It's like the end of an era, it is.

Billboard 11-18-2006

• I'm writing this on Monday, November 27, but who know when it will actually go up, since the internet at work has apparently been down since last Wednesday.
• Also, I got so distracted by how amazing Stranger Than Fiction was that I didn't blog this weekend and am, I guess, officially out of the running for nablopomo.
• Maybe next year.
• Tomorrow is my last non-staff day at this job.
• Actually, I really want to talk about Stranger than Fiction, but I don't think the 3 people who actually care what I have to say have seen it yet.
• So I'm being nice.
• Record companies are going to get a share of Zune profits.
• "These devices are just repositories for stolen music, and they all know it."--UMG chairman/CEO Doug Morris.
• That's...um. Yeah.
• Seriously waiting for them to realize the number of library patrons that check out cds and copy them, over here.
• There was also a trailer for Dreamgirls and Lara and I totally have a Christmas holiday date to see it.
• Even if I always think of that little boy and Camp everytime I hear that song.
• All Saints and Take That both have new albums coming out.
• Wait! The Ronettes weren't in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame yet!?
• That's a fuckin' travesty.
• I love those girls.
• The new Stars of Track and Field record will be released to indie stores a couple months before chains.
• I wonder how successful that'll be...
• Okay, this feature about comics who tour like bands isn't even going to mention David Cross.
• I mean, I know they're talking about the uber successful guys, but who's been really doing that for awhile now?
• Julien Temple's Strummer movie is premiering at Sundance.
• Hee--I just ordered the Tenacious D soundtrack.
• I really want to see that movie.
• I have officially stopped even caring one way or the other about Gwen Stefani.
• It would take a hell of a gossip item to change my mind.
• Like if she hooked up with K-Fed, or Chris Noth or something.
• Or if K-Fed and Chris Noth hooked up, and she introduced them.
• I think I pretty officially have started babbling now.
• Anyone want to pack up some dishes for me?

heh

The town I'm about to move out of is very strange. Who names an apartment complex after such a trashy book/movie?

Gobble Gobble Hey (yes, I reused my awful Thanksgiving title)

So, I have this 4-part theory of animal usefulness. A truly useful animal:
*is cute;
*tastes good;
*creates some other foodstuff (like eggs or milk);
*and creates some other useful good, like suede.

For example, sheep are cute and tasty. Sheep's cheese is also tasty, and who doesn't like yarn?

Turkey, on the other hand, are kind of useless. They're ugly, and no one really eats turkey eggs, do they?
They are damn tasty, though. Especially their skin.
And you can't draw a sheep by tracing your hand.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Replace the flesh (which is weak) with steel (which is strong).

Why do I always wind up forgetting and putting my 3 heaviest books in the same box?
As I was slogging stuff up into my new apartment yesterday, I did that thing you always do when you move: fantasize about throwing it all away.
It's especially an attractive option if, like me, all of your most prized posessions and favorite things were cheap and are a pain to move.
Take those 3 heavy books, for instance. One of them was a gift, so it's price isn't of my concern. It's the nice big Yoko Ono retrospective catalog from a few years ago. Fucker weighs like 4 times the weight of your average big fancy art book.
Book #2 is a yearbook from a big famous military school (whose name is escaping me now--Naval Academy? something...) I found in the trash outside a giant Squirrel Hill house one day. It's from the early 70s and is pretty damn sweet.
And the third book is a world atlas/encyclopedia from the early 1960s. I love this book. I think it was a dollar.
So, what I need all of you to do is remind me. Everytime I gripe about how much junk I have, and how heavy it all is, remind me of how much I love all my stupid books and records and Jimmy's Robot World coffee mug and plush things that shouldn't be plush.
***
Then, this afternoon, Mom and I went to Kawaii and I bought more stuff I'll have to move (plus a present for Tiff). In my defense, though, I did need a 2007 planner and weird Japanese school/office supplies for my new job.

Vase of carnations from central Ohio.

In the words of the lovely Stacey, I am so punished right now.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to leave work at 3:30 yesterday afternoon. I wound up finishing work at 3:45. I wound up leaving the library at 4.
Then I drove around town for 2 hours looking for 2 large bottles of reisling. Does reisling even come in a large bottle? At one place, the proprietor started to get on me about the disparate types of wine I was attempting to buy (also a bottle of cabernet sauvignon). With my last ounce of class, I managed to not precede my explanation of the different people drinking different wines with "Listen, Bub..."
Then I went out to dinner with Stacey, Melissa, and Ashleigh, and that was pretty fabulous. As was the strawberry margarita.
Then I went home and proceded to pack my car full of as many boxes, crates, etc., of books, records, cds, fabric scraps, legos, etc., as I could. Pausing for a lengthy and repetitive conversation with my one remaining sketchy neighbor about our crap landlord.
This morning, I was up at 6:30 and on the road around 9. First I had to drop my apartment key with Melissa, who has once again agreed to look in on the jerks from time to time while I'm gone. What can I say? I think she's a saint, actually.
I spent a good part of the first leg of the drive taking my life in my hands and texting while driving.
Oh, did I mention I woke up with the beginnings of a cold this morning?
I hit Thanksgiving, accident traffic, and rush hour in 3 of the 4 large cities I pass through to get to my parents' house.
And all those boxes of heavy, heavy books and records and things? They all went up 3 flights of narrow stairs into my next apartment. By me.
I'm going to go fall over now.
On the plus side, though, I did hear "Do They Know It's Christmas" for the first time this year around Washington, PA.

It's a nice day to start again.

A friend of mine has apparently decided to get himself all ministered up from the Universal Life Church. You know, from the back of Rolling Stone fame. How a variety of television weddings wind up being performed by main characters (Chris in the Morning, Joey marrying Chandler and Monica, etc.). That church.

