I am a hilarious jokester

I just made up a joke. It's really funny.

Q: What comes out of a possessed woman every month?

You can hear the answer in a minute. I always hate when jokes and punchlines are right next to each other because I tend to read two lines at a time like reading one and scanning the one under it to see what's coming ahead, so I usually know the punchlines before the joke is over. Ok, now you can hear it, are you ready?

A: Devilled eggs!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Every time I think it, I crack myself up. Next time I see you, you have to pretend you didn't read my blog so I can tell it again. And remind me to tell you the Ghost of the Chicken joke because it gets me every time, but I can't type it.

I have a hard time telling the Ghost of the Chicken joke because as soon as I say the first word, I start laughing, that's how good it is. I also like the Magical Diaphragm joke... diafragm.... diafragm how in the hell do you spell that word? Anyway, I like it, but I'm really bad at telling it. Oh, but maybe I can type it.

Give me a second to look up how to spell diafragm..... ok, it turns out I was right the first time. Ok, time for me joke. Are you ready?

Ok, so you all know the story of Cinderella. Oppressed, depressed, blah blah blah, and the Fairy Godmother makes her a beautiful gown for the ball. But before Cinderella leaves, the Fairy Godmother puts something in her hand and says "Cinderella, I want you to put this in right now. It's a magical diaphragm to keep you safe when you meet the Prince. But be careful because at midnight, it will turn into a pumpkin."

So Cinderella thanks her Fairy Godmother and goes off to the ball.

The hours pass, and it gets to be 11:30, and the Fairy Godmother is waiting up for Cinderella and says, "I hope my Cinderella gets back soon. It's almost midnight."

At midnight, the Fairy Godmother says, "Oh no, I hope Cinderella is alright. Well, I suppose I'll wait a bit longer."

At 1:30, the Fairy Godmother is getting really worried. "Where in the fuck is Cinderella???"

Well FINALLY at 2:30, Cinderella comes home looking all out of breath and dishevelled. Her dress was on funny, and her hair was all mussed. The Fairy Godmother goes to her and says, "Cinderella, I'm so glad you're back. I was so worried! Well, how was the ball? How was the Prince? Did you have fun?"

And Cinderella says, "Well, the ball was kind of a drag, and the Prince was boring. I didn't even feel like dancing, and I was going to go home early.... but then I met this guy Peter Peter!"

SEE isn't that a great joke? Tell me your favorite jokes... in the comments... because nobody comments anymore.

Here I am

I'm squeezing my butt cheeks together trying real hard to think of something to break my accidental silence. I just kinda... forgot about my blog. PotterCast has been releasing things every couple days on their tour to keep me busy at work, and my life has become a droll routine of work, home, 18 holes of video golf, Netflix movie, and 10 seconds of reading before I fall asleep.

Oh, except that's a total lie because of Pride weekend and my first episode of So You Think You Can Dance and applying for jobs and stuff... and everything else. I guess I've got a lot to say, but no amusing way to say it. Watch this.

That kid's a star.

Anyone notice the power outage on the Upper East Side yesterday? It happened exactly as I was getting on the train to go home, so I had to WALK FIFTY BLOCKS in the HUMIDITY more like SWIM fifty blocks. You should have seen me. I didn't shower before I went to Brian and Susie's to watch TV, and I decided to walk there to, but neither of them said anything about how gross I looked.

Oh, and I changed my hair again, I guess now you're all up to speed on my life.

I forgot my camera during Pride Weekend, but I'll get other people's pictures soon so you can see all my cool new friends.

The next post will have a topic and be coherent, I promise.

Kick My Ask

Ugh, I'm recovering from a day and a half without Internet access. I have a billion blogs to read and an e-mail to respond to (yes, just the one), but I gotta shower now. Anyway, watch this.

Prairie Dogged

This damn prairie dog has featured on 5 websites that I read today. The first time I saw it, I thought it was retarded. The second time I saw it, I thought "I can't believe two people like this." The third time, I chuckled. The fourth, I thought it totally adorable and awesome, but I was embarassed about thinking so. The fifth time I saw it, I put it in my blog.

Most heart-stopping 4 seconds you'll ever experience.

A couple things...

Fröhlicher Mittsommer, dudes!

