On fifty shades of lame

MOM AND DAD: I'm a virgin, The Boy and I haven't gotten past second base, and I'll probably never have sex because it's totally gross and icky. Maybe you go read another post now. Look, this one has kittens!

EVERYONE ELSE: Mom, Dad, I told you to go read the kitten post.

EVERYONE ELSE FOR REAL: This review almost certainly isn’t safe for work. The novel might be. Ho hum...

Okay, so despite (or perhaps because of) the frenzy surrounding Twilight, I resisted picking it up and struggling through it until I was informed that it might help me better understand true love. Now, no one has tried to imply that I don't understand true kink (thank God), but since the newest suburban-mommy literary craze--alleged kinkfest Fifty Shades of Grey--is receiving those same kinds of accolades, I thought it might be time to update my education. And what better way to do that than with a book that is not just inspired by Twilight fanfiction but directly adapted from it in a search-and-replace kind of way? Fifty Shades of Grey, by British author E.L. James, started out as “Master of the Universe,” by fanfictioner Snowqueens Icedragon. Ctrl+F, and Bella Swan turns into innocent virgin Anastasia Steele; Ctrl+F, and Edward Cullen turns into powerful and enigmatic business magnate Christian Grey. The couple that taught me so much about love between a 107-year-old bloodsucker and the high-school student he stalks and longs to murder can now teach me the joys of a good spanking.

(I actually thought I knew the joys of a good spanking, but then, I thought I knew about true love, so maybe I've just been kidding myself all this time.)

For the record, I have no problem with fanfiction. (I mean, hi, y'all.) There are actually some fairly well-written ones out there. This is… not one of those. The prose is repetitive, florid, and boring. Removed from its source material, the novel is staffed with underdeveloped, one-note characters without history or motivation (not that the ciphers and caricatures of Twilight were that much better). The twentysomethings talk like teenagers. Christian talks like my grandfather. Hispanic Jacob-analog Jose talks like Dora the Explorer ("Dios mio!"). The exposition seems written for the sole purpose of reminding us that Christian is dark! and Ana is innocent! while shuttling us along to the next sexy part. It's a fic about Bella and Edward getting kinky, and so that's what the novel is about and the only thing the novel about. The story arc goes from "Hey, wanna let me whip you?" to “Okay.” to "No, too much whipping! (runs for the door)" over the course of 26 chapters.

And who struggled through it anyway, for you? Who’s sparing you the time and heartache? Who loves you? That’s right.

On Mashup Monday: The meeting you've always wanted to see

Okay, so it's not a musical mashup, but this is such a near-seamless mixing with such care and attention to detail that I had to share it. Besides, with Twilight: Eclipse opening to the hysterical shrieking of middle-aged women with too many cats and too much disposable income across the country, I couldn't resist.

Buffy/Edward - Twilight Remixed


(Incidentally: There has been some discussion within my social group, and the consensus is that, forced to choose a "team," we'd all definitely go "Team the Guy Who Has a Tan and Body Heat and, Oh Yeah, Shape-shifts into a Freaking Wolf." That said, otherwise, we're all firmly on Team Buffy.)

On understanding true love: first of two - spoileriffic

Okay, so some of you who read my recent rant about crappy writing may have figured out precisely to which author I was referring and down which book I planned on taking. And I did; I read it. It took me probably six hours over the course of three days, but I read all the way through Twilight and can say, without reservation, that I will never get those six hours back.

Why did I subject myself to this? Many reasons. For one, I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. For another, I'd read so many deliciously brutal takedowns that I just had to, in my masochistic way, sit through it and share in their glorious pain.

The main reason, though, was a comment The Boy got from one of "the girls" at his dance school. (These "girls" were his fellow instructors, which puts them all in the late-thirties-to-early-forties range.) They had been going on and on and on and on about how wonderful the books were and how wonderful the movie was and how they were just going to have to read the books all over again after watching the movie to remind themselves of the wonderful. And then The Boy had to step in and wonder, in his Boy fashion, precisely what was so romantic about dating a guy who is constantly on the very cusp of murdering you and drinking your blood.

That's when he was informed that he just doesn't understand true love.

