Latest book count
In hindsight – I probably shouldn’t have read (book #16 for those keeping score) one of the best-crafted horror novels about the mundane details of living in a nice neighborhood or (gasp!) buying your dream home.

Your dream house – why should that be scary? Why is the street so menacing? How do such normal people - that remind me of myself - get pushed to such radical measures? I don’t know… but what a great read.

GAH!

No wonder I got weirdly claustrophobic in a couple of open houses. Sure the tiny spiral staircase made me weak in the knees – and the cramped stairwell to the basement (where I had to duck at 5’4”) was small. But maybe I was having a subconscious reaction as well.

Either way – well done Anne Rivers Siddons. You did something that few people, books or films can do – you freaked me out. Well done indeed.

By: Alyssa | Monday, February 28, 2005 at Monday, February 28, 2005 | |

In the name of science: The great lip balm challenge
There’s a good chance that if you’ve ever spent time in a cold climate – perhaps a winter in Chicago or Vermont or Utah – you’ve used some lip balm. It’s cold; your lips are chapped; you remember that old commercial from the 70s and you go digging through your pockets or the 7-11 in search of something to soothe your lips.

I grew up in the harsh winters of Indiana – where the ground freezes and the wind blows so hard you can hear it shaking the house. We don’t really get snow, but we get cold. Bitter cold. Then I moved to New England where they snow and cold (although usually not so bitter) and then to Chicago where the wind is harsh, the temperatures are miserable and the snow is sometimes unstoppable.

I know a thing or two about lip balm.

First, you know if your lips are dry, cracked and chapped you might need to drink more water. Or increase the humidity in your space – any lip balm can only do so much. If your skin, in general, is parched – you’re not going to get great results.

The Balms – you basically have two options: the waxy and the squishy. The waxy are the kind you find in little tubes – like Chapstick, Blistex, and the like. The squishy are emollients that are very moist like shea butter or petroleum jelly.

And FYI – that weird urban legend you may have heard about getting “addicted” to lip balm is just that. A weird, legend. (Chemically - I mean - I needs me some lip balm, so I guess there's a psychological component as well....)

In the name of science, I’ve recruited another regular balm user (and blog without pity reader) Nabbalicious, to provide additional input on the various balms. It's the first ever blog without pity crossover. Please note it in your calendars.

Alyssa’s List:
Burt’s Bees Lip Shimmer (tube)
Blistex Medicated (tube)
Blistex Spa Effects with SPF 15 (tube)
True Blue Spa Wet Your Whistle shea butter (tube)
Sally Hansen Lip Quencher Daily lip Moisturizer with shea butter (angled tube delivery)
Vaseline petroleum jelly (jar)
Neosporin Lip Treatment (angled tube delivery)
Neutrogena Lip Moisturizer (tube)
Chapstick

I like all my varying lip balms. I tend to keep one in each coat – my husband carries some and we keep spares in the glove compartment. I keep two in my bathroom and one by my bed – so I’ve spent some time thinking about this. Chapped lips do not make for a happy woman (or man for that matter.)

I could weigh the relative merits of each balm – but that would be boring. But here is my best suggestion; if you have actual damage – cracks and serious chapped lips – get thee some Neosporin Lip Treatment stat.

You will be incredibly happy that you did. I have used all the balms listed above for years – but I’ve never actually had something that healed damage. I’ve had balms that soothe or reduce damage, but do not fix it. The Neosporin stuff works well – provides pretty decent coverage and smells a bit like oranges.

Who doesn’t want soft lips and the sweet smell of oranges, huh? NO ONE.


Previously In the Name of Science
Ziploc vs. Gladware
Robitussin PM vs. NyQuil
Ragu Light vs. Healthy Choice
More than you wanted to know about Seasonale

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 28, 2005 | |

Mail call
If you emailed me to get a gently used, free book – you are awesome. Thank you for letting me pawn off my old stuff to you in the name of “anniversary. “ It is worth noting that I celebrated the blog’s anniversary and didn’t celebrate my wedding anniversary.

I’m one of the top 10 crappiest people alive. The other nine are much more famous than I am – you can fill in the blanks.

Anyway – packages are going out today because who knows what will happen tomorrow. I think it might be a blizzard. Deeps has been talking about his parking strategy for this storm since SATURDAY.

Shut up about it already.

You’ll get a nice school bus yellow padded mailer and a little note (on genuine Post-It Notes TM) from me with your book. What you’ll learn is that I write like a 3rd grader on the road to becoming a serial killer.

By the way, if you still want to get in on the HOT, FREE, BOOK ACTION it is not too late. I’ll accept emails with requests and mailing addresses until tomorrow morning at 6 AM ET. Go nuts!

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 28, 2005 | |

Righteous indignation link of the day
I feel a trend coming on – these are far too easy to find people…

Make it a challenge for me!

Via Adam at A Violently Executed Blog (which is always a good read): Kentucky student arrested for threatening story.

The best part is the threat in said story.

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 28, 2005 | |

Worst fears confirmed!
I need to pick a better time to hit the gym than 9 on Sunday morning. I was up earlier, but I thought I should eat something before trying to burn calories… otherwise I get all mean and – what? I’m already mean you’re thinking. Oh buddy, you don’t know from mean.

Anyway, I was cross training my heart out – with stupid Simpson sisters on TV (I am ambivalent to them – but if forced to watch, I can imagine creating some sort of drinking game); CNN; an interview with the Governator; scary Fox News and some kind of weather thing.

I was mostly watching the Ashlee because man – is that stuff funny. What an idiot. And I really enjoy the creepy weird interactions with her father. He is nuts and totally bent on world domination. Or at least domination of US Weekly.

At one point I started laughing so hard I nearly fell off the elliptical trainer (of doom) – I got such dirty looks. Get over it ladies. I smell and I wear a t-shirt that says “Skunks” on it – what do you expect?

A few minutes later I looked over to see a weather report – we’re supposed to get another big storm and it seems like we’re going to get snow. And lots of it – measured in feet, not inches. I made rude sounds that apparently offended the woman next to me. Good thing she left because the next news item would have killed her, I'm sure.

News of the weird, via Fox was alarming. Apparently a woman found a python in her toilet.

Fox News - what are you trying to tell me? THAT MY TOTALLY UNFOUNDED, IRRATIONAL FEAR SUDDENLY BECAME FOUNDED AND RATIONAL.

I won’t lie – I get up in the middle of the night when nature calls. I often pee in the dark because the stupid light switch is OUTSIDE the bathroom (I have no idea why – this place is rigged to high heaven).

Does this mean I have to make toilet inspections? I can handle a lot of traumas but a snake in the loo might just send me right over the edge.

And oh my god – I’m going to have nightmares.

By: Alyssa | Sunday, February 27, 2005 at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

Boy meets camel
I don’t have any stories from India – but Deeps has a few whoppers. I know a lot of people who have traveled to India over the past few years, but I never heard a story quite like this one.

Two words: HI-larious.

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

Nightmare on some street

I took pictures! I would have taken more pictures - but the creepy real estate broker kept lurking. I need to privacy to make fun of your horrible "condo".

When we arrived (up a horrific staircase - which I did not shoot, sorry) we were told the place was a recent "conversion" - or possibly a recently victim of the blitz. I have no idea what that "extra" door is for - apparently it is a "feature."

Deeps and I want to get into the condo conversion business - where apparently you wave a magic wand and say "Where once a crappy student apartment lay - I proclaim thee to be a condo!" All this could be yours for too much money.

Be thankful we cannot transmit smell over the Interweb.  

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

If you would like the pimp hat, Elvis glasses and faux shearling (pimp?) coat - you'll need to increase your bid. However, we are happy to include the dirty laundry (pictured above) at no additional cost. 

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

No expense was spared! Off of the "master" bedroom was a room painted (with the best paint job ever!) in a sort of gruesome oxblood. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. It was not a good idea. Oxblood may be a good color for shoes or handbags - but never walls in a home you're trying to sell.  

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

The paint job gets better - please enjoy this professional quality renovation. No detail was overlooked.  

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

Last days of disco
And free books - I'm sending them out on Tuesday. I've had a lot of takers - and still have a few titles left. I'd like to push Asylum because I thought it was a magnificent book - and I also have a deep love of Laurie Notaro (and her latest book I Love Everybody and Other Atrocious Lies).

Check the updated list to see what's still available!

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

Breaking up is hard to do
I’d left a message earlier in the week for my friends CC and The French Connection (FC) about meeting up for open houses or lunch or whatever on Sunday.

CC called us back and left a message while we were driving around the suburbs asking ourselves, “Can we live here? Where’s the bus? Oh my god – where do these people eat?”

CC: Hey it’s CC – sorry it took so long to get back to you, but we’ve been kind of swamped. And FC has a big presentation on Monday so she’s not going anywhere. And I need to catch up on grading papers – so that’s the long answer. We’re blowing you off this weekend, but things should be much better next week. Plus – our real estate agent said it maybe wasn’t a good idea to shop with another couple for houses…. But she might be nuts. Anyway, call us and we’ll sort (BEEP)

I stopped the message and called them immediately. I’d actually been wondering when the agent-in-question would put her foot down. I’d heard some stories from FC about her, and while she seems incredibly thorough – she also sounds kind of nuts. Or in the words of FC – obsessed with all the things that will be important for resale, but since we haven’t moved in yet… it seems a bit premature.

Especially when you consider that we live the third looniest real estate market in America. Based on some of the crap I’ve seen – people will live anywhere and buy anything in this town. All this concern about “resale” instead of – gee, is this a good place for us to spend the next 3-30 years is annoying. You don’t want to annoy The French Connection (although when you do, hilarity ensues in the form of French swearing!).

I talked with CC and FC (in the background – the show is always on over there!) while Deeps drove us further into the 'burbs. We laughed about the crazy agent lady and created a treaty with regards to our mutual hunts: we’ll sometimes go together (because the show – she is so good!), we’ll certainly have a debrief session afterwards (over food – preferably BBQ), we’ll pass along anything we’re not interested in to the other couple, and we will all find places we love and buy them THIS YEAR. Oh, and we go out together as a group – we’ll drive because our car has power locks.

We’re all happy with this outcome – I didn’t want them to feel bound by our search areas and criteria, and vice-versa – regardless of how much they overlap. And we still get to see the show pretty regularly.

And isn’t that the most important thing? The hilarious stories you can tell afterward?

(Yes dear readers, I know you prefer photos to illustrate them as well.... I will not fail you this weekend.)

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 27, 2005 | |

Please commence your righteous indignation
I don't care what color your state is - if you're a middle-classer (or an aspiring middle-classer or just work for a living) this story will probably rub you the wrong way.

By: Alyssa | Friday, February 25, 2005 at Friday, February 25, 2005 | |

Steamier
I steamed with the Swiss Kriss last night (aka day 2 of the experiment) – in the time since my first and second steams I have made a point of telling every single woman I know about the magic of laxative flakes.

Sure I get a weird look, but then I get the closer look of – wow your skin does look good.

It does, jerks – spend $4.39 and live it up!