Here's the conversation Tiff and I had after she informed me of this.
me: So, what you're saying is, if I ever get married, Richard can perform the ceremony? SWEET!
Tiff: yes, he will be able to...and you could probably pay him in booze...
me: done and done. And, while I'm never a fan of the Richard facial hair, I think it would be hilarious to be married by an old-timily made up Richard, n'est-ce pas?
Tiff: it would, yes...especially if he talked old-timey, too...
me: hee. Like an old-timey sports announcer, or auctioneer.
Tiff: or a newsreel reader...
me: heh. What an awesome wedding I'm going to have.

Fits and starts.

The PW review of Modest Mouse: a Pretty Good Read calls Isaac Brock a "sailor-mouthed, media-loathing front man...whose songwriting knew much darker beginnings."
Last month, I found a copy of Fight Club mis-shelved in juvenile fiction.
Trying to explain who Tim Gunn is and why it's so exciting that he's on Megan Mulally's talk show to someone who's never seen Project Runway is a bit difficult. Especially when you interrupt your explanation with, "Eee! I bet he's giving her a bobblehead! I totally want a Tim Gunn bobblehead!" And it's before 9 AM.

The neckbone's connected to the wrist watch.

(Is it neckbone? I can't remember.)
In case anyone wanted further proof of my family's wackiness.

I'll be acting as family bootlegger again this year for Thanksgiving. Anyone who's ever bought alcohol in Pennsylvania knows why.
My mom sends me a check for a few bottles of wine, and she usually includes a note.
Here's this year's:

Here's the money for the wine. Please use it carefully as I am still trying to save for the operation. (huh?)

You know, in case anyone was wondering where my nonsequitory goodness came from.

Hey, Poindexter, he looks like you.

I know they look crooked here, but what do we think about these frames on me?

And how cute did that haircut look back in its early days? Wish it had aged as well...
I've been getting really bored of my current frames (see Fig A). Plus, they're bent all up.
It's occured to me lately, though, that maybe I'm not bored of these frames. Maybe I just got bored of being told how "unique" they are by stupid local boys trying to simultaneously sound cool and gentlemanly.
Man, I'm moody right now. What's up with that? heh.
Figure A

(the more I see this picture, the more I like how ridiculous I look in it. Why can't I take a picture with my eyes open and looking sober?)

ETA: So, I managed to change the time when I actually finished and posted this (as opposed to when I began and saved it as a draft), but apparently forgot to change the date. Personally, I blame Nashville. Heh.

A Song of Modern Love

'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain



We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain

But lovers always come and lovers always go
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away



Do you need some time...on your own
Do you need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time...
on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone



And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain
I know that you can love me
When there's no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
Even cold November rain



(I came up with this stupidly funny idea while driving to work this morning. And I promised an invalid Tiff I'd post something entertaining today. Well, at least I think it's entertaining.)

Ah, ah ah ah, Table Five! Table Five.*

Whenever I move, I weed and discard stuff I don't really want anymore. I'd sell it in a yard sale--or, more accurately, an abandoned-lot-down-the-block sale--but to be able to sell my stuff, there would have to be more than a handful of people here interested in ironic coffee mugs and pretentious film theory.
Actually, what I usually do is get a big box and label it "FREE STUFF" since I can't be bothered to have a sale or get it to a Goodwill. I'm also usually discarding stuff up to the point of departure, and why take up precious movie space with crap I don't want?
Plus, I know I always enjoy pawing through crap people have left on the sidewalk. My friend Nate in Philadelphia found Marquee Moon on vinyl that way. I was terribly jealous.
Here's a list of the kind of stuff I'm getting rid of. If anything catches anyone's eye, let me know. We may be able to work something out. Otherwise, everyone in my call list will continue to get text messages saying things like, "Remember that black Hilfiger bag I have? Do you want it?"

• The DVD of Gosford Park I got for free when I opened my bank account here.
• a Care Bears mug. I'm keeping the Care Bear Cousins one.
• a black belt with glittery silver skulls-n-crossbones I got at a Philadelphia clothing swap party
• the Clash on Broadway box, on tape
• a biography of Stanley Kubrick that took so long to come out with an updated volume after he died that we went have a semester without the damn text. Also, the biographer is so far up Kubrick's ass, I'm frankly impressed he was physically able to write. Act fast on this one if you want it: (Former) Wacky Neighbor Billy has also expressed interest.
• More librarian tote bags than you can shake a stick at!
• the Beach Boys double record I bought at the Squirrel Hill Record Exchange that lived in my car (this was Midge) for months
• a bunch of old lady clothes I got conned into accepting through liberal use of the word "vintage". I'm keeping the bright pink and yellow plaid cape, though.
• shoes like the espadrilles I was H&M hypnotized into buying** or the black pumps I used to learn to walk in heels with, stomping around my Lexington apartment. I ordered them from Fredericks of Hollywood, and I'd be willing to bet whomever lives at that address is still getting at least one catalog a week.

And why do I have so many goddam phone books, anyway!?

*-ahem- Disco Stu likes disco music.
**Seem this is why I need to always shop at H&M with a loudmouthed, judgemental sister and/or friend.

8 crazy nights.

So I really hope the Chanukkah Bubbe and Santa are reading my blog, because I've totally found what I want for every single damn holiday my family celebrates in December. (Except my mom's birthday. That'd be mean if I got a present.)
Rick Santorum put his office cubicles up on craigslist.
Seriously, people. I NEED this. I don't know what I'd do with it yet--maybe get one of those back-of-Rolling-Stone pastor dealies and marry some gays? The Univ of KY gyno health services office had cubicles. Maybe I could outfit office chairs with stirrups and perform abortions. Maybe I'll just invite homeschooled (in Virginia, but paid for by Pennsylvania) teenaged boys over to make them cry on national television and push their glasses, which have fallen down because of their wussyboy tears, back up with their middle finger. Really, the opportunities are endless.
C'mon, you guys can scrape up $2600, right?

