Facebook Dilemma

What do you do when someone you don't think you know friends you on Facebook with a cheerful personal but not that personal note?  I mean, if you click on the link to see their profile, you end up friends with them, but then what if you don't actually know them?  Clearly this does not bother those who have 579 friends, but I don't think I want to be Facebook friends with people I don't know.  I guess, if I don't recognize the name, I either don't know them, or don't remember them well enough to care to be friends with them on Facebook.  So I ignore the request?

I am going to go straight to hell

for the way Anne Lamott makes me want to throw up.  Except I'm Jewish, and we don't believe in hell.

Edited to add: Now this, this makes me feel better.  Still probably going to hell.

Hi There, First Place

Nice to see you again. [OK, game just ended, standings aren't updated yet, but I have to go to bed, and, as always, if you care, you know what I mean.]

Celebrity Athletics

I tried to get Jenny to take this one on, as it's really more her bailiwick, but she declined, so I'm afraid the onus is on me.

And I'm afraid that means we must discuss J. Lo's triathlon, the one which rates its own blog, 196 Google news hits and about a gazillion other Google results, the one which she has trained for assiduously, with the honorable aspiration "to make my babies proud" (because, you know, a mom who has completed a triathlon is what every seven month old yearns for) (especially when it means that she spends hours every day training, instead of gazing and cooing), the triathlon that totalled a half-mile swim, 18-mile bike and four-mile run, in which she came in, uh, not so much the fastness?

OK, stop.  Stop.  STOP.

You are a not-so-fast athlete yourself (this is me who is the you here, not you--I'm chastising myself, you're just listening along).  You support everyone who attempts athletic challenges (really, you do: you deeply disapprove of those fast marathoners who disapprove of the slow marathoners, like the seven/eight/nine-hour ones, because, for god's sake, the fast marathoners are already drinking beer before the slow ones come along, and why should they care, and getting through 26 miles is impressive however you do it).  You are all about the personal best.  What's with the J. Lo hate?

Uh, it's not so much the J. Lo hate, it's more the J. Lo disdain.  I mean, come on, I could do that without training.  This is not so much the impressive athletic feat, people.  This is the media opportunity.  And a way to get paid for losing baby weight.  And, look, it works.

Now, the Katie Holmes marathon?  I was down with that.  So she was not so the fast, that's fine.  She didn't send out press releases, she just showed up, ran her marathon, and everyone was all, hey, there's Katie Holmes, running her marathon, without a bra, and then she went away.  Bully for her.  

But this J. Lo thing?  Bah...

(On the other hand, I'm all about Katie Price, who is famous for doing absolutely nothing except having big boobs and being famous, though at first when I started reading the article, I was all "who's this Katie Price, and how come I've never heard of her?" but then I realized that she is JORDAN, and of course I know Jordan, because when we lived in London, everything was all about Jordan, and, really, I like my media opportunism pure, not tainting us real not-so-fast athletes.) 

What does it say about me

that I find Ben Stein's column more compelling than that Eve Ensler rant my friends keep sending me?

That I care more about regulation than polar bears?  Because I think maybe I do.

How Much Do You Think Tina Fey Practiced?

Enough, for sure, because she nailed it.

She's a Cross Between Bush and Cheney

But why did the Times print this article on Saturday, not Sunday?!

Edited to add: Duh, there it is on Sunday's front page above the fold.  But usually when they publish online the day before, they put Sunday's date on it.  My bad.

You Go, Girls!

The ladies on The View take on McCain (who is pretty horrifying).

Oh, Man

How can the Daily Show be on vacation?  I need sanity.

Political Notes

Due to a busy, productive, enjoyable day of work (which entailed leaving the house at 7:10 in the morning), I did not learn about the lipsticked pig debacle until the end of the day.  Perhaps the McCain campaign and the media need to find themselves some busy, productive, enjoyable work.

I have now received the Women Against Sarah Palin email six times (and counting).  How about you?