My skin is clearer – the tiny bumps that you might feel but won’t see – are almost all gone. My pores look clearer.

I was thinking that I’d probably get a facial in a few weeks (belated birthday gift) and then do steams for maintenance because my pores would be clear and amazing.

I don’t have kids, so I worry about my pores. Do not judge or underestimate the power of clear skin.

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 25, 2005 | |

Don’t ask – 10 years
I never thought it was a good idea. But no one cares what I think.

This morning I saw a little bit on the news with a local Massachusetts Congressman, Marty Meehan, talking about the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy. There’s been a big study and surprise – the results of the study say it is a stupid, stupid idea.

I have no extra special love politicians – but sometimes I feel compelled in a very This Is Not Over type of way to email them about it.

So I used the magic of the Interweb to email him.

Dear Mr. Meehan:

I'm not technically in your district - I'm just next to it in Cambridge - but I saw you on TV this morning and felt compelled to write.

Thanks for raising the red flag on the study on Don't Ask, Don't Tell. In light dwindling recruitment numbers for the Army and National Guard I have a really hard time justifying turning anyone away who is ready to fight for the US.

I'm not ready to do it - but I applaud anyone who chooses to. Keep fighting the good fight and raising hell. (Does the FCC regulate email because I don't want them coming down on me.) I'm alarmed on a daily basis by the creepy erosion of my basic rights. I just got pre-approved for a home mortgage and was freaked out to see the special page requesting information in compliance with the Patriot Act.

That's another can of worms - but I wanted to know I was very happy and proud to see you on TV this morning speaking out on the issue.

Well done.

Alyssa Boehm

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 25, 2005 | |

Book count
I finished Stranger Things Happen (which is still up for grabs –if you’re interested the blog without pity’s anniversary extravaganza) – which I cannot recommend enough. It’s a great collection of short stories that are weird and fantastical and imaginative and captivating. I’ll be looking for more works by Kelly Link in the future.

I’m about a third of the way through Anne Rivers Siddons book The House Next Door that is one of those quiet, urban ghost stories. From my understanding, Siddons writes pretty straightforward literary novels – but one day decided to write a haunted house story.

The book is really very good. Even if it starts sucking from now until the end – I’d still recommend it. And if you don’t like “horror” I would doubly recommend this title because it’s about the horror of everyday living reflected in the shiny windows of a new home.

By the way – would you like a free (gently used, and read, and liked) book? Of course you would! Check out the list of titles and let me know what you’d like along with your mailing address.

Books go out next week! Time is running out….

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 25, 2005 | |

Free Booty
Whoops – that should have been books.

Free Books – from me, to you. For the anniversary of the Big Red Blog – the blog without pity. It has been three years. Wow. I have accomplished so little.

I thought about giving away red stuff, but then I’d have to shop and buy red stuff – so I opted to give away books I actually liked and read recently. Free used books – from me. Can you think of anything more delicious?

Chocolate cake? Well – there will be no cake. I’m sorry. I can’t fit it in one of those little padded mailer things from the post office.

If you would like a book, pleae tell me what title you might like and maybe a back-up choice – along with your mailing address. Books go out next week! Please email alyssa@alyssaboehm.com

Titles up for grabs:
(this list may expand or change – so check back):
Hell House
Stranger Things Happen
The Eyre Affair
The Killer Inside Me
Flynn
Not the End of the World
Sophie
Joe College
Carter Beats the Devil
I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies)
Asylum
The Cement Garden
Dr. Haggard’s Disease

Various and sundry disclaimers:
Please limit one title per person – don’t be greedy.
Family members are not eligible – unless you beg. Don’t try anything funny.
I’ll delete your shipping info after I ship stuff out – because I don’t care about it and I’m not going to do anything with it. I have no Christmas card list – sorry.
I have no idea about mailing overseas – but email me and we’ll work something out.
These books have been sufficiently broken in – and they’re all paper back titles.
I am going to the post office people – do you know when I last did that? In 1999 – I hate that place. But I do it for you.

By: Alyssa | Thursday, February 24, 2005 at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

Steamy
I noticed a few tell-tale bumps on my chin. Nothing major – but when I ran my fingers over it, you could feel them. Build-up leads to breakouts.

I just spent somewhere in the neighborhood of $15 million to go to Italy for a 4 day weekend, my skin will look good. Sure it is months away… but I like to be prepared. After all – most of the people are coming from L.A. so I’ll look freakish to them as I am pale (I prefer to think of myself as alabaster).

I told asked Deeps to drop by Whole Foods after he picked me up from Harvard Square. We popped over to the “health” aisle and I found some sweet young thing.

ME: I’m looking for the Kriss Swiss laxative flakes.
SYT: Oh – Swiss Kriss, they’re right here.
ME: Thank you.

I did not mention they were for my face – but I did quickly turn the box around to read the info that Rachel had mentioned.

We raced back home before “LOST” started and I waited a few minutes. According to Rachel the flakes smell bad – so I was trying to figure out some strategies. I thought I’d go the mouth breather route. And I planned to keep the eyes closed so as not to get sweat in my eye (gross).

I boiled some filtered water, dissolved some flakes, let it settle for a few – and then steamed away. Mouth breathing is the way to go – I didn’t have any problems with the smell or lingering after effects.

And like any good steam – it makes the face look good. The bumps are diminished a bit, but I’ll keep an eye on them. This morning, I look like Snow-freaking-White (except without the elves or chirping birds).

I guess I will follow the suggested “regime” by steaming again for another few days and then going to a once-a-week steam.

If I can get good results for $4.39 – well then – I don’t care how much my husband makes fun of me and my butt flakes.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

Not exactly how you feel…
I am married to a man of Indian descent - the unstoppable and amazing Deeps. His family is from Mumbai, India – he was born in Queens.

I’d like to tell you how bizarre people act when they learn this fact. Not everyone – just a few people. But it has happened enough…

So I’ll answer these few questions.

No – I did not see Monsoon Wedding. Or Bend it Like Beckham. I am familiar with the Kumars at #42. Thanks.

No one ever asks me about Naveen Andrews who is an actual Indian dude (okay - Brit born, of Indian descent - and smokin' hot) on a big hit TV show. But whatever.

I’m not sure what I can relate this too – the closest is maybe something Zander wrote about Will and Grace and how people (dumb girls apparently) say he reminds them of Will.

Jesus.

People – I appreciate you are trying to find some like - cultural point of reference, but give it a rest. FYI - I’m not an Indian. And so far nothing I’ve seen on TV or film has related to my experience with his family at all… ever.

When, exactly, was the last time television resembled your real life? How about a movie?

Thank you. That is all…

I'll resume my much less bitter programming in mere moments.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

Snow people unite

For one brief and shining moment... Frosty was magnificent to behold. 

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

In front of the Massachusetts statehouse - someone was more creative with a pylon and a length of chain. I guess Frosty wasn't going anywhere. Sadly, when I passed by later that day - Frosty and Snow Lady had been utterly destroyed. 

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

I walked through Boston Common on Tuesday and saw that someone had been busy building snow folks. 

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

In translation
Deeps and I were driving to the train station this morning listening to NPR. I make running commentaries to the radio… because I can. (I have a host of other reasons - but will require another entry - possibly in book form.)

This morning’s commentary was about a story by Don Gonyea about President Bush’s statements in Germany about Iran (and their nuclear aspirations, standing with the US and Europe).

Basically, this blurb on the NPR site sums up the statements I took issue with:

President Bush is in Germany for discussions with German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder on NATO's future and Iran's nuclear program. The president Tuesday denied the United States is planning military action against Iran, but then added that "all options are on the table." Wednesday, the president emphasized that "diplomacy is just beginning."

Me: Wait – was that like a Jedi Mind trick?
Deeps: I’m sorry – are you talking to me?

Indeed.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 24, 2005 | |

And that’s the Chicago way
When I was a naïve farm girl from Indiana (okay, I never lived on a farm – but I lived near a farm) I went to college in the big bad Northeast (in Western Massachusetts).

One day while sitting in my Newswriting class I remember being utterly aghast at a story my professor was sharing about one James “Whitey” Bulger, notorious mobster. He’s also the brother of Bill Bulger (at the time he was speaker of the house in MA and later became head of UMass) – powerful Massachusetts politico.

I was aghast because it was something of an open secret (there was no proof at the time – and to do this day Billy denies any involvement) that maybe powerful Billy tipped off Whitey that the Feds were on his tail – thus allowing Whitey to flee prosecution. Whitey has been on the run for years.

I remember thinking “This would not fly in Indiana – they don’t put up with such blatant abuses of power.” Which is probably still true – but whatever.

My naiveté is funnier given that after college I moved to a city where “Vote early, vote often” is the unofficial motto – beautiful Chicago. I love that city.

Now if you’ve been to Chicago you know that Mayor Daley rules with an iron fist and leaden tongue. He’s got a way with words.

But he’s not the only uhm – colorful – political character in Chicago-land or even Illinois. There are so many to choose from, but my all-time favorite is … well it is a place more than a single person. I love Cicero.

To quote the Chicagoist – Cicero started as a small mob-run town (by Al Capone no less) and now is a small town fraught with lots of controversy – including the firebrand, convict, and former town council president (mayor) Betty Loren-Maltese.

She took over… look, there’s enough to this story (see the links above) to be like seven books. And a mini-series.

The point is Betty’s handpicked minion Mr. Ramiro Gonzalez – may have been overthrown by the electorate. That’s breaking news, man – 4 reporters worth! Please enjoy this article… featuring the greatest buried quote ever:

Critics, including Dominick (ed. The guy who won), castigated Gonzalez (ed. The guy who lost) for using the office as an employment agency for relatives. Dominick says about 20 relatives are on the town's payroll, but town spokesman Omar Duque has said it is "in single digits."

Only in the single digits – because that is the Chicago way.

By: Alyssa | Wednesday, February 23, 2005 at Wednesday, February 23, 2005 | |

Garlic on my fingers makes me (un)happy
I’m not really much of a cook. I lack imagination, time and initiative.

That said I’ve tried to re-discover the wonders of cooking. It is satisfying to eat a meal (especially when said meal is tasty) that you make yourself. And you can save a few bucks along the way.

I’ve been cooking more in the new place (which is ironic given that I lost my gourmet kitchen and now cook in the Hell’s Kitchen) than I did in the old place. My biggest challenge is time. By the time I get home, figure out what I’m going to make and then make it – well dinner rolls in around 8:00 or later.

Which isn’t a big deal – except that when I get home from work I am as ravenous as a 16-year-old boy and will eat anything I can get my hands on. And that’s the big problem.

A few weeks back I rediscovered my crockpot – an item I’d purchased for a chili cook-off – and hadn’t used in at least 4 years. But I’ve dragged it to three apartments because it is a perfectly good crockpot.

I found a few recipes online and started crockpot cooking again. The idea that I could come home to dinner – hot and warm and waiting – was so utterly delightful I almost lost my mind. Deeps was less impressed, until he came home to hot warm dinner waiting for him. Then he changed his tune.

