Monthly Archives: October 2009

Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

My sick love/hate relationship with candy corn. It’s good for me Halloween only happens once a year, or I would need a fucking kidney transplant. I cannot even begin to imagine how bad these must be for you – like, I would guess that just eating corn syrup with a spoon might be preferable – but I just cannot stop eating them. WHY DO YOU TASTE SO GOOD BUT ALSO KIND OF BAD BUT I LOVE EATING YOU

The blurry line between offensiveness and political correctness and Halloween. Okay, so I’m pretty sure that stuff like this is racist/inappropriate/indefensibly wrong, and that dressing up your nine-year-old sister as Zsa Zsa Gabor is weird. But what about things like this? Maybe I’ve just gone to a *COUGH* non-sectarian Jewish university for too long, but I find myself giggling a little. What do you think? Is it mean of me to dress up as Lindsay Lohan? Who will be my SamRo?

My apartment is being invaded by bugs. It is FALL it should be way too cold for bugs they should all be DEAD by now. That is my vote.

There is no country called Scandinavia. I hate being one of those people who’s like ‘OMG did you see Stephen Colbert last night SO FUNNY HAHA” but guys, there is no country called Scandinavia. That is a fact. This video is 100% great, in a proportion inverse to how awful this actual anti-gay ad campaign is.

(Okay I really really wanted to embed the video here so you could actually watch it but I can’t do it right SO here is the LINK you should def watch it anyways, the only difference is that you have to click twice instead of once! You can do it!)

I am a little embarrassed by how excited I am for The Fame Monster. Seriously, I am really glad there is no way for you to check how many times a day I listen to Bad Romance and Alejandro on YouTube. I find myself agreeing wholeheartedly with this reviewer: “Imagine wearing an amazing hat in the world’s best restaurant. THAT IS WHAT THIS SONG IS LIKE.” I think the time has come for me to admit that my love of Lady Gaga is becoming less and less ironic every day, and at this point is maybe just entirely genuine. ALEJANDRO ALEJANDRO ALEJANDRO

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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

“On My Own” (Les Mis) and “Maybe This Time” (Cabaret), respectively. How have I not learned to appreciate these songs until recently? I can’t even claim ignorance as an excuse, because I’d heard them before. It took Kristin Chenoweth and the Speedster to make me realize how great they are. Man, maybe I should not be so hard on Les Mis! Maybe there is a reason it’s the longest-running musical show on Broadway!

Mad Men. This week was all about the ladies, as Joan smashed a vase over her rapist husband’s head (YES!!), Roger actually turned down an ex-love in favor of marital fidelity (what? Mr. Sterling, way to finally respect women) and, in a riveting reversal of power, Betty confronted Don about his box o’ secrets/lies (!!!). And then when I expected Don to get all angry and defensive as per usual, he completely fell apart: cried and told Betty the whole truth. Don Draper CRIED. I can’t even imagine where the show will go from here.

“Whatcha Say,” Jason Derülo (feat. Imogen Heap). Three things I love: mashups, Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek,” and Autotuned R&B/hip hop. Therefore it follows that it is impossible for me not to enjoy this song. The sampled Imogen bit even happens to be my favorite part of “Hide and Seek”! I don’t know if I would listen to anything else by Jason Derülo, but whatevs. This song is awesomely catchy, even though Derülo is the kind of guy to sing his own name at the beginning of his music video.

Etgar Keret, The Girl on the Fridge. Keret’s a writer I keep hearing about, but I hadn’t read any of his stuff until a couple weeks ago and oh my, is it good. He has a talent at clubbing you over the head with his closing sentences. Go read “One Hundred Percent” or “Without Her” right now if you don’t believe me. Actually, no, go do it even if you do believe me. Get out of that computer chair right this very minute, young lady/gentleman.

SoulPancake. Have I talked about this already? SoulPancake’s a site started by Rainn Wilson, among others, to discuss the “big questions” in life. It’s quirky and interesting and I bookmarked it a long time ago, but hadn’t checked it out in months until this week, when I needed study breaks. Reading it feels like having an unexpectedly philosophical conversation with close friends, when you’re all sitting on the floor eating pizza and somehow you all end up discussing your beliefs and thoughts instead of playing Marry/Boff/Kill as per usual.