I did it. Last night I applied for two jobs that I am excited about. I'm not telling you what they are because if I do they will have a mummy's curse and I will never get them. They're my two favorite jobs I've applied for, and I think I could really lend a lot to both of them. Sadly, I can't prove that to them with a cover letter because anyone can talk about how great they are, and that doesn't make it true.

Cover letters are such crap. The only thing you can really learn from them is how good your applicant is at using misleading language to self-promote. It's like setting the stage for unethical business practice before the guy even walks through the door. No wonder rich assholes are such assholes.

In other news--and yes I know you're tired of hearing this--I joined another website. This one is Yelp. It's super fun. It's full of people writing reviews and talking about events in the community. Here's my profile. I've written one restaurant review of my favorite German place, and I also asked the message board about where to get a good Chicago style hot dog, and Lisa C. totally came through so we love her. Go join Yelp and be my friend and click all the buttons that indicate how awesome my review(s) is/are. Also feel free to "Send me a compliment." K, thanks.

Poll: Ashton's outfit. Yes or no?

I say yes. Reply in the comments.

Grade A Large Bitchfest

Ugh, and I totally just got this e-mail from FreshDirect who said they'd indeed be delivering my groceries today after work, but that they're out of my eggs, so they can't bring me 6 eggs.

Jesus first of all, who runs out of eggs, and secondly, I don't care what kind of fucking eggs they are, just send me another kind like it makes a damn difference if the things are brown or white or beige or whatever. If you look at the abundance of hot dogs and frozen pizzas in my order, you know I'm not a gourmet chef so what do you think I'm doing with these things? Grade A. Large. Now I have to stop for eggs on the way home.

One might argue that I've gone 5 months without having eggs in the house, so I should just take the hit like a man, but I want french toast and nobody can stop me.

Look At You

Nancy Drew is a forgettable movie. So forgettable that I forgot to tell you I saw it on Sunday. It kinda sucks in a lot of ways, and if it weren't for that corny 12-year-old fat kid and my total emotional control allowing me to accept that it sucked and making it fun, I wouldn't have survived. Also, I'm a perv and thought the guy playing Ned was totally cute. Though it would seem he's 19, so I'm at least not breaking any laws.

Oh my God, I just noticed he's in Jumper, which is based on this super-good sci-fi book about a kid who teleports. Hm, so is AnnaSophia Robb... I guess I'm seeing that despite Hayden Christensen who ruined himself by being in Star Wars.

Anyway, back to Nancy Drew. The best part was Nancy's little outfits. She looked like this perfect little Park Avenue librarian, and it was kinda neat how she was practically perfect in every way. During the suckier parts of the movie, I would sit there and pretend to be her, except I was way more creative with how I used my powers. First of all, I used my giant brains and seamstress abilities to start my own fashion empire. I also used my skinny-like-the-Friends-ness and cute hair to be a supermodel. Then I used those two assets again to stop Ned from being such a prat so he'd teenage seduce me already. Sadly, none of my scenarios involved solving crimes or helping people. But who has time for that when you're a hot billionaire? I'll get my maid to do it.

I'm pretty sure Nancy Drew wasn't created to inspire shallowness in people, but I manage to find a way with anything. Anyway, don't bother seeing the movie unless you really need to.

Ok, so as it happens, I'm in a better frame of mind than I was. It's because I got a lot done yesterday regarding job hunting, resume-making, and the like. Also, today was Clean Towels Day. I found some jobs, made a not-for-libraries resume, and got a general good feeling about the whole process. I've got this brand new "I Can" attitude to replace my previous "It's So Big And I'm So Small" attitude. We'll see how long it lasts. I am going to send out 6 applications this evening, but I might end up just sitting there and watching Xanadu, thereby allowing the dread to return.

Winnr, Losr, Time Killr

I joined a new website. Because that's what I do.

This one is called Tumblr, and it has no e so it can fit in. Tumblr is an easy tool for building a Tumblelog. As a blog is to a journal, so is a tumblelog, as the Tumblr FAQ puts it, to a scrapbook. Here's mine.

Basically, I put this little bookmark link into my browser, and anytime I see something on the web that I want to share, I click it, and a dialogue opens. A smart dialogue. If I'm just on a page, a link dialogue opens. If I'm on a YouTube page, a video dialogue opens. If I've highlighted some text, a quote dialogue. And then I can edit what I want and the entry or picture or video gets posted to my tumblelog.

