Family Guy + Chuck Norris = Awesomeness

I swear I'm not turning into a TV mush head; it just happens to be the most interesting thing in my life right now that I'm willing to write about.

Last night's Family Guy was a hoot and a half. I practically hung up the phone on Erin when it came on (I was all "FamilyGuyscomingongottagobye!" and she was all "whateverbitchthatssodamnstupid").

Seth MacFarlane digs Chuck Norris facts. I dig Chuck Norris facts. Were two people ever so destined to be together? I worry I'll start to think he's sending me secret messages through my television and end up on CNN after being arrested for following him to the Dairy Queen and trying to hug him in the parking lot. Someone let me know if I'm headed there, please?

My inner teenager can beat up your inner teenager...

As if I needed more proof that my taste in movies (and television) is probably closer to a 16-year-old than a woman in her 30s: I haven't been able to find a single person to see the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters with me. There is a part of me that knows I should be watching something more age-appropriate on PBS or BBC instead of Adult Swim on Cartoon Network, but I just don't find Charlie Rose as entertaining as Family Guy (seriously, if you can watch this without laughing, I don't want to know you). I have a 16-year-old brain in my 30-something-year-old body, which also explains my frequent use of: "WhatEVER!"

I would argue that you have to be a grownup to appreciate the subtle humor in ATHF or Family Guy. Like this spoof of a song from Little Shop of Horrors, another favorite FG clip. Unfortunately, explaining something like Aqua Teen to others loses something in translation ("so, the little one is a hamburger? A wad of meat? And the french fry guy can fly? And they fight crime?"). I usually just tell them to watch "Hand Banana" or "Meatwad's Birthday."

My inner teenager also thinks farts are funny, completely ignores anyone she has a crush on, refuses to make her bed every day, and uses eyeliner with sparkles.

What matters is saying yes...

When people ask me how to get their articles/essays/books published, how they can get a job like mine, how I get my ideas, or how they can write for a living, I never know what to say. I spent a long time not working on my own projects and resenting and being jealous of the creativity of others. A couple of years ago, I read the following quote:

"Do not be critics, you people, I beg you. I was a critic and I wish I could take it all back because it came from a smelly and ignorant place in me and spoke with a voice that was all rage and envy. Do not dismiss a book until you have written one, and do not dismiss a movie until you have made one, and do not dismiss a person until you have met them. It is a f***load of work to be open-minded and generous and understanding and forgiving and accepting, but, Christ, that is what matters. What matters is saying yes."
~Dave Eggers, The Harvard Advocate

Now every time I hear that little voice in my head telling me I can't do something as well as this person or that person, or that it's going to be a long time before I'm the next Joan Didion, I respond with a simple "yes." Forget everyone else and focus on your own. Eggers is right; it is a lot of work. But it's worth it.

We are two both weirdos...

My friend Michael and I often email each other back & forth about random things, such as what we are currently listening to, what we ate for lunch, and how many more days it is until Heroes comes back on. Usually, he's listening to some crappy Eurotrash pop (or Gwen Stefani) and I'm listening to some godawful heavy metal or obscure trip hop. I joke about his musical tastes; I've actually gotten some good music recommendations from him (Amy Winehouse! Corinne Bailey Rae!) and he's helped me have an open mind about The Eighties Music and The Disco Music. We both love the heck out of Cyndi Lauper, Jenny Lewis, any chanteuse with an album between 1940 and 1970, and New Order. He's mocked me in the past for my brief affair with James Blunt (lasted five minutes, I swear), Tori Amos, and of course, All Things Metal. I made fun of his disco mix of Dolly Parton-doing-Stairway to Heaven (but listened to it in secret).

Today I was randomly sampling from my iTunes playlist and still had "Sister Christian" stuck in my head from earlier in the afternoon when Michael emailed me a "now playing" email with the following:
Saw you walking out on Sentimental Street
What cha going out there
Who ya trying to be
I know what you're thinking
Cause I've been there myself...

What are the chances that our sometimes disparate musical tastes would converge and we'd find ourselves both listening to Night Ranger on the same afternoon? Something like one in 750,000, I think. I figured I'd ride that brainwave and try to send him vibes to come over and bring me dinner later, but unfortunately my good friend is attending a Reunite REO Speedwagon rally this evening. Otherwise he would.