I tried not to take offense when I heard that. In fact, I took it to heart: If he didn't understand true love, that must mean that our love isn't true, in which case the obvious solution is to read the book and try to true things up a bit. So I did. And now I have. And if I now really do understand it, may I die lonely and unloved.

It's not just that the books are poorly written - and oh, they are. I mentioned Stephenie Meyer's addiction to fancy adverbs and dialogue tags and her allergy to the word "said." I could add to that the fact that everything we know about Meyer's entire universe can be - and trust me, has been - exposited by our protagonist, whose name is - wait for it - Isabella Swan. (I spent ten minutes trying to come up with something worse than Isabella Swan to put down as a snarky alternative, and I could find none. Well played, Meyer.) Bella (as she keeps insisting that people call her, because they just won't learn) saves readers the trouble of inferring context and backstory from the plot by just telling us flat-out in the first person.

What else do we know about Bella? We know that she's clumsy. Sooo clumsy. Clummy-clum-clumsy. You can hear "Yakety Sax" faintly in the background throughout the book. She falls down in the woods. She trips over her own feet at the beach. She trips over her own feet in class. She drops her books. She thwacks her classmates in the head with a volleyball. She thwacks herself in the head with a badminton racquet. She gets paper cuts. At one point, Meyer specifically describes her eating a bowl of cereal, "chewing each bite with care," as if a Lucky Charms-Mama Cass moment is an ever-looming threat. And in case you weren't able to pick up on it yourself, Bella is kind enough to tell you herself.

I'm absolutely ordinary - well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled.

Oh, are you clumsy? I totes hadn't noticed.

Our love interest Edward also is unafraid of reminding Bella (and, by extension, us) of exactly how close she is to unintentionally self-inflicted death all the time, which is why he bodily carries her practically everywhere she goes (unless his brother, mother, or little sister is taking care of it). I have actually seen that once in real life. The kid was eight, and it got him an extreme home makeover from Ty Pennington. If there's one thing that Meyer will not let us forget about Bella, it's that she's fucking clumsy.

We also know that she's very plain - pale and brunette - but that, having gone from her fancy-pants big-city school in bustling metropolitan Phoenix to a podunk one-horser in Washington, she's somehow become the hot fish in the ugly pond (outside of the reigning hot blonde who is, conveniently, a bitch). We also know that she's super-duper smart - everything they're doing now she's already done back at her school in bustling metropolitan Phoenix, so she's deigning to do it all again just to have something to do. And she reads Jane Austen novels and Wuthering Heights for fun, but the Forks library is so shitty she has to travel all the way to Seattle for decent reading material. And she listens to Chopin and Debussy and nearly pisses herself in shock when someone else listens to it too. She's kind enough to correct the stupidity and unworldliness of the local doofi somehow without coming across as a total snatch. To them, I mean.

We also know that she hate-hate-hates rainy weather, because she won't fucking shut up about it.

We also know that her earlobes taste like Doritos and she lactates beer. Or something like that, because she is a scrawny, clumsy, whiny, pseudointellectual Gisele Bundchen to the boys at Forks High School for the Petulant and Stupid. They are all over her shit. She is beating them off with a stick, actually arranging relationships for them with other girls in school to turn them away from her honey-scented awesomeness. The only boy in the whole region - including the Indian reservation - who is actively hostile to her is Edward Cullen, but we later learn that his hostility is just a shield to hide the fact that, yeah, he's hot for that, because she smells like truffle oil and a child's happy tears, and not just a natural side-effect of her being completely obnoxious.

Now, some might speculate that this Bella Swan is merely a Mary Sue, that Meyer is living out her own bizarre vampire-love-story teenage fantasies through this girl. But, see, that can't possibly be, because traditionally, a Mary Sue is without flaws, and Bella Swan has flaws like whoa. Did you catch that? She's introverted! And plain! And what else... ooh, clumsy! And whatever, but she's totally not a cipher for Meyer's vampire romance fantasy fulfilment or, ultimately, a victim of a significantly twisted concept of drama and romance.