I've also set it up to automatically update with my Flickr photos, blog entries, del.icio.us bookmarks, and Twitter statuses.

The whole point of it is that it's ephemeral and has little to no commentary. All you use it for is to keep track of and share things you're enjoying but don't necessarily need to bookmark to go back to or analyze. For example, today I linked to a YouTube video of some fainting goats. I don't ever need to see it again; it didn't change my life. (SEMICOLON, YES!) It's just something I thought other people would get a kick out of, but not that I cared enough to put into this blog. So I posted it in my Tumblr blog and there it is.

I dunno, I think it's cool. We'll see how long before I forget about it. I'm gonna go take my blog feeds out of it, because now that I think about it, I don't want them there. But subscribe to it if you want to. Don't if you don't. But if any of you have a Tumblr blog, I'll so read it daily because it seems like a super way to discover some neat stuff.

L'envoi

Look at that last post! That's another thing that happens to me when I get stressed: I write like a testicle.

Out the window go my wit, my nuance... even my comma splices lack their usual beguiling charm. It's all BLAH words BLAH awkward BLAH what? Ugh, I'm a failure.

Are you sure you wish to shut down your system?

When something big and daunting comes up that I have to do, I totally shut down. Let's take the example of applying for a job. Finding a new job is big and scary and really really hard, and it takes a lot of time. Therefore, when it needs to be done, I have trouble doing it.

Ok, that's not too profound, I mean everyone puts stuff off when it's difficult, it's just the way we are. But what I'm experiencing right now goes way beyond procrastination. Having something like this job search do present in my mind pushes everything else away. My creative energy is sapped, I don't want to go out or be social. I don't even want to blog or e-mail or return phone calls. My life becomes very small, and if I'm not careful, all I will do is sit around and watch TV or read a book.

Saturday I had a brunch committment that I would've skipped if I hadn't promised to go. Then, I came home and read a book. An entire novel. Because I couldn't motivate myself to do anything else under the looming stress of the job hunt. I slept for a couple hours in there too. It wasn't until Brian called and said "You can't sit alone by yourself all Saturday night" and called me out for making lame excuses that I finally consented to go out.

It bothers me that whenever one thing in my life gets stressful, everything else shuts down. Just because I have one responsiblity to accomplish doesn't mean I should stop dating, creating, and having fun, but that's exactly what happens.

I have to fight it all day, and I'm not even job hunting very hard. Imagine what it'll be like when I finally get my butt in gear and start applying places. That's the most destructive thought of all, and it's not even true. But even though I know it won't really get worse, I can't believe it.

After work today, I'm going to do laundry because I have to wash my towels. But I know in the back of my mind that the laundry is just another diversionary tactic. I'm doing laundry because I "can't put it off any longer." The only things I do in these mindsets are Necessary Things and Escape Things because anything else will make me think "I shouldn't be doing this, I should be applying for jobs."

Necessary Things are things like doing the laundry and buying cat food, during which I'll think "I know I should be applying for jobs, but this is important so it's ok" even if I'm fooling myself like I will be this afternoon. My towels are fine.

Escape Things are reading and watching movies, during which I can think "............."

I'm not just writing this blog entry to whine about my frame of mind. I'm writing it to force myself not to abandon everything just because I have stress. I procrastinate, I get down on myself for procrastinating, I get depressed, and that makes me procrastinate more. What's the answer when "Just shut up and do it" doesn't work?

I have a friend looking for a job. Maybe I'll have him come over and we can have a Craigslist party where we won't let each other do anything except search and apply. But we'll probably end up just seeing the Nancy Drew movie again.

Brief Confession

Last night I got drunk. Really drunk, and I didn't even notice. Oops.

Today when I woke up, there were 7 Disney movies in VHS format on my kitchen table. I have no idea where they came from.

Pictures from that Texas trip

When I told my mom that one of the lampposts in front of the library fell on a guy and knocked him out and they had to take him to the hospital, she said "Oh no, will they be able to put it back up?"

Anyway, even though it was about over a month ago, I figured it was still ok for me to post some pictures of my texas trip. They're crappy. I don't take pictures good. I will post some favorites, but if you want, you can look at the whole set on Flickr and leave lots of comments. They're all from San Antonio, and I haven't gotten around to titling and tagging some of them.

