Cake Eater Chronicles

Marketing 101

Being an Uber Geek is not an easy thing for the husband. He is the IT guy for plenty of people: my parents, his parents, our friends and a number of small to mid-sized corporations. One of his jobs as Uber Geek is to hook these people up with software, as such he is a Microsquash Partner, because he gets good deals. He also gets loads of marketing tchotchkes from Microsquash. Some of this stuff is cool---a free USB memory key, beta versions of Office, etc.---but most of it is pure, unadulterated crap. T-shirts. Oxford shirts. Little foam rubber cars that have Windows XP Pro plastered all over them. Pens. Paper. You name one cheapola marketing tchotchke that you have on your desk currently from some company you have to deal with, and Microsquash has sent us a version of it.

These packs of tchotchkes just show up at the house. Today, for some unknown reason, DHL dropped a box from Microsquash off at the back of the house. The Cake Eater neighbor pulled his Passat into the garage tonight and just narrowly missed the box. He brought it up as I was fixing dinner and I handed it off to the husband, wondering what they'd sent him this time---particularly because the box was intended to cause a frisson.

I mean, it's not every day you get a package that declares, "Partners in Paradise: Maui may only be a deployment away." I thought, hey, here's our chance to go to Hawaii on Microsquash's dime. They're finally going to play free and loose with the payola! Excellent!

So, the husband opens it up...

And it's more crapola, of course. No free software. No free USB memory cards. Instead, it's leis. They sent him leis.

Ron freakin' Popeil should have been standing there, announcing to the world, "But, wait! There's more!" Because there was, indeed, more.

My devoted Cake Eater Readers, I have the pleasure of showing you just how Bill Gates chooses to spend that $40 some odd billion he has lying around on the people who recommend software for him.

Bill sent the husband a...

What the hell?

So now I have a freakin' pineapple in the fridge. Thanks, Bill!

Fortunately for me, Feisty Christina has some ideas for what I can do with it.

Frosty Goodness Deux

My beer is getting around.

According to Russ: "I let your beer outside to play with the neighbor's beer, and when I came back outside, this is what I found. ISSUES! Your beer has issues."

Never mind the fireworks. My beer is fraternizing with---dare I say it?---Hawkeyes!

I feel a case of the vapors coming on.

The Mouse's House: Part Deux

Robbo's second entry into his Fear and Loathing in Disney World is up.

It's titled The Mouse's Lair.

A small sampling to whet your appetite:

{...}Speaking of feeding, we got to the Lodge around lunchtime. It boasts two restaurants and a bar, none of which was open. “Oh,” it was explained with false chirpiness, “everyone is either out in the park or asleep at this time of day. But the snack bar is open!” (This was the first direct example I came across of Disney’s ruling philosophy regarding the accomodation of its guests: “Do It Our Way Or Screw You.” That example was to be repeated many times over the course of our visit. The concept of “Customer Satisfaction” at the House of Mouse is a mile wide and an inch deep.) Anyhoo, the snack bar proved to be a nasty cafeteria-style enclave down in the basement that wouldn’t have passed muster in the average Student Union. Not that the average student could have afforded it, however. When you get to Disney, it’s frightening how fast you start automatically thinking of prices in $50 increments.{...}

Go read the whole thing.

Decision

The people have spoken!

It was close, but this toon has won. By a whopping two votes. I will, however, take it where I can get it.

Thanks to all who participated. I appreciate it.

Super Sekrit Message to my sister: after much scrutiny and many moments of doubt, I'm sticking with my story. She's not a redhead.

Neither am I for that matter. You and the husband both need to get your eyes checked.

While I'm At It

Fausta has also posted an interesting Day by Day conspiracy theory.

Methinks perhaps there's something to this one.

Hmmmmm.

Trouble in Northern Ireland

Well, there's always been trouble in Northern Ireland, but this is trouble of a different sort. The IRA is in trouble with Catholics who might have supported them in the past over the murder of Robert McCartney, a Belfast Catholic who got mouthy with some Provos in a pub and was murdered for his trouble.

His sisters and his fiancee want justice. As was common in the past, the IRA offered to "take care" of matters for the ladies, preferring to keep it on an internal level rather than having the courts interfere. What's surprising is that the ladies refused and have taken the recent shitstorm over the IRA's refusal to disarm/dropping out of the peace process/alleged massive robbery of a Belfast bank to a whole new level.

Fausta has an excellent roundup on the story. Go read.

How this will play out, I have no idea. It should be interesting to watch, though.

Frosty Goodness

Last week when I was guesting over at the Butchers Shop, I made a new friend with these posts. When I told Russ to have a beer for me at Kelly's, being the good guy he is, he obliged.

I didn't expect the beer to actually, you know, make the rounds of the greater Kansas City and Winterset, Iowa metropolitan areas. But it did. My beer, apparently, was a bit of a floozy, and an underage floozy at that, being no older than three months! Getting into cars with men it didn't know, going back to hotel rooms, taunting Oklahoma spirit displays at the Embassy Suites, crossing state lines, making friends with snacks that are bad for you, etc.

Bad, bad beer. You're going to get a reputation!

Generally, when a beer's reputation is on the line, it's because of rumors. Unfortunately, there are no rumors this time around. There's proof. I present to you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, The Flooziness of the Beer.

Can you say "jailbait?"

BOOMER SOONER, BOOMER SOONER, BOOMER SOONER! If there are any other words in the Oklahoma fight song than "Boomer Sooner" my beer doesn't know them. Plus, my beer was drunk at the time, so she really can't be expected to know it anyway.

My beer crosses state lines with snacks in tow. My beer apparently did her best to look over eighteen. Russ isn't in jail right now, so she must have done a bang up job.

This is where my beer apparently told Russ to stop the car. She got out and did her best impersonation-of Meryl Streep-impersonating-an-Italian-woman in front of the bridge, while saying, And in that moment, everything I knew to be true about myself up until then was gone. I was acting like another woman, yet I was more myself than ever before. Or some such bullshit. It could have been, Clint, you're a bastard for foisting a movie made from that piece-of-excrement-masquerading-as-a-novel on all of us..

Of course, she would have dropped the Meryl Streep impersonation if she had said that. Because she's my beer, and she knows I have certain expectations for behavior.

Of course a trip to Winterset wouldn't be complete without going to see The Duke's birthplace. I can only imagine what my beer, being the floozy that she is, did here. Really, I don't want to know.

According to Russ, my beer really is a nice beer, with lots of hops flavor, and she "does NOT have an annoying fake British accent like that damn Travelocity gnome." Which is good to know, because I have no idea why my beer would have an English accent, being a flower of the midwest. My beer, reportedly, is heading to the Spring Game in Ames next month and might make her floozy-ish way elsewhere in the meantime.

We shall see what we shall see.

And Here I Was Having Such A Good Day II

Just in case you can't be bothered to scroll down the page to this post, Doug has replied.

When he updates further, as promised, I will link to it.

It's New Divas Feature Time!

So, my fellow divas and I have been chatting. We have decided about some stuff that we're keeping under wraps until it's ready to go. But there is one upcoming event I felt I should tell you all about since it's happening in, er, TWO DAYS! We've decided that---even though it appears we're probably a bit hopped up on the power of estrogen---we're going to start a weekly advice column, running every Friday. We're calling it, ahem, Divas Sez

Yeah. I know. You can stop laughing any time you feel would be appropriate. Now would probably be a good time. Lest we kick your ass. There are four of us and one of you...who do you honestly think is going to win that battle, eh? Particularly if we're all wearing heels. Be rational about it.

Anyway, since we round robin the topic picking, we've decided to do the same with just who is going to answer the questions. This week, it has been decided, it will be little ol' me who answers your deepest wonderings about the fairer sex. Should be good fun, no?

Anyone* can ask a question about anything, really. We may just not answer it. It all depends. We will, however, try to restrain ourselves from mocking any email we receive---provided we can help ourselves. We will respect anyonymity if the author of a letter requests it, but this should not be seen as a request for trolls to put their two cents in. If you have a question you need answered by a smart, beautiful woman, throw it in an email and send it to divassez@gmail.com and one of us will do our absolute best to try and answer it.

Get them to me by 12am CST Friday. (GMT-6).

*Except for Skippy. (Who runs what is really a NSFW blog, so don't click if you're offended by pr0n.) I'm sorry, dude, but you are banned from asking questions. We can't help you. We think that, perhaps, you're actually beyond help, but that's just us. We adore you, nonetheless. I'm sure that Loveline would love to have your questions. I have to think you and Adam Carolla were separated at birth. I'm sure he'd adore talking to you.