And she looks like Blossom!

(Other post titles considered: "What's your favorite color? Badd." and a Gin Blossoms quote I can't recall right now.)
Also, an apology for those of you who read this that I also talk to on a somewhat regular basis. I've complained about this before; I tend to repeat myself, especially when fashion is involved. I included the potential titles because I think the fact that I heard both "I Wanna Sex You Up" and "Hey Jealousy" this morning on the radio is pertinent to my whole point. Plus, it's funny. Especially when you remember that my car was a rental car before becoming my Junior and, as such, is set up for satellite radio. This means some stations give me information about what song is playing.* This always seems totally futuristic and luxurious to me, because I am a moron and a dork. But not nearly as dorky as "I Wanna Sex You Up...Color Me Badd" looked scrolling across my car stereo earlier today. When I got to work, I stomped into Marissa's office and asked her what year it was.
I bring all this up because of leggings. Look, I like them, too. I like hippie Johnny--unh, leggings. It's just that, when I liked them the first time, when I actually wore them, I was in junior high. And part of growing out of junior high and creating your own style is acknowledging how craptastic and ricockulous your style choices were. Seriously--now matter how old you are, take a sec to think back to how you dressed at 11-13. You were probably obsessed with looking like the cool girls and/or boys, right? No matter how ridiculous those leather-fronted jeans looked on you, right? See, I'm assuming that, if you're reading PoBaL here, you were a goober in junior high, too. It's okay. We all were. No one's got their shit together 6-8 grade. It's sort of the point.
So why are all these girls who are my age going back to fashions that were popular when we were all at our most gawky? It's just weird, and I won't do it. Although I have been thinking about ratty denim cutoffs and black tights recently...but with what shoes?
And speaking of junior high fashion, I feel the need to tell everyone that I feel like I'm dressed like Claudia Kishi today. I'm wearing that map skirt I made (I still feel like Nina Garcia's going to jump out of a bush and lambast me for construction issues and taste levels every damn time I wear this), black tights, my new open-toe, kelly green** wedge-y flats, a black vneck sweater (holey, because it's from J Crew and I've worn it more than once), and (here comes the Claudia) a small blue plastic motorcycle as a necklace. Isn't that just dibbly distant and arctic, or whatever the hell Mallory would have called it in Chapter 2?
In other fashion news, Kyrie O'Connor, who normally is one of my least favorite "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" panelists, when asked "What will President Bush and the Democrats find to agree on?" at the end of the show, said, "They'll all agree that gauchos are not flattering on anyone." Kyrie, I think I love you.
*And yet, my car can't figure out time zone/daylight savings switches on its own, which my phone totally can do. Step up, Junior!
**I'm so excited: I've been after kelly green shoes for 3 years now.

Armed robbery. With a replica.

Billboard11-11-06

• Robert Carlysle, who played Begbie in Trainspotting, is going to be in the upcoming movie version of Eragon.
• I'm pretty entertained by this. Mostly, I'm entertained by the careful omission of that fact in the making of...book we just got in at the library.
• The ad cover of this issue is Disney Records' 50th anniversary.
• Hey! Lara nad I had that Children's Favorites record. I believe it was a 3 disc set. Awesome.
• oooo! And a trivia quiz!
• The first question is incredibly dumb.
• "Which of these 'performers' is included in the list of 20 most recorded songs in American popular music?" A. Elvis B/ Neil Diamond C. Jiminy Cricket
• Well, quiz, you're either insulting Elvis and/or Mr Diamond, or it's the cricket.
• My aunt used to say "Jiminy Christmas!" as an exclamation.
• "College Radio Killed in Canada?"!?!?
• What!?
• Cara, say it ain't so!
• "AOL and Microsoft target hipsters"
• Yeah, and that always works...
• Wow. There's a giant, full-page "For your Grammy consideration" ad for Neko Case.
• AOL's got one of the Upright Citizens Brigade helping them on that hipster thing.
• Did you know that Morrissey and Axl Rose have the same management?
• I am totally not making that up.
• OK, here's the Canadian thing: "Under Tariff 22...noncommercial radio stations would be required to pay a total of 7.5% of their gross annual revenure, or $200 Canadian ($177) per month, whichever is greater, for a license to broadcast online."
• That's not cool, yo.
• Oasis are releasing a Best Of this holiday shopping season.
• That's actually kind of exciting.
• I can't help but love Oasis.
• So, I keep watching "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" because I'm too lazy to get up after "Heroes" (despite that whole moving in 3 weeks and need to start packing thing), but it's so irritating.
• Like, seriously annoying.
• I never watched "The West Wing"; was it as "I AM MAKING A POINT. LOOK AT THE FUCKING IMPORTANT POINT I AM MAKING" as this show is?
• ew. The HP pavilion's ad is this extreme close up of an attractive woman (who may or may not be famous) and the copy is "Let's Spend the Night Together". ew
• Madonna sings on a giant mirrored (discoballesque) cross on the Confessions tour?
• Now Will.i.am is working with Michael Jackson...
• Oh! So Britney is divorcing K-Fed?
• See, this is the kind of thing I don't hear when our stupid filter is blocking Trent!
• Chris Isaak is covering "I Want You To Want Me".
• Go listen to this band called the Bon Savants. It's good.

Lying in wait at the Birmingham Mall.