The last two are my favorites because I love when you go to really old places that have become touristy and you see stuff like that when you're supposed to be experiencing a thing that's hundreds of years old. It destroys the whole experience, but it makes me laugh every time.

Bombs and Heroes

Awesome, we were all just evacuated because of a suspicious package at the 40th St. entrance. It was probably somebody's lunch or a Duane Reade bag that blew over to the door, but it was a lot of fun! There were fire trucks and police cars and new crews. And then in front of the library one of the lampposts fell on a guy, which was maybe less fun, but he'll be fine. There were more ambulances and fire trucks for that. The whole thing was crazy, and we got to sit outside, and it's gorgeous out today. Now it's almost time for lunch, so I'd consider this a pretty action-packed, productive morning.

Right, moving on my new superhero alter-ego is Awkward Hair Dude, saving the world with medium-length, impossible to manage hair! Too long for the old style, too short for a new one, I, Awkward Hair Dude, have what it takes to bring peace to America! Posing incognito as a mild-mannered, shaggy boy "just trying to grow his hair out", criminals never know what's coming when I bust out my secret weapons: "Ineffective Pomeade" and "Weird Flippy-Things That Won't Tuck Behind My Ears"! Enemies of justice, beware!

I'll post a picture as soon as I get my super suit from the dry cleaners.

Get down! Get funky!

I have nothing to write about because I'm in a funk of laziness and non-inspiration and stress at not having done anything useful this week, and on top of that, today is one of those days where things keep going wrong. So for today's blog entry, I'm going to make a list of all the shitty things that have happened to me today. Then, when I have your sympathies, I will provide a link to my Amazon.com wishlist for your perusal.

• I couldn't find my lucky Spiderman underpants, which is probably why all these bad things are happening in the first place.
• It's negative a thousand degrees outside for no good reason.
• Getting off the subway, I was following a guy with a bike, and he stopped suddenly and I tripped on his bike and fell in the gap! It was so embarassing, and I was only saved because some tiny blonde woman caught my arm. She was really strong, but she didn't even have the courtesy to brighten up my day by being Buffy. She was just some chick. Dont worry, I thanked her anyway.
• My ankle still hurts from that.
• I broke my pencil coloring in a doodle of a witch and said "Crap!" thereby drawing attention to myself vehemently doodling just as my boss was walking by.

That's it so far, but I promise to update as the day progresses. On the plus side, the witch came out nice.

As promised: my Amazon.com wishlist. Go crazy and try to remember: My well-being is more important than any amount of your money.

I bet this never happened to Degas

I spent a good part of the day doodling a peaceful outer space scene with a sleeping moon and alien and a sweet blue planet and a mysterious head speaking "Shhhhhh" as if it were the celestial hum, and then I ruined it by trying to draw a rocket ship and actually believing it wouldn't look like a giant flaming penis.

I tried shading it to make it more like a rocket, but it just looks like I circumsized it.

Weekend, Tonys, shittiness.

I was supposed to do this big hilarious post about my weekend and the Tonys, and you were going to laugh, but I'm soooo beyond tired. I didn't sleep last night because I went to bed at one and my body said NO YOU CANNOT SLEEP UNTIL THREE and then my cat said NO YOU CANNOT SLEEP UNTIL THREE THIRTY so I put my cat in the bathroom and she said IF YOU KEEP ME IN HERE I WILL ROLL AROUND IN THE LITTER BOX AND YOWL AND SHRED THE TOILET PAPER AND YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN so I murdered her in my head over and over and counted them until I finally got to sleep, bludgeoning one decapitation two gradual starvation while I dangle raw fish just out of reach THREE HOW'S IT TASTE BITCH!?!?!

So I'm in a crappy mood and I don' thave much to say about the Tonys anyway. I learned a lot about Christine Ebersole and how awesome she is. (Link to YouTube. I'm a work, so I can't watch this and find out what it is, but it leads to all sorts of Grey Gardens clips.) No power on this earth will keep my from this show.

I also learned that bland performances are considered acceptable and that people can be tricked into liking Spring Awakening when shown the only 3 minutes of the show that were actually bearable I PROMISE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE PERFORMANCE THE REST WAS SHITTY FIVE BILLION AWARDS OR NOT except ok, that guy who won for best actor in a featured role was good, so he deserved his award and also maybe I want to have sex with him a little bit.

