However, I went to this erotic reading series last night. That was fun! It sort of cheered me up after the rain.

Insomnia

Up late, not sleepy, so I am enormously happy that tomorrow is a holiday. I spent today in front of the television recovering from my own big birthday celebration at this fun LES joint. I'm now 33, which my mom pointed out is the age that Jesus was when he got into all that trouble. (My mom is pretty devout so that was a funny comment coming from her.) 33 is also palindromic and can be obtained by multiplying 3 X 11, which I think are two uncommonly lovely numbers. 33 is still safely in the range of the early 30's. 33 has a ring of womanhood, reaching your sexual peek, having your life together and in control. So far 33 has not been characterized by any of those conditions, but I'm filled with optimism.

Apropos of birthday parties and other recent events, I have this song in my head:

"I want to be the girl with the most cake/
He only loves those things because he loves to see them break/
I fake it so real I am beyond fake/
Someday, you will ache like I ache.

Unsung music

Back in the day, before I knew anyone in New York, I went to concerts and movies by myself without a moment's hesitation. Now that I have eight year's of putting down roots' worth of friends here, I never go hear music on my own, ever, which makes me kind of lame. Anyhow, the point is that back in 1999 or 2000 I went and heard Elizabeth Elmore, whose band, Sarge had recently broken up. I bought their cd and for awhile it was part of my little personal soundtrack. I don't anyone else who knows them, but I have gotten hours of endless comfort of their poppy-punk girl rock.

I break it out every once and awhile and recent events have led me to a new appreciation of track 7.

My mother asks about astronauts

Newyorquina's mother: How about that guy who is going to be up in space? Are you listening to him?

Newyorquina: (Thinking...) Up in space?

Newyorquina's mother: The one with the very crude sense of humor.

Newyorquina: Howard Stern?

Newyorquina's mother: Yes, him!

Newyorquina: Mom, he's not actually going to be up in space.

Newyorquina's mother: I know that. I heard him talking about it on David Letterman.

First Cut

My new year's resolution was to keep up with my effort to learn salsa. Tonight I had told myself I was going to go to styling class, meaning what you are supposed to learn how to moved your arms and such. I've never gone to a class like this and I realized as the afternoon wore on that I didn't want to go because I was terrified. Then I made the mistake of going home after work and realized that I wasn't going anywhere. I tried to turn myself to other productive tasks, like laundry and cooking (and hell I'm blogging so that's a good use of time.) I am going to Salsa I and Intro. to Salsa II on Saturday, so I haven't completely failed in my endeavour. Now I am watching "Dancing with the Stars" which is really comforting, because some of these people can't dance either and they are all paired with professional dancers that make fun of them. Unfortunately, the music sucks. You have all these people doing tangos and cha cha's to North American pop music.

Break out the popcorn!

Even thought it never fails to disappoint me in some major way, I am an avid watcher of the Oscars so I am delighted to see that, bringing two of my favorite tv obsessions together into one extravaganza, Jon Stewart is pegged to host them this year. Stewart said, with typical self-effacing charm:

"As an avid watcher of the Oscars, I can't help but be a little disappointed with the choice."

Back in Black

Everything is back up and running after the holidays. The sun is shining, the buses are running. My boss is back in the office. I trotted off to work in my new big black boots which seem to be working out pretty well. The effect of toughness and confidence conferred by big shiny boots was somewhat marred by the fact that my right sock kept working its way down under my heel and every half block or so I had to stop and wrench it out from the inside of my boot.

When the houseboy finally does my laundry, this will not such a problem.

On another front, this week was characterized by communications with two former entanglements that I had consigned to the past. One was only as good as could have been hoped for, and the other was completely unexpected email which made work somewhat difficult to focus on. These things often amount to nothing, but we will see what the new year brings.