So I was thinking this morning about the AV catalogers I know, and the catalogers I know who are supposed to be general and do AV but don't.
And then I was thinking about how libraries are always all riled up about being more like those bookstores who totally modeled themselves after libraries in the first place.
So now I wonder: When are we going to start modeling our music and movie collections like they do at those stores? (And, yes, I'm fully aware that everyone thinks the music store is dead. Bear with me, and just think about the music sections of Walmart or Target or whatever, ok?)
My library organizes most DVDs into "general" and "feature". As far as I can tell, none of my coworkers know what the distinction is. We all have guesses though. Wouldn't it be easier on the patrons to do like Blockbuster and organize by genre, or do like the stores and just do straight alphabetical? The other library I use doesn't have an anime or a TV programs section. If you want to check out, say, the 6th season of Gilmore Girls (guess what I'm at the library for...), you have to figure out whether some cataloger thought the show was more drama or comedy. Needless to say, most anime winds up in sci-fi. Wouldn't it be easier on the anime fans to throw that stuff all together?
If we can get things like the newest Harry Potter before its street date so that libraries have copies available for check out (or, as is more likely, on the hold shelf) the same day people can buy it, shouldn't we be able to do the same with new DVDs and CDs?

Standing in a queue of a school canteen.

Yes folks, the wait is finally over.
Introducing...The PoBaL Literary Crush List!
(oooo, aaaaah.)

• The first crush I can remember having on a character in a book was Peter Pevensie in the Narnia books. He's all responsible and noble and shit, plus, if I ever had a giant evil talking wolf that needed killed, he could totally do it for me. And really, isn't that what we're all looking for in a man?
• Zooey Glass. Sure, he's snarky to his mom, mean to his sister (kind of) during her big crisis of faith or whatever, and was quoted in Ally Sheedy's book of poetry, but how could you resist a guy that looks like "the blue-eyed Jewish-Irish Mohican scout who died in your arms at the roulette table at Monte Carlo"?* And you'd be snarky to your mom, too, if she wouldn't leave the bathroom when you wanted to get dressed.
• Carrying on with my trend of wounded, arrogant, asshole-ish boys who are also loyal, noble, etc., I've got quite the crush on Sirius Black (unlike my Oliver Wood or Weasley twin crushes, it has everything to do with J.K. Rowling and nothing to do with casting directors).
• ...and Bran from Susan Cooper's The Dark is Rising series. Totally arrogant, but, as his absent father is King Arthur, kind of understandable. And hot, if I'm allowed to say that about a fictional 13yrold. Which I'm probably totally not. But that's the thing about literary crushes, especially when most of what you read is teenlit. You have a lot of age-inappropriateness.
• Also, sometimes you get the species inappropriateness. I know Foaly, the smartass tech geek in the Artemis Fowl books, is a centaur, but I still crush on him. Insert your own awful "hung like a horse" joke here.
• I also like Ravus the Troll from Holly Black's Valiant, but he's at least human-shaped. Sort of. And there's this great scene where Val thinks he's about to make a magic potion and it's actually hot cocoa. If a boy made me hot cocoa, I think I could overlook the whole green skin and fangs thing.
• After I read Heavy Metal and You, I got a really big crush on Chris Krovatin, the author. That counts for this list because the book kind of smacks of thinly veiled autobiography.
• I can't tell if I have a crush on Nick from Nick and Norah or if I'm crushing on the whole crazy infatuated night the two characters have.
• Jacklyn Moriarty writes some pretty crushable boys. She's very good at the smirky charmers who are actually quite nice boys once you get to know them.
• If you're the sort of girl who can have a crush on a drawing, which I completely and unabashedly am, there are whole genres of manga dedicated just to you. Right now I'm all about Saiyuki. There's a lot of pretty, and a lot of jackassery.
• Speaking of crushes on drawings, Drake from Scooter Girl is totally my boyfriend.
• Because it's just not a crush list without a straightgirlcrush, Dess from the Midnighters series is awesome. She fights monsters with math! And snarks around a lot!

*Yeah, I had to grab the library copy of Franny and Zooey for an exact quote, but I had a good deal of it memorized. I always forget where the roulette wheel is.

But it’s the warmest night in ages.