I'll try to stop using caps lock run on sentences to express myself, I'm more refined than that because I have so much class.

Other features of the weekend include, but are not limited to the following:

• I saw Knocked Up and it was good and true to life and hilarious except the part with the yucky thing.
• I had brunch and it took infinity plus forever minutes to get our food, but it was super fun and there were important mimosas.
• I passed out in a bar because I am either irresponsible, date-rapable, diseased, or a starving orphan. It was really embarassing, but I felt fine right after. Don't worry, nothing bad happened, I did a scan. Two kidneys, two testicles, in-tact rectum. No harm no foul.

That's all, that's the recap. Also, I invented a new genre of poetry today during the Boringest Meeting in Boresville. The genre is called "shitty poetry" and it goes a little something like this:

Shitty Meeting : a shitty poem
This is the boringest meeting ever.
If you wonder when it will end, it is never.
This woman will not shut her mouth.
She makes me want to migrate south.
This man sounds like an ass.
I will make fritters from his hulking mass.
If this meeting does not end soon,
I will set off fireworks in this room.
The new presenter is really hot.
Ugly and boring he is not.
I am imagining having sex with him.
After the meeting I will say "Stick it in!"
But other than that, this meeting is snore city.
And that is why it is shitty, shitty, shitty.

I guess I'm a great writer after all. If you like the poem, you can set it to music and we can have a campfire sing-along.

Handiest Web Tool You'll Ever Use

Is Paris in jail right now?

Link Love: 6.8.2007 Week in Review

I'm gonna try this new thing, because I have no things here except my monthly Celebrity Hard-On, which I only remember every other month. It's kind of a week in review. In fact, I think that's what I'll call it. And it's gonna be all about fun things I found on the Internet this week. This one's short because I just decided to do it right now.

• Nerve.com, a new favorite website of mine, features sex advice from librarians, which I think is awesome. My advice: Put the book down.
• The New York Times ran a piece on designers who are mad about celebrities starting clothing lines and making it harder for them, to which Diane Von Furstenberg replied, essentially, "Get over it, if you deserve it you'll do fine" and so I like her. The Olson twins look, as usual, like living death. This was written in the wake of the Council of Fashion Designers of America fashion awards ceremony that took place at my work on Monday. It was so awesome, everything was hot pink and beautiful and the place was crawling with celebrities, except I didn't get to see them. Uma was here. Self-important caterers and stagehands tried to act like I was in their way and had no right to use my own bathroom, which is pretty much par for the course at these events. I triumphed.
• Holy shit, they're riding a dragon! The Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Deluxe Edition cover and box art is here!
• Also HP related, Colbert makes funny with a quick mention of the seventh book.
• And lastly PARIS HILTON'S GOING BACK TO JAIL, which makes me immeasurably happy! Loving that picture.

On my last.nerve

1, 2, 3, I officially hate Last.fm. It's probably the most inaccurate, inelegant folksonomy website ever. I bitched about it before, but I'm bitching about it again.

First of all, whenever I play my Finnish boyfriend's station, it always plays the same 10 songs each time, and they're not even things he listens to. And then today I tried to play the 'Shibuya-kei' tag station to hear some neat stuff, but not a single track it played out of about 15 was from the genre, so I figure "Fine, maybe people just don't know what that means because I really don't either" so I went to the 'Japanese' tag station because it's easier to know when things are Japanese.

So after 25 tracks of Alice Coletrane, Lou Reed, the Godfather soundtrack, Swedish electronica, and Irish folk music (all of which I skipped except for this one France Gall song) I got really annoyed, and then 2Pac came on, I closed the site in one of my little huffs.

I was looking at their joblist the other day to see if anything sounded interesting and within my skill set. Then I noticed they're British, and I'm not moving there. But honestly, what is this staff doing all day?

My recommendations are all things I hate and it WON'T LET UP with that horrid Michelle Branch MORE LIKE MICHELLE BRANSHEE!

Anyway, I don't know what's wrong with it, it wasn't like this a few weeks ago when I found it. Last.fm gets tons of attention in Web 2.0 blogs and discussions, but it exemplifies all the horrible qualities the folksonomy naysayers complain about. What really needs to happen here is the tagging structure and recommendation scheme need to be brought to the fore. On a site like LibraryThing, all the tags are right there, and it's always perfectly clear why something is suggested for you even if the suggestion sucks. Things are always "similarly tagged" and/or "most popular". With Last.fm, it's never clear.

