Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Oscar Mayer Wiener. Lover.

Dear No One in Particular,

Odd, tangential, "why do I want to know this?!" news of today: one of my professors outed another faculty member. Thinking about it now, I vaguely remember hearing something about the newly-outed professor being gay, but nothing so concrete as it coming from another teacher.
For the record, it's not like this news changes my opinions of the professor. I still think he's a self-congratulating douche, only now he's a self-congratulating douche who happens to teach a very interesting class.

In the same vein, I ran into an old friend of mine today, and he outed another of my classmates. Not that I care, since the classmate is not someone I normally associate with, but it's strange information to hold nonetheless.

Why do people assume I want to know these things? Oh that's right: because I usually do.


Tuesday, April 29, 2008

An eternal flame

Dear No One in Particular,

I am in desperate need of SOMETHING to motivate me through the end of this semestre. A week-long jaunt to the neighbouring Garden Isle isn't doing it for me. Not even the knowledge that I'm preparing my last Spanish oral ever can keep me motoring on.

So. Tell me something good?


Monday, April 28, 2008

Terrorising my soul like Bin Laden

Dear No One in Particular,

Things are gearing up for FINALS WEEK (always in caps-lock, to mimic the terrified sound people make when speaking of finals), so I'm freaking out a bit. I've been doing really well so far, and there aren't many super-scary classes this semestre, so I'm not really too-too worried about the tests. It's the lack of time that's really killing me.

Quite a few interesting events have transpired here at the Casa de Amanda y the Boy:

-- The Boy's birthday was on Friday, and boy, was it a doozy. He wasn't feeling well, and we had to go to school, so he wasn't too happy about that. We did get to see Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay, which was pretty darn funny, even though it didn't stand up to the original. We had a nice dinner, and he had a delicious cheesecake as his birthday dessert, so those were also nice. The bad part? None of his friends called. NONE. I was so livid, I sent an angry letter to one of his friends, demanding that he give the Boy an explanation. He's still a little pissy , but he's getting over it.

-- On a happier note that I had meant to mention earlier: do you know about Mario Badescu's sample program? All you do is fill out the questionnaire I've linked to, and a couple of days later, they shoot off an email, asking if you would like samples of your recommended products. A few days after that, free samples appear in your mailbox! I usually believe that nothing's free, but man if that isn't the greatest marketing ploy ever. They sent me about 10 products to try; I've yet to test any of them, since my current skin care regimen is working so well. I am planning on giving my skin a breather soon, and slowly integrating the Mario Badescu products.

-- Also: my shoes came today! They're wonderful, and a tiny bit tight. They definitely need to be broken in -- they're the only shoes I've ever needed to use a shoehorn with. Regardless, they look great, and there's a nice walkable heel. I can't wait to put together a million outfits to wear them with.

-- I feel as though I'm about 4 years late to the party, but I finally understand the glory of Ebay. This may sound completely ridiculous, but I've purposefully avoided Ebay auctions. I may or may not have a shopping addiction that would only be exacerbated by something as exciting as Ebay. Also, I'm a very high strung lap dog, and if I were to lose an auction, I'd probably whimper until I won something else. That said, the Boy and I bought season 3 of The Greatest Show Ever aka Las Vegas. He taught me how to watch the last minute of the auction like a freakin' hawk so we were sure to win that precious box set for a measly $15. Fabulous.

-- Finally, my vision is getting worse as I get older. I can't even watch TV without wearing glasses anymore. I predict that if this continues, I'll be wearing bifocals by the time I turn 25. Which is in 3 years. Holy jumping Jesus.


Thursday, April 24, 2008

Feed me, Bubbe

Oh, and I forgot to mention:

The Boy's birthday is tomorrow, which makes the 24th an interesting day for the two of us. We decided to keep the birthday festivities going by heading to Bubbies aka THE Best Ice Cream Parlour Ever. It doesn't have the sophistication of, say, Fentons, but it far surpasses it in terms of flavour. I'm sure that many of my fellow Bay Areans* would be up in arms if they heard me say that there's a creamery better than the beloved Fentons, but Bubbies wins hands down. They serve mochi ice cream and orgasmic ice cream cakes which is what we usually get, but their fudge is AMAZING. Again, better than Fentons, in my opinion.