Billboard 11-4-06

• You know, I'm not sure how many of these I have left to do. I don't know how much music collection development responsibility I'll have at my new job, and I don't know if they'd order this way anyway.
• I'm sure I'll find enough other things to mock, though.
• But nothing quite like "Ricky Martin: Undeniable" which is the ad cover of this issue.
• You know, I kind of thought I'd never have to deal with Ricky Martin ever again.
• And I really liked that thought.
• It's that stupid Ricky Martin Unplugged which, I'm sorry, is just a terrifying thought and I hate it.
• But now I'm envisioning Ricky covering "Mama Said Knock You Out" and that's kinda cool.
• In a frightening sort of way.
• Speaking of frightening, the real cover is Meat Loaf. A rough looking meat loaf.
• Tim Burton directed a Killers video!?
• Aw, Le Tigre.
• It's always weird when a band like Le Tigre shows up in this magazine.
• Li'l Steven is discussing SpongeBob.
• Apparently, SpongeBob has an album, Li'l Steven was introduced to it by Seymour Stein, it's a good time.
• I can't get "Seymour Stein" out of my head now.
• This Meat Loaf picture is awful. Once you reach a certain age, shirtless is a bad idea. Whether it's his actual body or not.
• Also, I reached my limit of beefcake-y romance novel-esque imagery earlier this week from Fabio's appearance on ANTM.
• You know, I always thought Meat Loaf was one word, not 2.
• So there's a Bat Out of Hell 3 now?
• Enough is enough.
• Wait--didn't he have a falling out with Jim Steinman? How can there be a Meat Loaf album without Jim Steinman!?
• Oh, no falling out. Steinman health issues. But he still wrote 7 of the songs. Phew.
• Wait! Steinman's manager says no to the health problems! I'm so confused! And torn! I need April to sort this all out for me!
• (Yeah, my friend April? Totally obsessed with Meat Loaf. It's a little weird, but makes sense if you know her.)
• Steinman didn't produce the album, though.
• Which I know everyone cares about, but, let's face it, no one reads these anyway. They just keep me entertained while I attempt to stay on top of various kinds of music I don't give a shit about.
• Wait, isn't "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" the Celine Dion video that looks almost exactly like the Meat Loaf video? Because Steinman wrote that song, too.
• OH SHIT. THIS MAGAZINE IS BACKING JOHN "THE ASSHOLE" HOSTETTLER.
• Fucking intellectual property bullshit.
• See? This is why Billboard is creepy and weird and I need to vent to the whole damn internet about it.
• Least they aren't backing goddam Santorum here.
• That's why their asses lost, anyway.
• Waaaay too much about Ricky Martin...
• Except I keep misreading the copy, like thinking an ad is calling him a misanthrope, or "Evolution Denied" instead of "Evolution Defined."
• All kinds of Doors crap...
• Lauryn Hill popped up and played another random private show.
• I wish she'd get her crazy shit together and just write another album.
• OK, there's something that feels very "end of an era" about hearing that Sonic Youth have one more album to go before their Geffen contract is fulfilled.
• Or maybe it's just that I loaned my copy of Experimental Jet Set, Trash, and No Star to one of my crew earlier today.
• Mike Mills and Corrin Tucker and performing together (I think) at some benefit. I bet that sounds amazing.

What's a little boy like you doing with big boy smut like this?

Everyone's got their favorites, and I'm no exception. I've got my regulars, my favorites, the ones I call "My Crew".
Like any crew, there are some I see every day, some I don't see often and I wonder what happened to them (or, I'll read something, think of one of them, and lie in wait for their next library appearance), and some I kind of forget about until they come in and then I remember how awesome they are.
Badger* is one of that last group. He's this babyfaced 11yrold I see once a month or so around the YA graphic novels. He used to worry me a bit, because he looks so very young and fresh-faced, and we all know the caliber of graphic novels I buy. See, I have a lot of kids of a certain age who are attracted to, for example, Hellboy Jr. And then I have to show them where their comic books are.
But then I started talking to this kid, and noticing what a repeat customer--and reader of things like Lenore--he was. And that, when he asks about movies, they tend to involve Monty Python. Earlier today, he was online and I happened to catch a glimpse while I was overriding the filter so a patron could use the Google Image Search. He was reading "Maakies".
So gradually, it becomes clear that we haven't got some child to protect from scary, scary stuff he isn't ready for. We've got an 11yrold whose sense of humor is already pretty sick and demented. And that's AWESOME.
C'mon, don't you wish you had had the Bunny Suicides in junior high?
Of course, my favorite Warner Brothers cartoons were always the "Duck Season Rabbit Season" ones, so maybe I'm not one to talk...

*Not his real name, obviously. It hit me earlier today that he reminds me a bit of the younger brother character in Better Off Dead. And you can't really get a better compliment than that, can you?

So...can I vote for Barack yet?

You'd think that a person with a master's degree in what is kind of basically finding and interpreting information would be able to figure out what she needs to vote.
You'd also think that the political party that kind of rose to power by simplifying as much as possible to a ridiculous degree would make voting easier in one of what they clearly consider one of "their" states.
And, thirdly, you'd think that when a poll worker tells you that you are "good to go", that the ballot you are about to submit is not provisional.
So, to make a long story short, I have to find a place to get an ID*--you'd also think that a state would not pass Voter ID laws and shut down a good deal of their DMV offices near-simultaneously--and take it to some office a few blocks from my apartment in the next 10 days.
I'm also pissed because of the school board part of the ballot. I remember hearing some woman on the local NPR (they profiled all the school board candidates) talk about bringing Christian prayer in schools and other unconstitutional, fairly disrespectful things, but I couldn't remember the bitch's name this morning when it came time to vote against her reactionary ass. For a second, I thought about just voting for all the male names, but then I realized that there's no guarantee that they didn't say the same prayer-related things, just on a morning I wasn't listening.
So anyway, go vote. It'll probably be less of an ordeal for you than it was and will continue to be for the rest of the week for me.
And if you need any more reason why you should try to vote conservatives out of office, my stupid internet filter is now blocking any site with "blogspot" in the url, flickr, youtube, and google image searches. When my crew ask me why, I like to go all Ms Sarcastic on 'em and tell them it's because they're all just little children who need to be protected from those bad, bad things. And then I tell them about DOPA and, because I don't librarian to morons, they all figure out pretty damn quick that "social networking sites" anymore, are just about anything worth going to online.

*Because why on earth would I spend money and take what is basically a learner's permit test when I'm leaving in less than a month for a state that doesn't make you do those things to get a license?

Hey, I like all that black shit.

More weeding excitement:

Nat wonders why we're getting rid of it. I wonder why we bought it in the first place.
Here are some more Breakfast Club quotes, if you're interested. I know I am.

Amongst the other people she thanks are Rebecca DeMornay and Eric Stoltz. (I wonder if he dressed up like a chicken at the book release party?) She also quotes the bit from Franny & Zooey where Zooey-as-Buddy reveals to Franny that Seymour's Fat Lady is Christ.
Which, if you know the book at all, is a hell of a pretentious thing for a teen actress to quote at the beginning of her second volume of poetry. Yes, second: the first was called She Was Nice To Mice. I am not making this up. It was published when she was twelve.