Sleep. If only I could do more of it.

Halloween is tomorrow! And you guys, I didn’t expect to find what I needed for a costume today at the drugstore, but it was totally there, you know, and now I am totes ready! I am going to be a Freudian slip. What about you? (On a related note, spooky/morbid songs with children singing on the chorus, a lá “In the Room Where You Sleep” or “The Hazards of Love III,” are pretty sweet. I don’t know enough of them to make a Halloween playlist, but ah well. I could always go the generally-spooky route and tack on “Airport Song.”)

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feared science

Guys, learning Blender is hard.  Even at the computer kind of science, I am not very good.  But I have to learn to be, because I am creating a 3D short film about a dancing robot!  Hopefully the professor takes pity on my humanities-studying ass and gives me an A for effort.

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calling all anthropomorphism enthusiasts

I wasn’t sure when the right time was to bring this up, and I want to make sure it’s done appropriately, but I think the moment has come for me to just say it: someone very special has recently entered my life.

 

IMG_8005

Hello, my name is: ___________

 

This is a jar of sourdough starter, obtained through the same kind of network of crunchy granola foodie friends through which you can get things like kombucha babies or Google Wave invites or whatever. It’s a pretty great thing! If you mix it with water and flour and stuff it makes sourdough bread, which is cool. What is potentially cooler, though, and maybe the main draw for me, is how you have to maintain it. Basically, you keep the same batch of starter alive indefinitely and use little bits of it at a time to make bread; in order to do this, you have to “feed” the main batch regularly with flour and water to keep it alive.  Do you know what this means? Yes. Yes. It means that this is a pet. At least as much of a pet as a fish, and it will never commit suicide by leaping out of its jar to suffocate on the floor. I am really kind of genuinely enamored with this idea, in case it’s not clear: the thought of an amorphous, bubbly blob the color of the bathroom stalls in my elementary school as a pet is actually pretty great for me. I’m seriously planning on drawing a face to the outside of this Patak’s jar in order to form a stronger bond with my starter. There is one major obstacle for me right now, though – my sourdough starter doesn’t have a name. This is where you, Dear Reader, can help! I’ve had a few suggestions already – I think that right now, “Clyde” is in the lead. But I haven’t heard anything yet that really resonates as the true identity of this kind-of-vinegary-smelling mush. What are your thoughts? The best answer could win some sourdough bread made with the thing they just named! Or they might not, realistically, because I’ve got other stuff to do! Go at it!

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Stuff Rachel Fucking Hates

Why Ranbir why Look, Deepika Padukone, I like you, and imma let you finish, but you’re really going to keep Ranbir Kapoor all for yourself? Excuse me while I go put together my Hindi song-and-dance routine about how heartbroken I am.

OMG RANBIR!!1!

OMG RANBIR!!1!

What am I going to be for Halloween? Seriously, idk

Everyone on the internet is so mean! Guys, can we leave Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Valenti alone? Let’s be honest, none of us want to live in a world where it’s okay to shit on someone just because they are pretty, got married, or are on drugs. I understand that being on the Internet makes you feel all brave, like you’ve suddenly become the football quarterback who used to shut you in his locker and who you had confusing dreams about at night, but that is not true. You are just a dick.

Speaking of the internet, I just cannot stop looking at these two things: Regretsy, and McNaughton Fine Art. Absolutely cannot. It is making it literally impossible to do anything else with my life. I won’t even say anything else about them. Just go.

Okay, I will say one thing: At the McNaughton site, read the Interview with the Artist. Just read it.

It turns out police are pretty fucking brutal all the fucking time. Like, even on the National Day of Action Against Police Brutality. Listen, I understand they’re American heroes, but to be honest I’ve never had a great experience with them, ever. Either they’ve been pulling me over for nonsense (not slowing down enough at a YIELD sign?) and then acting like dicks, or they’ve been being completely unhelpful in an actual investigation. Just as a thought exercise, I’m wondering how many actual crimes were committed during the time when these eight police officers assaulted one unarmed woman in Brooklyn today. Just wondering. And hey, paramedics, you’re not off the hook either. Remember that time you had a woman arrested for assault because she apparently struck you while in the middle of a seizure? Remember how it took nine hours after the beginning of her seizure for her to actually get treatment because you sent her to jail instead of the hospital? Yeah, that was pretty fucking embarrassing, huh? I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t make a point about how this woman’s being black may or may  not have influenced your (lack of) treatment. I’ll just let you think about that on your own.