The first crockpot experiment was a chicken and wild rice dish – it was tasty, but we both agreed that the rice was too mushy for our tastes. Otherwise, it was a success.

The next crockpot experiment was not as great – I made “Italian chicken” and potatoes. It was “Italian” you see because the recipe called for 1/2 a cup of “Italian” dressing. Whatever. This is the kind of culinary wonders you find in your Jay-cees fundraiser cookbook.

The potatoes took a long time to cook – but held their shape. The chicken basically disintegrated it was so tender. It tasted okay, but wasn’t very visually pleasing.

Then we had a crockpot incident that involved poor wiring in the kitchen and the melting of my crockpots power cord!

We got a new space-age crockpot this weekend because I am not ready to give up the ghost. I named her Sparkle and she’s over 5 quarts (enough for 5 people – according to the box) and she has her own timer!

I awoke a few minutes early this morning to assemble today’s culinary experiment – Paprika Chicken. The nice thing about crockpot recipes is that there’s a very good chance the name of the recipe includes 50% or more of the ingredients. This recipe calls for various vegetables, chicken and paprika. And cloves of fresh garlic.

I work with a lot of fresh garlic – I like the smell and the taste. But I realized I’ve never worked with fresh garlic in the morning before I leave for work.

So my fingers stink of garlic. I’ve washed and scrubbed and used a bit of lemon juice and did the stainless steel trick.

The fingers still stink. They don’t smell as bad – but when I put my fingers really close to my nose, I can smell the garlic.

I guess I should just stop doing that.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 23, 2005 | |

FYI
If you leave your cell phone on and then go away for a while – and your phone rings every two minutes for the next 128 hours…. Then beeps incessantly because you have a “message” – there is a chance you might find said cell phone (offense to nature and me) floating in the toilet.

I'm just saying.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 23, 2005 | |

Things that go beep in the night
I am nearly blind as a bat – thankfully contact lenses can correct that.

My other senses are more powerful than my eyesight – so there’s probably some sort of cosmic balance in that.

For example, I can often taste something and break down the components. I have a lot more success with savory vs. sweet – but I’ve always been surprised by this ability. I suppose it is because I have a passing interest in cooking, and if I find something interesting I like to replicate it.

And really – who in a moment of boredom hasn’t sampled flavors from the spice rack?

My sense of smell has been the subject of several posts as well as … incidents in my marriage. Apparently men do not has as well-defined a sense of smell as women (at least my husband doesn’t) so we have a lot of conversations about “What is that smell?” quickly followed by “What smell?”

The smell thing is a source of great irritation – because when a smell is bad, it is hard to escape. My sense of smell has saved us from certain death a couple of times, including a recent incident in which the shoddy electrical wiring in our kitchen caused some plugs to melt slowly.

I smelled the weird chemical smell (which I identified very specifically as formaldehyde) and found the source of the problem – averting some level of disaster. Alas, I was unable to save my crockpot.

I also have pretty good hearing. I attribute this to the fact that while I loved some music as a kid – I’m not a huge music lover. I don’t hate music, but I don’t love it the same way I love books or movies. I didn’t go to lots of concerts. I think my hearing has benefited from my lack of musical interest.

So for several weeks I’ve been hearing this beep. It is quiet and far away – but in the house. I started checking smoke detectors and cell phones. The microwave. The cable modem. The router. The cable box. Anything with a plug has been inspected for the source of the beeping.

The beeping was intermittent - and sometimes you didn’t hear it for hours. This made determining the source rather difficult. I heard it for a few weeks before Deeps mentioned he’d heard it as well. We lived with the weird beeping for more than 6 weeks.

I should note that I suspect Deeps suffers from LOUD TELEVISION syndrome (I believe induced by his father – who, in a quest to learn English, watched TV very loudly – and continues to do so). He watches at approximately 4000 decibels. Most of our conversations that aren’t about smell are related to how loud something is. Can you turn that down? What?

We figured out the beeping must be coming from the old ladies side of the building. Luckily, she’s away on vacation and we have a key – she asked us to look in on her cat – the search for the beeping was on.

We saw a lot of things over there – including the world’s saddest old lady cat. And the smell of old lady was strong. What causes such a smell? I shudder to find out.

At last, in the basement we found the beeping. It was coming from a smoke detector sitting on an old table.

“I have no idea why this is here,” Deeps said as he pulled the battery out.
“Me either – maybe it was for our apartment – since I had to install all the damn smoke detectors,” I muttered.
“Maybe she was keeping the basement safe,” Deeps replied.

Maybe – but I want to know who will keep us safe from the old lady – and her incessant beeping.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 23, 2005 | |

Slow learning
I wish that was a big trend like slow eating, but whatever.

Deeps and I were talking about what we’ve learned from each other during our eight+ years of co-habitation.

I learned how to be better organized and tidier from Deeps. I also learned about the magic of laundry – mostly because I never did mine and he did his ever freakin’ week.

From me – well this is where things break down. I taught him how to cook a few things, but they never really took.

And I taught him how to drive a stick shift – again, it never really took.

I mean cooking spaghetti is not hard. Especially when one considers my house is cluttered with bits of paper with long, complicated mathematics equations. He’s no dummy. This is also the same man who taught himself rudimentary French on the fly, in Paris, so that he could read the Arts section of newspapers and create itineraries for us each day.

He did suggest that he’s a better dresser with my influence. Which I would agree with – but in fairness, he was a broke grad student until a few years ago. Once he got a job, he upgraded his wardrobe with little prompting or supervision.

I did teach him about the wonder of a good haircut. So I guess that is something.

It is worth noting that in almost the same period of time I have taught the cat how to:
answer to her own name (and a couple of nicknames),
to stay off the counter,
to come when I whistle,
when I get up
a series of hand gestures that she responds to for various “quiet” commands – like when it’s 3 AM and people are trying to sleep

I’m going to have to run the numbers again – but something about this whole scenario doesn’t seem right.

By: Alyssa | Tuesday, February 22, 2005 at Tuesday, February 22, 2005 | |

From me to you
The concealer brush is the best possible way to apply creamy concealer – for those who wake with dark circles under their eyes no matter how much they sleep (thanks Mom).

You’d think it wouldn’t be that different from a bit of light dabbing with the finger, by my friend, you would be wrong.

If you color your hair – please you do not think red hair just grows – then you can usually slide by an extra month between colorings by using a color enhancing shampoo like Frederic Fekkai’s or most any kind that you find in a salon. The key is that it lightly deposits color. You can buy a bottle for $20 or less and use it once a week for a year.

Laxative flakes make your skin better – this laxative steaming trend is sweeping the country.

Babies don’t like loud noises.

Lift with your legs, not with your back.

Cats like catnip. And sleeping. Anywhere. At anytime. In almost any position.

Dogs like to hang their heads out of windows while you drive. And chasing squirrels.

Sunscreen makes a difference.

You may need to take a break from shopping online when you don’t know what is in the box that is sitting on your front porch.

Crockpots are more useful than you think – but no one uses them enough.

A jerk in Cambridge will try to sell you a $415K hovel and call it charming, while maintaining a straight face.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 22, 2005 | |

My mother the eBayer
Several years ago (before Y2K!) my mother and stepfather (Big D) moved into a lovely ranch-style home in Indiana.

Mom was really into the idea of doing some creative decorating – including hanging an antique crank-style phone on the wall. She mentioned this to me on the phone and suggested that she was having a hard time finding one that looked good and was within her acceptable price range. (The frugalness is hereditary apparently.)

Me: Have you tried eBay?
Mom: What’s that?

And on that day, a monster was born.

She started with hand crank coffee grinders from the turn of the century. Then some other stuff. And of course – the big phone. But she didn’t stop there – she kept going. She bought a lot of cool stuff.

Now – years later – the woman is an eBay power seller. Who would have known? There is no longer a guest room; she has an eBay room. The once large living room now seems small and is filled with beautiful cabinets displaying colorful glass antiques.

That’s her new specialty – glass. She and Big D have developed an extraordinary fondness for slag and custard glass. What is it? I have no idea – except it’s old and fragile and precious to collectors.

As a non-collector, I do not see the enormous appeal – but then I am the mutant freak child who likes to throw things away. When my Nana died we found old Christmas cards to people she did not know from people she did not know – other people’s mail. Nan was a packrat.

Just the other day I clicked on the link that appears at the end of every single one of my mother’s messages: check out my latest eBay auctions. She has amassed over 1400 feedbacks – in the same amount of time I’ve cracked 50.

During the leaner times a few years back, the eBay efforts helped pay a few bills when business slowed down for Big D. It paid for my their new van, their trip to New Jersey for my Indian wedding. It pays for diapers and toys for the kids.

And eBay has turned a woman who barely used a computer into the computer guru of the women in her over-50 group. She’s taught them about clearing caches, cookies, digital cameras, FTP and a host of other things that I take for granted.

She’s learned about approximately 4000 various high-speed Internet options from satellite feeds to the more vanilla DSL solutions. Of course, none of those options are available to her since she is out on the boonies. So the woman with so much going on online every day is stuck with a 56K dial-up. It is a source of endless frustration for her.

In these modern times, I think every kid teaches her mother something about the computer at some point – but I don’t know if every kid gets the chance to see what happens when Mom becomes master of her Interweb domain.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 22, 2005 | |

Eavesdropper
I was standing in line at the Chic-Fil-A on Saturday – what? I had to eat! – and listened to a couple of weird conversations.

One involved a guy with some kind of walkie-talkie phone talking to someone (his wife?). He kept saying “Soup?” loudly. He must have repeated it 34 times in the span of 1 minute. I hated him. And I have no idea if he got his stupid soup. Who gets soup from the Chick-Fil-A? You go there for the waffle fries. Duh.

The woman behind me was particularly vicious as she talked about her dead neighbor on her mobile phone.

Vicious Lady: Yes – she’s dead. She died two weeks ago. They just found her this morning.
(pause)
Yeah – I guess her kid had the cops break in. Her daughter tried calling several times but no one ever answered.
(pause)
She said it was a total sty inside. Yeah, well you saw the outside of that house. It was about a thousand times worse inside.

I turned around at that and gave her a look – it was withering – and assessed her outside. Nowhere near as ugly as her inside.

By: Alyssa | Monday, February 21, 2005 at Monday, February 21, 2005 | |

Alitalia here I come
We finally booked our trip to Florence this morning. I had to find an affordable three-star hotel because someone made a face when I suggested a two-star place.

I love him, he is smart and wonderful – but he’s not one to rough it. And really, that’s my fault. (And his parents – but that’s another entry.) I’ve introduced him to the world of 400 thread-count sheets and king size beds. You can’t keep them down on the farm once they’ve been to Pay-ree.

In related news – the federal and state government owe us just enough money to cover this little jaunt. Hurray!

It is too bad this is all happening at the same time we’re trying to buy a place. I would have liked to stay in Italy a bit longer – but we’re going for a 4 day weekend, so I’ll take what I can take.

And I’ll be sure to bring my elastic waistband pants. He will bring his sweet new sauve outfit because we only bought the tickets 20 minutes ago, and he’s already figured out what to wear.

Men.

