ka-ching!

The New Yorker | Like, Socialism

The "Obama is a socialist" thing is just the latest in a long string of absolutely ridiculous accusations lobbed by the McCain campaign, and I think this piece does a nice job of explaining it in that context while pointing out some of the egregious errors in logic of this particular attack.

I would hate for Sarah Palin to be my governor, but damn, a $3,269 oil profits check from the state government every year might soften that blow a bit.

Happy Halloween!

Trick or treat, smell my feet, I think there's a dead rat behind my oven, AWESOME.

back on the crochet train

Just added a bunch of new hats to the Madeye shop. The earflap is back! And there's more, non-hat stuff coming soon. I am excited about it.

It's been unseasonably cold in Atlanta this week, and all I've really wanted to do is sit under my covers with my space heater on, watching awful television and crocheting away-- an impulse I haven't had on any regular basis since my junior year of college. The big difference is that these days I don't have the ever-nagging presence of schoolwork-that-I-should-be-doing hanging over my head. Strange, but welcome.

pump pump pump it up

Tonight, I'm making these and watching this. And, yes, even though I had to wait outside in the weirdly bitter cold for over a half hour to vote today, I completely forgive whoever chose November as election month for not picking a more typically mild time of year, simply because in no other season would these be so timely. One more reason I wish I had a damn porch. 

smorgasboard orgasboard orgasboard

I went to Oktoberfest at the Chattanooga Market with my parents over the weekend, and we got Spotted. The Times Free Press is so fancy now! And we are such celebrities. Look at our greasy little faces. Mom and Dad had just finished sandwiches from the Yellow Deli, which they decided were pretty boring for cult food, and I'd just finished one of the wurst brats ever, but we're like Templeton at the fair.

the bitch is back

My rat is back. I know, I know, it's not the same one-- that one was "taken care of" by my landlord back in February-- but it's doing the same kind of things, i.e. forcing me to wage psychological warfare on myself, so it feels quite familiar. This one was actually in my kitchen sink last night. The sound of ceramic dishes clanking against other ceramic dishes clanking against sink basin was enough to propel me from the cozy confines of my bed, across my apartment and into the kitchen, where I threw on the light and proceeded to almost throw up. I did not anticipate being so disgusted by the sight of it, but it was disgusting, and not just because it was a nasty, dirty rodent. It didn't even bother running away entirely, just scampered up from the sink and halfway behind the oven, leaving its tail coiled coquettishly around my knife block. How audacious, right? It fully disappeared after a moment, giving me the chance to choke down some bile before grabbing my broom and beating my oven. Which I realized accomplished nothing. But it felt good. And was better than puking all over my kitchen floor, which would have probably only further enticed the little shithead. 

I do realize that it's mostly my own fault: I left some dishes in the sink while I was up in Tennessee over the weekend, and some crumbs out on the counter, and some recycling boxes on the floor, and I wasn't around making threatening noises or anything for several days, so it probably felt like it had scored big time. Like Templeton at the fair (see above). I watched that cartoon version of Charlotte's Web so many times when I was little, and this was by far my favorite part. Templeton's voice is just so lecherous, so Jack Nicholson-y that I just Googled to make sure it wasn't actually Jack Nicholson doing the voice acting (it wasn't). Imagining that my rat can talk makes whatever my landlord did today a bit less palatable, but the thought of it rolling about my kitchen singing "Smorgasbord, orgasboard, orgasbord" just makes me laugh.

Also, I've always been fascinated by cartoon food, for some reason, but even that doesn't fully explain why I become hungry watching this video. Man, I could totally go for some dried-out Swiss cheese and a rotten banana right about now.  

say what?!

According to Slate, Georgia may now be considered a "tossup" state.

This pretty much sums up how I feel about that. (And damn, I kinda wish I had a baby so Obama could hold it.)

Today was busy.

suffer for fashion, or whatever

Politico | RNC shells out $150K for Palin fashion

Joe told me about this last night. Last night, after I spent a good while agonizing over having just bought a super-basic denim pencil skirt on sale for $19.99 at Urban Outfitters. Which I am wearing right now and feeling considerably less bad about, though considerably worse about the RNC and its fiscal priorities.

"It was always the intent that the clothing go to a charitable purpose after the campaign"-- what? Really? So, if McCain wins (god forbid), what is Palin going to wear, exactly? Is she gonna start schlubbing around in H&M suits, having given her campaign attire to "charity"? Or will there be another shopping spree? Or are they just not so much banking on that "winning" thing anymore?

My skirt was originally $58.00. You could have bought 2586.21 of them for $150,000! Or 7503.75 of them on sale! That is so many skirts, and so much money.