And yet dear Bella, despite all her flaws, still manages to be horny-teenager Spanish fly, the normal girl who, for no other apparent reason than that he's pretty and she smells like warm toffee and the meadow after a rain, finds true love with the beautiful creature of the night who must constantly refrain from killing her whenever she's around.

One sympathizes.

Think I'm done? I'm just getting warmed up. Tune in tomorrow (or whenever I get around to posting again) to hear more about Stephenie Meyer's "characters" and learn why I think this book is not only flat mediocre but a potentially dangerous read for 14-year-old girls and grown women disinclined to read critically.

On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Random Ten

Okay, so you had to know this was coming back, right? I love me some recurring features, if only because a) they require me to post more than once a month and b) they're pretty easy to write. So here's a super-sized TGTBATFRT to make up for four months of radio silence.

What's good (for the four months ending 7/2):

- scooters. I finally got my new (used) Eaglecraft Spider insured, licensed, and ready to roll, because I certainly haven't been riding around without those things since February, and I can't get enough of it. It's fun, it looks cool, it gets 65 miles to the gallon, and I can park it on sidewalks. Seriously, what's not to like?
- the HJC CL-MAX helmet and Fieldsheer Breeze II motorcycle jacket. Scooter wreck on gravel, and I didn't feel a thing (until the next day, at least, which is to be expected). I will shill for y'all any day of the week and twice on Sundays, HJC and Fieldsheer. Motorists: Summer's a bitch, but remember that helmet, jacket, gloves, long pants, and real shoes are a hell of a lot more comfortable than skin grafts and body casts.
- people who are able to make significant, concrete efforts. I know I'm just after saying that I wasn't going to post about the Gulf spill, but the fact that Dragonfly Boatworks has had both the inclination and the impetus to do something that will have a real, positive impact is so striking to me, it makes me want to have good tears. (Okay, so I'm a crier. Deal with it.) Apparently, they're going to be selling DEA (Dragonfly Environmental Army) t-shirts to help fund the efforts, so as soon as I can find out how to get them, I'm on it.
- plastic + paper. Painting the entire damn new house has made us near-experts in the art of screwing up painting projects, and we've made lots of discoveries through trial and error. One of the biggest is that if you lay down a huge swath of painter's plastic, it protects the floor, and if you lay down a runner of painter's paper on top of that around the edges, it cuts down on time spent cursing the plastic for sticking to your socks.
- Oh, right--the new house
- that side project I mentioned
- Tim James and Dale Peterson. Oh, sweet mother of God, did I need the comedy inherent in those campaigns. The earnestness of Tim plus the indignant quasi-rage of Dale equal gold--and if we're honest, who wouldn't like to get that kind of pissed off on TV? A lot of the yuks come more easily, of course, knowing that neither candidate cleared their primary. But Dale has been good enough to give us an awesome endorsement ad for John McMillan, and I'm hoping Fox News will bring him on as a commentator. (If you agree, e-mail Fox and Friends to let them know.)


"It makes sense. Does it to you?" No, Tim, it does not make a lick of damn sense. But promise me you'll run again in 2014.
- J-Lo's ass. And not just because it brought a new appreciation for naturally badonkadonktastic women like myself--the Huffington Post's Erica Kennedy talks about the way not just her ass but her attitude and self-confidence changed the world--for women who felt that they finally had permission to appreciate themselves for who they really were, and for the society around them that was suddenly obliged to appreciate that appreciation. For that, and for Out of Sight, I salute you, JLo's Ass.
- Smucker's Uncrustables (in grape)
- The Baskits on Green Springs Highway

What's bad:

- road construction in Birmingham. Listen, guys, I'll be the first to thank you for finally getting around to fixing the horrific streets in Southside. (My new vehicle doesn't take well to potholes and patches.) But your approach of stripping every single bit of nasty pavement before starting to restore anything leaves much to be desired. My bike is getting torn up, my body is getting torn up, and that aforementioned patch of gravel (and accompanying pavement dropoff)? Guess where it came from. Strip a road, fix a road, move on to the next road. Lather, rinse, repeat. It takes a little bit longer, but it also leaves the rest of the streets traversable for vehicles not equipped with monster-truck tires.
- toxic mold. One reason of many to leave the old house.
- most fast-food joints after dark. My last few trips to Wendy's, Burger King, and Rally's have found me unable to get unsweet tea, milkshakes, pie, baked potatoes, apple pecan chicken salad, any kind of a chicken sandwich, any kind of fish sandwich, and, for that matter, anything close to decent customer service. The exception? Arby's, which came through with all requested items and a smile. Y'all, if your sign says "open late," you might want to add, "but don't come expecting to get any food."
- Love at First Bite: The Unofficial Twilight Cookbook--although this could be placed in the category of "so bad it's good" (see Jonah Hex). The absolute best part, though? The five-star review from the author herself. Just a tip, Gina: If you're going to try and pimp your own work in customer reviews, at least have the sense to use a fake name. On second thought, this doesn't belong in The Bad at all, because it's overflowing with awesome.

The Ten:

1. Luigi Boccherini, "Adagio" from Concerto in G Major
2. Dirty Vegas, "I Should Know"
3. Alphaville, "Big in Japan"
4. Fiona Apple, "Criminal"
5. Kimya Dawson, "Tree Hugger" (with Antsy Pants)
6. Fine Young Cannibals, "She Drives Me Crazy"
7. Rose Royce, "Car Wash"
8. Peter Gabriel, "While the Earth Sleeps"
9. J.S. Bach, "Var. 13" from Goldberg Variations
10. Amy Winehouse, "Rehab"

For all of my reader here in the Good Ol', happy Fourth of July, and remember that if you're going to shoot off fireworks yourself, try not to blow off your thumbs. They're really important. For my reader elsewhere, happy... Sunday. Otherwise: I know it's been quite a while and you're probably out of practice, but if you're up to it, feel free to leave your Goods, Bads, and Tens in comments.

On understanding true love: second of two - spoileriffic

Okay, so yesterday, I started my commentary on the terrible awfulness of Twilight. My objections, vis a vis that post, were largely to the crappy writing style and the wading-pool depth of character in the protagonist. Today I'll look somewhat beyond that, to the people with whom Bella Swan (ack. Still ack when I type that) surrounds herself - and to the scary things we learn as a result.

There are, in fact, other characters than Bella (to the extent that she can really be described as a "character"). There's Jessica, who prattles; we know this because all of her dialogue is tagged, "she prattled." She doesn't have a lot of dialogue, because whenever she starts prattling, her good friend Bella tunes her out to think about Edward. We do get to hear her prattling whenever it pertains to... Edward. There's also Angela, who, in contrast to Jessica, is sweet and shy; we know this because all of her dialogue is tagged, "she murmured shyly." There's also Lauren, who is blonde and a bitch and says bitchy things.

Then there are the guys. Mike is spiky-haired and has a crush on Bella, much to the consternation of Jessica, who has a prattling crush on him. Eric has a crush on Bella and sees Mike as a rival. Tyler has a crush on Bella, much to the consternation of Lauren, who has a crush on him. Jacob has a crush on Bella and is Native American. That's it. That's what we know about Bella's only friends in this podunk town, because she cuts out on them completely as soon as she makes contact with...

... Edward Cullen, local hottie and vampire babe. Edward has a crush on Bella and is a vampire. In the interest of character depth and future plot conflict, Stephenie Meyer has made him perfect. He's gorgeous - "like a Greek god" - perfect face, alabaster skin, rock-solid body, eyes that are black when he's mad and gold when he's happy, "unusual" reddish hair. He's smart - the only student, perhaps the only person in town, as smart as Bella. He's super-strong and super-fast and drives a reliable Swedish-made sex machine. Though a vampire, he doesn't even eat people; he's so ridiculously virtuous that he's a "vegetarian," which means he eats meat that isn't people. He doesn't have fangs, sleep in a coffin, or burst into flames when he comes out in the daytime, all of which would be major turnoffs. He maintains excellent dental hygiene. And he sparkles - literally fucking sparkles in the sun "like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface" of his skin. But he has flaws! He's very flawed! He wants desperately to drink Bella's blood, but he can't stay away. And he drives too fast.

Oh, he also stalks her and has been coming into her house and watching her sleep every night since she moved to Forks, which would seem like a flaw, but it's actually romantic, because... something. It's romantic. Don't question, accept.