Anyway, to celebrate our birthdays we got the most novelty ice cream confection we could: the bathtub sundae. It's essentially a small sundae (1 generous scoop of ice cream, fudge, nuts/sprinkles, whipped cream, and a gummy bear in place of a gross plastic maraschino cherry) in a small ceramic bathtub. They also serve up a toilet version, which the Boy thinks is hilarious, but I find disturbing. I took a few pictures of the bathtub; they'll be up soon.

It was a nice way to round out my birthday and gear up for the Boy's. Plus, we now have a bathtub dish to commemorate our 22nd year.


*how would one refer to people from the Bay Area? I'm genuinely curious.

Happy, happy birthday

Dear No One in Particular,

Yesterday was my 22nd birthday. I strongly believe that I've already passed up all the "good" birthdays, and have nothing but blah and/or scary birthdays ahead of me. There's something inherently worrying about that sentiment, and I know I'm far too young to be fretting about my age, but if I'm not anxiety-ridden over something stupid, I wouldn't be me, now would I?

Anyway, my Irresponsible Cousin called me at about 11 pm my time, and I spent a good hour talking to her about my birthday plans -- well, the lack thereof, to be completely honest. This was the first birthday I've spent away from home, so I was a little sad, but mostly nonchalant. Like I said, all the good birthdays are done and I really wanted something quiet. She convinced me to go to the beach instead of class, so that's what I ended up doing.

My mom called and woke me and the Boy up at about 6:30 in the damn morning to wish me happy birthday. After I hung up, we slept until about 10:30, which was soooo nice. I love sleep.

We made it to Ala Moana Park -- which, if you're ever in Honolulu and want to go to the beach, skip Waikiki and head to Ala Moana: it's always almost empty and so beautiful -- and spent a couple of hours there. I loved it. I'm not really a big beach person, but the weather was so magnificent, I couldn't help but be thankful for such a great day. It was about 82 degrees, with not a cloud in the sky, and the slightest breeze. I even got in the water! Which is huge for me, since usually it's too cold, and I have a minor fear of deep water. It was kind of neat, actually; it stormed a lot last week, so the beach was a little rocky, but there were little fish and tadpoles that swum really close to the shore.

When we got home, I picked up a package from my parents. Apparently, they sent me a huge gift basket like the one that Michael Scott gave to his former clients. I took a million photos of everything in the basket: caviar, coffee, caramels, truffles, 2 sparkling ciders, brie ... a ton of really yummy food. I've already eaten the caramels; they were perhaps the best caramel candies I've ever had. So. GOOD.
My mom also sent me a really beautiful bouquet Flowers are a huge tradition in my family; my dad sends my mom flowers for her birthday and their anniversary, and my mom has a history of giving me flowers on my birthday. Apparently, the bouquet was supposed to look like a cake with candles, but, uh, it just looked like a really pretty bouquet. Whatever, it was a nice gesture.

The Boy had taken me out the day before to get my birthday presents: new bras! I hadn't been fitted for a bra in about, oh, 2 years. I've gained and lost a lot of weight in that amount of time; plus, my normal bras were in really bad shape -- they were losing a lot of elasticity and were just awful. We went to Nordstrom's and I got fitted. Um, apparently, I was wayyy off ... about 2 cups off. Holy hell, I had no idea how great wearing a bra could be. Really, head to your nearest Nordies and get fitted. They have an amazing selection (Betsy Johnson's are the cutest damn things in the world) and fabulous customer service. Miles ahead of Victoria's Secret in terms of selection and service, Iamtellingyou.