Wendy & Lucy (& Marie)

This trailer for Wendy & Lucy is so bizarre to me because of how much Michelle Williams' character reminds me of Marie. I think it's just the plaid shirt, hoodie, and Bermuda shorts combo and the short, dark-dyed hair. Marie is not generally in such desperate situations, although I wouldn't put it past her to head off to Alaska in a crappy car with only her dog as company. Only Marie's dog would never be named Lucy, because she has a sister named Lucy, and also because she already has her dream dog name picked out (Parker, right?). This is the only photo I could find that in any way proves my point, although this one that Marie posted the other day may also do the trick (she's in the overalls). Incidentally, I think this movie looks great! Marie, just please never let any of this happen to you.

TV Detail: SNL's "Fartface" sketch too crappy even for the Internet

I really, really hated that thing.

please tell me I'm not the only one

Narwhals are real animals. Did you know that? Until this afternoon, I did not. And I don't mean that in a "O! How could such a strange and majestic creature actually dwell upon this earth?!" awestruck kind of way. I mean that, until brief hours ago, I thought they were completely fictional beings.

Apparently, though, they are very real. Very endangered, but still, they have to exist to be endangered in the first place, so that is a major upgrade from the status they held in my mind for 23 years, eleven months and nine days, i.e. nonexistent.

I feel like that girl from that This American Life episode (this one, I think) who labored under the delusion that unicorns were real well into adulthood only to be corrected in a totally embarrassing, public way. Fortunately, I was saved by lalalindsey, though I did not fully believe it until I saw the National Geographic video above. Holy crap. So real.

investment schminschmestmant

I am in the market for a good pair of fall boots. These are my criteria: They should be brown, have a minuscule to nonexistent heel, not be ridiculously expensive (take note, I have been known to agonize over "splurging" on a $15 pair of wedges at Ross) and must not make me look like a stripper, a hipster or a ren faire attendee. Suprisingly, this is asking a lot of the bootmakers of the world.

However, I am not looking for your reccomendations (unless you have a really good one). I just want you to bear witness to my pain, because even though these Frye ones fail to meet most of my requirements, they are beautiful and absolutely breaking my heart. Frye boots are supposed to last forever, right, but I seriously do not anticipate ever buying $400 worth of boots in my whole life, even if I just keep cycling through pair after pair of uber-cheap ones, like these. Which I sought out online after seeing in an ad. In a magazine. In Seventeen magazine.

I have a feeling even my fellow urbane cowtomboys would disapprove.

weirdly, this is the first post I've tagged "obama"

Recommended: Cassie Shells' Obama campaign trail photo essay. Click all the way through. I'm feeling so good about this election all of a sudden, and though I'm trying so hard not to be overly optimistic, but things like this, one of Shells' photo captions, make it hard not to want it to happen all the more:

I live in Charleston, S.C., and his win in the state's primary really made a difference to people - both black and white. Several days before the primary, my cab driver told me he was going to vote for Obama but he didn't believe a black man could win against a white man or woman. I called him after the election to see if he voted. With pride in his voice he said, "I did and I took my kid with me and the next day I told him he was right. He could be anything he wanted to be someday, even President."

I almost cried at work when I read that, but did not. However, I did definitely laugh at this. Both come via the great brookehatfield.

Decemberists' Colin Meloy talks Hazards of Love

I didn't screw it up this time!

not cowboy, like I keep typing

The New York Observer | The Urbane Tomboys

I tried to wear a skirt the day after I read this piece, just to spite it, but I failed. I'm wearing a dress today, but still. There is a totally meaningless but still compelling lifestyle classification out there calling my name, and I fear I shall not be able to escape. I mean, look at my damn user profile photo. I'm wearing a baseball t-shirt with a giant fake pearl necklace. Really, it's hopeless.

poke

I made a Facebook Blog Network listing for grandweerachael. You can become a reader and "help confirm the author" (how sweet of you, Facebook, thanks for the encouragement) right here.

simply guilt

Friends, I was just about to tell you about how it did not feel like Fall to me until last night, when I got home from the grocery store with a bottle of this stuff and poured a big tall glass of it drank it all up (and then farted all night). Simply Orange is the best orange juice I've ever had, Simply Limeade rocked my world in a similar fashion, and I'd been holding off til the air was just crisp enough to try Simply Apple. And it is so delicious. And so not the weird urine/beer color of most other "apple juice," and not chalky and fake-rustic like the "apple cider" my mom used to buy in half-gallon jugs around this time of year. It is just 100% beautiful unadorned apple juice.

But then I was Googling for an image of it, because although I did consider taking a photo of my own bottle myself I thought that might be a little bit strange, but I kind of wish I had done that actually, because then perhaps I would not have found out that the whole Simply juice endeavor is actually owned by Coca-Cola. Guh.