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 21, 2005 | |

And then I woke up and all my money was gone
Deeps, Erin and I went shopping at the always glamorous Burlington Mall on Saturday because we needed girl stuff, Deeps wanted a shirt, and Erin was looking to return a broken microwave. Since she doesn’t have a car – we looped her errand in with ours.

The trip went well – Erin was thrilled to find a Mac store just across from a giant Sephora store. I wanted to buy a few hair elastics for the gym – that was it. Nice and simple.

Then I went inside Sephora and my plan quickly went to pot. I found some new brushes. Shouldn’t I replace my make-up brushes? I could donate the current ones to my gym bag and use the new ones at home. It has been two years.

See how I make bargains with myself? Evil I say.

Then I was looking at my all-time favorite products – the Smashbox line – and suddenly a Sephora lady moved in.

Sephora Lady: Can I help you with something?
ME: Well – I was thinking about looking for some blush, but….
Sephora Lady: I love their line (indicating Smashbox) but I don’t have any of their blushes in. You know, you might like some cream blush….

Then another lady moved in – she had on a handyman’s apron except instead of hammers and screwdrivers she had every manner of make-up brush.
Brush lady: Would you like to try this on? I’d be happy to apply it for you with my patented cream blush brush.
ME: Uhm – sure.

Then a hot gay dude swooped in – complimenting me on the gorgeous color (Peek a boo by Paula Dorf) and my skin and my hair and my eyes. Not a line on your face – and you’re thirty? Have you tried this? With your coloring this would be great… blah, blah, blah…

And then I think I blacked out.

When I came to I found myself holding a big Sephora bag (when you have the big bag you have just spent A LOT of money) and my debit card saying “Thanks!”

I found Erin smuggling out giant samples of $200 face cream.

“We have to leave now,” I whispered urgently. “I think I just spent our rent money on cosmetics.”

Erin laughed then showed me her stash of giant samples of expensive products. “It’s like I made my money back at the buffet in Vegas!”

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 21, 2005 | |

Experiment in Terror
I stopped by the CVS in Porter Square on Friday night to pick up a couple of things – some cold medicine, gum, lip balm…. Probably some other junk.

I thought I’d check for the Swiss Kriss laxative flakes as they have been touted on the Interweb as a great solution for breakouts on the face. (Hence their affectionate name.)

I had my little plastic basket filled with precious treasures (Maybelline lip gloss for half off! Hurrah!) when I wandered to the aisle with laxatives. I scanned the area for the flakes – but didn’t see them. Then I heard the first cough.

It was like the kind of throat clearing, fake cough you hear when someone is trying to get your attention. I looked up and saw that there were several young (college-age) men in the aisle with me – about 5 or 6. I looked around and realized that in addition to laxatives – this aisle housed the condoms.

Old married lady looking for laxative flakes as a low-rent facial solution was freaking them out. So of course, I linger - because I am evil.

Then I wander over to the condoms and start picking up boxes and reading the labels carefully – keeping an eye on the embarrassed dudes around me.

One guy figured if he left and came back I’d probably be gone. He did that three times. Another guy kept trying to reach for a box of Durex then backing away like it might bite him.

Good times on a Friday night were had by me – let me tell you. I just go back to the idea that if you’re in college and so freaked out about buying condoms, dude you probably shouldn’t be having sex. Just saying. It’s not like you had to talk to a pharmacist. Or a 13 year old girl trying to buy tampons.

You’re an adult for God’s sake – stop being a baby.

I never did find my laxative flakes – but I did thoroughly enjoy my five minutes of freaking out dudes. I so rarely get to do that anymore….

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 21, 2005 | |

Open Houses – weekend two: The case of the Million Dollar Hotel
It wasn’t actually $1MM. It was a lot more like $400,000 and had a giant hole in the floor. And the kitchen would need to be bombed and then we’d have to pull together some modern-age Marshall Plan to rebuild.

Look people – jokes about history. I’m multi-faceted.

That place was in such bad shape – calling it a dump is an insult to the dump. (I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my camera.) The walls were awful, the bathroom was disgusting – the place was an utterly charmless hovel. No offense to hovels.

Then we went to a $2.5 MM OH (that’s the street lingo for open house). This was strictly a drive by – as we saw a big sign and turned up the hill.

Deeps: Did you note what street this is?
ME: Yes.
Deeps: It would appear to be on the pricier end of the city.
ME: (in light tirade mode) I know – but I want to get actual empirical data. I don’t want to guess about places. Maybe it’s a condo or something. It may be out of our price range, but I just want to know. I’m tired of making assumptions without necessarily having the facts. I would like to make a dispassionate, rational decision base on having actual real facts.
Deeps: Okay. I understand. (parks)

We look up and realize that the house is a single-family Victorian house – a genuine antique that was beautifully maintained.

ME: Oh my God – we cannot go in there…. It is totally out of our league. We’re going to look like a couple of hayseeds.
Deeps: What about getting facts and making dispassionate decisions?

I put my head in my hands.

We went inside – I panicked for a brief moment as I realized that we’d appear to be frauds. But it didn’t really matter, because what I learned about open houses is that everyone shows up – whether they can buy or not. People like to snoop through other people’s houses. Especially rich people’s houses.

Also – the rich people in this house needed to throw some crap away. Yeesh. I was comforted by the fact that even though I live in the kingdom of the spiders, my apartment is not cluttered with crap. Not treasures - run-of-the-mill junk.

Finally, we went to a little 2 bedroom that was a bit too small – but it seemed oddly familiar. We walked into the place and saw the living room – which had our living room furniture. And a big fat cat – not unlike Dana – lounging on the sofa.

As we walked through the place, making encouraging noises (which I must admit, I feel obligated to do) – Deeps noted that the people who owned the place had nice stuff.

“It’s like they’re the kind of people we could be friends with,” he said as he acknowledged their giant wall-mounted flat-screen TV and later their wireless hub for their G4 PowerBooks.

“Maybe we should leave them a note,” I suggested. But then I decided against it, as I tried to figure out how to steal their very friendly three-legged cat which I dubbed Tripod.

As if he could read my mind, Deeps pushed me to the door by my elbow, “Leave that cat alone!”

By: Alyssa | Sunday, February 20, 2005 at Sunday, February 20, 2005 | |

This one time, at Playboy
Approximately 4000 years ago I briefly toyed with the idea of working for Playboy.com as an Interactive Producer.

I’d gotten a call about my resume and figured I should go interview because when would I get a chance to do that again? And in the back of my mind I thought it might make a good story.

I pulled together my resume and a small portfolio and headed over to their headquarters near Michigan Avenue. I waited for a few minutes in their incredibly gorgeous lobby – two stories with a glass balcony, the walls paneled in gorgeous deep wood tones and a gigantic coppery bunny sculpture suspended from the top of the wall.

We interviewed – I don’t really recall much. It was just a pretty standard interview. People were nice; I walked around and met some of the folks in the department. We talked about their plans. I noted that a lot of women worked in the department. And then I went home.

That’s when I got to thinking: Can I work for Playboy? Really?

I’m not a prude and I consider myself a modern, feminist woman – can I do it? I decided to start conducting some experiments. Primarily, my exposure to skin mags and porn was pretty limited. Girls don’t have the same coming of age moment with Playboy as boys do – where your dad or cool uncle hands over a vintage copy or something.

I guess girls just have the awkward bra-buying moment with their mothers.

Anyway, my exposure was pretty limited. So I set about to conduct an experiment – would porn freak me out? Would I get weirded out looking at nude pictures all day? What exactly was I getting myself into?

I resolved I wouldn’t spend any real cash – but I did pick up a Playboy mag, watched a few things on “Cinemax After Dark” and surfed the Web for free pictures.

All of my friends knew about the experiment and were curious about what I thought. I reported back that I found most of the movie stuff kind of cold and boring – and absolutely the opposite of erotic or titillating.

And it was clear to me that the stuff that was on “Cinemax” was probably pretty good by soft-core standards in that sometimes there was a story or implication of a story. Plus I noted that the lighting, the stories, the set decoration was all created to appeal to women – so that there’d be all this crossover porn. Like, it’s not your dad’s porn – you and your girlfriend can watch it together.

I thought Playboy magazine was okay – it positioned itself as “thinking man’s girlie mag.” The pictures were Photoshopped all to hell and the articles were somewhat interesting. But I’d take a back issue of Sassy most days of the week.

Now the point of sharing this story with you, dear reader, is this: I believe that the referral log for my site supports my theory that ultimately – most porn is boring, unerotic and uninteresting. Look – even Roger Ebert agrees with me.

I’ve gotten an ungodly amount of traffic for a variety of … let’s call them “colorful” search terms. It’s clear that people aren’t coming here looking for funny stories about squirrels or my advice about the perfect messenger bag or what book I’m reading or because they are agonizing about buying a home.

They’re typing in some phrase and then going through hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pages of returns in Google – and then clicking on my page. If you came here looking for “sexy nude senior ladies” or “big boobies” – well you are just plain out of luck.

Sorry.

By: Alyssa | Friday, February 18, 2005 at Friday, February 18, 2005 | |

We’re not friends but…
I couldn’t help but find myself agreeing with Bill Maher: Kids say the darndest, most Stalinist things

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 18, 2005 | |

Three-year Anniversary Contest
Can you believe it, Interweb? The blog without pity has been kicking around for nearly three years. And to celebrate, I’m having a contest-type thing.

Here’s the deal, in honor of the 50-book challenge – I’m giving away books I’ve read recently. But only the ones I liked – and you can pick which book you want. Oh yeah – they’re my own personal, “gently-used” copies. What do you care? They’re free.

Send me an email at alyssa at alyssaboehm.com and include your name and mailing address and tell me which book you’d like. First come first serve – so write early. Include a couple of alternative choices. Family members are not eligible to win – so don’t try nothing funny, girls. One book per household - so don't get greedy. I'm not totally sure about mailing outside North America - but let's cross that bridge when we come to it, please send your request anyway.

And if you’re so inclined, let me know how you found the blog and what you’d like to see more of from me in the future (FYI - Nudity is not an acceptable answer) and maybe what you’ve liked so far. Or what you’ve hated. I’m open.

I’ll mail out all the books at the end of February – to coincide with the blog without pity’s anniversary. And I reserve the right to excerpt your messages for future hilarious entries, but not your mailing addresses or anything creepy.

And your mailing info is safe – I’ll dump stuff afterwards, because I am a woman who owns 2 shredders (confetti of course).

Happy Anniversary!

Book options (this list may expand –so check back):
The Eyre Affair
The Killer Inside Me
Flynn
Not the End of the World
Sophie
Joe College
Carter Beats the Devil
I Love Everybody (and other atrocious lies)
Asylum
The Cement Garden
Dr. Haggard’s Disease

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 18, 2005 | |

But are you watching?
"Medium", is a much better show than I expected, and maybe better than it deserves to be. Certainly – it is better than NBC deserves. Home of such poorly named shows as “Medical Investigation.” You might as well call it “don’t watch me.”