Besides, you can always revel in the fact you were banned from the get-go. You have street cred.

Certamen Boy

I'm pretty sure Robbo has one of these. Somewhere.

After this post, he needs to pull it out, polish it up and wear it with pride!

Tiresome

It get's tiresome repeating onself, but one feels obliged to do it when someone's being an idiot.

ROME (Reuters) - A top Catholic cardinal has blasted "The Da Vinci Code" as a "gross and absurd" distortion of history and said Catholic bookstores should take the bestseller off their shelves because it is full of "cheap lies."

Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, in an interview with the Milan newspaper Il Giornale, became the highest ranking Italian Churchman to speak out against the book, an international blockbuster that has sold millions of copies.

"(It) aims to discredit the Church and its history through gross and absurd manipulations," Bertone, the archbishop of the northern Italian city of Genoa and a close friend of Pope John Paul told the paper in its Monday edition. {...}

Let me repeat this for the umpteenth time: The Da Vinci Code is a work of fiction. It is not meant to be taken for fact. If you believe it portrays Christiantity poorly, well, that's your right, but to actively campaign against a work of fiction? That's just silly. And it makes you look silly, too.

Dan Brown played with the facts to create fiction. He asked what if? and went from there. He created an international bestseller that, two years after publication, the dear Cardinal claims is a threat to the Church.

Well, perhaps, dear red-beanied one, you should have gotten on the ball sooner, if it's such a threat.

Far be it from me, a practicing Catholic, to suggest that the lesson the Church should be taking from this book is that there are many people who find its message regarding femininity appealing. That maybe there should be more to being a woman in the Church than just following in the chaste footsteps of the Virgin Mary. Not that the Virgin isn't a good role model, it's just that, in this day and age, traipsing after the males and adoring them gets to be a wee bit boring.

But, again, what would I know? It's not like I have a say in it.

Ummm, Yeah

If you're having problems with your TPS reports and need a little pick-me-up, go here and enjoy.

And Here I Was Having Such A Good Day

And then Doug had to go and ruin it by calling me a "moron."

Before I go to bed I thought I’d straighten something out. Those of you who support gay-marriage but are otherwise conservative. You’re morons.

Whoops! That was inflammatory. Hate to be inflammatory toward those who go along with the same movement that casts defenders of marriage being a man and woman thing as intolerant hate-mongers. No sir. Such folks are like delicate orchids who must be preserved from harsh rhetorical conditions. Moronic orchids to be specific.{...}

An auspicious start. Despite being the moronic, delicate little orchid that I am, I won't take it personally. Orchids are tougher than you think. I've met Doug, albeit briefly, and I know he's actually a nice guy. I'll just assume he means "moron" in a nice way. At least if i'm a "moronic orchid," I'll smell nice, no?

Never mind all of this nonsense about my ability to respect the views of those who believe differently than I do. It's apparently not relevant. I'm a moron because, simply by holding the views that I do, well, I've apparently, lumped myself in with those who would hate the defenders of traditional marriage. This position, of course, is about as nuanced as wanting to ban all defense systems because, perhaps, just perhaps, the proposed missile defense system is currently out of reach of our capabilities.

But I'm sure Doug will give me a fair hearing, right? He is a nice guy. He's all about debate and all of that fun stuff that comes part and parcel with blogging, right?

Well...

{...}Whoops! Look, let’s get through this together. You come forward and explain why every generation that came before you who agreed gay marriage was an oxymoron were stupid, and I’ll … well I’ll still call you a moron, but it will draw you out in the open as the egotist you are.{...}

There's not a lot of wiggle room in Doug's statement, is there? I should come forward, state my case as to why every generation that came before me was stupid for not allowing same-sex marriage and then he tells me that it doesn't matter if I make a rational case, because he won't listen. In his opinion, I'll still be a moron---and an egotistical moron to boot! Never mind that I might have different arguments to present in favor of allowing gay marriage. Never mind that I don't really think the generations who came before me were "stupid" in what they believed. Never mind that I can do this respectfully and allow that others believe differently. I'm only allowed to argue that point, and then it shall be declared "MOOT!" in a big, booming Jesse Jackson-ish voice.

Doug's the debate master---he who shall be obeyed.

{...]Folks, not supporting gay marriage doesn’t mean you have to oppress gays or anyone else. It doesn’t mean you hate anyone. All it means is you recognize that there is a reason that every previous generation rejected it – a reason a better than the narcissistic one that presumes every previous generation consisted of benighted bigots, unlike the “flower of morality” that our generation represents.{...}

Surprisingly, Doug, while having no problems with calling me a egotistical moron, wants us to believe that everyone who thinks gay marriage is a bad idea isn't a bigot, or wants to oppress gays. Hmmmm. If you want me to believe that, Doug, it seems to me that tolerance should swing both ways, eh?

But, in fact, I already do believe that. Quite the shocker, I know. Woooh. Hold onto your diapies, babies, it's gonna be a bumpy ride! I don't believe that previous generations were bigoted beyond reason, or that our generation is any better in this respect. But it's not like I'll ever get a chance to explain any of this. Because I'm an egotistical moron who's not worthy of being listened to.

{...}But marriage is about luuuuv. And gay people luuuuuuv each other too, right? Please.{...}

Um, actually gays and lesbians love each other, too. But that's not all marriage is about. It's about finding lifelong companionship---someone to go through the good and bad times with---and it's also about, perhaps, having children and raising a family. I fail to see where those activities are restricted (or should be) to heterosexuals only.

{...}When did public morality get reduced to the level of a seventh grade girl? Marriage is a hell of a lot more than teen-style puppy-love. So what is this marital “love” we’re talking about? Why has it become something that has become cross-culturally, and cross-generationally revered? Why is it something even anti-democratic societies have considered crucial to their civilzations’ sustainability back into ancient days?{...}

In reply, I would ask when did public morality become the equivalent of a fourth grade boy who doesn't pick you for his team because you're different?

{...}We live in a generation that has been raised to think of the very pillars of our society in terms no different than our luxuries.

Marriage? That old thing?! I wish it came in blue. And so now it does.{...}

So, marriage is a pillar of society. Ok, I'll buy that. No problemo. But, if we're talking about "defending" marriage, well, there should be a threat, involved, right? Logic dictates that you don't defend something if there isn't a threat to it. Doug believes that gays and lesbians are a threat to marriage; that it should be defined as being the union between a man and a woman. I can understand that. Marriage, after all, has always been defined as the union between a man and a woman. Why shouldn't it stay the same?

This is all well and good until you take a good hard look at marriage as it exists today---only being available to heterosexuals. And, my friend, I am sad to say this, but marriage is in trouble already, and gays and lesbians are not the ones who are threatening it. They're not responsible for marriage's downfall. It's the stupid heterosexuals who have no respect for the institution itself that are ruining marriage. You know the people I'm talking about right? The people you know who've gotten married and are split up by the next year---and who are allowed to chalk it up as "a mistake." Or the ones who run off to Vegas, get hitched on a whim, and then have it annulled in the morning? Or the ones who get married not because they want a marriage, but rather a wedding? I'm sure you've known a few of these people, as have I. They're everywhere and damned hard to miss.

As far as marriage being "a luxury," well, you're right there. It is a luxury, but this is America, dude. The place where luxuries are necessities, and marriage is afforded to everyone who's heterosexual---no matter how silly they are. And that genie isn't going back into the bottle any time soon, ya dig? As such, why shouldn't marriage be awarded to gays and lesbians? Why shouldn't they be allowed to run off to Vegas on a whim and then get divorced the next morning? After all, you're not about oppressing gays and lesbians, so why shouldn't they have the same rights as heterosexuals?

{...}“Conservative” supporters of gay-marriage like to portray themselves as tolerant and principled. I find them anything but. Their tolerance extends exclusively to the current zeitgeist, much like affirmative-action hiring. Their principles are inarticulate and shifty on this matter. They’re simply followers. People who never bothered to learn the importance of this particular pillar of society, but seize an opportunity to mask their ignorance as being “tolerant” and “progressive.”

Sorry. It’s just ignorant. And destructive to boot.{...}

My principles as a conservative supporter of gay marriage are anything but shifty. I've had a long time to think about this, being someone who was against gay marriage to begin with. Ah, yes. I used to be just like you, Doug. I was against same-sex marriage. For a very long time. Then I changed my mind, and as such I've had time to hone my arguments. Given that, I don't believe my arguments are inarticulate. Neither am I just a "follower" as this post shows.