I do not like it. I do not like it, Sam I Am. I don't like the idea that impressionable teenagers are internalizing this deeply creepy concept of stalking-and-possessiveness as love. Because it isn't, and there aren't enough Lifetime movies in the world to deprogram a girl once she's decided that he only hits her because he loves her so much.

That danger is inherent to the nature of the supernatural love story - the danger of the beast and the fantasy that my love, my love can be the one to tame it. And with that concept of true love as a shield, the scarier he gets, the more appealing he becomes - in that scene in the meadow, where he demonstrates precisely how he could lure her and chase her and trap her and beat the crap out of her, Bella exposits that he has become even more beautiful when he's vicious and potentially life-threatening. We all know that girl.

And after said display, it was all, "I'm sorry I scared you. I just love you so much, sometimes I can't control myself." We all know that guy, too.

And that's where the scary comes in. The scary in these books isn't the day-walking, "vegetarian" virtuous vampires - it's the real-life men these girls are going to someday encounter and the real-life women these girls are going to someday be.

Let me tell you a little love story. It's about a girl - depressingly servile but still fairly competent, self-sacrificing but still fairly sharp and clever - who moves to a small town and meets a boy. He's dark, broody, and mysterious, showing affection but always with an undertone of danger. He warns her that he has a violent streak that comes out whenever she's near - but he won't leave her alone. He loves her so much that he can barely control himself when she's around, so she'll have to do it instead.

Over time, she begins to isolate herself from her friends and family because they wouldn't understand. She lies to them about where she'll be. She skips school and school events if he won't be there. She folds to his will at the merest dazzling glance. He watches her constantly, all around school, at her house in the middle of the night. She tries her hardest to learn what sets him off - she learns not to move when he kisses her so as not to provoke him. And still, he constantly warns her that she isn't safe around him - that she'd do well to be afraid of him, that she should avoid him for her own safety, that she is putting herself in danger by being around him. And in the end, she's begging him to kill her to remove the temptation.

"I love you - now stay away from me, I'm dangerous." "Look at the way I hurt you. I love you so much, I can't help it - you should stay away from me." Putting all of the onus on her to stay away from him for her own safety, absolving him of the need to exert self-control. Making her change her behavior so as not to provoke him. Take away the supernatural vampirity of it all, and it becomes pretty clear - "Every time I'm near you, I want to beat you beyond recognition, I love you so much. You should stay away from me, despite the fact that I'm constantly following you around." But fill in the blanks with a venomous monster and a lemon-fresh circulatory system, and suddenly it's a romance for the ages.

I feel like these books need to come with a big, red sticker on the title page - "Disclaimer: Obsession isn't love. Possession isn't love. Wanting to hurt someone isn't love." If you're lying to your friends about where you're going just in case he happens to kill you while you're there, that's a bad sign. If you aren't allowed to move when a guy kisses you because he might snap and kill you, that's a bad sign. If you find yourself begging him to kill you so you'll never have to be apart, that's a bad sign.

And what's really scary about it is the responses from fans - "It's just a story. Vampires aren't real. We don't think it's real; we just read it for the love story." That misses the point that it's not a love story. It's a story of dominance, submission, control, and manipulation. And if that's what teenage girls are reading as a love story, if that's the Edward they're holding their hearts for, we're failing them. And if that's the romance that grown women are idealizing, we've done a lot of failing already.

On unwed mothers, universal health care, and choice

Or, Sing of Mary, Pregnant and Uninsured

Okay, so I will never not be entertained by the fact that Chuck Norris (who has two speeds--walk and kill) has a column at WorldNet Daily. I believe that everyone is entitled to a voice, and I like the fact that Chuck Norris (who once shot a German fighter plane down with his finger by yelling "Bang") not only has his but has it endorsed by the fine and reasonable folks at WorldNet Daily. If there is anyone whose word should not only be considered but should, in fact, be law, it's Chuck Norris (who doesn't shower--he only takes blood baths).

This week, in honor of Christmas, Chuck (who does not sleep--he waits) takes on the question that's been on everyone's mind: What if the Virgin Mary had had Obamacare?