Hanging from inebriated ropes
he choked away my pride and hope
not woman enough
no angel, too rough
I failed
to save him

By breathing I have let him down
a garish painted circus clown
not goddess enough
too human to love
this whore

a portrait in a magazine
so pretty on a movie screen
I'm not tempting enough
clothed in flesh and blood
I failed
to transform it

Now falling
coming back to earth
do I even merit human birth?
Prove that you should be his wife
You are unfit for this life
I fall
undid my bodice and let out my breath
one wrong moment

Superheroes
I have known a few
but watched them fly away on cue
shortsighted
I didn't know
their envy I would come to owe
to him.

I've sinned

too close too much
won't admit human touch
again

I'll never be woman enough.
Women aren't enough.
Enough.

Yeesh--and I though High Art was hackneyed, melodramatic tripe.

Also, if someone could tell me how this picture looks, that'd be great. Guess who's filter decided to block flickr and blogger pictures today?

Prepare the wedding sack!

A short list of things I'm sure only Tiff and I think are funny:

1. The above plastic pickles in a plastic jar. I heart Target's dollar section. There's all kinds of fake food, but nothing else struck me as quite as hilarious. I kept doing that thing I do where I'm intensely amused and/or enchanted by something, so I shake it. Like a baby with a rattle. I know, it's weird.
2. Giant Sized Wolverine! Who is actually the height of a normal man!
3. Giant-Sized-Wolverine-Who-Is-Actually-the-Height-of-a-Normal-Man getting drunk with Jimmy Stewart.
4. (BORAT SPOILER) At one point in the Borat movie, they get a bear and small children are frightened away. And you know nothing makes me 'n' Tiff laugh quite so hard as bear humor.

The mixture is all of us and we're still mixing.

I went to the new city this weekend to look at apartments. Because I'm a huge fucking stereotype, I rock the NPR in any city. In fact, I've actually figured out vaguely what time I should drive through the middle of Ohio when I go home for holidays, so I can listen to This American Life and Le Show.
And yet, I always forget about Louisville's 2 goddam hours of What Do You Know., which Cara and I like to call "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me for people without a sense of humor".
There's also this show I hadn't heard of yet, called Weekend America. It annoyed me. A lot.
For starters, it's the weekend before a ginormous election (that I'm not going to be voting in, but that's a story for another day), so of course that's all anyone's talking about. They had a "blue stater, red stater, and a purpler stater" divvy up things, like an argument about whether the Hubble telescope is more blue or red state.
I hate that red/blue state crap. I mean, I live in a--wait, red, right? It's confusing when you think of yourself as a red diaper baby, but red means the opposite thing now, I guess? I don't fucking know--
In any event, I hate the idea that everyone in the state thinks that way. It's like all this "Hoosier values" bullshit. Technically, I'm a Hoosier. I also think 2 girls should be able to marry each other if they want. Is that a Hoosier value now?
So anyway, I'm driving, and it occurs to me--how much of this red/blue crap is a function of the electoral college?* If it was a popular vote, maybe we could stop pretending that everyone in New York City is in love with Hilary Clinton, and everyone in Indiana thinks she's the devil.
***
And it's not enough to offend the good little liberal in me; after this mess, Weekend America pulls out some new cds from the past week, including the produced-by-Ryan-Adams Willie Nelson album. The "Amazing Grace" cover was pretty interesting, but kind of reminded me of how after Jerry Garcia died all the hippies acted like Bob Dylan was their new messiah. But with Johnny Cash instead of Jerry Garcia. The worst, though (oh, I should probably also mention I'm not much of a Ryan Adams fan...), was the song that started with just Willie and a guitar, and I'm down, and it's good, and then the chorus starts and Ryan has all this "rockin'" start and he didn't adjust Willie's voice and it just gets smushed out.
Yuck.
***
Oh, and I did find a place.

*Yes, I'm perfectly aware that I'm the last blogger in the universe to bitch about the electoral college, and that it's totally 2000 to do so.

She's got tofu the size of Texas.

The thing about looking for a new place to live is, you open yourself up to meeting and talking with all sorts of strange people. I think I might have told you guys about the time I was accompanying a friend while she looked at apartments, including one whose tenants had clearly not been told about the visit, as they were in the middle of getting it on when we all trooped into the bedroom.
Like a lot of the weird occurences and people that flock to me when I'm least appreciative of them, there was more than a bit of the faux and/or washed-up hippie about those two crazy kids. I've also lived above washed-up hippie homeschoolers and been drawn into extremely revealing (for her) phone conversations with rabid Dave Matthews fans, for example.
Now, this isn't to say that I haven't had some hippie-ish friends that I've loved. In fact, until I moved here, I've pretty much always had a hippie girl buddy. Like my super-awesome junior year dorm floor-mate Liz, who was always a good person to visit if you wanted to make a huge dinner (we had a teeny little kitchen on our floor. In fact, most of my friends from that year were girls I hung out with in the kitchen while we waited for pasta water to boil or Jiffy corn muffins to bake.), bitch about a women's studies class, or concoct some insane reason to take two buses to Michael's. I've also had good luck with friends of the so-punk-they're-hippie variety, with the added bonus that so-punk-they're-hippies are usually too surly to have any of the above problems I've had with hippie-types.
But, of course, I was still surprised at the level of flakiness I got when I called a woman about an apartment last night. Granted, she wasn't as bad as the gentleman I spoke with before her, who felt that it was necessary to have the tv on at TOP volume while speaking with a potential tenant*. However, it doesn't really bode that well when the best thing someone can say about an apartment is how cute the windows are, over and over.
She was also surprised at my gas/electric stove question, and then kept saying how sure she was that it was gas. That's when she shifted gears and began to tell me how small the kitchen was. But cute.
Then she asked me if the jerks were declawed. Which, hell no. But I mentioned that they don't tend to scratch much, which isn't really a lie if you've completely forgotten about that old mattress, which I had. Then she starts describing the floors of the apartment, and trying to remember if there were "Berber rugs". At least I think that's what she said. I should also maybe mention here that everything I know about Berbers comes from an episode of Tony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour. They make tasty-looking bread, those Berbers. And roast sheep (or was it a goat?) in pits in the ground. Tasty-looking sheep.
I didn't remember any mention of rugs or cats from the episode, so I basically did the phone equivalent of nodding noncommitally while thinking, Get on with it, lady. But I'm really wondering, if she so didn't want her cute, tiny apartment scratched, why not just say no pets? I'm a librarian; I know how to limit searches to get the most valid results for my query. Had she, like another listing I found, said something like "one tiny quiet declawed cat which isn't a cat at all, but is actually a kitty robot like that creepy thing Cara has," I never would have called.
Some of the notes I made while on the phone with Berber rug lady:
"only declawed cats!? or not"
"kinda flaky?"
"deck"
"too flaky!"