As far as your last point: People who never bothered to learn the importance of this particular pillar of society, but seize an opportunity to mask their ignorance as being “tolerant” and “progressive.” I've been married for ten years, Doug. I've been with the husband for thirteen. I'm married to a recovering alcoholic, and was told by many, many people during that span of time that I should have left him because of his disease and the behavior it provoked. Yet, I stuck around. Why? Because I believe in the institution of marriage. I believe in the vows I took on the day we got married. I believe in the until death do us part business that so many ignore nowadays. So don't you dare tell me I haven't "bothered to learn the importance of this particular pillar of society," and that I'm masking my ignorance in an opportunity to be tolerant and progressive. I know more about what marriage entails than most heterosexuals do, given the divorce rate. If I want marriage to be available to gays and lesbians, it's because of my experience, Doug. I know what it's like to be married for ten years. It's not a parade or a bouquet of roses. Marriage is hard, hard work. Given the state that it is currently in, we need more people to promote the true value of marriage. And if a gay or lesbian couple can do that, their sexual orientation then becomes irrelevant.

But that's just my "ignorant," "moronic," "egotistical," opinion that you will declare to be moot, so honestly, what does it matter?

UPDATE: Doug responds and agrees that I kicked his ass. Which is always nice.

I'm all about the gratification, baby.

Anyhoo, he promises to come up with a more cogent argument soon. Which I look forward to reading, because I'm sure he's got something worthwhile to say. Will update further when he gets around to it.

"And, Uhh...Yay For Freedom and Shit."

Title shamelessly pilfered from this post by Michele, which is the funniest thing you will read all day, hands down.

The Road to the Mouse's House

Robbo has started to detail his adventures from last week. The first installment is titled: Slouching Toward Kissimmee.

Go and read. He's getting warmed up.

Can't Wait To See How This One Turns Out

Some self-professed conservative/expert film critic (read that as "wannabe") has tried to take on Jonathan regarding the Star Wars movies---and goofed a bunch of stuff in the process.

The fact that the dude is an arrogant fool is secondary:

{...}Allow me to expand on this for a moment. Very often when conservatives opine on film, their pronouncements fall into one of two categories:

1. Evaluating films exclusively on the basis of their ideological content, or ideological implications. (Jonathan Last’s exceptionally silly article praising the ‘Empire’ is a typical example of this.)

2. Repeating opinions they’ve heard from mainstream film critics, for the purpose of trying to sound smart or otherwise film-savvy.

These two tendencies have put us in the situation we’re in, largely because conservatives have been too lazy or disinterested to look at film (or popular culture) any other way. And so basically it has become embarassing , actually cringe-inducing to read my fellow conservatives write on film - essentially because it is all too obvious that they really don’t know what they’re talking about, no more than I know the difference between the Hagel-plan or the Bush-plan to overhaul Social Security. {...}

So, basically, unless you're this guy, you're not allowed to write about movies. Because he knows what he's talking about and you don't.

Jonathan, I beseech thee: please open up the can of bitchcraft on this one. Please. Don't be classy---just this once.

UPDATE: Jonathan has decided to remain classy in his rebukes. Yet, his remarks are the equivalent of slapping someone across the face with a leather glove before a duel. A zinger, in other words. Classy and designed to provoke. We shall see what libertas comes up with in his defense.

What Do Women Want?

The Demystifying Divas are nothing if not ambitious. We tackle the hard topics, so you don't have to! (Well, except for when we get overwhelmed by life and take a week off, but hey...we're DIVAS, we're allowed that sort of behavior. Just call us the Maria Callas Four!) Today's topic again---because I adore repeating myself---is what women want.

In the movie Singles, Janet, played by Bridget Fonda, has a chat with Campbell Scott's Steve, wherein she lists out all the things she used to want in a man, but she's gotten older and has narrowed it down to just one thing:

I just want someone to say "Bless You" when I sneeze.

I think it's honestly that simple. It's not about what you want, because no guy is ever going to live up to that. It's about what you can't live without. I can't live without multiple "bless you's" because I'm one of those people who sneezes three times at a shot. If the husband wasn't constantly saying "God Bless You" or "Geseundheit" the Catholic school girl in me would worry that I'm destined for hell because no one cared enough to say "Bless you" after I sneezed three hundred times in one day, which can happen if I have a bad cold. The husband understands this. He understands me.

But until you get to the point where you realize this, that anything other than the least common denominator is gravy a delightful surprise, you have to wean yourself from all the silly ideas you had when you were younger. When I was about sixteen my perfect idea of a man was someone who was successful, drove a 1964 1/2 red Mustang convertible (with the white leather interior), played electric guitar like Stevie Ray Vaughan and rode a white stallion on alternating weekends, using an English saddle, of course. On the other weekends, he would be off, saving the world from the evil clutches of SPECTRE, because he was, indeed, 007---he just wouldn't be able to tell me about it, because then he'd have to kill me and he wouldn't want that---which leads into the whole Han Solo-ish conflicted hero syndrome I've loved since I saw Star Wars at age seven. He would also have dark hair, was about 6'2", with eyes of blue and was ripped enough that he could be a model in the Soloflex ads (you remember those, don't ya?). He would also be able to kiss me in such a way that I would morph into a puddle of uncomprehending lust.

That one, fortunately, went out the window when I was about eighteen, hit college and realized just what men were about. The high standards I had set for my ideal mate, it became quite clear, would need to be readjusted. So, after much frustration, I rather cleverly decided the coin needed to be flipped and thought about what I could not live without. The list is as follows:

• A man who puts the seat down and doesn't splatter all over the place

And that's about it, kids. Because ultimately I decided I could not live without a decent man, and it was my observation, during my very own "Janet" moment, that all decent men put the seat down when they were done. It says quite a bit, that little act of courtesy. Particularly at two-thirty in the morning and you don't want to turn the bathroom light on.

The other Divas have their own takes on what a woman wants. Go and read, my children, and be enlightened.

UPDATE: The Wizard after saying some very nice things about the Divas (thank you, sir) points the way to this chuckle-inducer regarding King Arthur's quest to come up with an answer to the same question.

Indecision

A while back I posted about acquiring an avatar for the upper right hand corner of the blog.

The lovely ladies whose blogs I linked sent me over to Rion Vernon at Pinup Toons. There was, indeed, one pinup girl that was a brunette and wore glasses, but alas, she's wearing orange, which is not my favorite color in the world. It would also clash with the banner. And I've seen her on someone else's blog, too, so she's out.

The main problem here is one of choice. And I'm having a hard time choosing. So you, my devoted Cake Eater Readers, are going to pick for me.

This one

This one or

This one

Throw your choice in the comments. No other selections from Rion's vast galleries will be allowed. This is it baby. The one with the most votes wins and will make its way to the upper right hand corner in the coming days.

Snicker

Baghdad Bob is back....with a vengeance.

Holy Crap!

I can't believe I'm about to write this, but the Strib has published an editorial that---GASP---I actually agree with.

Mark that one down for the record books, kids. I don't suspect it will happen again until 2030.

"But Esther, You're Such a Big Star!"

...You really should think about doing more pictures. No, no, no dahling, the fact that we need new shag carpeting at the Kabbalah center doesn't have a thing to do with your talent. We're all about helping you to reach your potential, and we think that you are the best actress ever...

How Do You Say, "Mmmmm. Tasty" In Spanish?

Not.

Hmmmm. I wonder if Fidel was treated at this hospital when he had his little misstep last fall.

/sarcasm.

{hat tip: INDC Journal}

Because I Can

Man. Admirable restraint sucks. I was saving the best for last, but it didn't work out. And I'm pissed off.

I tried to post this over at The Llamabutchers, just to get off one parting shot across Rob's bow. Alas the cannon did not fire. Steve-o did not give me the ability to post images over there, which, all things considered, was probably a wise move, but still...

I tried to maneuver around the restrictions by uploading the image to my site and then cutting and pasting code into their posting window---we both have moo knew blogs, we're on the same server, it should have worked, right?---but, instead of being able to smirk for the rest of the week, I was rather unpleasantly greeted with a big fat VERBOTEN error. The husband couldn't even help. Then I had to go through the joy of trying to delete the post without having the ability to rebuild the site. AIEEEEEEE! Talk about panicking. Fortunately, I got it sorted out, but still...

I feel cheated. Robbed, even.

Damnit.

Here was what I was expecting: a lightly tanned Justice Boy sitting down at his desk, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, pulling his site up, happy to once again be the master of his own domain, and then...spewing a mouthful at the monitor once he saw himself snuggled up to Lizzie Bennet. It was perfect.

I was robbed, I tell ya. ROBBED!