...[A]s we near the eve of another Christmas, I wonder: What would have happened if Mother Mary had been covered by Obamacare? What if that young, poor and uninsured teenage woman had been provided the federal funds (via Obamacare) and facilities (via Planned Parenthood, etc.) to avoid the ridicule, ostracizing, persecution and possible stoning because of her out-of-wedlock pregnancy? Imagine all the great souls who could have been erased from history and the influence of mankind if their parents had been as progressive as Washington’s wise men and women! Will Obamacare morph into Herodcare for the unborn?

It's a reasonable question, of course. There are women all over the country who do end up giving birth simply because they lack the resources to terminate their pregnancy early on. And of the women who do manage to have abortions, whether by obstetrician or by coat hanger, any might have been carrying the next Einstein (or the next Hitler) or the next Fleming (or the next John Wayne Gacy) or the next Shakespeare (or the next John Stamos). So what if the Blessed Virgin had had full access to the range of medical services available to pregnant teenagers?

I seem to have a book here that talks a lot about Mary when she was pregnant. Let's open it up, shall we?

First, we have to consider the image of an unwed girl, fourteenish, who's sitting in her room in Nazareth, hand-weaving a nuptial garment and reading Twilight when a freaking angel comes down and says (Luke 1:28-38),

"Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you."

Holy crap! Mary thinks. What is up? But the angel says,

"Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end... The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God."

which one could imagine is a pretty intimidating thing to hear from an angel. And yet faced with the heavy burden of gestating and delivering the son of the Almighty, this 14-year-old says,

"I am the Lord's servant... May it be to me as you have said.

Damn. Not exactly the words of a girl who's going to get rid of it using federal tax dollars later. (Also, fairly ballsy words for a girl who's going to be discussed as a mild little virgin for the rest of her life, but that's another post for another time.)

Now, Chuck (who once ate three 72-ounce steaks in one hour--and spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress) raises the entirely legitimate subject of the ostracism and persecution that would likely accompany her out-of-wedlock pregnancy. And the Bible does say that Joseph's initial plan was to divorce her. However (Matthew 1:20-25),

after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel"—which means, “God with us.”


When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus.

So it sounds like Joseph, too, was on board with God's plan and fairly excited about the prospect of being stepdad to the savior of the world. And we can also consider the fact that, had she changed her mind, even in that time Mary would have had several (not necessarily safe) options for terminating the pregnancy had she so chosen. So it sounds like Mary’s access to abortion coverage would have been pretty moot anyway, making Chuck’s (who once ate a whole cake before his friends told him there was a stripper in it) “what if Mary had been covered by Obamacare” about as valid a question as “what if the three wise men were actually space aliens.”

But that's not the real question. What Chuck (who can, in fact, believe it's not butter) entirely misses is that the wondrous thing about Christmas wasn't that Mary got knocked up and, for lack of health insurance, went ahead and had the baby. She was young and healthy and had the support of a fiance who was (with some angelic prompting) willing to stay with her and help her. The wondrous thing was that when Mary and Joseph were faced with such a formidable and awesome responsibility, they saw it as a gift from God and wanted it very much. Would that every child be conceived under such circumstances and that every pregnant woman have those options. And would that, in modern times, we are able to provide women like Mary all of the help and options they need.

On the Good, the Bad, and the Friday Random Ten: Final frontier edition

Okay, so I was really sad to see the space shuttle program go. I know NASA has its reasons for backing off of manned space flight, but for me--a child of the 80s--that's just what the space program is about. Huge, powerful telescopes and rovers on Mars are super cool, and I get a thrill every time astronomers report the discovery of a new celestial structure, but space exploration has to involve people in jumpsuits doing slow backflips in outer space and eating pudding out of midair while talking to second-graders live via video feed. I wanted to be Sally Ride.

That's why the science-fiction-y concept of commercial space flight is such a thrill to me--even if the government doesn't feel compelled to put humans back into space, private companies (hopefully) will be able to pick up the slack in terms of discovery and general childlike wonder. And this morning, I got to watch via live feed as the SpaceX capsule Dragon docked with the International Space Station. The Boy and I both remember the thrill of watching rocket launches when we were little, and we were sitting rapt the entire time as the docking happened in real time, right in front of us. It made me hopeful for the the future, and not a lot of things really do that a lot.