In honor of National Poetry Month...

The first poem I memorized was a short one. I think I was seven or eight and reading one of my mother's large collected works volumes.

The Night Has A Thousand Eyes
The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of a bright world dies
When day is done.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

~Francis William Bourdillon

I memorized it because I liked the rhythm of the words, but did not understand the meaning behind them until many years later. And when I did feel that light die for the first time, I wished I was still seven, sitting in front of the massive bookcases in our family room surrounded by open volumes. I wanted to be back in the place where the words were make believe and the emotion behind them foreign.

What one does when one finishes a book manuscript in just under three months...

I finished it on Friday afternoon and sent it all to my editor. And then I did the following:
1. Cry (happy tears).
2. Giggle my ass off.
3. Schedule a 90-minute massage for early Saturday morning.
4. Go home, sleep, wake up for an hour, go back to sleep.
5. Get massage. Feel human and amazing enough to grocery shop at Whole Foods following massage.
6. Eat lovely roast beast sam from Whole Foods Deli for lunch.
7. Sleep, an excellent nap with no fits or guilt or jerking awake.
8. Wake up, call BFF, go shopping at mall.
9. Return home and wonder what to do with free time. Decide to watch Shortbus (loved it; incredible, riveting, shocking...but would not recommend to the even slightly prudish).
10. Feel inspired and write essay for May issue even though I promised to stay off computer for 24 hours.
11. Wake up early Sunday morning with the whole day stretching in front of me like a lovely giant yawn. Eat cereal in bed, go back to sleep until noon.
12. Spend balance of day washing clothes, cleaning house, going through weeks of mail, and calling much-neglected friends.

Now that I know I can do this book thing, I've got three or four more ideas rolling around that I might put to the test in the next few months. For now, I'm not jumping into anything else too quickly. I have a long overdue haircut scheduled for Tuesday and lots of parties to take my new party dresses to this weekend.

The listress strikes again...

I am working on the final pages of my MS and will be subhuman until Friday. Therefore, I am ripping Erin's good idea (though, um, coughcough, I don't let a month go by between posts...) and making a list of what's on my mind that does not involve the book I am working on (yes, I get a little thrill every time I say those words...try not to hold it against me).

* I feel guilty about neglecting my friends and family for the past few months.
* I had a dream last night that Michael and I went whitewater rafting in Germany and he was in the shower with our tour guide for over an hour and when I finally got in there was no hot water left.
* I'm really excited about using the new pencils and sketchbook I bought in Savannah over the weekend. They're sitting on my kitchen table waiting for me to finish all this word business.
* If I ever wrestle in Jell-o, the flavor of Jell-o I would choose is lime.
* In yoga class on Monday, I stepped out to use the ladies room because our instructor made us do too many sun salutations in a row and I was bored.
* It's time to start riding my bicycle to work again.
* I bought two summer dresses on Bluefly last week - same designer, same dress, but one is blue and the other is black.
* What's in my fridge right now: Crystal Light lemonade, an avocado, half a package of wheat pita bread, four cheese sticks, three cans of beer, a bottle of prosecco, and three-fourths of a bottle of Bailey's. Alcohol to food ratio seems odd, since I haven't had a drink since April of 2005.
* Also in relation to previous item, I finally bought my Mr. Bento, but realized I must cook (or at least shop for food regularly) in order to have things to put in it to take to lunch.
* Finally, my nomination for best speech in a television drama goes to Grey's Anatomy (if you haven't been following here, I got hooked on seasons 1 and 2 on DVD for a while) for this gem: "Okay, here it is, your choice... it's simple, her or me, and I'm sure she is really great. But Derek, I love you, in a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me." ~Meredith Grey

Why I eyes ya all the live long day...

I know I swore off cute cat crap here forever and ever, but Aleigh sent me a link to this video a couple of weeks ago and I've giggled my ass off watching it at least a few dozen times (not all in one day). Even if you're not a cat person, watch it through the end because the last little guy is THE BEST.