But "Medium" is different – I think some people are kind of put off by it because of the psychic angle. Or they think the “mystery” is too simple. The best way I can describe this show is: Medium is about psychics the way "Shaun of the Dead" is about zombies.

At the center – it is a show about family dynamics and drama and holding it together. "Shaun of the Dead" is a romantic comedy. And weird supernatural things happen in both.

Patricia Arquette stars as Allison DuBois – a one-time stay-at-home mom who went to law school, dropped out and went to work for the DA. Her husband, the underrated Jake Weber (thank God he’s finally in something watchable) plays her rocket scientist husband. See – he’s all science and empirical evidence and she’s all weird dreams and prophetic visions.

And they have three kids – who are actually cute and funny and real.

To quote Dana Stevens from Slate:

It takes a couple of viewings to understand what sets Medium apart from the paranormal herd: This is not really a show about extrasensory perception. Well, it is, but only in the sense that The Mary Tyler Moore Show was about producing the news. Being a police psychic is Allison's job, a career she's just beginning after an unspecified number of years as a stay-at-home mom to three daughters, and the show's major conflict so far has been, not "Whodunit?", but "I don't know how she does it!" Medium is only superficially about using your dream life to track down criminals; really, it's about the female struggle to have a home life while being taken seriously at work.

The writing is decent and the dialogue is very realistic – but the performances bring me back week after week.

The show may have more to do with "Columbo" in this respect. By revealing the killer in the first five minutes of "Columbo" you spent a lot of time just enjoying Peter Falk’s performance. The mysteries on Medium are sort of flimsy – and I fear that the show will get too bogged down in creating a procedural out of nothing at all.

At it’s heart, "Medium" is a highly watchable and engaging family drama. With talking dead people.

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 18, 2005 | |

Tickled
I’m about half way through Kelly Link’s amazing collection of short stories Stranger Things Happen. I adore this book.

So much so – I’m sharing this excerpt I found very funny in the hopes that maybe you will seek out her work. Her stories are like demented, post-feminist fairy tales – they’re hilarious, haunting, funny and sad.

Below is an excerpt for the story called “Travels with the Snow Queen.” The story is about a woman who walks in search of her missing lover. And the story goes to great lengths to discuss how hard some of these stories – fairy tales and the like – are on the feet, especially the feet of women.

No, really, think about it. Think about the little mermaid, who traded in her tail for love got two legs and two feet, and every step was like walking on knives. And where did it get her? That’s a rhetorical question of course. Then there’s the girl who put on the beautiful red dancing shoes. The woodsman had to chop her feet off with an axe.

There are Cinderella’s two stepsisters, who cut off their own toes, and Snow White’s stepmother, who dance to death in red-hot iron slippers. The Goose Girl’s maid got rolled down a hill in a barrel studded with nails. Travel is hard on the single woman. There was this one woman who walked east of the sun and west of the moon, looking for her lover, who had left her because she spilled tallow on his nightshirt. She wore out at least one pair of perfectly good iron shoes before she found him. Take our word for it, he wasn’t worth it. What do you think happened when she forgot to put the fabric softener in the dryer? Laundry is hard, travel is harder. You deserve a vacation, but of course you’re a little wary. You’ve read the fairy tales. We’ve been there, we know.

By: Alyssa | Thursday, February 17, 2005 at Thursday, February 17, 2005 | |

Pedestrian rage
I am primarily a pedestrian or a user of public transportation. We have a car, but I rarely drive anymore since Boston and Cambridge are so compact.

As a pedestrian, I get weird looks – a lot – because I don’t jaywalk. People huff around me as I patiently wait on a street corner for the light to turn or the “walk” sign to light up. They push past me, quite annoyed.

Here’s the thing – I do this for a reason. I value my life. I don’t want to die. And I’m a bit sensitive about this issue because I’ve been hit by a car. Actually – twice.

The first time I was hit by a car was in 1980. I was about five and I was riding my bike. It was actually the first day I learned how to ride my bike that very morning. I was coming down the street near my parent’s house – wind in my hair, streamers aflutter – my Dad was following along behind me. I was coming down the hill and I was so excited and humming the theme song to Rocky.

I’d finally mastered riding a bike and I could not have been more thrilled. It’s probably one of my most vivid childhood memories.

Then a car came speeding around the corner – there were some teenagers driving – it was like a long Monte Carlo with two doors. The car hit me; I flew up in the air, over the car and landed hard on the concrete, the bike landed on top of me.

I cannot imagine how horrified my father must have been. I don’t think he saw it, since he was back behind the bend in the road and I was determined to ride as fast as possible.

The car drove off – never stopping.

I went to hospital and my arm was a mess – as was my face and my leg. I had to wear a splint and a sling for several weeks. I was lucky I wasn’t more seriously injured.

Twenty or so years later I was struck again – despite being extra careful.

I was walking along my street in Evanston, past the bakery and nearing the corner by the Mexican restaurant (featuring world’s greatest mushroom empanadas). We’d had an ice storm and the sidewalks were bordering on deadly.

The sidewalk near the intersection dips down for people with strollers or wheelchairs. I started to slide on a patch of black ice, just as a woman in a dark Mercedes approached the corner – too fast.

I slid out – and she didn’t really stop and she hit me. It wasn’t too serious – but she was clearly startled. And I yelled. And slammed my fists on the hood of her car – hard. I pulled myself upright and kept walking. She waited for a moment before driving away.

Deeps and I were talking about this a couple days ago as we walked through Harvard Square. We were at a crosswalk and the cars were flying by – you have to stop and assess the situation – there’s no light or anything. Cars are expected to yield, but they don’t.

Eventually I take the plunge into the street – walking purposefully and maintaining eye contact with the drivers. They stop and wait. Usually. Sometimes they slide by – and I’m not afraid to say I might accidentally kick their car as hard as I can.

I won’t be a squirrel in the road.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 17, 2005 | |

The sump pump of doom
Have you seen Amityville 3 in 3-D? The movie is not really that good – neither is the 3-D. However, I am reminded of this movie every time I trod down the front steps of my apartment. The big “monster” of the movie is basically an evil sump pump well.

In the movie everyone spends time wandering down to the basement to look at what appears to be some kind of sump pump or well. It looks a lot like the sump pump thingy in my basement. It’s just a round hole cut into the concrete floor – and there’s water in it – and a pump.

I know approximately jack-all about sump pumps, but I think this is pretty typical.

Eventually the sump pump of doom does in Tony Roberts’ and Tess Harper’s daughter – the precocious Lori Loughlin – and wreaks havoc. And there’s some kind of monster that eats up poor Robert Joy (a “Hey – it’s that guy!” if ever there was one). In 3-D! (There’s a drinking game in there somewhere – I’m sure of it.)

Our sump pump goes off all the time. This is good – because that means our basement stays dry and our stuff doesn’t get destroyed. The bad thing about the sump pump is the location of the drain. The water has to go somewhere, right?

Apparently the old lady upstairs thought the best place to place to place the pipe that pumps out the water is right by the front steps. So you’ll see giant puddles out there pretty regularly.

Until it is winter – and then you see giant sheets of black ice. It means certain death or at least some serious injury to try to skate across it. Did I mention our walkways our brick? Deadly enough in “good” conditions….

So every time I slide around and pray that I don’t crack my skull open on concrete steps – I think of poor Robert Joy getting sucked down into the sump pump of doom. And I hope a similar fate does not await me.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 17, 2005 | |

Identity
You may know me as Alyssa. Or if you only know me from the Interweb, perhaps you think of me as “Big Red” blog. But I am known by many names.

Mushroom empanadas
Lentil and Tomato soup
Small cheese pizza with garlic
Caffeine-free Diet Pepsi
Turkey sandwich, extra lettuce, easy Dijon, no cheese
Small coffee with cream – no shoooogah

The pizza place recognizes our voices. And we give them the phonetic spelling of my name – B-A-M-E is much easier than B-O-E-H-M. In fact, they sometimes call Deeps Mr. Bame, which I find hilarious, ‘cause that’s my Dad!

I love being a regular.

By: Alyssa | Wednesday, February 16, 2005 at Wednesday, February 16, 2005 | |

Overheard
I’ve been eavesdropping.

What?

You do it too – so shut up.

When Deeps was 18 he made an art project out of all overheard conversations. It was all based in the Guggenheim – he just sat there for several weekends, collecting bits of conversations. It was so good and he tied it together to kind of make a narrative…

His was art – mine is just trashy. Behold!

But she might not be that in to you
Dude: She emailed me and asked if I shop at Banana Republic, and when I said I didn’t – she asked if I was fat.
Dude’s friend: So are you going to go out with her?
Dude: I guess. She’s Jewish.

Aunt Norma is mean
Fiftyish gym lady: I’m a twin you know.
Fiftyish friend: Really?
Fiftyish gym lady: Yes – my sister had kids, and I didn’t. She looks about 20 years older than me. I told her she should moisturize.
Fiftyish friend: I guess that’s not too surprising; having kids is pretty taxing.
Fiftyish gym lady: (chortles) Keeping up this body is pretty taxing too!

So that’s what he’s been up to
Woman on T: My cousin’s wedding was nice, but she went over the top.
Man on T: Oh yeah?
Woman on T: Well, after the ceremony she and the groom released doves into the air.
Man on T: How very John Woo of her.
Woman on T: Who’s that?

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 16, 2005 | |

Squirrel King
We’ve had three warm days in a row – and the squirrels are out in Boston Common.

They don’t look too much worse for the wear, all things considered. They do look kinda hungry – and I think one of them hit me up for a dollar yesterday. It’s hard to tell since I’m not fluent in squirrel.

But they are swarming around the park – which can only mean one thing: the Squirrel King commeth.

The Squirrel King is an elderly man with a bag of stuff – peanuts and bread usually – that he feeds to the squirrels. They climb up on the bench where he perches and get treats. They are so used to the Squirrel King that they sort of treat all humans as members of the Squirrel King’s court (and aren’t we?), so they aren’t afraid to make an approach in the event you’ve got some spare potato chips or something.

I don’t know about re-incarnation or anything, but I would not have a serious problem coming back as a squirrel living in Boston Common. Those squirrels are fat and happy – and they actually scamper and play!

I’ll have to dig out my camera to catch his Majesty in the act – the best is if you can get the Squirrel King together in the same approximate location as the Pigeon Queen. Then if you’re really lucky and all the planets align, you’ll get some rough pigeon/squirrel showdown death-match.

God, I love spring.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 16, 2005 | |

Even now, I can't imagine the creepy traffic these pictures may generate

The love affair was fast and furious. When Dana kitty got her head stuck inside the shoe - well, I knew it was probably something I should share with the Interweb. 

By: Alyssa | Tuesday, February 15, 2005 at Tuesday, February 15, 2005 | |

A cat and my rain shoes

Just last week I said I didn't want to be a lady that blogs about her cat. Or her nine cats. But then - well - you can see.

Dana kitty loves her some shoes. I don't know where she learned it. My new rain shoes arrived today - and she was immediately in love. After she made out with the shoes for like 15 minutes - and got her head stuck inside them, I figured I should get the camera.  