We had a nice late dinner at Buca di Beppo. I'm always a little surprised at how amazing Buca's is; it's a chain restaurant, and a little schlocky, to be 100% honest, but the food there is amazing. We had chopped antipasto salad and chicken saltimbocca for dinner and apple crostini for dessert. Normally, I wouldn't pick out either antipasto salad and chicken saltimbocca -- they both contain ingredients that I wouldn't normally eat, but oh, are they heavenly. The chicken was so perfect ... delicate, perfectly balanced flavours. I dream of entrees so well executed. The apple dessert was not so delicious; the caramel sauce was terribly off, and it completely ruined the dish. The almond crust, though, was delish.

I had a great birthday, all things considered. It was nice and quiet, and I got to spend some quality time relaxing and just enjoying my time here in Hawaii -- something I don't get to do, since I'm always in school.
The downside: the Boy and I are painfully sunburnt. I normally don't burn, but in the past few years, I've been burning like nobody's business. The Boy looks terrible: his shoulders are lobster red. Just looking at him makes me hurt. I, on the other hand, have the strangest sunburn I've ever encountered. I thought I had tanned my stomach and legs nicely; but as the night went on, my skin started to burn and itch like it had been burnt. My skin is pretty tan-looking, although it's starting to get redder. The itch is unbearable, though; every time I scratch, though, it gets red and begins to burn like hellfire.

Ah well. I had a great birthday, and don't regret a thing! I will however, invest in self-tanners from now on.

Pictures are coming soon. There aren't many, but I had a wonderful day, and would like to post photos of the fantabulous basket and dinner I had. In the meantime, enjoy Bud Light's Real Men of Genius. My favourite is Mr. 80 SPF Wearer, but they're all winners.


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

I'm glad it's your birthday!

Dear No One in Particular,

Last year, I had a furious dance-down* with my mom as the clock ticked down to midnight.

This year, I'm sitting in my underwear on my couch, drinking Red Stripe, and watching "The Golden Girls".

God, I'm getting old.


*Like a countdown, but with terrible, overly enthusiastic dancing instead of counting -- get it?

Monday, April 21, 2008

To hell with academic tone!

Dear No One in Particular,

I really want to name my paper "Clash of the Titanic Egos: Religion and Resistance in Colonial Literature" but don't think that my teacher would totally appreciate it. Yet, the more I read it, the funnier I think it is and the more I become convinced I should just do it.

In related news, does anyone know where I can find this thing called "boundaries"? I hear they're helpful in defining levels of appropriateness.


Sunday, April 20, 2008

Where'd you learn that? A COMMERCIAL?

Dear No One in Particular,

I feel I need to confess something.

I love the Geico Cavemen.

I think they're totally rad. I've loved them since the very first commercial aired. Roykopp's "Remind Me" is my ringtone (you know, the song that plays when the caveman is in the airport).

They're successful because they're genuinely witty commercials. The dialogue pops and the actors are actually quite talented. The cavemen are just developed enough to make the commercials bitingly intelligent.

I was a teeny bit bummed when the commercials stopped airing, and they attempted to make a TV show about them. I could go on and on and on about how painfully flawed it was to try and make something more out of these commericals, but the Wikipedia entry does a good job of pointing out the anthropological flaws. My 2-bit take? These commercials work as 30 second spots because they're just a peek into the lives of these very bitter, very witty cavemen. To delve further would be boring, and to try and make it more than that would take away from the original charm. You can only fill a show with so many blistering one-liners. (I'm starting to lose interest in House for this reason; although, to their credit, House has a bit more substance to it than car insurance commercial spin-offs.)

At any rate, imagine my delight when the cavemen commericals reappeared! The Boy loves them just as much as I do, and while I was attempting to write my paper, he called me into the living room to show me the new caveman spot. It's a brilliant merge with the History Channel.

It's a bit longer than the average commercial, but it's just as bright.

Also: The Caveman's Crib is an entertaining website. I posted a direct link to my favourite (and the original) part of the website. I love the library section in particular.


P.S. I'm over halfway done with my paper! Ok, over halfway to the minimum word count, but in my mind it's the same thing!