I had no class today, and I don’t even really think I have any homework, and I’m making apple crisp, motherfucker. Oh wait, that isn’t something I hate. That is something I fucking LOVE.

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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

Tri-Delta’s Fat Talk Free Week. So it turns out that “fat talk” isn’t just the fat-shaming/disparaging comments you might assume, but anything that focuses on someone’s weight more than him/her as a person –– e.g. when you complain that So and So shouldn’t be wearing that outfit because she’s too big, when your mom always comments on your weight gain or loss within the first hour of your visits home –– and I am still surprised at the idea that all of this talk, even if it’s meant well (“X’s doing so awesome! She’s down 20 already!”), contributes to the ultimately unhealthy obsession our culture has with fat. Obviously I am new to this FA thing. But it’s continually surprising how much I (and most others I know) have internalized that obsession. Look at the stats on Tri-Delta’s website.  All us ladies are implicated, not just the fat ones or ones with ED or the dieting ones.  Fat talk isn’t the whole problem, obviously, but it’s part of it, and hey, why not try?

“Hills Like White Elephants,” Ernest Hemingway. So apart from one short story assigned in tenth grade, I have judiciously avoided reading Hemingway; I hated the writing style of said assigned story, found it to be questionably close to Hemingway’s real-life experience, and figured everyone knew he was a big ol’ misogynist anyway so why bother.  BUT!  My thesis advisor assigned me “Hills Like White Elephants” last week, and darn it all if it wasn’t excellent.  (Obviously, my own writing style and perspective on writing has changed.)  There’s no given interiority in the entire piece, but the focus on conversation and direct observation makes the inner feelings of the characters so clear.  So good!  Made me think of Mad Men, actually.

Studying Generation X. Had to watch Slacker for class this week, and while the film wasn’t super-entertaining, the articles we had to read for context were.  Man, is the media panic over Gen X fascinating.

The dude-on-dude kiss in Gossip Girl. As you’ve probs heard, Chuck Bass kissed a dude! Well, okay, the dude kissed him, but the point is that it involved two men kissing in closeup (as opposed to, say, the far-off and ambiguously huggy shot that “scandalous” shows –– like GG and The OC –– tend to employ).  Sure, it would have been better if Chuck and Josh Ellis were sincerely interested in each other, rather than just each manipulating the other.  But I still dig it, for three reasons.  One: in an industry rife with lady kisses designed to draw in ratings (and the key 18-35 male demographic), it’s about time guys got in on the lip action.  Two: Chuck Bass is Gossip Girl‘s de facto alpha male –– an interesting and unusual choice even when he was busy womanizing and wearing orange blazers all the time, but a really interesting one now that he’s been outed as bisexual.  Apparently in the book series, Chuck’s character is bi-leaning-towards-gay, but the show hasn’t really shown that at all up until now.  In fact, I’m a little surprised the show would decide to keep him bi.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a TV show (not on HBO or Showtime, anyway) that portrayed non-heteronormative men as hegemonically masculine.  Three: I just really like Chuck Bass.

The NO H8 Campaign. Guys, Proposition 8 sucks.

Ken Tanaka. In what could possibly be the most ridiculous episode of Glee thus far (Will doing “Bust a Move” AND Sisqo?  Puck and Rachel making out, SERIOUSLY?  And what is with their school’s fondness for throwing Slushies at people?), woebegone Ken Tanaka has finally stepped up and said he’s not going to take it anymore.  No more is he willing to be a pitiable second to Will Schuester!  He’s not even backing down on his pick for wedding song, “The Thong Song,” for its booty-shakin’ potential.  Go Ken!  Now, if only he could not marry a woman who obviously doesn’t love him, that would be even better.

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hey

Finishing a story has got to be one of the best feelings ever.  You know?

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