What's good (for the week ending 5/25):

- The Replacements. I'd spent enough time quoting this movie that I finally managed to convince The Boy to sit down and watch it, even though he doesn't care about football or Keanu Reeves. But of course he loved it, and now when I say, "Get the ball! Get the ball! I'm comin' for ya, blue eyes!" he laughs because he knows what I'm talking about, not because I seem slightly unstable and it's best to humor me.

- Google Chrome

- Otis Redding

- Kayaking. I'd never done it before, but The Boy bought a kayak, because it was half-off, and who can resist a half-price kayak? and I thought it would be fun to try. Dude. That's the most intense upper-body workout known to man, and it's transportation, and it puts you right next to the water on a hot day.

- Nutrisse Nourishing Color Foam in Light Intense Auburn

On the Good, the Bad, and the Slightly-After-Friday Random Ten

Okay, so as we sat in the parking lot of Burger King, sipping our drinks and waiting for someone to bring our meals out, The Boy peeled the Twilight game piece off the side of his cup and looked at the little scratch-off piece.

"'Choose your team'?" he read. "Duh. I always pick Team Jacob."

He got really pissed off when I immediately pulled my phone out and tweeted it.

What's good (for the week ending 7/16):

- Verizon Wireless, and Leonard at the store on 280. We went in on Thursday to see about a) switching service from T-mobile, which has been touching goats in the bathing-suit area for a year now, and b) getting a Droid X each. Well, of course they managed to sell every X they had within the first hour, but we got an LG Ally for me and a regular Droid for The Boy with an option to trade them in for an X as soon as more come in. They're good, they're nice, and their 3G coverage map is jaw-dropping. Much love to Verizon.
- my new Ally. Sorry, I'm magpie-like in my attraction to shiny things.
- positive feedback on something you worked really hard on and felt really good about
- the Minion Berry pancakes at IHOP--tastes like lemon pound cake with triple-berry compote and whipped cream, except if the pound cake was actually pancake and the compote was... still compote. And since it's a kids' meal, you don't leave with that oh-Jesus-God-I-just-ate-at-IHOP feeling. Although you definitely leave with that oh-Jesus-God-I-just-had-dessert-for-breakfast-and-also-turkey-sausage feeling.
- this stuff right here:


What's bad:

- not napping. Long story (although not anything shameful or private--just long), but the punchline is that until my doctor can hook me up with a sleep specialist, he says I'm to "keep a regular sleep schedule." Apparently, my tendency to take a regular nap at lunchtime and another regular nap after dinner and then regularly sleep through the night isn't "regular" enough for him, so instead it's a week's worth of caffeine packed into every day to keep me up until bedtime, and then half the time I overshoot and end up wide awake at, for instance, midnight, completely unable to go to sleep despite wanting to. Thanks a heap, doc.
- this stuff. Obviously, I've already posted on this, but when I see responses like this, it just makes me wonder if people really pay attention. (Not to me, obviously, but to the world around them.) Yes, by all means, we should "listen to [Mel's] side of the story." It's actually quite easy to listen to, as it's right there on the tape. Let's please, please try to teach our friends and nieces and daughters: Yes, people make mistakes all the time, but no, beating the shit out of someone isn't a mistake. It's a felony. But it's easy to get the two confused, I'm sure.

The Ten:
1. Michael Bublé, "The Way You Look Tonight"
2. Josie and the Pussycats, "Pretend to Be Nice"
3. Bic Runga, "Sway"
4. Sonic Youth, "Superstar"
5. Etta James, "I'll Be Seeing You"
6. Marilyn Horne, "Pineapple Rag"
7. Goodie Mob, "Soul Food"
8. Buena Vista Social Club presents Omara Portuondo, "No Me Vayas A Engañar"
9. Johnny Cash (with June Carter Cash), "It Ain't Me, Babe"
10. INXS, "Not Enough Time"

Your Ten, and your home remedies for insomnia and/or narcolepsy and/or apnea, go in comments.