It's Got a Name

The Blog Formerly Known as Dayton v. Kennedy will now be called Kennedy v. The Machine, which, as Gary explains in this post, is quite appropriate.

Can't wait to see what the new site looks like!

Super Sekrit Message to Gary: Yes, I owe you an email. In it I will explain in minute detail why you should be watching House.

Friday Afternoon Funnies

Since it's snowing here and the Clones just got thrown out of the Big XII tournament by that beeee-yotch Bobby Knight, I thought I could use a little pick me up.

Yesterday, Michele posted a link to this film. (Which is NOT safe for anyone, really). The daisy chain of what is to follow goes something like this...

I watched the film. The husband caught me giggling at it. He laughed, too and then posted the link to the film on his nerd gamer boards. This film inspired one of his buddies, Doc, to write the following little screenplay and post it to said boards. Unfortunately, the boards are password protected, so I can't link directly to it. I got Doc's permission to republish what he wrote here and edited for clarity.

I'm told that Pelleon and Thrawn are Imperial Admirals from the expanded Star Wars Universe. Like it matters.

Anyway, enjoy. I know I did.

A time not long, long, ago, in a galaxy not very far, far away

{A lone star destroyer blinks out of hyperspace}

Zugs: "Target galaxy has been reached. We've confirmed the location of their hideout, Sir. I cant believe what they did to poor Bugs Bunny...."

Neeva: "Very well, deploy the nav buoy and order the fleet to our location"

Zugs: "Yes, sir"

{Several dozen star destroyers parade into the zone, followed by the super star destroyer, and about a hundered or so corvettes, transports, and support vessels}

Pelleon: "Lord Vader, we've arrived. Those vile trators will pay"

Vader: "Excellent. Notify Admiral Thrawn to ready his defense wings should they raise any sign of a defense."

Pelleon: "Yes, lord Vader. It's sure is a shame what they did to
Bugs..."

{The fleet makes its way past a region of frozen debris, several gas giants, a mid-system asteroid belt, and a small red dustworld. Finally the destination is reached}

{Switch to a scene, somewhere in a bunker, built a mile into a mountain}

Lieutenant: "Sir, this is unbelievable, we're picking up contacts from... space?"

General: {passes the butterbar a memo} Read this, son"

{Switch to a shot of Presidential Directive}

"Presidential Directive x3458:
Gentlemen:

A large fleet of spacecraft may materialize in earth's orbit sometime this afternoon. Do not be alarmed. Pop some popcorn, sit back, and enjoy the show!

-W"

Lieutenant: "Sir, does this mean what I think it means?"

General: "He he heh. That's right, boy, Hollywood's day of reckoning has come!"

Lieutenant: "Hot Damn! They'll pay for raping my happy childhood now! {grabs his M-9}

General: "Settle down son, put down your piece and watch the experts handle this. Sure is a shame what they did to Bugs though."

{Meanwhile, deep inside Hollywood}

random executive #1: "That's strange, why were the Emmy's, Oscars, Viewers Choice awards, and about 20-odd other meaningless award ceremonies all moved to tonight?"

random executive #2: "I know, cool idea huh? We get to pat ourselves on the back earlier this year! And wasn't it GREAT how we modernized Bugs Bunny! I'm a genius!"

random executive #1: "Hey, what the hell was that noise?"

random intern: "Sir! Stormtroopers!"

{lots of carnage follows}

random executive #1: "Call the Governator!"

Arnold: "This es vhat you get, you fvhools... this es vor years auf portrayink me like Hans und Frans! Listen to me now ant hear me later, they're comming to fuck *clap* you up! Ant I von't stop them, you bunny fucker!"

{Pan to outside studio. Lots more carnage, as stormtroopers act as entertainment industry karma chinese food delivery boys}

{Switch to scene aboard Vader's ship}

Cyborg Reagan: "That's a beautiful sight, boys. Too bad about Bugs, though."

Cyborg Wayne: "Hot damn, it's about time! By the way, how exactly did they bring us back from the dead to be the next occupiers of Hollywood?"

Cyborg Patton: "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, son"

Cyborg Wayne: "Who are you calling son, pilgrim? {reaches for a revolver}"

Cyborg Reagan: "Easy there, Duke, Ted Kennedy's car has killed more folks then your gun, General Patton's for real. I'd leave him alone if I were you"

Vader: "Stop this bickering at once, or I"ll transport you all down there now, insted of after the area has been 'secured.'"

{Switch back to deep in a Hollywood executive's office}

random executive #1: "There has to be SOMEONE who will save us!"

random executive #2: "Not likely, Jim, we've pissed off most of the old heores with your 'modernized' revisions of them:

random executive #1: "That's nonsense! Get me Batman on the line!"

random intern: "Sir, Batman told us to go fuck off"

random executive#1: "Ok. Get me Spiderman on the line then!"

random intern: "Sir, we killed him off, remember?"

random executive #1: "Fuck! thats right! How about Superman?"

random intern: "Sir, he's dead too, but his last words to us were: 'Go fuck yourselves for ruining the Loony Tunes.' "

random executive #1: How about the army?"

random intern: "Sir, weve painted them in a bad light too!"

random executive#2: "The rebels?"

random intern: "Mon Mothma said, and I quote, "Get bent" (she always was so polite)"

random executive #1: "Sir Sean Connery! Surely he'll help us!"

random intern: "Sir, even that senile old goat is cheering the Empire on."

random executive #2: "What about Sir Elton John?"

random intern: "Forgive me for sounding glib, sir, but he took the pipe crying like a Sally in the first strike."

C3P0: " {wanders in} Oh, my. That's it. You're doomed!"

Marvin:" {sighs} I wish It was me"

R2D2: {lots of beeps} (translation: ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!)"

{Switch to Aboard Vader's ship}

Everyone: "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!"

{Switch to in a US command bunker in a mountain}

Everyone: "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!"

{Everwhere, as people finally get revenge for decades of shitty Hollywood ideas}

Everyone: "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US!"

{Switch back to Hollywood executive's office}

Random executive: "Damn, I wish that line was our idea"

Stormtrooper: "Shut the fuck up and kneel! Bugs says 'hi.'"

{stormtrooper blows random executive's brains out}

Stoomtrooper: "Now, find where that fat fuck Michael Moore is, before he portrays this as some kind of tragedy instead of the healing cartharsis it is!"

W: "Hehe, settle down, cloneboy, leave him to me"

Arnold: "I'll ahrm vrestle you vor his head!!"

UPDATE: Related. {Ahem. Clears Throat} RIGHT ON!

Comment Spammers Suck

For the most part, I've dodged this problem since I've been on Movable Type. I've been protected and well by the powers that be. Other bloggers have had it far worse than I have. I know this, but I just got slammed, and I'm wondering what exactly do these people think they're achieving with this garbage.?

Their bots place spams on old posts, so no one sees them before I've had a chance to delete their crap. Then they're not even worded cleverly, so that some unsuspecting reader might actually click over. It's ALLSEXALLGAYSEX, etc. all the damn time. Nothing pisses me off more than having to erase the tracks of people who are, above all, STUPID!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

If you're going to make my life hard with this crap at least, for the love of all that is good and holy, be clever about it!

Immigrant's Song

Fausta has a very interesting piece today, titled Acculturation Is Simply Not Being Bilingual.

{...}The study found that, out of 7270 Latino and white students from 7th to 12th grades,

only 7 percent of students spoke mostly Spanish. Three-quarters of participants had never had sex. The researchers also found that Latino students who mostly spoke English were nearly 70 percent more likely to have sex than white students. However, Spanish-speakers were significantly less likely than white students, bilingual and English-speaking Latino students to say they were having sex.

Besides pointing out that Latino is not a race (Latin America is populated by people of all races), these numbers mean that the 509 children who spoke mostly Spanish were less likely to have sex, and more likely to live healthier lives. The good news is that 5,453 haven't had sex.

{...}The study finds that "less acculturated Latino youth living in the U.S. are generally healthier," and defines acculturation as students who "mostly speak English".

But acculturation is not just language.

{...}Prior generations of immigrants, once they arrived in the USA were taught, by the public schools and by other civic organizations, traditional American values; more specifically, middle-class, Protestant values, within a Judeo-Christian tradition. People learned to read English by reading the King James Bible. The Protestant work ethic was promoted through Horatio Alger stories, and the value of delayed gratification was spoken of. School curricula stressed discipline and the "three R's", and included famous sermons, such as Governor John Winthrop's A Model of Christian Charity. People were taught and encouraged to serve their communities through volunteering, a most American trait. In short, immigrants were directed towards what it meant to live in an American culture; no one assumed that simply knowing the language meant one was acculturated.