Dear No One in Particular,

I'm having one of those weekends. I think it's because of school; the semester is almost over, and the stress of taking 18 units is finally getting to me. It's kinda like senioritis, but I'm not graduating. I'm terrified to see what'll happen to my work ethic then. No, I'm just not with it today ... I'm making stupid mistakes because I can't be arsed to focus at all. I should be writing an analytical paper for my Mesoamerican History class, but instead, I'm piddling around the internet. I think I've written more in this blog entry than for the paper.

I've been trying my damnedest to avoid writing. I have to keep fighting back the thought that, since I have almost 100% in the class, I could maybe afford to not write the paper? That's terrible, though, and not at all a valid excuse.

So far, I've taken the longest shower in history, test driving a new hair care system (more on that later), failed at making blondies (but made something pretty tasty, anyway) and bought shoes. These shoes:

They toe the border between pretty and ugly and I love them. I stalked them online a bit before I went to the store to pick them up, but oddly, the local Forever 21 is renovating and maybe closing? No one could tell me if they were going to be closed, or for how long. Sadly, they only had one pair of these fabulous oxford heels in black (they had a ton in the ghastly multi-cream), but they were a size 5. They look ... decent, for a pair of Forever 21 heels. I really wanted something interesting-looking that could stand in for my beloved Bandolino wedge-heel boots (which are disturbingly grody-looking recently), and the oxfords are just too menswear-cool for me not to covet. I was also looking at these (black, natch. Who comes up with some of these colour combinations?!) but, again, they didn't have them in my size at the store. Oddly enough, the Boy LOVED them, but I ended up convincing myself I have no use for them. I have 1 -- maybe 2? -- dresses/outfits I can wear them with, but that's not reason enough for me to buy them.

I really need to write this paper. Why am I writing up a blog entry when I have a major deadline looming?, you may ask. It is, after all, the last major paper of the semester. I have this theory: once I clear my head of all the crap that's slushing around in my brain, I'll have no choice but to focus on my analysis of Mesoamerican Christian proselyting literature. That, and the lack of Top Model marathons should give me impetus to finish the damn thing. Here's hoping.

So, I shall leave you with this news bit: Harry Potter Fan Weeps on Stand During Rowling Suit. Made me simultaneously feel better about myself and scared me into getting on with my life.


Saturday, April 19, 2008

Trio Esperança: Pop Geniuses

Dear No On in Particular,

I would like to introduce you to Trio Esperança: a group of 3 sisters from Brasil who made a name for themselves singing catchy pop tunes.

Apparently, they were quite good a capella singers, but I learned of them through the beauty of iTunes.

iTunes and/or Apple only have one of their albums, a dual-CD from the "Serie Bis" called Jovem Guarda. It's pretty damn amazing. I somehow stumbled across their cover of "My Boy Lollipop" ("Meu Bem Lollipop" in Portuguese), and fell totally in love. I have a ridiculous love of cheesy 60's pop -- the bouncier and more ludicrous, the better -- so Trio Esperança was right up my alley. I find that already farcical songs like The Seekers' "Georgy Girl" and Petula Clark's "Downtown" become insanely irresistible in Trio Esperança's hands: impossibly energetic beats, combined with their peppy soprano voices is pop music heaven.

I listened to samples of all the songs on "Jovem Guarda", and cherry picked my favourites, but if this CD becomes a staple in my "frequently played" list, then I might have to pick up the rest of the CDs.
I really, really wanted to upload the songs via Muxtape and post them here, but apparently iTunes songs aren't MP3s? Whatever, Muxtape and iTunes hate each other or something, so I can't show you, blogosphere, the beauty of Trio Esperança. It's something you're going to have to seek out on your own, and trust me.
You won't be disappointed.