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 15, 2005 | |

Another book
I’ve just finished The Killer Inside Me an eerie work of fiction, which was quite enjoyable. And I believe I have found another candidate for keeping people from getting to close to you on T or talking to you on a plane.

I saw the weird looks people.

If only I could figure out how to get something like that to work for my walks through Boston Common. I need some hobo repellent – because nothing makes hobos hotter than some spare change or red hair, apparently.

Anyway, the book was good – in that Norman Bates kind of way. You know the first time you watched Psycho and you were like, hoping things were going to work out for Norman? You really wanted him to be okay and you were nervous for him as people started to figure out something weird was going on over at the Bates Motel.

Like when he dumped the car to hide what his mother had done and the car isn’t really sinking fast and looks like it might not sink at all? You’re really hoping it will sink, for Norman’s sake.

Then later you realize that you’ve been pulling for a killer? That’s what The Killer Inside Me is like. You’re reading along, he’s detailing the story – but he’s got something kind of likeable about him. And you have a very strong suspicion about why he is the way he is – so there’s some empathy there too.

I liked the book – the language is clear and strong and the imagery is just vivid enough you can see it without being bogged down.

Next up is a book of short stories called Stranger Things Happen – and lemme tell you people, it’s pretty damn weird.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 15, 2005 | |

Daydream believer
I had house nightmares all last night. I dreamed we bought a condo that was like – one small room. Like a small bedroom – and we had to share a bathroom with our neighbors (like in a Euro hotel).

And poor Deeps, he kept telling me it was going to be just fine. I was like – where are we going to put all of our stuff?

So we had a talk this morning as we drove to the train station – about where we might have to live and what we’d be willing to do as far as remodeling and renovation.

Deeps confessed that he was having a hard time imagining what you could do to change space with renovation. I told him he should watch more house porn on HGTV.

He just smirked, “That’s your answer for everything.”

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 15, 2005 | |

Even better than tumors
I forgot to tape 200 pound tumor show. And Deeps was horrified when I suggested taping it yesterday.

Honestly, the man has lived with me for eight years – how can I still horrify him? He knows my love for medical (not dramas) and autopsy shows.

Anyway, I tried to find a picture of the woman with the 200 pound tumor but had no luck. I did, however, find this Coroner’s Web site – it’s like… gross and fascinating and informative.

In unrelated news – I found these very cute custom-made purses by surfing through a bunch of blogs. Because my macaroni is baking and my man is unconscious on the couch!

Did I mention Happy Valentine’s Day?

By: Alyssa | Monday, February 14, 2005 at Monday, February 14, 2005 | |

Your Brawny dream
I visited this site today and could not stop laughing….So hilarious - from my beloved, drinking Valentine. Waste your precious bandwidth.

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 14, 2005 | |

Turkey Meatloaf cakes (of love)
Janna and I both love food blogs – and we’ve been chatting about recipes and what to cook when you get home. The biggest challenge for me (and lots of others) is having time to pull together a reasonable meal after I get home from work.

I like this recipe – which I modified a bit from one found on Epicurious - because it is pretty simple, easy to double, the servings are easy to determine, it tastes good, and the meatloaf freezes and reheats very well.

For me, this is strictly a Sunday preparation deal because I need my food processor – so that takes a bit longer.

Tools:
Food processor or chopper
Muffin tin
Big freaking bowl
Measuring cup

Ingredients:
1 package of ground turkey (at least 7% lean, but you can go for 1% lean) – a standard package is usually about 20 ounces/570 grams
1 egg (or egg substitute)
cooking spray
.5 cups/113 grams of breadcrumbs
.5 cups/118 ml of milk (low fat – 1% is best)
1 package of pre-sliced mushrooms (usually about 10 ounces/284 grams)
Worcestershire sauce
Onion powder
Olive oil (about a tablespoon/15 ml)
Fresh garlic (couple of cloves minced)
Crushed red pepper
Salt
Pepper
Ketchup

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Farenheit/205 C. (Shout out to our Canadian friends, users of metric)

Spray your muffin tin with some cooking spray.

First you chop up the mushrooms very finely using the food processor (they almost look like a paste).

Lightly coat a sauté pan with the olive oil. Add in fresh garlic to season the pan, brown lightly. Add in the mushrooms

Season the mushrooms with a little salt, pepper, onion powder (you can use fresh minced onion – I’m allergic, hence the powder), a few splashes of Worcestershire sauce and crushed red pepper.

Sauté the mushrooms until they release their juices, and then the juices evaporate/cook off. This usually takes about 10 minutes.

Set aside the mixture and let it cool.

Add milk to breadcrumbs in a bowl. Stir and let the crumbs absorb the milk for a few minutes (you’ll get a pretty stiff, paste).

In the big freaking bowl, add your turkey and egg mixture. Mix them up – season the turkey with some salt, pepper, crushed red pepper and several splashes of Worcestershire sauce. Add in the milk/breadcrumbs and mix well. Add in the cooled mushroom mixture and mix well.

You should get a nice, smooth and somewhat loose gloppy mess of meatloaf.

Pull out your muffin tin (I use the 12 muffin model) and fill each cup with some meatloaf. You don’t have to form them into meatballs; the tin does the work for you.

Top the meatloaf (cakes!) with a little ketchup.

Bake for about 20-30 minutes. You may want to drain the meatloaf cakes of any extra grease that collects in the muffin tin as it bakes and place back in the oven (around the 12-15 minute mark).

Let them cool for a minute before removing them from the tin – and enjoy.

Each meatloaf cake is one serving – this makes 12 servings. And if you care about such things, they come in at 3 WW points apiece.

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 14, 2005 | |

Groovy kind of love
I like to think that the mister and I have the kind of love you don’t hear about in songs on the radio.

Me: Happy Valentine’s Day.
Deeps: Happy Valentine’s day – I love you.
Me: I love you too – like forever.
Deeps: Yep.
Me: Even if you die – I’ll come after you.
Deeps: See, now it’s creepy.
Me: Once again, I’ve gone too far.

For those wondering – yes Deeps is feeling better. Tonight I shall bake him the Homemade Mac & Cheese of Love. Which is what I always call it because that man loves him some mac & cheese.

We’re going to a fancy dinner this weekend because let’s just say, until this morning, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to go out in public to a restaurant for food. He can’t taste anything anyway – and of course, I didn’t make reservations in time. Bah.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Interweb – feel the love.

By: Alyssa | at Monday, February 14, 2005 | |

Open House Blues
CC and the French Connection picked us up around 11:30 this morning and we went hog wild on the Open Houses of Cambridge.

I told her we didn't have to limit ourselves to our price range, since the official "high" real estate season doesn't start for a few weeks. We figured we just absorb the Open House experience.

Our first stop was in a building I’ve always admired – it has a very unique, almost southern European look. The color is hideous – but it had great bones on the outside. When we got upstairs, the broker asked us to either remove our shoes or wear foot coverings (booties like you get at the hospital) in order to protect the precious floors.

The place was nice, but small – and expensive at nearly $500,000. The bedrooms were all very small; we couldn’t possibly fit our bed inside. And the “open” plan is basically just one big room that means we have to cram everything in.

Cute – but not for us; which became the motto of the day. We saw a lot of small, nice, expensive places. And a few places that we marveled at the costs – one place was almost $1 MM and we went inside to see what the fuss was about. We still don’t really know. For that much money, I need a really schmancy kitchen and shouldn’t have to do any renovation work.

But that’s just me.

Mostly we drove around and looked for signs. We had a list of things to view – which we visited, but we also got a better sense of neighborhoods and locations.

We saw a lovely first floor unit for $550,000 – again, it’s really out of our price range but we saw the Open House sign and walked over.

The interesting thing about this particular place was that it was much nicer and seemed like a better use of space than the $1 MM place. The location was better and the kitchen was fantastic. Just goes to show, you never can tell.

And then of course, there were the places that were… not so much to call home about. They were small, in poor shape, cluttered, dirty, and suffered from poor space plans. I think we were at an advantage in that both The French Connection and I have designer/architect friends and we can be very imaginative in solutions. Of course, that means renovation – and as I’m married to a man who has never painted a wall, I’m not sure if we’re going to be ready for renovation too soon. Plus, if all goes according to plan – we’ll be flat broke.

One place in particular was large but the space was poorly oriented. You walk into a large room – which I suppose is some kind of foyer, except that it is almost the same size as the living room. There’s some sort of large, odd lighting fixture that looks like a bad DIY project and lots of rooms off of the foyer, including a master suite with bath, and another large bathroom and bedroom.

The living room was okay, it had large windows – and kitchen was tiny. No I mean tiny – like the floor space of the kitchen was 3 feet by 3 feet. There was one overhead cabinet for storage and a cabinet under the sink. Then there was a small open shelf – then full size appliances that ate up most of the room. If empty, I would imagine the kitchen was about 6 feet wide by about 4.5 feet across.

In contrast, the closets for the bedrooms were actually larger than the kitchen. That place was selling for about $500,000.

Seeing a place like that – with horrible carpets, bad closets and an unusable kitchen for half a million dollars is depressing. We can’t afford that amount and in the end – I wonder if we won’t have to make serious compromises about where we would like to live.

For now, I’m content to spend my Sundays as a religious woman – I’m going to start praying we can find something that is great and doesn’t cost too much. Then I’ll hop in the car with Deeps, CC and The French Connection and see what we find. After all – CC and The French Connection do put on a good show.

By: Alyssa | Sunday, February 13, 2005 at Sunday, February 13, 2005 | |

You can take a hint
I was at the mall yesterday – briefly – on the hunt for what is known around the homestead as the spring duvet. Dudes probably don’t know about this – but lots of women have Spring/Summer bedding and Fall/Winter bedding. Since spring is coming… eventually, I need to be ready.

Whist I was heading to the bedding department I happened to walk by the jewelry department. Deeps was trailing behind me as I tried to make my errand running quick.

He’s been kind of talking about Valentine’s Day – like how he’s been sick and hasn’t been able to pull anything together for me. And it seems to bother him. I don’t care, but sometimes you’ve got to throw your husband a bone – especially if he cares and he thinks you care.

“You know, those are nice earrings,” I said peering into the glass counter.
“Yeah, those are nice,” he said disinterested.
“I bet they look really nice on small earlobes,” I added.
“Mmmm-hmm….,” he replied.
“You know, I bet something like that would make a nice gift for Valentine’s Day,” I said. “Don’t you think?”
Deeps looks at me for a second, puzzled. “Oh – yeah, they probably would.”
“Yep – those sure would make a nice, simple gift. Any woman would like them,” I said. “So I’m just going off for a few minutes to check on duvets. How about I meet you in menswear over by the shirts?”
“Oh right – that sounds like a good idea. I’ll uhm… I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

My husband knows how to take a hint – even if the hint is tied to an anvil.

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 13, 2005 | |

Best Sunday Ever
Tomorrow we’re going on a double date with our friends, CC and The French Connection (FC) to attend open houses.

I thought I needed some practice with my poker face. And I need some practice dealing with beautiful furnishings and staging of homes – I need to squelch any overly emotional responses I have to stuff versus the actual place. Like a sweet little couch is not going to stay with the place if we buy it – so it doesn’t matter if it is buttery teal leather, ya dig?