Public schools have long since changed, some for the better. Ideally, public schools would teach about the Protestant roots of the American colonies and how that became the basis for the Constitution of the United States; and about the Judeo-Christian tradition and its influence on the Civil Rights movement. But many don't, and controversies on whether the 10 Commandments or the pledge of allegiance have place in the classroom rage all over the land.{...}

Go read the whole thing.

Explain This One To Me

With DirecTV I am not able to get a local forecast on the Weather Channel, because on this satellite service, the Weather Channel is a nationwide service and isn't "equipped" to handle specific regions.

Yet, when I want to watch a freakin' Big XII basketball game, I cannot---without paying extra for the privilege---because it's an out of region game.

Is it just me, or does this make absolutely NO sense whatsoever?

Make up your freakin' minds, DirecTV

And one other thing: NBA League Pass is not heaven. If I see one more eedjit reincarnated right back to the scene of their death to continue watching their stupid pro basketball games, I will beat someone with a stick.

GO CLONES!

Today, 2 pm CST---Iowa State v. Baylor. First round Big XII Tourney.

We shall win!

UPDATE: We're up 20 points at the half.

UPDATE DEUX: We won. 77-57 Texas Tech and Bobby Knight---you're up next!

Your Ren and Stimpy Fix For The Day

It Has a "Lord of the Flies" Feel To It

I think Sadie is receiving the brunt of the payback for our Divas posts of recent weeks given the nature of her various all-male, all the time guest bloggers' subject matter.

In fact, one gentleman wrote, "Verily, I considered myself the Sir Isaac Newton of poontang."

I would highly recommend going over and, if the smell of locker room doesn't turn you off too much, to just keep scrolling.

Sin City: Redux

Jonathan's got a question regarding Sin City:

{...}What I want to know is, has anyone else out there actually read the comic books?

Whatever else the Sin City comics may be, they are utterly unfilmable. They are page after page of murder, mutilation, torture, rape, beheading, cannibalism, and worse. L.A. Confidential is noir. Touch of Evil is noir. Sin City is Brett Easton Ellis's American Psycho without the daintiness and restraint. Think Hannibal meets Faces of Death.{...}

Well, I've never read them. Nor had I ever heard of them. When I commented on the movie earlier, I was working strictly off seeing the trailer during one of my trips to Apple.com.

The thing that struck me was that it looks like an actual comic book. And for a movie in this day and age, well, that's impressive. While Ang Lee adapted the typical comic book layout for his own purposes in The Hulk (which, honestly, really isn't that bad of a movie) and M. Night Shymalan did the same with Unbreakable, neither really made you the feel as if the glossy, chiaroscuro-ed, cross-hatched pages were right beneath your fingers. This movie looks like it could do it.

Provided the plot doesn't suck. If the plot strays too far from the original source material, well, it's done for. The subject matter must match the visual style of the film. I'm certainly not expecting a film titled Sin City, and that looks as dark as it does, to be about Girl Scouts selling do-si-dos in the hood. In other words, what does the audience expect and what will Hollywood deliver---and shall the twain meet somewhere in the middle? I believe it can be done, but only if the people making the film have some faith in their audience.

It's funny that Jonathan should mention Hannibal because, ultimately, that's the best example to prove my point about not straying too far from the source material. When Hannibal---the book---was released, no one thought they could ever make it into a film. It was unfilmable, they said. It was too gory. Too sick. I didn't think Hollywood could manage it and stay true to the material. But Ridley Scott did---mostly. While Ridley did manage to tone down the gore a bit (well, we are talking about Ridley here) still, there was Ray Liotta, at the end of the movie, watching Hannibal cook his own brains. Doesn't get much ickier than that, does it? None of the problems people anticipated the production would have in adapting the book were apparent in the film. Ridley managed it.

The real problem resided with the ending.

It was completely different from the book, and it had been bastardized by Hollywood. And that pissed me off, not the gore. The gore I expected. The ending, however, was not what I wanted to see. I wanted to see the ending as Thomas Harris' had written it, and not the ending that we received which kept Clarice's morals intact. They apparently never thought it was an option to have Clarice go off the deep-end, because the "alternate endings" on the DVD revolved around whether Clarice and Hannibal locked lips---and nothing else. In the book, however, Hannibal does corrupt Clarice. But he doesn't play fair, either, because she's drugged when he corrupts her. That ending and subsequent beginning of the next Hannibal movie would have been much, much better, because it would have taken us someplace we haven't been before. As it stands now, any new Hannibal movie they come up with (which I've heard from the lips of Sir Anthony himself will happen), will be about trying to recapture him...again. Which shouldn't be too damn hard because he's missing a hand.

I'd gone to see Hannibal, mainly, because I wanted to see if they chickened out with the ending. And they did chicken out. No surprises there. Hollywood's need to drop everything to the lowest common denominator is what ruins films, not the depravity of the source material. If the source material was so unfilmable, why on earth did they bother buying Miller's options? What's the point? If you're going to go ga-ga over the original source material and then try to tame it, you're not going to have a satisfying end-product, are you? The problem should be solved by the studios and producers optioning material that works within their parameters, instead of trying to shoehorn a great book or graphic novel, as it were, into those parameters after the fact.

Ultimately, audiences can make the decision about whether they can handle the material. Why Hollywood has so little faith in their audiences still seems to elude me.

Perhaps Scooby Doo 2 has an answer somewhere in it.

UPDATE: Jonathan's sticking to his guns. Via email:

{...}I just picked them up a couple weeks ago and made my way through them. You and I should be forgiven for this oversight, but my point was that the higher beings at EW shouldn't.

Also, Sin City makes Hannibal look like Snow White. I'm telling you, as
written: Unfilmable. (Or rather, filmable, but unwatchable.)

I trust Jonathan about the Sin City books, but I'm going to stick to my guns and hope they made the appropriate compromises when converting the source material. I don't want to pay yet another eight dollars and fifty cents to see a movie that might turn out to be least common denominator garbage.

If Hollywood's going to treat me like a child, I should at least be able to get the child rate at the theater.

At any rate, I'll look forward to Jonathan's review when it comes out in The Weekly Standard.

Margi's Theorizing

Makes sense.

Personally, I think I've got half an Olson twin attached to my ass, but that's just me flattering myself.

Pajamahadeen Unite!

Well, we ain't Hizbollah, and we're not about to march on Beirut, but we can surely celebrate Dan Rather's exit tonight with style and panache.

Rich has an idea as to how to do accomplish this.

I've Got Two, Count' em, TWO MT Windows Going...

and for the love of all that is good and holy, I'm a disappointment.

I got nothin'.

I don't think I'll ever be doing this guest blogging business again. I noticed the malaise setting in last week, but thought I could pull out of it. Nothing's tripping my trigger, though. I can't get fired up. Bleh. Hence the lameness at two blogs, not just one.

Yesterday, I had to go over to the Mall of Gomorrah to visit my sister-in-law and my niece, who were in town for some shopping. Today, well, I had high hopes, but around midday I just started to not feel so well, so I went and napped. I'm still feeling a bit bleh, and will be shortly retiring to the sofa to read.

The fact that we are indeed moving at the end of the month does nothing to help, either. The places we've seen don't do a damn thing for me. It might have one feature, but it's lacking another we currently have. And I ain't going back down the ladder, ya dig?

When we found this apartment, we were the first people to see it and we took it, right there and then. It had everything we wanted. A fireplace. Older neighborhood. Archways. Walking distance to many things. A deck. A washer and dryer. But, most importantly, it had a dishwasher. The dishwasher is a non-negotiable item. We can't live with each other if we have to actually wash our dishes. We would have filed for divorce years ago if we hadn't figured out the amount of strife this business of dumping soap into the sink was causing us. But I digress.

Anyway, I've figured out the the solution to all my problems.

Powerball, baby.

The current fantasy I have running through my head is to win the Powerball and be able to actually, you know, purchase a house, wherein I could paint the walls purple if I wanted to. Not like I would, but just the mere thought of finally being able to move beyond rental white is a heady elixir indeed. There are two houses within spitting distance of the Cake Eater Pad that just went on the market and are perfect. We could get either one and I'd be a happy camper. But we'll never be able to afford either place unless we win the Powerball. The mortage on one with a 20% downpayment, I shit you not, would be just shy of ten grand a month.

But if we won the Powerball....

....well, we could purchase one of these two houses, hire packers (and people to unpack the crap as well. I'm not fucking about here.) and could go on vacation while all this business was going on. No muss, no fuss. I could, by the end of the month, finally be the mistress of our very own piece of property and be slurping a margarita on a Mexican beach.

