Best almost celebrity sighting ever:

My friend Fawn and I were watching Spider-Man this weekend and she told me about the time she saw Willem Dafoe's ass.

It went something like this: "I was in Borders and I was having problems with the checkout lady. I looked over and noticed that the man next to me had a really flat ass. Then he walked away and the checkout ladies said, 'That was Willem Dafoe!' but I only saw his flat ass."

Is anybody else working today? Or is it just me?

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I love the airport. While waiting for a friend to arrive last night, I got to watch all the people at the arrivals gate. It was 11:30 or so at night. Bleary-eyed travelers arriving from parts East, with their clocks all out of whack wandered past. Some met others and hugged cheerfully. Some were already on cell phones, presumably calling for a ride, or to let someone know they were once again on solid ground. Some were walking fast, probably rushing out to the designated smoking area after being deprived of that sweet, sweet nicotine while traveling. Two men I observed had this great maneuver: they didn't want to hug full on, so one guy fell in step with the other guy and they did a side hug. They were really happy to see each other, in a totally non-homosexual way. It made me smile.

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If I had the time to think this through and do my research so I could give you accurate facts rather than hearsay, I would. But as it stands, I just want to complain without checking various fallible news sources:

I am disappointed in my country. No, it goes beyond disappointment. Disappointment is what happened when Bush was elected, when people voted for him because he was "a regular guy", when the Supreme Court decided he was president and not Al Gore, despite the voting irregularities in Florida.

This is something else entirely. It's despair and humiliation and anger.

Despair because war is a terrible thing. Because September 11 was a terrible day in our history and the Bush Administration throws it in our faces as a justification for the invasion of Iraq. Also, Afghanistan. Also, the Patriot Act and the loss of our civil liberties. It feels as though it will never end.

Meanwhile, Bush has spent 40% of his term on vacation (I heard on NPR last night).

Humiliation because I have to travel with an American passport. Don't get me wrong, there are some amazing things about our country. If you look at our potential, instead of what we are, however, it's impossible not to think that we've failed. But thinking the way I do about this country, I can only imagine how stupid, arrogant and greedy we look to the rest of the world. At least I know lots of people here who don't agree with what's going on -- if I lived elsewhere, I might not have the benefit of that knowledge.

Anger because the Bush Administration doesn't give a shit about me or you. They're in this politics and power game for themselves and they haven't tried to hide it. The Iraqi people can go to hell, as long as they don't take their oil with them. Afghanistan can go to hell, too. Also, our civil liberties. I want them to be so much more wise than they are and so much less arrogant. I want to believe that this country -- the most powerful in the world -- is not being run by a bunch of five-year-olds. I'm angry because I feel as though I have no power to change anything, and I haven't the time or energy or inclination to rise to a position of power so I can change something.

At least I can vote.

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Dear Mr. Big,

I was listening to your one song on the 80's station today. What's it called again? "To Be With You" or something like that? Anyhow, it was the one song anybody knows by you, so I think you know what I mean.

There's this lyric in the song that goes, "You can make my life worthwhile/I can make you start to smile." What the hell kind of a trade-off is that? You get life affirmation and the chick doesn't even get a full-fledged smile out of the deal? Call me crazy, but I'm fairly certain that this is not the most romantic sentiment ever put to verse. Also, it seems to me that if your life isn't already worthwhile, the girl's not going to be all that impressed. That's a lot of pressure to put on the poor girl who's moping around just because she's dating you. She starts to smile, then thinks better of it, but at least she's not alone.

I think this answers the question you pose toward the end of the song -- "Why be alone when we can be together, baby?" It's... well... because you're kind of an ass.

Sincerely,
Your Number 44,554,310 Fan

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In other news, I've lost my math skillz. How would you solve this problem?

If you start by teaching seven people to play volleyball and teach twice as many people to play every week, how long would it take to teach the whole world to play? Assume that everybody is healthy, able-bodied, and interested in learning to play (totally not the case, but work with me here). Also assume that there are 6.4 billion people on Earth.