Plus, any outing with the FC and CC is fun because they fight and bicker the whole time in an utterly engaging way – like dialogue from a screwball comedy with Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert. Except half of it is in French or involves weird swearing and the use of full names.

Honestly, they should charge people to go out with them – because EVERYONE would pay. They are delicious.

And I need to drag sad sack sick boy off the couch. I did get him out briefly today. We went to the IHOP and had real hash browns because he said he was “starving” and “cannot eat anymore toast.” So off we went.

I just realized, I bet FC has never been to the IHOP – and she would love the showering of affection America has for the food of her country, like French toast and French dressing.

I smell a delightful weekend outing ahead of us… full of buttery, maple goodness.

By: Alyssa | Saturday, February 12, 2005 at Saturday, February 12, 2005 | |

How to get ahead in the screenwriting business
Or not, as the case may be. God, do I love the Interweb when I read this stuff.

By: Alyssa | at Saturday, February 12, 2005 | |

I am going to H-e-double-hockey-sticks
I just called call my parents and gave them a bunch of crap for not calling me back. I’ve been calling those people for two freaking weeks – where are they all the time? I can tell you. They are out squandering my inheritance on golf shirts.

At least my Dad is, as Slim reported to me today.

“Why don’t you guys call me back? What if I had some really important news like I was knocked up?” I demanded.

Slim gasped so loud I thought for a second I killed her – then I realized I had just casually joked about being knocked up. I know that they are all secretly (and some not so secretly – Peepers, Cuddles and Bangles) hoping that Deeps and I will reproduce.

“I’m not – but if I was… You would never know. But we did get pre-approved for a mortgage!”

She did not gasp dramatically – but she did share some enthusiasm. Not as much as word of another grandchild, but seriously – the woman has 6.5 – you think that’d be enough?

The important lesson here, Parents, is you should call me back. And I won’t mention being knocked up anymore unless I actually am.

By: Alyssa | at Saturday, February 12, 2005 | |

Arthur Miller
I would call him an American treasure – but then again, I like big dramatic pronouncements like that.

I remember reading The Crucible in high school. I’m sure lots of other kids do too. And then later I read Death of a Salesman and All my Sons. While the latter are great works – The Crucible really struck a chord with me.

I appreciated certain boldness in the writing – here was a barely concealed “metaphor” for McCarthyism. Where the subtext bordered on text. There aren’t a lot of bold authors who just put something that is such a broad critique out in the open.

You might argue that Michael Moore does – and I think that while that argument is valid, Moore lacks the subtlety of Mr. Miller. Miller had a gravitas that I appreciated. And he reminded us how we were not so far removed from the ancestors of three centuries past – and that we all could do much better.

Perhaps that is an oversimplification of his master work, but that’s how I like to think of it.

I got the unique pleasure of meeting Mr. Miller in the mid 90s. His latest play, the Ride down Mt. Morgan was being staged at the Williamstown Theater Festival. He was in town for the premiere and I was working as a stringer for The Berkshire Eagle. I hitched along on the press conference (which is a pretty informal affair out in Western Massachusetts).

Mr. Miller stood very tall – well over 6 feet – and he wore a casual pink Polo shirt and chinos. He was gracious to everyone and thoughtful with his answers. I got the sense he might be prickly to some people, but I think he enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere of the festival.

At the end of the conference I shook his hand and said that his work had meant a lot to a dumb high school kid back in Indiana.

He smiled.

By: Alyssa | Friday, February 11, 2005 at Friday, February 11, 2005 | |

Please to enjoy
I am home today playing nurse because Deeps is really, really sick. I had to spend some quality time getting him to eat a piece of toast last night.

We’ve been together for… a really long time. And we’ve lived together since 1997 – I don’t ever remember seeing him this sick. So I’m having a little freak out. Luckily, I got his fever down to 99 by this morning, he peaked over 103 last night.

And I’m driving him to the doctor’s office because he can’t drive. He’s a mess, but I’m hopeful that he’s taking a turn. I got him into the shower today – so I feel like we’ve turned a corner.

I DON’T CARE WHO WE HAVE TO KILL NEXT YEAR, WE’RE GETTING A FLU SHOT.

Thank you.

Since I’m just kinda lounging around, making tea and toast and watching the man (he’s as bad as a small child, I just threatened him that if he didn’t stay in bed I would invent a new swear word to use on him). So in addition to threatening and making toast, I’ve been surfing and reading and linking:

Gwen’s adventures at Target – oh crazy lady, nobody want your man

Still too busy hating women to help them

What’s wrong with a little forwarding among friends? Everything

The exact opposite of my experience taking a small child to a movie theater

The rules of eBay sometimes come back to bite you on the bum

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 11, 2005 | |

The next big thing
I have learned an ungodly amount about mortgages in the past 3 days. And I expect that trend to continue as I come to terms with the numbers involved. Those numbers, by the way, remind me of the national debt.

How will we ever eat again? Or go to the movies? Or get sick? God help us if we have to deal with a co-pay.

So I fax and fax and talk and talk to this guy on the phone – whom I may never meet in person. Very quickly, our talks have taken on a therapy session-like vibe. I’m totally unburdening to him and really, why not – he knows all the intimate details of my financial life.

I think the part that people outside of Boston don’t understand when we talk about this is that there is a sense of urgency in buying.

Most of the leases on apartments aren’t exactly renter-friendly. I can’t break the lease, I’m on the hook for all 12 months of rent. And I can’t sublet. And no one will let me negotiate for less than 12 months. We see the next few months as our only opportunity for 2005 – otherwise we have to wait another year. And I cannot possibly wait.

Combine that with the fact that I don’t have any illusions about owning a home or have this life-long dream of home ownership. Very frankly, our rents (and the rest of the city’s) are so high that we are functionally paying a very hefty mortgage payment right now – without any of the benefits. We don’t get a tax break, we don’t have any equity, and we don’t get ahead.

In Chicago it was cheaper to rent than to buy. We never talked about buying before we moved back to the East coast. Since we landed in 2002, we have spoken of little else.

In Boston, rent is the same price as a mortgage for a lot of people. But the big kicker for almost everyone I know is the down payment. How do you save for a down payment when you’re already functionally making a mortgage payment?

The topic of down payment always comes up when I talk to the mortgage broker. He’d like our savings to be bigger – he tells us how great we are for all these other numbers, but that down payment is worrying him.

In response, I start talking: about getting laid off, about getting married, about Deeps being a grad student until a few years ago, about being a single-income family for many years, about how he has the plague now, about who we might be able to hit up for a few grand (answer – no one!), about my family, about my friends.

He quickly responds – we can be very creative. You’ll get your house.

I feel better.

Now I just have to find a house.

Next week we have a meeting with a real estate broker. He comes highly recommended, which is very reassuring. I sense more financial/house buying therapy sessions ahead and I hope that guy is ready.

By: Alyssa | at Friday, February 11, 2005 | |

I can’t top that
My friend and I were talking about lame ex-boyfriends. Mostly that we’ve had some real winners.

I regaled her with my story about my ex-boyfriend the magician. Like, he would go do shows and stuff. And he worked at a magic shop.

And then I shared with her what was probably the nadir of our relationship: on Valentine’s Day he was trying to show me a trick of some kind. He was constantly doing tricks, and I’ll tell you after a few months the novelty of the magic wore off. Because I learned how the tricks were done, I just couldn’t do them myself.

He was very insistent about showing me a trick and I could not have been less interested. Finally I just snapped, just show me the damn thing already – and he did a little thing where he produced a small ring out of thin air. And asked me to marry him.

I was pretty sure my friend would not be able to top this lame ex-boyfriend story.

She quickly recounted her tale of misguided love that involved a high school boy who was “The Dungeon master” in her school’s Dungeons and Dragons club. I could hardly stop laughing.

“Wait, did you date him?” I asked.
“Oh yeah – I dated the Dungeon master,” she said.
I laughed so hard I got a cramp in my side.
“The part that still ticks me off,” she said, “is that dating the Dungeon master in did not help my D&D standing in any way.”

Sometimes love hurts.

By: Alyssa | Thursday, February 10, 2005 at Thursday, February 10, 2005 | |

Vacation is all I ever want to do
I was hunting online for good deals for Italy. The issue this year is not cash, well – it is a little – but our tax return worked out to be just about the cost of a trip to Italy. It is more about time. Usually we like to do a 10-12 day trip if we fly more than like 5 or 6 hours. But I think Italy will basically be a long weekend.

As I was doing research, I tripped across some of return-from-Paris blog entries. I’m going to have to do some work on myself for the next trip so that I suck less. (For the record, I totally cracked myself up reading this old entry.)

Also – do I need to learn some Italian? I have a secret weapon as a French speaker, but last night Em told me she’s been taking an Italian class. I guess I should get a phrase book. And better shoes. I don’t care if I seem like an ugly American – next time I have to walk 12 miles a day I am wearing my New Balance sneaks because Jesus – my feet.

Just reading that old entry made them hurt.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 10, 2005 | |

Graduate School of the Gifted
Yesterday I laughed loudly at public displays of stupidity.

First, there was the woman at the bakery who kept pushing on the entrance door. She could not understand why the door was not opening. I suspect it had something to do with the fact that the door is clearly marked with the word “PULL”.

I didn’t laugh until the woman was like – “Oh, I see.” Indicating to me that she spoke English so she has no excuse.

I give people the benefit of the doubt on the English front…

As I walked back from the bakery to my office building, a guy was standing in the lobby furiously pushing the “up” arrow button at the elevators. The button would not light up – and he didn’t understand why. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that there were three elevator doors open all around him.

Again, I thought – maybe he doesn’t understand how elevators work. Perhaps he lives in a country of all single floor dwellings. But then he finally got on the elevator and started chatting with a guy who was clearly a co-worker of his in the building. He works in the building.

I snickered all the way to my floor – and then down the hall.

Okay – I admit it I guffawed at my desk. I’m not dead inside.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 10, 2005 | |

You had me at hello
Deeps is sick. After weeks and weeks I’ve done but infected him good.

And he’s just so miserable – I don’t think I’ve seen him this sick in a really long time.

When I came home today he yelled to me as I took my coat off in the front hallway. Our apartment is old and the front hall is closed off by two French doors that open into the living room. In the winter we keep the doors closed off to help keep the living room a bit warmer as the front door area is drafty.

I peeked through the glass windows of the doors to see him on the couch – he was yelling:

“I just want you to know that I stink,” he cried. “I don’t know what the hell is happening, but I feel like crap and I stink really, really badly.”

I just started laughing and walked in.

“Oh Deeps, you’re going to be okay,” I told him. “And you were smelly last night too.”

“I stink so much the cat won’t have anything to do with me,” he sighed. “You probably want to change the sheets – or burn them. God I smell old cheese.”

Is it wrong that I find him very attractive despite all these proclamations about smelling?

Internet, I’ve said it once and I will say it again – we’re in love.