When playing a tag station like 'shibuya-kei,' what you're hearing is clearly not songs or artists tagged as such. My theory is that you're hearing songs and artists that people who use the tag 'shibuya-kei' also listen to, but since nobody listens to just one genre of music, you're getting crap from Boris (who likes shibuya-kei and hip-hop), Francine (shibuya-kei and electronica), Gretel (shibuya-kei and mariachi), and Hortensia (shibuya-kei and rainforest sounds.) Meanwhile, I'm Scott (shibuya-kei and yé-yé), submitting my own unrelated music to this motley collection.

This works on Amazon. "People who bought this item also bought..." It doesn't work here. I don't know enough about this stuff to suggest why. I should be based on similar tags, not the habits of other people. More popular tags need to have less influence, too. The tag "female vocalists" should not have the same similarity weight as the tag "1960's Peruvian witch doctor chants in Hebrew cantorial modes." The former will tell me that since I like Judy Garland, I must like Kelly Osborne. The latter will bring up stuff that's truly related.

Anyway, that's neither here nor there because I don't know how their algorithms work. But straight up logic should tell these people "If you click a station and see 9 pictures of popular Japanese artists appear, the station should be playing these artists."

Basically, I think Web 2.0 folksonomy sites need more librarians on their staff, and it just so happens that I'm on the market for a job at a forward-looking company with good benefits and no threat of being laid-off in a year, neither of which I have at my current job. And I guess it wouldn't be SO bad moving to England and living a fabulous European lifestyle, I can make sacrifices. Any takers?

8 Things Meme

Nobody tagged me for this, but I'm doing it anyway to kill some time. It's one of those generic memes, and it goes thus:

Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

And I'll try to make it things you don't know.

1. The older I get, the less ashamed I am of being a nerd, and that's why I'm going to tell you that

2. One of the greatest pleasures in my life is knowing at the beginning of every week that I have my two Harry Potter podcasts, MuggleCast and PotterCast, waiting on my iPod to keep me entertained for two mornings. I never listen to them on the same day so I can draw it out and make the pleasure last.

3. I'm not even kidding.

4. Though there are many exceptions, in general I rather dislike being touched.

5. I hate alfalfa sprouts because they look like sperm and smell like semen, and that's why I refuse to put them in my mouth, which is rather ironic when you come to think of it.

6. Some people hate people you misuse "ironic." I, on the contrary, hate people who hate people who misuse "ironic" because even though it may be wrong in context, everybody knows what you mean by it so who cares?

7. I fantasize A LOT about doing violence to people who deserve it. Not gruesome bloody violence that would kill people, more like major kung fu grip and melting brains with my laser eyeballs, and I have this specific thing I want to do where I hold someone against the wall with my foot at their throat like Cameron Diaz in Charlie's Angels but nobody ever offends me enough to deserve it, that's why I never have.

8. I enjoy the following flavors: Robitussin, Pepto Bismol (only the real stuff, no generic brand), chewable Dimeatapp, the red strep throat medicine I used to always get, Advil, NyQuil.

Nobody tagged me, so I'm not tagging anyone. I don't want to make you guys feel obligated like I gave you homework.

Further updates: I started writing in my new book blog again, so you are all required to read it religiously. That's homework. Also, I watched The Witches of Eastwick and it was kinda bad. Apparently it was based on a book, and I bet it should have stayed that way. Now I want to see this movie, which is probably not based on a book. Its title is the best pun ever because it doesn't even rhyme, and I'm sad I didn't think of it myself.

The Prettiest Girls You've Ever Met

Before we get down to it, I need to say shame on you, Emma Watson, but the look on your face says "I dare you to say what I know you're thinking" so I'm gonna leave it at that.

Anyway, last night I was at the Highline Ballroom for a concert by the Pipettes, and it was pretty much the funnest time at a musical event I or anyone has ever had. For a long time now, they have been one of the two or three musical groups I listen to obsessively. They're music is all fun and dancy. They're like three backup singers who happen to not be backing anyone up and they do hand motions have the time of their life on stage.