I don't have any personal rules about buying Coca-Cola products, mostly because I don't drink that much soda, but when I do, it's with full understanding that it's like 85% cancer-acid and 15% evil corporate conglomoratitate and awful for me anyway. And I know I do far worse things in my life than buy Coca-Cola products. But this has just tainted what was a, well, 100% pure goodness situation for me.

Most likely I'll just keep drinking it, but will just feel worse about it. Whomp whomp.

clappin' cousins

Here is the aforementioned Claire trying out her new Clapper last Christmas (she really is a little old lady!) as her sisters, my sister and I sit around watching. I'm not sure which is technically more lame, using a Clapper or very intently observing someone using a Clapper, but it's all happening here. At this point on Christmas day, we were all deep, deep in a food coma, except Marie, who was still eating. Lucy is reading. My sister, Sarah, is the one desperately but quite unsuccessfully trying to get the Clapper to work from across the room. She complains about her hands hurting after a while, which I guess is one of the chief reasons the Clapper has not yet replaced the conventional light switch for America's electricity control needs. How unfortunate.

kinternet

Last night I discovered the blog of my cousin Claire (sister of Marie) and it is making me laugh so much. Claire is in school studying geology and does a lot of house-sitting on the side, and this summer she took care of the house of a family that owned a ton of animals, including chickens. Preparing for this job, she wrote, "Until yesterday, I had never even held a live chicken (although I have held many fried ones)." This is so hilarious to me. Maybe not to anyone else not related to me, but to me for sure. I am so grateful for my funny family.

Will Kath & Kim be any good?

Short answer? Probably not. Long answer?

or maybe just "we're fucked o'clock"

BBC News | US debt clock runs out of digits

First of all, holy crap. Second of all, isn't that technically more of a debtometer, not so much a debt "clock"? Seems to me like a debt clock would, you know, show the time. As in, "time to cut up those credit cards" or "time to kick that $200-a-month Starbucks habit" or "time to start hoarding your life savings in a mattress (in Canada)." Right? Maybe?

gee whiz

If YouTube was going to be totally annihilated from the world and I had to pick just one video to save, as of today, this would be it.

what's left?

Soundcheck with Hanson: Live at the Variety Playhouse

Or, how all of my adolescent musical dreams came true in less than one month.

"With my by myself!"

The VP debate sketch was incredible, but I swear, nothing on Saturday Night Live this week gave me the sillies like the Lawrence Welk sketch. Tina Fey is a genius comedy goddess, right, but Kristen Wiig is such a creep and I love her. I hate that Hulu has the still of her set as the default image for the video, because the full build-up to her weirdness is so perfect.

Also, Anne Hathaway was a great host, probably the best the show's had in a while, and I am so weirdly excited about Rachel Getting Married. When I worked at a Girl Scout camp the summer after my freshman year of college, several of the hell-bound ten-year-olds in my charge told me I looked like her-- more specifically, they told me I looked like "that girl from Princess Diaries" which I think is what ten-year-old girls cared about before there was Hannah Montana-- which I found kind of flattering until I remembered those kids were kind of shitheads and also just as many of them told me I had a mustache. And also I don't really look like her, at all. But the movie looks so good.

great & small

The Episcopal church across the street from my apartment is having a Blessing of the Animals service out in their courtyard, and they're singing a hymn that I don't know the name of but used to love back in my own Episcopal church-going days. The church my family went to in middle and high school had pet blessing services, too, which were always somewhat of a disaster (they were always outside and always on very muddy days) and always seemed such very Episcopal things to do. My kitchen window is open and I can hear them singing outside, and I just stood with my forehead pressed against the glass, head propped up by fists on the windowsill, and watched them for a bit. It was the strangest, most intense and particular nostalgic moment I've had in a while. It had nothing to do with faith or anything, but I just really wanted to be thirteen again and at out back at St. Martin's getting jumped on by someone's freaked out cocker spaniel and singing some old song about God then eating store-bought cookies and fake lemonade and wondering what my Baptist friends were doing right now.

rejected: I Got A Bracelet, Second Holocaust

Top 20 new band names, per the first 2008 Presidential debate

Austin City Limits was fun, but this is maybe the greatest thing to come out of the whole trip, borne of a fit of sinus-fevered, hotel room debate-watching delirium Friday night. There was also Pizza Hut involved--pan-tossed, cheese-- which I only mention because it was shockingly delicious and I would really like some more right now.

AlterNet: Sarah Palin and the Wrong Way to Battle Sexism

It's pretty weird to find yourself wondering what your Women & Gender Studies professor from college would think about something and then realizing that she actually wrote the article you read that made you wonder what she would think about it in the first place.