My radio interview about IraqiGirl

Of course, I won’t be able to bear to listen to it (aaahhhhh my voice aaaahhhhhh), but maybe you will…

Interview for WORT’s A Public Affair

Alexander Hamilton, spoken word style

I went to high school with this guy!

…and he was always a theater star even then. Awesome.

h/t what is the what

UPDATED: Okay, I had to add his Tony acceptance speech:

The Dr. Herbert he thanks for telling him he was a writer? Did me some good turns in 8th grade English, too. So awesome.

Wednesday Words: The kind of education that’s been getting in the way of my… education

Keep your rigid opinions about when Wednesday is to yourself, y’all.

I am self-educated from genre books.

– Charlaine Harris, CLUB DEAD

I blew threw all nine Sookie Stackhouse books in two and a half weeks, y’all. Master’s thesis? What Master’s thesis?

Actually, it turns out that there’s a reason for my inability to do much more than lie on the couch reading trashy novels and rubbing Cooper’s belly for several weeks — besides my incorrigible laziness, I mean — and that is Vitamin D deficiency. It turns out Vit-D isn’t something you want to mess around with. So now I am recovering with my prescription-strength vitamins (seriously?) and newfound will to accomplishing things. And mourning the loss of my muscles, my beautiful muscles, but my gym classes are just waiting for my return, my enthusiastic return, and so it goes.

Anyway, the Stackhouse books are hella predictable (like, when I can call all the plot twists, and I mean all, I have to consider the possibility that it’s not because I am a genius but rather that these books were designed that way), and when you read them right next to one another you see how completely full of continuity errors they are. Continuity errors, and also the kinds of repeated passages you get when you’re churning out a series, because there’s only so many ways to say

When Elizabeth looked at Jessica it was like gazing in a mirror. The same shoulder-length blond hair and aquamarine eyes, the same color as the Pacific Ocean. The twins shared perfect size-six figures. They were identical right down to the dimple in their left cheeks… until you got to their personalities, that is.

and if I hadn’t referenced the size-6 figures I would have referenced the birthmark on Elizabeth’s shoulder that was the only way to tell them apart because that’s how you knew if you were reading Sweet Valley High or Twins, is what I’m saying. Sometimes I felt like twenty percent of the Stackhouse books was this kind of repeated scene-setting, like how many times is Charlaine Harris going to have Sookie narrate that vampire-human marriages haven’t been legalized yet… not that any vampires have asked her? Seriously, how many times?

Nevertheless, these were intensely addictive, and I felt such profound relief when I had finished the last one (published so far) and could move on with my life. It reminds me of the extreme addiction I had for a while to Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series, and then suddenly I just… didn’t. I still own two more of the books, but I’ve never felt compelled to read them. I got over it.

Pumpkin Cooper

The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon

h/t Complications Ensue

In the No Really, That’s a Word category…

…I don’t know that I’ve seen this bested.

Strangest thing I’ve seen on Halloween (so far…)

A man wearing what were, from the front, normal tan pants, approximately the color of his skin… and from the back were painted to look like he was wearing a thong. By which I mean, only a thong.

“What are you going to be for Halloween?”
“Naked from the back.”

Huh???

Cooper Loves Me!

And despite how mean I am to him*, I love him too.

* Have I mentioned before on-blog how my favorite activity at home is to say really mean things to Cooper, in a really nice tone of voice? “Hello, you terrible dog! You are a maker of trouble! You do nothing but create problems for me and other people! Look at you wag your tail like you think that’s okay! You think you can get by on being cute, but your looks won’t last forever! You’ll see!” Like that.

Other times I tell him about how he’s a mediocre dog, perfectly acceptable, but nothing special like he seems to think he is. (Which, obviously, is false. Look at him! So special!) Now that I’m writing this out, I’ve become positive that I picked it up from Peter Cameron.

Crossing things off my bucket list

I have long stated that my aspirations in life were to acquire a dishwasher, a washer-dryer, a massage chair, and a spice grinder. The past two weeks have seen half of those items crossed off my list.

Less cool? When the Walgreens cashier who rang me up (“I fell for your damn demo,” I announced cheerfully as I placed the portable massage chair on the counter) told me how she uses this same brand every night at home. “Yeah, I just go home, take an Ibuprofen, and sit in that thing,” she explained of her evening routine. Please don’t let that become me.

Also? Grinding spices is tiring. Damn toasted cumin.

“Well, I certainly appreciate your enthusiasm, EWF.”

That’s what my step instructor said in class. It’s not what you most want to hear your step instructor say.