ETA: The Boy has just informed me that he HATES this type of music. First, I thought he was referring to the type of music that has singing in it, but no. To him, the trio's Betty Boop-esque voices are like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. I would be annoyed by this, but then again, this is the same Boy who didn't know about The Dark Side of Oz phenomenon . Pitiful.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Me = not good with animals

Dear No One in Particular,

Do you know what it feels like to be stalked by a small reptile? I do.
I was catnapping on the couch, when I felt something crawling along my arm. I twitched, thinking that it was a fruit fly, or some other small insect that we're plagued with here. It didn't leave my arm, so I brushed off my elbow, hoping to scare it off. What should fall off but a small lizard? Let me repeat that: a small lizard. Crawling along my arm. What the fuck, Hawaii.

I jumped up, screaming. The Boy combed through the couch, continually asking me if I was sure it wasn't a mosquito or something. Eventually, I sat back down, and continued to watch Anthony Bourdain's show. I look over at the Boy, who is sitting next to me, and crawling along his lap is the small demon lizard. I scream and point again, and the Boy jumps up to capture him in one of our drinking glasses. He kept trying to convince me that it was cute (I kept trying to convince him to KILL IT), but eventually let it free on our lanai.

I really, really want to move back to California now, pleaseandthankyou.


Rrrrrrroomba! (parte dos)

This just in: the Roomba is AMAZING.

It's currently cleaning ... um, the entire apartment. I keep expecting it to quit, shouting "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING. I'm a robot-vacuum, not a miracle-worker!" as it roombas its way out the door, leaving us in our dusty filth.

It's pretty damn hilarious, though, watching the Roomba explore and bump around the place. It misses huge chunks of a room (hello, living room!), but I learned that if I confine it to a single area, it cleans like nobody's business. My bathroom has never been cleaner.

Also, like I mentioned, my birthday is coming up, so if any silent reader out there in the vast blogosphere feels seriously altruistic, this would make a pretty sweet gift.


Sick day

Dear No One in Particular,

I think I pulled a muscle in my back, and it huuurts.
I feel a bit better than yesterday -- yesterday, I was in screaming pain, totally unable to find a comfortable position. I fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, whimpering, after spending an hour with a heating pad on my back.

It hurt just as badly this morning, too. I was in tears as I left for school, the pain of walking to my car was so great.

Right now, I'm lying on my couch, watching reruns of "The Golden Girls" and "Yo Gabba Gabba!"*
I do feel better, but I'm hopped up on expired prescription-strength ibuprofen, so that might be part of the reason.

This sucks.


*The GREATEST children's show ever. It helps to press the fast-forward button when it gets annoying.

Another thing:

I think I may have a UTI. I would check WebMd, but every time I browse that website, I end up convinced that I have cancer, or am already dead.

I'm currently drinking more water, but that only makes me want to wee more, which, I really don't think is helping the situation.

TMI, much?


Monday, April 14, 2008


Dear No One in Particular,

The Boy and my birthdays are coming up, and the Boy's parents sent us our present early -- a Roomba! I can't tell you how long we've wanted one; we were just talking about how once we finally get some decent paying-jobs, we would blow some cash on a Roomba. We both stared at the box for a good minute before we said anything. When we did speak, it was high-pitched squeals and "Holy crap!" over and over again.

I'm hella excited about this ridiculous piece of technology. Most vacuum cleaners are too big and bulky for me to handle effectively, and I've been worried about the respiratory diseases the Boy will contract from having to hoover up the dried bird crap on our lanai, so the robot-vacuum is seriously a godsend. Really -- I'm ridiculously pumped about it.

Also: Real Simple magazine is pretty great. I read pretty voraciously, but there's something about magazines that thrills and annoys me. Magazines are like the sitcoms of the literary world: short, punchy, and flashy. They're easily consumed in an hour, and any substance can be filed away for future use. Of course, a lot of magazines can be total crap: really selling the reader short by cutting out substance and condescending to them.
"Real Simple", on the other hand, is substantial without being overly literary, beautifully photographed, and has lots of fun, helpful material. Plus, their stories are applicable to the everyperson's life -- a major beef I have with the Martha Stewart franchise is that no one with any sort of a life has the time, money, or energy for her projects.
If you get a chance, unspoken reader, pick up their special Travel issue -- it's amazing.