The thing I find most upsetting about this election is neither John McCain's determination to do whatever it takes to be president, regardless of his professed convictions, nor Sarah Palin's politics (that debunking? anyone who was truly paying attention knew all that stuff, and it doesn't make her any better).  

What bother me most are the structural parallels between what I'll call, for lack of better terminology, us and them.

We treat our guy like a rock star; they treat their gal like a rock star.

We find Sarah Palin inconceivably horrifying; they find Barack Obama inconceivably horrifying (really, they do--go read the conservative blogs, or even the comments on The Caucus).

We spread Sarah Palin rumors virally; they spread Barack Obama rumors virally.

We believe what we want to believe; they believe what they want to believe.

Of course we believe that we're right (I certainly do); but so do they.

It bodes ill for all of us.

Mamma Mia

M is listening to Abba ("S.O.S.") which reminds me that I never blogged about Mamma Mia which we finally saw on Friday night.

Best part: E's full-body grins when she was particularly amused.

Whenever Meryl Streep's histrionic hippie was on screen, the movie was divine, especially if she was with Pierce Brosnan, and ESPECIALLY if they were singing, and ESPECIALLY when they were singing "S.O.S.".  I recall seeing some review which talked about how pathetic Streep was, but I thought she was having a grand old time, just putting it all out there in prime camp Abba fashion.  Ditto for Christine Baranski and Julie Waters.

The young people father/marriage plot?  Eh.  And it brought down the movie, I thought, from the sublimity of Streep et al to, well, eh.

Still, we had fun.  I mean, it was Abba.

Other People's Dreams

I know: they're boring.  And it's even worse when they're partial and fragmented, but this was so weird I just had to write it down.

We were up on top of a very high mountain, all snowy and craggy, kind of K2 like.  Altitude sickness was a danger, but the other problem was that the tide was coming in, and where we were camped was going to be under water.  S had gone off, I think to get the plane or the boat which would get us out of there, and I was trying to clean up the campsite and pack, worrying that I was going to get altitude sickness.  

Then somehow I had these three tiny naked mice in the palm of my hand: tiny, they were maybe the length of half a finger.  It seemed imperative that I take care of them, but I didn't know what to do with them, and I had so much to do.

A man went by, in some kind of limping crawling fashion, and he seemed like the obvious solution, so I asked him if he wanted some mice.  He looked at me like I was crazy, and said of course he did not want mice.  I looked down at the mice in my hand, and then I realized that while I'd been worrying about mice, the tide had almost come in, I had become almost delirious, and I needed to get across the remaining sand while I could.  So I dropped the mice down into the snow cliff below.

I can't help thinking this has something to do with Sarah Palin.  Or with me not having my priorities straight.  Or with getting rid of things that I really shouldn't be worrying about (which is something I am strongly considering).  Or perhaps just with being a spacy coldhearted bitch.

Best Play Ever

E. Hinske to second on fielder's indifference.

Life In The Post-Feminist Playground

E (explaining why it's OK for her to wear a long dress to school tomorrow, even during recess): Boys run around the playground.  We sit, chat, and play house.

Just shoot me now.

Feeling Good About Biden

Watch this. [ link from Sullivan]

Renovation Update

Bathtub.  

Doors.

The walls of the front hall seem to be caving in.

But my contractor pats me on the shoulder and tells me they'll fix it.  I heart my contractor.  Plus he's hot.  Kind of like Jon Stewart.  Only not.

McCain

Snooze.

Double Standards

What would we do without Jon Stewart?

Google's New Browser

I think Chrome reads my mind.  Seriously.  I just went to look for a website that I don't think I go to that often, and I had only typed www., which I type all the time, and the first thing to come up was the website I was looking for.  Creepy.

Other than that, I'm pretty impressed.

One More Thing

Victory in Iraq? What does that even mean?

Politically, I'd say it means they've crunched their numbers and decided their best bet is to get out their base, whatever it takes.