seven weeks of staying up all night

Tale of 2 Summers by Brian Sloan.
I started reading this book, was charmed by a couple details, and started taking notes to remember things for a review.
Then I realized my notes were becoming a post all on their own. So this is kind of a review, kind of a commentary track.
I wrote all this while I was reading it, when the thought occured to me.

• There’s this future thing—takes place future summer—spiderman 3
  • Harold and Kumar sequel—KUMAR’S BARE ASS
• Ferris quote at the beginning
• Queer boy fart jokes
• “bloody”—some librarians are going to shit themselves, b/c they’ve apparently never met a pretentious teenage gayboy anglophile: “Why’s there British slang if it takes place in DC!?”
• LOL-ing?
• Lang use—dueling bloggers
• Keep referring to Henri as a “euro-punk”—in light of his not-at-all punkiness and the whole gay thing, kinda weirdly icky/funny
• I approve of the word tits.
• “I don’t really dig on guys who are uber-gay”=scary Ken flashbacks
• Unless you know what Lambda is, no clue that this is a GAY BOOK from the cover
• Weird anti-drug moment/channel 1 reference p41
• Yum, Nutella
  • Nutella DOES NOT TASTE LIKE DOUGHNUT FROSTING. However, it would be quite tasty on a doughnut. Like a cake one? Yum…
  • And now I want some Nutella.
  • Stupid gay boy and cheese-eating butt/surrender monkey.
• I think the 75% of the way through, big teenfic crisis moment is going to involve Joey—the guy no one likes
• “emoticoning”—heh
• uh-oh, Henri is breaking into a construction site. Is he bad news? Will he be horribly injured ¾ of the way through the book?
• Also, Henri is a stoner. Which GayBlogger seems to be against, but in a very low-key, TV told me you were bad kind of way.
• You know, this weird anti-drug commentary is making me wonder if someone is going to find their blog. ¾ of the way through, of course. b/c if they did, all those construction site trespassing pictures would totally make things sucky for Frenchie’s govt-working maman.
• Frenchie looks like StraightBlogger! The plot thickens!
• I’m getting a telegraph from the book…StraightBlogger winds up with unassuming MK stop
• Omg—they’re making driver’s ed kids DRIVE ON 495. THE BELTWAY AROUND DC. That’s just crazy talk.
• I think GayBlogger made a move on StraightBlogger on New Years Eve. This book has a terrible poker face.
• Ugh, box wine
• Jim Carrey—outdated reference?
• Frenchie’s dad is dead! That’s why all the death-defying and stonering! And the stupid mausoleum conversation! Or, at least, that’s my current theory.
• I’m finding myself caring less and less about these characters. Except Brett, the Joysey girl who refuses to learn how to drive. I bet there’s a great book in her whole story.
• These kids live around DC and StraightBlogger’s afraid of NYC b/c it’s a “terrorist target”?
• StraightBlogger doesn’t know it , but he’s totally trying to Vlad it up here.
• Such an asshole!!
• IS NO ONE GOING TO POINT OUT THAT MK ISN’T PISSED B/C STRAIGHTBLOGGER HAD A WET DREAM ABOUT HER, SHE’S PISSED B/C HE TOLD HOT GIRL HE WASN’T THAT INTO HER (MK)!?
• I’m also confused by the fact that no one is calling it a wet dream.
• Oh, Frenchie’s dad’s just an asshole. Anti-climactic.
• Frenchie says there’s no French word for bitch. Um, chienne? Look, I did research.
• So, in their tiny crappy boring suburb, there’s a locally-owned coffee place, a comic book store, an Ethiopian restaurant, and a gay bar? I mean, I know it’s around a big city, but yeesh.
• Why does 2 teenaged boys making out in a suburban gay bar sound like a REALLY bad idea to me?
• Also, GayBlogger just expressed surprise that an Asian guy didn’t have an Asian accent.
• You know, a lot of the nonstereotyped gayboy stuff in this book has become a moot point by what a stupid boy asshole archetype StraightBlogger is.
• Pot brownies
• You can’t see Before Sunset without seeing Before Sunrise—that’s just stupid.
• StraightBlogger thinks Julie Delpy was lying about not meeting Ethan Hawke because her grandmother died! I kind of hate this book right now.
• THE BOOK JUST GAVE AWAY THE ENDING TO THE MOVIE. I really hate this book right now, and you have no idea how pissed I’d be if I still hadn’t seen Before Sunset yet.
• I like this MK girl. She says she doesn’t want to “hit all the bases in one night”; she’s a big pushy drama girl; and she totally told StraightBlogger to his face that he “had his chance last Monday” to have sex with her. Why can’t I just read a book about her?
• What moronic bar owner would let 2 15yrold gayboys come to his bar on a Saturday night? Am I the only one who thinks this is a bad idea?
• Oh, it’s under 21 night. OK
• When your boy says to someone that he’s not your boyfriend and you’re an overly emotional wreck, this is not the time for a Long Island Ice Tea.
• GayBlogger thinks Frenchie said it b/c his mom’s back and things are weird; Brett’s got some weird Rules-based theory. Or, he’s a 15yrold boy who doesn’t want to admit he’s gay with a boyfriend. Anyone think of that!?
• I hate when I’m annoyed with a book but want to know what happens so I can’t stop reading. I would totally stop reading this book if I wasn’t so damn curious and 40 pages from the end.
• Now, maybe this is just wisdom that comes with age (oh, I am so age-ed and learn-ed), but he’s not your boyfriend until you’ve had The Conversation and he’s said, Yes. I am your boyfriend.
• Now there’s a hurricane coming!?
• Tornados!
• Apparently, summer romances/first loves aren’t drama-ful enough for Mr Brian Sloan. He’s gotta get Acts of God all up in there.
• MK is so not going to get to have the most fun a girl can have with StraightBlogger. In fact, I wonder if the mook even knows that a girl can have fun.
• And now GayBlogger is taking relationship advice from Dr Drew.
• OMG! Is Frenchie DEAD!? I thought they didn’t kill off teenlit characters just for being gay anymore.
• Oh, ok. He just disappeared for a few days. The Frenchie is still alive, folks.
• The moral of the story? Bros before hos. The moral of the commentary? I want my 250 pages back.
• No, wait--if the moral of the story is bros before hos, where's my girl Brett? What happened to her? And why'd they do so much complaining about that Joey dude only to have him not show up for the last half of the book. Way to not deliver on your foreshadowing, dude.