Too bad I'm an idiot and forgot my camera, so all I have are these from roddyrick's Flickr account that I found through Last.fm. RiotBecki is in the glasses, and I like her because she looks like a librarian. Rosay is the brunette, and I like her because she talks a lot and has a nice jaw. Gwenno is the skinny one, and I like her because she's really good at the hand motions.

I danced a lot, even to the new songs, and so if you don't know who the Pipettes are, go find out because they'll make you really happy.

Oh, and this duo of girls called Smoosh opened for them, and they're amazing because they're like 12 or 13. It took them a while to get into it, but they were cute. They had sound problems at the beginning, and I felt real bad for them, so I clapped extra loud and the drummer girl had all this long gorgeous hair and was totally rocking out and flinging it all over the place, it was fantastic. She was pretty tight, too.

So Smoosh and the Pipettes and the spicy basil noodles with imitation duck I had for dinner made yesterday the best night ever. I wish I could wear polka dots.

**UPDATE** MusicSnobbery wrote up the concert too and indicates that the crowd kinda sucked. He's kinda right, but I was in my own world and dancing away, so I didn't really care. I think I saw this guy taking pictures, a lot of them are from the same viewing angle I had, and there weren't many people with decent cameras. Anyway, there's more shots there in his article, including one of that crazy awesome little drummer girl's hair.

Morning Dose

You can play my gay romances.

Found through JK and LT. We love LT because she also hated Spring Awakening.

House

Hi, I'm back. My vacations were nice. Pics to follow. Blah blah. Right now, I'm irritated.

There's this guy, right, and his name is Stephen Bennett of Stephen Bennett Ministries, where he is pictured with his mannish wife, proving the failure or his Pray-Away-the-Gay method. He's also a Concerned Woman for America. Americablog reports his objections to the Cheney son. (Linkin' Love to Atari_Age.) Now, Objections to Gays Raising Children have been around forever. It's a tired topic, frankly, and I'm pretty sure I don't have to convince you, my readership, of its demerits. It's something we've all come to expect from the Religious Self-Righteous. But these arguments frequently cross the line into the implied condemnation of other "non-traditional" familes.

I get upset enough when I'm told I couldn't raise a well-adjusted kid with my imaginary male lover, but fine, of course they're going to say that. Hatred of gays is the new hatred of black, and I've learned to tune it out. But then Mr. Bennett comes along and it's all biology this, sperm-donor that, and that gets me all riled up because even though I identify as a gay man, I identify even more strongly as the adopted son of my lovely parents. And now it's personal because you're not just messing with my feelings anymore.

I was raised in a non-traditional family. Beyond the white picket fence (well, electric fence), it's all barren mother, gay son, disabled daughter. So when people go off on gay marriage because "marriage is for procreation" they insult the bond between my parents, who could never procreate. When they imply the "sperm donor" is more of a parent to this child than Heather Poe deserves to be, they insult my relationship with my mother and father, neither of whom played a role in my creation.

I'm not here to talk about gay marriage or gay adoption. Not really. I'm not here to stand up for Lynn Cheney. It's all been said before, and she's not exactly my favorite lesbian. I'm here writing this because I'm tired of feeling like I have to stand up for my family. I'm tired off all the talk about blood ties and tradition. And I'm sick of people looking baffled when I say I'm not interested in finding my biological parents. "Don't you want to know where you come from?" they always ask. Thanks, but I know where I come from. I'm a Brandwein and a Belonsky, a Chafetz and a Kessel. There's more of my mother's optimism and my father's shrewd skepticism in me than anything any two strangers put there.

I've known I was adopted since the beginning. My mom always kept this poem for me, and when I was a teenager, she gave me a copy of it on nice paper. I don't know what happened to it, but I'll never forget the poem itself:

Not flesh of my flesh,
Not bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single minute,
You didn't grow under my heart, but in it.

A little mushy perhaps, but it gets me in that spot. The point is, since I was a child, I've had a specific definition of what makes a family. For me--and I'm not saying this is wholly original--it has nothing to do with blood or association or kinship. It isn't who has their name on my birth certificate or even who I grew up with. My parents and sister are my family because I choose them to be so. And because they choose me.

That's the natural way: families born out of choice and mutual love. The religious right has it all wrong. To them, it's all roles. One man to be the daddy, one woman to be the mommy. There's nothing in their strict ideology about love or support or bonds. Where's the sanctity in that? Talk about playing house!