Anyway, that's my roundabout way of apologizing for the lack of fresh content. Hopefully tomorrow will be better than today.

You Know Your Blogging Habit is Bad When...

...you don't post all weekend or most of today and your mother calls to see if everything is all right.

So, D'ya Hear?

...Izzy Stradlin. Kicked out of Guns n' Roses.

{insert pause here}

What the fuck do you have to do to get kicked out of Guns n' Roses?

"Hey Slash! Stop shooting heroin into your cock, we've gotta vote on Izzy over here."

--- Dennis Miller

Methinks perhaps Axl should have paid attention to the cautionary tale that was Izzy Stradlin and the JuJu Hounds.

Guess Where I'm Going To Be on September 23rd?

Well, I hope I'll be at the Target Center.

Anyone know how I can get accredited as a journalist for this concert? Or the one in Omaha?

And yes, I'm serious about this.

Not because I want to ogle The Edge up close and personal like (which I really, really do. Good God, but that man is hot. ) but because I've got U2 groupie-friends. They have questions they want answered. I could do a kick ass indepth interview, with those guys feeding me the questions.

Hmmmm. Methinks I will have to be crafty.

Suffrage

I sincerely hope this passes.

The Kuwaiti parliament is to debate a bill to grant women full political rights, a Kuwaiti minister has said.

Deputy Prime Minister Mohammad Sharar said that legislators would discuss the bill in March.

The measure, which has been approved by the cabinet, will allow women to vote and to stand for election.

Kuwait's Islamist Umma Party has said it backs the move, becoming the first Sunni Muslim group in the emirate to endorse women's suffrage.{...}

Do you think the elections in Iraq---where women had full suffrage---had anything to do with this?

The Height of Fashion

Oh, man.

Has J. Crew really sunk so low as to come out with wedding dresses?

My sister, Christi, is a bridal designer. She also does some Haute Couture work on the side, but bridal gowns are her bread and butter. While she's done some interesting work over the years (including one bridal gown trimmed in mink) she mostly knocks off famous designers. (She probably would call them "inspired by" just to be nice about it.)

I can't imagine, though, that she could---or even WOULD---knock off a J.Crew wedding dress. First, she charges more than they are priced at. Second, she would have a serious crisis of conscience about charging someone for making what looks like a slip or a nightgown! (and is probably constructed as well.)

My Checkered Past

Yeah. Another meme. From You know who.

Ten Things I've Done But You Probably Haven't

1. Snuck into a Branford Marsalis concert. (Something I will never do again. I won't even pay money to see the guy because he's a Grade A Asshole.)

2. Straddled the Prime Meridien---one foot in the eastern hemisphere, one in the western---while I was visiting the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, England.

3. Was "Shake n' Baked" three times by the fine, upstanding brothers of FarmHouse Fraternity, Iowa State University, Iowa Chapter.

4. Was lucky enough to have Joe Fiennes flag down a bartender for me at a pub in Notting Hill.

5. Hobbled around Alcatraz and San Francisco's Ghirardelli Square, Chinatown and Pier 39---and various points in between---with a sprained ankle.

6. Have dined at The French Laundry.

7. Served coffee to Bill Brown (he was one of my regular customers. I nicknamed him "Boom Boom" and he loved it.), Mick Sterling, Bobby McFerrin, and Chaka Khan, among many, many others.

8. Have done interesting things on the porch of this building back when it was called Old Botany and was condemned and scheduled to be torn down.

9. Have gone cow tipping.

10. Had a flat tire at 10:30 at night in the middle of nowhere, Iowa, was picked up by a semi-driver who took me to a phone. Then, when I was unable to find a tow truck driver in this dinky little town, a guy who'd been hanging out at the local Casey's drove me back to my car and helped me put the spare on...and I lived and was unharmed, not raped, etc. I wouldn't recommend it, but there are decent men in the world.

Photo Booths

At the party last night, the hosts had carted in a photo booth for shits and giggles. Apparently you can rent these things. This particular booth, the guy who was running it said, was one of the State Fair booths. This is what picture booths do in the off-season.

This is one of our shots.

Nauseating, isn't it?

Go and run to the bathroom. I'll wait while you vomit.

Heheheh.

Anyway, the husband, as it turns out, was a photo booth virgin. There wasn't a booth in the small town in Iowa where he grew up, so he'd never had the experience before. When he told me this my jaw about dropped. I thought everyone had experienced this at one time or another.

This just goes to show how different city and country life are when it comes to the little things. I knew, as did all of my friends, where every booth was in every mall we frequented. A stop by a booth---and the subesequent cramming of five teenage girls into the thing---was a highlight of every solo shopping trip we managed to take. It was one of those silly, everyday sorts of things common to where you live, I guess. The husband didn't have that because his town was too small to rate a photo booth.

So, I suppose it's not really a surprise that he'd go for the make-out shot, is it? He completely caught me off-guard, too. But it was nice nonetheless.

It's a Good News Friday!

Woohoo!

That's just marvelous.

IT is Back Baby!

Well, according to my limited knowledge, the Information Technology business is back. Some bean counter in a cubicle housed in deepest, darkest Silicon Valley might disagree, but hey...I don't go in for accounting. (Basically because I can't freakin' add or subtract, but that's really beside the point.) Rather, I go in for anecdotal evidence! Because we all know how objective I am.

Kathy the Cake Eater: Cub Reporter---providing half-assed analysis and subjective observations since 2003!

Tonight the husband and I attended a launch party for a new ISP here in the Cities. There was free food. There was free booze. I should find out tomorrow if I won one of three ipods they're giving away. And this was after the husband attended another meet and greet on Wednesday night, hosted by another IT company, at another restaurant with free food and free booze. No ipod door prizes, but they also didn't restrict the bar to beer only, either, like they did tonight.

I love IT gatherings. When I go to these things, I'm generally just tagging along, hence my social responsibilities are at an all-time-low. The husband is there to conduct business, to meet people, etc. He's got an agenda. I'm just there to people watch. And believe me, these gatherings do provide excellent people watching.

If you're interested in all of this, read on after the jump.

The attendees generally split up into two factions: the techies and the money people. The techies hit the bar first, then the food. They then stand around eating whilst shuffling their feet awkwardly, waiting for the booze to kick in. Once that happens, well, then they can finally let loose to the colleagues they know with all sorts of chat about how much Cisco's stuff is a pain in the ass because it doesn't work with anything. Most of their chat goes right over my head. But since I'm eavesdropping, it's not like it matters, right?

The money people are a different story: they've got places to go, people to meet, clients to fleece. This is just one of their many stops scheduled for the evening. They're just going to have a drink and go. And, Christ, what do you mean you don't have Vanilla Stoli? When they finally get an acceptable subsitute for whatever exotic liquor the bar hasn't stocked up on, they start searching the crowd, looking for only other people in the room who are wearing ties. Because those are the other money people. They chat about this law firm, or that venture capital firm, or that PR firm...you never know who, precisely, they're talking about unless you're employed by the firm of Dewey, Cheetham and Howe. In which case, you're probably also a money person, and you're hanging out with the ties. But they're very self-important. They know their worth, but more importantly, they want you to know it as well. Business cards printed on expensive cardstock are exchanged, like it was part of some mating ritual. And if you don't have a card, well, it's been nice talking to you. I see someone over there I need to chat with.

It's very interesting stuff for a people watcher like me. I just get a drink and hole up in a corner, watching everyone interact. While the people are interesting, the parties in themselves are fascinating as well. The details depend upon who's hosting the party. Tonight, you had a bunch of techies who had split off from another ISP hosting their launch party. They were well-funded so they had a pricey PR firm running the gig. You could tell they didn't want much to do with making sure people were signing up for the door prizes, or getting a wristband, guarding the door, or making sure there was enough smoked salmon on the food table. The PR people did that. But they showed up, they wore the t-shirts the PR people had designed for them, they did their best to mix and mingle and enjoy. But it wasn't really their gig if you get what I'm saying. It was someone else's.

Money men/vendor parties are entirely different story. They're not necessarily any more lavish, but they go the extra mile on the details. A couple of years ago the husband and I were in San Francisco for a convention, and a particular IT vendor blew the roof off their promotional budget with this gig. It was held at the W Hotel. Somewhere in that hotel is a roof terrace. The company hosting the party had rented out every hotel room leading out to that terrace, set up numerous tables, tented them over in case it rained (and because it was February) then held a whopper of a party.