Friday, April 11, 2008

Mr Pibb and Red Vines = crazy delicious

Dear No One in Particular,

Confession: I don't think I've ever seen the video I'm referring to in my title. I'm pretty sure I hate Mr Pibb, but stale Red Vines are pretty great. I bought a bag at the good Safeway, and I've been snacking on twists all evening. Someone once described them as tasting like red, and I have to say, that's the most apt description for Red Vines I've ever heard.

I had some vague plans for this evening, unknown reader, but they've kinda fallen through.

I made some pretty disastrous cupcakes earlier thanks to this book. I like to think of myself as a pretty good baker, but this book broke me. I made a couple of the recipes, and I had to toss both batches of cupcakes in the trash. There is something seriously flawed with the recipes themselves; one batch came out ridiculously dry and the other was so dense, it was like eating meat. I tried to make one of the frostings, which was laughably bad: it was soupy and way too sweet. If I had paid more than $5 for the book, I'd be completely incensed. As it is, I'm just terribly annoyed, since groceries are very expensive here, and tossing out those cupcakes was just like watching money go down the drain. When a recipe calls for 5 egg whites, and eggs cost $3 for a half-dozen, it adds up -- especially when the dessert is completely inedible.
I ranted at the Boy for a good half hour after I tossed the last batch. My solution: keep the book for inspiration. A lot of the ideas are good, and I think I have enough experience to know how to overhaul some of the recipes to make some pretty tasty cupcakes.

So. Now, I'm sitting on my couch, eating kona coffee mochi ice cream (which, intangible reader, I have only found here in Hawaii) and drinking some crappy South African wine. I don't know what crappy South African wine -- we bought it because neither of us knew that South Africa had vineyards. It has a leopard-print cork, which I thought was kinda funny. The Boy likes it for some reason, but I obviously don't. It's rough stuff, but then again, it only cost $9. The lady behind the counter at the liquor store had to wipe the dust off of the bottle. I should know better.

It's been that kind of day, imperceivable reader.


Thursday, April 10, 2008

Crispy! Just say "crispy"!

Dear No One in Particular,

This video has been cracking my shit up ALL. DAY.


Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Snow Day!

Dear No One in Particular,

I grew up in California, so I never got to experience a real snow day. Apparently, the one day that it actually snowed in the Bay Area, I was home sick. There were a few inches of snow that stuck in the Berkeley Hills -- my high school wasn't far down the hillside -- and I would have loved to see snow clinging to the streets of the City.

At any rate, I got an email this morning saying that my afternoon class is canceled and my morning class is a wash, since we're watching a terrible movie. The Boy and I decided we would have a snow day!

Normally, we would run errands, but we don't have any; I would love to go to the beach, but the weather is terrible. Grey clouds, cold-ish, and it looks like it's threatening to rain.
Hopefully, my friend will call, and we'll go out to lunch and have a nice lazy day.


Sunday, April 6, 2008

Death by Chocolate-Covered Peanut Butter

Dear No One in Particular,

Have you ever tried Trader Joe's Mini Peanut Butter Cups?

They're little nuggets of crack. Delicious, delicious crack that I'm currently inhaling by the handful. I don't get it -- I don't even like peanut butter cups! Really, I don't even like peanut butter all that much. I'm not all that sure that I like chocolate that much. But there is something about these bite-sized candies that keeps me going to to fridge and digging out handfuls.

I first tried them when I went home for spring break. There's no Trader Joe's in Hawaii, something I am both grateful and infuriated about. Grateful, because if there were, I'd be replenishing my stock of Mini Peanut Butter Cups, Spanikopita, and Orange Sticks every couple of days. Infuriated because health food stores here are pretty awful. At any rate, I had chalked up my infatuation with these bitty confections to a case of the munchies. But when the Boy brought some back to the islands with us, I was assured that this was love. Fattening, chocolaty love.