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Wow. Celebrities are mean.
(Link via foxinthesnow)

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Apparently, when you volunteer for the Kerry campaign, that really just means you'll get lots of email from people like Howard Dean and Hillary Rodham Clinton asking you for money. It's a little annoying, but it's for a good cause, so I won't complain. It also reminds me how neat it is that I don't have to be a fundraiser. I would be terrible at that job. This is about how pushy I am...

Me: Would you like to contribute to this--
Person: No.
Me: It's a really good cause --
Person: No.
Me: Okay, thanks for your time.

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I don't know much about art, but I know what I like.

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Because I can't even begin to fathom another four years of Bush, I signed up as a volunteer for the Kerry campaign today. I just hope I end up having time to help. And I really, really hope it works. Anybody who thinks this sounds like a good idea should check it out.

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On Crystal's recommendation, I started reading Wicked last night. It's quite good so far, but I'm only a few chapters in, so it's too soon to tell. This reminded me that I'm far overdue for getting the books page back up and running. I didn't keep track of all the books I read for 2003, or 2004 so far, but I should really get back in the habit of doing that. I'll see if I can muster up the energy this weekend. If only I didn't have to work, I'd get SO MUCH done.

Tonight, however, I'm looking forward to some ass shaking with Chris and friends. Except that I have to leave early so I'm not all tired and hung over for my volleyball tournament tomorrow. Stupid healthy living.

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Cherz reminded me of this:

He's an unconventional Republican vagrant who hangs with the wrong crowd. She's a virginal mutant hooker from a secret island of warrior women. They fight crime!

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This is terriffic: Batman and Robin fighting crime - in Whitley.
(Link via Joezilla)

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It's always a bit odd to be connected to the internet away from home or work. Like in a cafe on a Sunday afternoon. Sydney and I are doing some novel writing, though not trying to cram it into a month this time. Actually, I'm editing the novel I wrote a year and a half ago, the one I posted to my site until it got far too terrible to share. Hopefully, I'll come up with an ending by the time I get through the 106 pages (1.5 space, 10pt Times New Roman) of typos, awkwardly constructed sentences, and crap that I just wrote to achieve word count. It's slow going. I'm on page 12.

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Incidentally, if you want to keep up on our soapbox car project, we're blogging it at pillageplunder.nerdygirl.com. Zac generously offered up his old car (and even delivered), which totally rules. So we're a lot closer than we were a week ago. It only *kind of* feels like cheating.

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Sometimes, the photo of the barn -- the one that is sometimes present on this page, if it was randomly selected by a bit of PHP -- sometimes, I look at it and wonder how it can still exist. This is the barn that was in back of the house we lived in from 1979 - 1984. The field is where we would run around and play. In the summer, before my dad cut it down, the grass would get so high that we'd play hide-and-seek just by ducking down. After he cut it down, we'd hide in or behind walnut trees, or behind the weird little one-room house/shed that was out there. Or we'd play the fly swatter game, where you ran from base to base while whoever was "it" had to hit your butt with the fly swatter. I, being the youngest, smallest, and slowest, was usually "it".

Once, in that field, I fell while swinging like Tarzan from the branch of a walnut tree. My head hit the ground hard, bounced up, and hit back down on a shovel. This helped lodge a foxtail into my head, which my dad had to cut out with a razor. The whole time, my sister was screaming, "Don't! You're going to kill her!" Somehow, his hands held steady while I was crying and she was shouting, and the foxtail was removed.

That barn, though, it's still there. And the field, still empty. I have a hard time meshing the different parts of my life. That kid, the short chubby girl running around in red keds, climbing trees and only occasionally sneaking into the barn -- how is it possible that was me?

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I think we can all agree that there hasn't been enough haiku on this website for a long time. I'm thinking a spate of search engine referral haiku will set things straight. Here's your mission, should you choose to accept it: write haiku based on one or more of the following search engine referrals from yesterday:

• poems about people who have done foolish things


• all with her feet


• how do they put bubbles in soda?


• child custody battles and herpes


• evil woman with a cigarette holder


• my grandmother turned 80 today

Alternately, you can make Acronym happy by writing haiku about hot people.

as to foolish things
there's a king of foolish things:
jackass chimney guy

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I find it amusing that if search for the term search engine on Google, they come up sixth in their own results.

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