ETA: You know what's annoying? Blogger publishes drafts under the date you started the draft. Luckily, you can go in and edit to a more correct date and time, like when I actually finished reading the stupid book and writing this thing.

Stepping down off my platform shoes.

I figure starting this whole blog-every-day-in-November rigmarole with my big announcement is a good idea.
You know how I'm always talking about moving? Well, I am. Moving, that is.
I've accepted a job elsewhere. At the end of November, me, my boxes of other people's prom glasses, library discards, records, and thrift store mugs, and the jerks, will be getting the hell out of town.
I've taken a job as the teen librarian at a brand new branch in a multi-branch system where there are other teen librarians, in the suburbs up against a large city with other teen librarians.
I've moved a lot. I'm not particularly looking forward to the actual moving part, especially since the last time I moved more than 3 blocks away* with cats, my grandparents took my sister and I to McDonalds to keep us out from under everyone's feet. There was a train to play on at the McDonalds. I had just turned four, and I swear I remember watching my older cousins walk up my new, big-ass hill with Callie and Melina in their arms.
I'm also kind of dreading the apartment hunting, which I think I may be starting this weekend. For all its issues, I really like my current place. When the heat is working, that is. It gets a crazy-ton of light, has hardwood floors, a big balcony, and a gas stove. That only half the burners work on, but still--not electric = I can cook on it.
I don't necessarily need a place the size of this apartment. Granted, my kitchen is kind of huge, but there's no counter space to speak of. And a lot of the size comes from the long-hallway-with-rooms-coming-off layout. And that extra room, while nice for crafty storage type behaviors, is mostly a mess catch-all that I'm really dreading having to organize/trash half of/pack. So if I could find a one bedroom with hardwood floors and/or dark-colored carpeting, decent water pressure, a gas range, and a decent-sized living room, I'll be happy. Extra points for balconies, bathrooms without windows, double sinks and/or dishwashers, and a separate water heater from the rest of the building.
Apartment listings just add to the confusion. When I moved here, I was shown several "one bedrooms" that were actually, to my mind, more like studios. And some of the "one bedrooms" I've found on my current search also list a "den/dining room". Maybe it's because I tend to live in student ghettos/kinda sketchy areas, but where I come from, that's a damn 2 bedroom.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the place I lived in the summer after my sophomore year of college, and how much potential that place had. You know, if it hadn't been smack in the heart of College Student Central and stuffy as hell, with decades-old beige carpeting and a frat sticker (not put there by me or any of my roommates) on the toilet. Oh, or the David Hasselhoff picture opposite the toilet, but that's what I get for living with goofy boys.
The front door opened to a longish hallway, with the afore mentioned bathroom at the end. Two decent-sized bedrooms were off to the left. The right side was one big, long room. There was a fireplace with a weird kind of storage area behind it (the tv was in the fireplace, of course. Did I mention the goofy boys and the fact that I was 19?). At the other end of the big room was a kitchen area with a bar, but it was angled so that there was a distinct living room/kitchen/other roomish area set-up. Oh, and there was this kick-ass 1970s chandelier in that other space, hanging dangerously low given the height of at least one of the boys that lived there.**
Also, there was an excellent cleaning products still life that Conor thrifted at the Red White and Blue before it got a big head and starting overpricing the hell out of everything.
So if I could find a set-up kind of like that, without all the roommates, the grubtastic couch (that we once built a fort out of when we were all bored), the broken air conditioning, or the shitty carpeting, that'd be great.
The goofy boys are welcome to visit, of course.

*Ah, the Tiff/Jessy/Jenny move, literally down the street.
**Jason and I once had the following conversation:
Jason: "You aren't that short. You're not that far from my height."
Me: "um..."