I highly recommend these candies, unnamed reader. I can't tell you why they are so damn good, but they are. Oh, they are.


Hula Aiha‘a

Dear No One in Particular,

It is the Merrie Monarch Festival weekend here in Hawaii, and while I don't live on the Big Island, where the Festival is held, it is showing on local TV. I absolutely love watching hula -- real hula, the kind that tells a story.
As an anthropologist, hula is an interesting study. Nearly every aspect of (modern) hula has diverged from the traditional, pre-contact (or should it be pre-missionary ?) hula; it is a testament to the resiliency of the people and how adaptive culture really is.
Then again, as an anthropologist, my favourite hula are the kahiko hula, or the more traditional ones. I can't stand the modern hula auana, with the singing and steel guitars.

It's hard to watch the Merrie Monarch Festival, since I only understand what they're talking about half the time. I can pick up a few words, like "halau" and "kumu" (the hula school, and teacher, respectively), but when the commentators begin their assessment of the dancers, I'm completely in the dark.
For example, right now, there are a bunch of people filing on stage, recieving maile leis and greeting each other. Traditional Hawaiian names are a mouthful, and I can't really tell if they're introducing the people, or just commenting on the various halau.
Ah -- okay, so now the kumu are all dancing together. It's interesting to see the subtle differences in their interpretations of the same mele.

I have a slightly creepy sounding confession: I love watching dancers. Rather, I love watching dance being performed. Some of my absolute favourite TV shows are dance-related, like "So You Think You Can Dance", and the new Elizabeth Berkley vehicle, "Step It Up and Dance", which by the way, is pretty fabulous. I have pretty high hopes for "Step It Up and Dance", imaginary reader, because any show that opens with Spice Girls routines is aces in my book, especially when they invite Scary Spice to be a guest judge. I pretty much fell in love when, a contestant pointed out that they don't have much experience as a hip-hop dancer, she shot back with "But you're BLACK." A-mazing.

I know I said a movie review was forthcoming, and I did see Leatherheads, which was utterly charming, but I don't really have the energy, so a full-on review will have to wait.

Sorry to keep you on tenterhooks, non-specified blog reader.


P.S. In case you were wondering, the title refers to a specific type of hula dedicated to Pele. The more you know, unknown reader.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Greetings from Pop Culture's Official Nit-Picker

Hello there, Blogosphere!

(I feel, based on the title of this blog, that each post should begin as though I'm writing a letter. It's a little overly precious, and I have yet to figure out who to "dedicate" my blogs to, so bear with me, blogosphere.)

I had originally written an introductory post back in February, when I first created "Blogs to No One in Particular", but since I've had some time to think about it, and what this blog is meant to be, I deleted it, and am putting this one in its place.

I suffer from far too many thoughts, and far too little time. I created this blog, hoping that if I had a place to brain-dump, I would be able to finally make room for important things, like the Spanish translation for "party pooper" and how Claude Levi-Strauss and Karl Marx are academically related.

Realistically, I probably won't update with much regularity. I would like to, but something tells me that my opinions aren't as important to others as they are to me. (Alright, Amanda, enough with the emo! ;) ) Also: lack of time.
I'll probably be posting movie reviews, popular culture rants, restaurant reviews, photographs of things I find interesting and of food I make, and god-knows-what-else. I've been told that I'm quite funny when I get angry, but I think the humour comes more from watching a short, chubby girl screaming and swearing like a sailor over something as ridiculous as reality television.

I'm hoping to post in the next few days; the Boy and I are planning on seeing Leatherheads this weekend, and I've been looking forward to this film for months now. Total disclosure, though: I've been fighting a nasty cold recently, and when I breathe deeply, my lungs snap crackle and pop like rice crispies. I should probably get that checked out, but I have no health insurance, and should I go to the school clinic, I'll probably die of asphyxiation while waiting for a doctor. No lie, I once waited over an hour for a nurse to come in and perform a 10 minute procedure.

At any rate, this should be entertaining.
My fingers are crossed, how about yours?

-- amanda