Katrina

Been glued to the TV for the last few days trying to wrap my mind around what's going on down South. I was telling Ben, you know, you see these pictures and you know it's bad, but at the same time, when all you see is a bunch of debris for miles around, on TV, I know you can only get the barest idea of what was there before, that they were homes. Some of you know that I lived in Baton Rouge in my early years, and although I have only the blurriest of memories of that time, I have been reminded often that we survived Hurricane Betsy. Think of all the jokes you can, and then remember that I was there, and I was a temper tantrum-throwing four year old, and that my parents have already made them.

Anyway, our friend Ken, who some of you know here as "kfoz" got out of New Orleans (with all his dogs and one change of clothes) safely, but as they are reporting it now, that city may stay evacuated for weeks. Keep him in your thoughts if you will.

Not My Favorite Mistakes

All too often, I turn on the TV only to be jolted by the sight of the familiar face of someone I once dated. Even worse is when I’m in another room and I hear the unmistakable voice of one of them in the other room, not quite realizing that the TV is even on. This is probably something you get used to if you're Jennifer Aniston, but I am not she. Still, living in New York for as long as I did, the odds are that you’re going to date some actors, although somehow Nina managed to escape this fate, so maybe I have no excuse. None of the ones in my past are particularly well-known, but many of them work often, and turn up with some frequency on shows like Law and Order and Prison Break, which frankly, is no small irony. It would be different if I could go around saying, “Yeah, me and Clooney used to date, that’s right, movie star and ER’s Doctor Ross,” and, “No, I broke up with him.” More like, “Um, yeah, I used to know him,” about the child-killer on Law and Order: SVU or one of the craggy gang leaders on Prison Break. I suppose I should be grateful none of them have turned up on Elimidate. I’m just saying, most of us have the option of burning anything ex-related or at least mentally blocking out our mistakes if we so choose. I will say this though, watching these shows with my sweetie next to me, damned if I’m not even more grateful than I already am to be out of that game.

Ernie Pook

Okay, for the like, two people out there who don’t know who Lynda Barry is, run, do not walk to this week’s Reader and go straight to section 4 for this week’s Ernie Pook. I love anything she does, but one of my favorite subjects of hers is dogs. Sometimes she features Milton the Beat Poodle (Toilet! #1!) This week she has a dog astrology chart (Taurus’ Lucky Bark Style: Ceaseless) and “Ask Madam Lulu” in which “Ball-less in Baltimore” writes in about how he misses his balls so bad and asks if he will ever be reunited with them. She has several books, but I strongly recommend One! Hundred! Demons!

Tasting the Nerds

Last night Ben and I went to see Broken Flowers which was pretty great and I brought a bunch of candy from the grocery store so we wouldn’t have to spend an extra ten bucks. Generally I alternate between a few candies at the movies: Sno-Caps have been a longtime favorite, as have Junior Mints, Twizzlers and Spree, and in the last few years I’ve expanded into Skittles (Original, Rainbow and Tropical!) and Chewy Spree. This time I got a few things I haven’t had for a long time: SweetTarts, Nerds, and Lik-m-Aid Fun Dip. (This might be the time to mention to those of you thinking about it that yes, I am still on Weight Watchers, except when I go to the movies or when Megan buys me a pancake at the Bongo Room.) Anyway, I was mostly focusing on the SweetTarts, which didn’t disappoint, but later I thought, Hm, I should at least taste the Nerds. And my next thought was, That is a very weird phrase: Taste the Nerds. It should probably be a band name. The Nerds were very tasty indeed, pretty much nothing more than tiny bits of the candy shell on any sort of coated candy, if you’ve never had them, with a little bit of powder inside. Next time I have to try the Nerds Rope. Oh yeah.

Donovan's Closet

Here’s a story of mine printed up as a mini-book by the good people at Featherproof books, and the cover is very very very cute, as cute as anything I’ve ever seen. It has a lemon on a hanger.

Massaging the Queue

Last night Ben and I had a choice of three Netflix movies to watch, one about the holocaust, one about a couple with AIDS and one about a child molester. The moral of the story: Netflix is great, but you have to “massage” the list (props to Gene) to avoid nights like this when you just want to watch Anchorman.

Movie Star Eats Orange!

Okay, I think we can all agree it’s time for a little appearance by Tom Cruise when the best celebrity news we’re getting is that Heath Ledger peeled and ate an orange during an interview, thus leading to the conclusion that Heath Ledger Acts Strange, because he also (gasp!) wiped his hands on his pants. Which leads me to believe only that Heath Ledger Was Hungry

In the Spirit of Bill Maher, Some New Rules of My Own

It’s not enough to just bring it anymore. Now you have to bring it like it’s already been broughtened.

Three hundred dollars for jeans is too much, especially ones that are pre-ripped and patched. If you feel you cannot destroy and patch your own jeans just by you know, wearing them, come to me, and I will either tell you how to do it or you can pay me the three hundred bucks and I'll do it for you.

Black is just black, and nothing is the new anything.

Dolls can talk, but they can’t talk back. (See today’s NY Times article about “Amazing Amanda” – more like Creepy Amanda.)

Dave Navarro. No. Just. No.

DVD Etiquette

WARNING: If you do not have HBO or cable and like me, watch many shows when they come out on DVD, like let’s just say SIX FEET FREAKING UNDER, and you do not want to know how they turn out, do not read the following.

No really, don’t read it. Even though it’s already been spoiled all over the place, I’m going to spoil it one more time just because I’m so darn cranky now.

Nate died, I heard.

I also knew before watching that his wife went missing, I knew that Brenda was a sex addict, and that her brother was in love with her, I knew that Ruth got married, I knew pretty much every significant plot point before it happened. Same with Sex and the City and The Sopranos by the way. Carrie ends up with Big? Hey thanks. Ralphie gets his head packed into a bowling bag? Good to know. Only because all these shows are so well-written and acted do I bother to put them on my Netflix queue.

But I think there need to be some ground rules. For the most part, it seems as though most film critics would never give away a film’s ending without giving the reader warning. Why this rule does not seem to apply to television series that have great numbers of rental dollars in their future, I do not know. The Times yesterday had a huge article about the end of 6FU, which, even if I had chosen not to read it, had the spoiler right in the title, and as we speak, Terry Gross is on Fresh Air interviewing Alan Ball, the creator of the show, with the teaser about Nate’s death right at the top, before I had a chance to decide if I wanted to listen or not. Is there some difference between giving away the secrets of TV and the movies? What would that be?

I might propose a time limit after which most people would have seen something, like maybe after twenty-five years say, it’s okay to mention that Tony dies at the end of West Side Story, or that Norman Bates had issues with his mother? How about that?

Okay, I’m done beefing for today. I’m coldy and tired and I know some of you people who I adore have blogged about this, and I still adore you but… cut it out! Or give me a heads up. Either one.

HOLD THE PHONE!

P. Diddy has changed his name.

On your mark, get set, drop everything and delete the P from your speed dial. Are you done? Okay, now you can carry on with like, your life and stuff.