It was a spectacular sight, with the San Francisco skyline providing the backdrop. It was a James Bond theme party---everything was from a Bond film. They had bikini clad girls who'd been painted gold wandering around, mixing with the guests. They had casino games set up in the rooms leading out to the terrace. They had Bond films playing on the TV's in every room, including on the flat screen that hung above the indoor pool. The table decorations matched the glamorous theme, as did the party favors. It was amazing. It was a firetrap, too. We heard during the course of the evening that they had originally been expecting four hundred people, not the twelve hundred that showed up. Someone had been a little free with the invitations, it seemed. They actually ran out of booze. And they had at least five bars set up.

You have to wonder, when you see something like that and then compare it to a gig like tonight's, which one is actually going to be the gig that drums up the most business. Because that's what these things are supposed to do: drum up business. Tonight's party was hosted by a small ISP. The one in San Fran was hosted by a huge, nationwide vendor. Of course the nationwide company made more money as a result of their party, but in terms of percentages, I'll bet you anything that the small ISP got the bigger bang for their buck.

Ah, anyway. The parties have started back up again. This means something in the world of IT. I'm not really sure what, but it has meaning. Sort of like some zen puzzle.

Now, I'm going to go and rest my feet. Because they're a bit puffy and they hurt. High heels...ah, how I love thee. But you make my feet hurt, you little bastards!

It Could Be An Interesting Week

So, I got this email from Steve-o yesterday asking me to step up and guest blog over at the Llamabutchers while Robbo is in Disneyworld hell.

After much deliberation---at least a whole thirty seconds worth---I said, "heck yeah!"

I've never guest blogged before. I've had guest bloggers, but never have I actually held the keys to someone else's kingdom in my sweaty little palms. It's a bit daunting---posting to two blogs---but it should be fun.

So, if you don't find me here, chances are I'll be over there.

And yes, Mom, that means you finally have to bookmark the Llamas. Wouldn't want to miss anything, would you? Hmmmm?

So, The First Totalitarian Dictator Says To The Second Totalitarian Dictator...

...get thee the hell out of Lebanon.

CAIRO, Egypt - Saudi officials told Syrian President Bashar Assad on Thursday that he must soon begin fully withdrawing troops from Lebanon or face strains in Saudi-Syrian ties, an official said. Assad promised only to study the idea of a partial withdrawal by later this month.

The kingdom took a tough line as Assad met with the Saudi leader, Crown Prince Abdullah, and other officials in Riyadh. The strong language pointed to increasing impatience among Arab leaders with Damascus' resistance to calling a quick pullout.

Saudi officials told Assad the kingdom insists on the full withdrawal of all Syria's 15,000 troops and intelligence forces from Lebanon and wants it to start "soon," a Saudi official said on condition of anonymity.

{...}The Saudis replied that the situation was his problem and warned that if Damascus refuses to comply, it would lead to tensions in Saudi-Syrian ties, the official told The Associated Press, speaking by phone from Riyadh.{...}

I'm trying to think of something witty to say, but damn...I'm coming up empty. I think the story just about says it all.

To Shoot or Not To Shoot, That Is the Question

UN Peacekeepers finally used their guns!

UNITED NATIONS - U.N. officials defended peacekeepers who killed up to 60 militiamen in a gunbattle in Congo, saying the international troops were acting in self-defense and protecting civilians who had been terrorized for years.

The high death count and fierce fighting defied the notion that U.N. peacekeepers stick to defense rather than joining the fight. But the Congo mission was given a stronger mandate last year to round up guns and defend the populace.

The 242 Pakistani peacekeepers were on a mission to dismantle a militant headquarters near the village of Loga, in lawless Ituri province in eastern Congo, when they came under fire. They responded with sustained fire that included air support from Indian attack helicopters.

"These militias had been preying on villagers and it was felt it was the U.N.'s role to protect the vulnerable population, and that's what the aim of the mission was," U.N. associate spokesman Stephane Dujarric said. {...}

It's quite surprising that they actually know how to use their firearms at all, because their record in this regard is worse than the French.

And that's saying something.

Reason #393 Why Kathy Will Never Be Invited To Be a Tee-Vee Pundit

I don't read LaShawn Barber's blog hardly at all, but courtesy o' Fausta, I happened to catch her appearance on MSNBC's Connected Coast to Coast. I thought she did rather well, on the whole, particularly considering it was her first time on tee-vee. Now, nothing that was said on this broadcast was of particular interest to me. It was the same ol' same ol' that makes cable news network talk shows particularly boring. Yet there was one notable exception.

Monica Crowley called female bloggers "blogettes."

There's no transcript that I can find of the show, because apparently if your show on MSNBC is aired before 7p.m. EST, they don't deem it worthy of transcript-status, but this is what I heard. I wrote it down. You can follow the video link at Fausta's and see for yourself.

This is what I would have said to Crowley, had I been the one in the chair. This is also why I will never be allowed on tee-vee.

"Blogettes?

Ahem.

I think not, chica.

Don't you dare try to cutesy-up my title and differentiate me from the rest of the bloggers because I have a pair of breasts and a vagina. Particularly when it seems you, like the rest of the mainstream media, have no freakin' clue about what blogs are, let alone who writes them. Let me guess where this gender-equity segment came from. You read about Susan Estrich taking on Mike Kinsley about the dearth of female op-ed writers. Then you, in an effort to make your show more hip and wordly, try and apply this to the blogosphere, because that's all that everyone's talking about! Conveniently, Kevin Drum writes one poorly researched piece asking "where are the female bloggers?" and you, somehow---because I'm not really sure you can operate a computer let alone surf blogs---catch wind of it. Suddenly you and Ronnie Junior know enough about the subject to make it a topic on a show so obscure even I hadn't heard about it, but you're also going to try score some brownie points in the blogosphere you know nothing about (because, of course, you know how viral marketing works and if we can get some free pr in the blogosphere, well, damn the torpedos! We'll do it!) and coin the phrase blogettes?

Again, I think not.

Let me take a wild stab here and say that the idea for "blogettes" is derived from "Wonkette"? That's really original, kids. Wow. Let's place a little gold star right smack in the middle of your foreheads because you're so creative. The movie people should be calling any minute now to option your story.

I will only say this once, so pay attention and get it right the first time.

I am not a "blogette." I am a "blogger." Got it? I may not want to be spayed anymore than a cat does, but neither do I want to be "set apart" with a cutesy title that is so not what I am about. First and foremost I am a writer. That the content that makes up The Cake Eater Chronicles comes from a female shouldn't have anything to do with the validity of the opinions presented. They either have merit or they do not. It's quite simple. The blogosphere is all about ideas and opinions. It's a veritable smorgasbord. There's something for everyone. The sex of the author shouldn't come into the equation unless we're talking about things directly related to our sex---like tampons or jock straps. To miss this point is to miss the exact essence of the blogosphere. And the internet, for that matter.

I am not going to participate in some gender-equity program in the blogosphere, nor will I allow myself to be labeled with some girly-girl term because you, in your vast and all-encompassing wisdom, needed a topic to fill time on your cable news chat show and this seemed as good as any other.

Piss off."

See? No one would ever allow me to be on tee-vee because I won't stand for the condescending bullshit that doubles for content on a cable news show.

Fancy

My blog kid has been busy redecorating. I think it looks marvelous.

Go on over and check it out.

Movie Quote Meme

So, another meme. You, of course, know where I got it from. Fortunately, Robbo's going on vacation this next week so you'll be spared from my lack of self-control.

Anyway...

The First Five Movie/TV Quotes that come into your head (must be from different movies/shows).

1. "When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept. For there were no more worlds left to conquer. Benefits of a classical education." ---Hans in Die Hard (You can hear Rickman saying this in your head, can't you? I know you can. God, he's good.)

2. "The Donger need food." ---Long Duk Dong, Sixteen Candles

3. "So, if you guys know so much about chicks and stuff, why are you, like, sitting around at the Gas n' Sip on a Saturday night?"
{insert dramatic pause here}
"Choice, man!"----Lloyd Dobler, et.al. Say Anything

4. "I say! Am I to strut around naked like a beggar child in Calcutta? Fetch me some clean linen to throw on before I call child services!" ---Stewie Griffin, Family Guy

5. "You know how to whistle, don't you Steve? You just put your lips together and...blow" --Slim in To Have and Have Not

Happy Thoughts To Spare

If you've got some, send them Grandpa H.'s way. He's the husband's grandfather and he's undergoing colon cancer surgery this morning. Thanks!

I'll update when I know something.

UPDATE: Thanks for the happy thoughts. They worked.

Grandpa made it through the surgery with flying colors. He's a bit doped up on the fruit of the poppy right now---he actually asked the recovery room nurse when he was going into surgery---but he's off the oxygen and is doing fine. They think they got it all, but they have to check out the stuff they gathered from the lymph nodes to make sure. If that's clear, no chemo. So, keep your fingers crossed.

Thanks again!

Bugaboos

Have you seen the cutesy ads for CNN? You know, the ones where Anderson Cooper reads the weather or Christiane Ampanpour lectures some clueless chick about Iran and Iraq? Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, if Christiane Ampanpour can have her "bugaboos" about pronouncing said respective countries as Eye-raq and Eye-ran, I can have my own bugaboo with one particular aspect of blogosphere grammar. And that bugaboo would be homonymns. You remember what homonyms are, right? Words that sound alike---they might even be spelled the same---but have different meanings. Well, these pesky little things are my bugaboos.

There are a lot of really great writers in the blogosphere, so it really grieves me when I see these itsy-bitsy boo-boos. Yet, I can't be too hard on my fellow bloggers. Posting isn't easy. I simply think most people are hampered by too little time to get a post up and forget all about it. Also, if they're using a grammar checker, well, that might lead to a few problems. I know for a fact that you cannot trust Microsquash Word's grammar checker when it comes to homonyms. I've lots of little green lines highlighting homonyms in the manuscript that I know are correct, but Microsquash---in its evil "I must be right all of the damn time" way---stubbornly insists that they're not. To put it simply: don't trust anybody's grammar checker to get it right.

Now, I'm not particularly picky about grammar in general, because I'll be the first to admit I suck at it. Grammar is not generally something I perfect the first time around. I have to edit, and even then I miss a good deal. So, split an infinitive for all I care. Dangle that participle. Let your agreement disagree. I don't really care. What I do care about, what stops me dead in my tracks and makes me sigh (particularly when I'm reading a great essay) is when someone confuses simple homonyms. It drives me insane!

So, since we know everyone and their brother is concerned about my sanity, well, let's go over some that I see on a regular basis.

• They're/Their/There

"They're" is a contraction for "they are"
"Their" is a possessive pronoun
"There" is a place or position
• You're/Your

"You're" is a contraction of "you are"
"Your" is the possessive form of "you"
• Loose/Lose

"Loose" is an adjective that means "free, not securely attached."
"Lose" is a verb that means "to fail to keep, to be deprived of."
• Whose/Who's

"Whose" is the possessive form of "who"
"Who's" is a contraction for "who is"
• Affect/Effect

"Affect" is a verb that means to "exert influence"
"Effect" as a verb means "to accomplish"; as a noun it means "a result."

Ok, so now that I have successfully pissed off plenty of bloggers by criticizing their writing, feel free to use the comments to add your own grammar bugaboos. My ass is wide enough to provide a target for all the ire that will undoubtedly come my way. I'll shield you.

Pffft

If the Maximum Leader thinks this is even remotely impressive, he's deluded.

Woohoo!

We've got another House convert!

Yep

What Michele said.

Mother of God, please grant us tort reform. Soon.

On A Roll

Fausta's on one. She's finally feeling better and is on a tear.

Go on over and just keep scrolling.

A Certain Song From Queen's Greatest Hits Is Running Through My Head

And it's Another One Bites The Dust.

Go read. Its short. I won't take away from your daily allotment of pron surfing time, I promise.

the part I find particularly interesting is this:

There are two factors. The first is security in Lebanon. The security in Lebanon is much better than before. They have an army, they have a state, they have institutions. The second thing, which is related to Syria, is that after withdrawing we have to protect our border. We need to talk about our borders, because when Israel invaded in 1982, they reached that point. It was very close to Damascus. So we will need [fortifications for the troops] along the border with Lebanon.

It's convenient, isn't it, as to how the reasons for an invasion will change when it's time to withdraw. One of the reasons Syria invaded Lebanon was the premise that Lebanon's instability was threatening Syria's stability. Or so good ol' Hafez Al Asad always claimed. Now it's all about Israel and shoring their borders up against that threat. Hmmmm. Israel's always a convenient place to put the blame, but I don't think that's the threat he's really worried about.

Hmmmmmm. Very very interesting. We shall see if he actually means what he says when it comes to complete troop withdrawals.

{hat tip: Martini Boy}

Dang!

When Mr. H. was over here for the Oscar Party the other night, he left half a bottle of Dr. Pepper behind.

I just took a swig, and dang is about all I can say. Too sweet. Too syrupy. Bleech.

I gave up drinking soda a while back. I used to consume cokes on a regular basis, then I switched over to diet. I gave up the diet about a year ago because---{insert the lyrics to "You're So Vain" here}---it's loaded with sodium, which in turn makes me retain water. Kathy no like being bloated, so while it was a struggle and a half, she gave the junk up.

It's always wierd, though, now to take a drink of this stuff. No longer can I understand how people drink this junk all day long. Caffeine for non-coffee drinkers is one thing, but all the sugar that comes with this? (And this is coming from a person who likes everything sweet, too.) I simply cannot comprehend how I used to be one of the number of people who guzzled the stuff. It's beyond me.

Random Question of the Day

Can it be spring when you see a fat arsed cardinal landing on the tree outside your window yet there is still at least five inches of snow on the ground?

Two To Tango

So, having turned this into a weekly feature, the Demystifying Divas are at it again. And this week's topic is casual sex.

When we were discussing this topic via email, the general theme that arose was how women just aren't made for casual sex. Now, Sadie chalks this up to hormonal differences. Silk believes it's got something to do with vulnerability. And Feisty Christinathinks it's about differing expectations.

They're all correct. Each and every one of their reasons is true. To a certain extent. But I'm going to play the part of the devil's advocate here and say that the reason most women do not want to partake in casual sex is because some just don't like how they feel about the whole business in the harsh, cold, raccoon-eyed, light of day.

It's one thing to be Carrie Bradshaw at night. It's entirely another to be Carrie Bradshaw the morning after.

There is a reason, after all, why they call it the "Walk of Shame."

Because, like the reasons the others laid out, shame does have something to do with it. We may be fabulous, Twenty-First Century women and can compete with men on just about every playing field, but when it comes down to it, most of us would like to be considered a nice girl. And nice girls, on the whole, do not go home with men they barely know.

It's against the rules.

Men are allowed this sort of behavior when it comes to the rules of society. They're not labeled 'easy' after a night out. They're not labeled as a 'slut' or a 'whore' after spending the night with someone. They simply don't have to deal with any of that. It's expected behavior for them and they will not have to suffer the societal consequences of said behavior. But women? Well, that's a whole different story. The bar for our behavior has been set higher than for men.

It's the old "double standard" raising its ugly head again.

I attended an all-girls Catholic high school. It was school policy that when a girl became pregnant, she was automatically kicked out for violating the Honor Code. This wasn't something the school advertised, but it was apparent when someone disappeared, like a ghost who faces the steely light of dawn, that they hadn't just transferred to a different school. Yet, amazingly enough, when it was sussed out who the father of that child was, that boy never was kicked out of the boys' school down the road. He was allowed to continue on with his studies, at the school of his choice. He faced no adverse consequences, no drastic changes to his life, particularly when the child was invariably given up for adoption. But the girl? Well, that was another story. Conversely, when I was a senior, it was known fact amongst our classmates that one of the girls in our class had become pregnant and had had an abortion. When confronted, she admitted it, too. It was quite the scandale amidst all of us youthful pro-lifers. She wasn't kicked out of school, of course, because there was no proof of the deed and no one was brave enough to tell on her, three months before graduation. But, surprisingly enough, she couldn't get a date to the prom, either. She asked eight guys. They all said, 'no, thank you.' It didn't take a rocket scientist to suss out why she'd been refused. After all, if the news had spread around our school like wildfire, it would have been a very small leap to say that it had spread three miles down the road to the boys' school.

Now, of course, you're saying, "Kath, that was how many years ago?" Well, it was about fifteen. I'll admit that things might have changed in recent years. But I don't think they've changed so much that a construct as deeply embedded as the "Madonna/Whore" complex could be so easily removed from men's psyches in that short period of time.

Of course, this goes back to how women feel about themselves. If it doesn't bother you that someone has called you a slut, then you're probably going to go on with living your life as you choose. But it bothers a lot of us to be called such names. To have a "reputation." If there's any difference between now and my vaunted high school days is that women are increasingly ditching the baggage that comes with such behavior. And that's not a bad thing. After all, no one can make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them. Particularly when it comes to casual sex. To realize this is to pull the root of the double standard right out of its own turf. It goes one step further in making society at large realize that it takes two to tango, and that the consequences of casual sex should apply to both sexes, and that women shouldn't always be the proverbial fall guy.