By: Alyssa | Wednesday, February 09, 2005 at Wednesday, February 09, 2005 | |

Old lady kat keeper
I got a call at work yesterday from the landlady. She’s going to Tuscany for a couple of weeks.

Isn’t that nice for her?

She’d like me to look in on her cat and make sure the cat is fed and the litter box is cleaned.

Oh and by the way, the cat likes to – and I quote “dump in front of the toilet as a means of expressing herself.”

I have a whole list to of things I don’t want to hear coming out of the mouths of tiny old women, now I have to add “dumps” to the list. Yeesh.

I said yes in the secret hope that maybe she’d let us out of our lease a little early so that we could get an earlier closing date – assuming the house hunt goes well. And now I’m the old lady krazy kat keeper and Deeps thinks it is hilarious, until I reminded him that he is the old lady keeper.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 09, 2005 | |

To all the blogs I’ve loved before
I love many, many blogs. And I find that I cannot get enough of reading about your personal adventures in babies or houses or boozing or Math or learning to knit or or flying lessons or IVF or boyfriends or girlfriends or boats or cars or retirement or movie-watching or dogs or cats or ponies or lizards or man purses.

Please, please, please update – once every couple weeks doesn’t cut it. You have done your worst and now I make a simple request.

I don’t want to have to make a list of the people I’m looking to for an update. But you know who you are!

To quote Rachel: “Don't get us hooked with the China White and expect us to then start smoking the ragged H. C'mon! Methadone doesn't work!”

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 09, 2005 | |

Atomic Snowman
I like to call this one "It came upon a midnight clear." I had every intention of taking pictures of Pats fans lined up for the parade - but most of them were annoying high school students. What I was reminded was that my loathing of high school kids really has extended beyond my time in high school. And now I'm officially an old lady because I was all "you damn kids," all afternoon.  

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 09, 2005 | |

Snowy days ahead
It is coming to get me.

After four lovely days hovering near 50 degrees – winter is coming back. Starting tonight.

We have what one weatherman called “the biggest storm…..of the …I guess of the week,” headed our way. All predictions are 1-3 feet of snow for the Massachusetts area.

Deeps is all sad because he’s been driving and the thought of digging the car out again is depressing. Plus the weather dudes are emphasizing that the snow will probably be a lot “denser” and “wetter” than last time (that should get me some Google hits!).

On the bright side – it is much better weather for building snowmen…er snow people.

Maybe we’ll get another snow day out of it. I’m thinking that’s pretty unlikely.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 09, 2005 | |

Tumor TV
I had nothing to watch on television because… god what a wasteland on Monday night. I kept looking and looking – but nothing.

Finally I broke down and cleaned my apartment.

When I was vacuuming Deeps quickly diagnosed the problem.

Deeps: You’re so bored you’re cleaning? Nothing good on TV, huh?
ME: Nope. I even looked for one of those shows on extreme surgery or tumors – there was nothing.

After I finished cleaning I parked on the chair (which I had just vacuumed) and flipped through the digital cable again,

At 9 I was in luck – because a show started called “Face Eating Tumor” on the Discovery Health Channel.

I cannot make a name like that up.

So then I watched for an hour as a kid with a horribly disfiguring tumor had it slowly removed with like 5 painful surgeries. He was only like 4, but sweet and feisty and when he was able to see after one of the surgeries – his reaction was utterly incredible.

Now you know I have a secret fascination with surgery shows on The Discovery Channel. In the past few months I’ve learned about various and sundry tumors, hermangiomas, extreme surgery and the mysterious Disappearing Twin.

Maybe I’m ready for the MCATs.

By: Alyssa | Tuesday, February 08, 2005 at Tuesday, February 08, 2005 | |

Puppy Bowl
Animal Planet had some weird counter programming for the Super Bowl. They offered up The Puppy Bowl.

Now the digital cable description said that the show was about puppies and adoption of pets. Okay, I can buy that.

I’d seen some of the teasers for the Puppy Bowl and figured it would be segments to break up the adoption programming – you know like intros and outros.

It wasn’t. It was the whole show – for hours and hours. Like the Yule Log.

There was no real voice over, except an announcer coming in from commercials saying “And now – back to the action.”

There was a little background music – soft instrumentals. And then there was what I’ll call ambient dog sounds: barking, dragging, chewing, and slurping.

I was enjoying the delicious side effects of my Penicillin/DayQuil cocktail and I found watching the puppy bowl very soothing. I turned out the lights, settled in on the couch and found myself in a very Zen-like mood. It was a pleasant way to spend 20 minutes.

And then a commercial came on – you can buy the Puppy Bowl, all 3 hours of it on DVD for just $9.95.

I’m not sure if I can enjoy that much puppy love at one time. But it was good for 20 minutes – and then I flipped over to a movie about midget bank robbers.

It was a perfect evening.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 08, 2005 | |

Homebuying horror show
I called a guy about a mortgage. He has a ridiculous name, but I’m hopeful he can get us a good rate and low closing costs.

And now the official freak out begins.

On the positive: we have good credit, stable jobs (well, as stable as they get in this economy), and a clue - apparently that’s important.

On the negative: the mortgage dude would like us to have a bit more cash for the down payment.

You and me both dude.

We have a sum of money at our disposal that in almost any other housing market would consist of a “substantial” down payment. However, here it’s like – meh, we’d like a bit more cash.

So the bargaining begins. And the scheming and the plotting. Should we borrow from the 401K? Will we win the lottery? Does anyone have a rich relative we don’t know about – that kind of thing.

He gave me a long list of documents he needed.

Mortgage guy: I need your W2s for two years, your last two pay stubs….
ME: For both of us right?
Mortgage guy: Right – and later I’ll need your tax returns for last two years and – we’ll get to that later.
ME: Uh huh.
Mortgage guy: And I need savings account statements, 401k statements, IRA statements, and a blood work-up
ME: A what? Blood.
Mortgage guy: (laughs) That’s just a little mortgage humor.
ME: Oh. Right. Heh.

So there you have it. It begins. My mortgage guy has a sense of humor.

Oh God, what have I done?

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 08, 2005 | |

I know Plum and Aubergine too
When we were at the mall on Sunday, Deeps was looking for nice “slacks” to go with a sport coat he owns. It’s a nice jacket, but every time he pulls it out to wear I tell him he needs better pants for it.

The jacket deserves good pants, not every day chinos.

Anyway, we were hunting through Filene’s men’s department and I spotted this hideous Pepto pink jacket.

“Deeps, how about a nice raspberry sport coat? I think it would set off your eyes,” I said.
A salesman sporting a hideous comb-over was standing nearby and looked utterly amazed and dumbfounded.
“How did you know that jacket was raspberry?” he exclaimed.

I just looked at the guy for a second; I gave him a half-hearted withering gaze.

“Because I’m a woman – I know the difference between salmon and coral too,” I replied.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 08, 2005 | |

More about Books
11. Hick Flicks – I had this book back-ordered forever. And I finally got it! I was saving it for a plane ride, but since that wasn’t happening I decided to read it immediately. Like in a day.

Now I should say that Scott is my InterWeb buddy. I visit his site daily (would it kill you to update more often, Mr. Von D?); we have shared drinks together, and we know and love some of the same people. So I’m not totally impartial. However, I will say despite being acquainted with Mr. Von D – I went into the book reading with an open mind. He had as much opportunity to succeed as to fail.

Happily I was really pleased with the result. It’s a fantastic and fun read. It’s a bit like a walk down memory lane – summers of bad movies at the drive-in. God do I miss a good drive-in.

I did have some disturbing dreams about Bigfoot and the dude from The Hills Have Eyes, but I blame that as much on my cold medicine as I do on the book.

Scott’s voice is clear and true, with enough astute observations to border on an entry for the Cahier du Cinema. I would have liked more Maury stories, but that’s me. I’m a sucker for a dog.

Now you may question the relevance of a book like Hick Flicks. Hillbilly exploitation film died out with gas rationing (more or less). But I’d argue that with all this Red State/Blue State nonsense they’re probably more relevant than ever.

Hollywood marketed 30 years ahead of where politics moved in the past two elections. Put that in yer corncob pipe and smoke it.


12. The Eyre Affair – I love absurdist satire and Jasper Fforde has just created an amazing and delightful world. It’s like Harry Potter for adults.

If you like all the clever literary references of Alan Moore without the pretension, well this book might be for you. I was sad when the book was over – the characters are utterly engaging and the world they live in is totally fascinating. I could almost see myself re-reading the book just to pick up more interesting nuggets of information.

Luckily, this book is the first in a series. I’ll be sure to pick up the rest.

13. Sophie – From the absurd to the bizarre, I have quickly moved back to the world of deeply disturbing family drama/mystery.

These books have really functioned more like melodramas with something of an underlying mystery. But the dramatic tension is the thing. I don’t want to reveal too much – but this book is very much in the same dark vein as The Cement Garden and Asylum.

Enjoyable, dark and utterly unforgettable.

Next up – the Killer Inside Me. Nothing cleanses the palette more than a first-person fictional account of a serial murderer.

By: Alyssa | Monday, February 07, 2005 at Monday, February 07, 2005 | |

It’s just Super
Mike Pope was totally right. I didn’t doubt him really – but yeesh, was that man right. Super Bowl Sunday is a great day to do some shopping. Especially if your area’s team is in the Super Bowl.

We drove the Burlington Mall which is normally a zoo. The road wasn’t empty, but traffic was very light. And when we arrived at the mall – there were lots and lots of empty parking spaces.

I was confused – I thought maybe something really bad had happened.

We ran a few errands (FYI –Illuminations is having a sale; and there are dueling Clinque Bonus Gifts at both Macy’s and Filene’s) and had some lunch. Usually the mall is bustling on a weekend afternoon, but it was quiet.

There were some women out and a few people wearing Pats jerseys – but the place was pretty dead. The poncho count was at two before we ate.

Deeps: Are you even paying attention to what is going on around you?
ME: I’m really just sweating a lot and I can’t hear out of my left ear.
Deeps: I’ve seen at least two more ponchos and one of those frilly skirts.
ME: God it’s so hot. Why is that kid staring at me?
Deeps: Maybe because there’s something dripping out of your nose.
ME: This Penicillin isn’t working fast enough. Seriously – what’s up with that kid?
Deeps: Which kid?
ME: That Indian kid over there.
Deeps: Want me to have a word with him?
ME: No. It never ends well, remember last time?
Deeps: I can’t ever explain these things to mall security.

As we wandered out of the food court in a daze, Deeps commented on how many of his “people” were out in force today.

“My people” or “your people” is a generic term used to describe anyone from your state/ethnic group/school/family/hobby group/socio-economic group/age demographic. In this case, Deeps was not referring to his people specifically as people from New Jersey, research scientists, or dudes with a preference for wrinkle-free trousers. He was talking about his people – Indians.

ME: Your people aren’t big football fans?
Deeps: Football – schmootball. My people are looking for good sales.

On the way home, someone got the bright idea to stop at the grocery store because we are out of bread. The grocery store was packed – and the man-cart frenzy was fierce. I’ve never seen so many dudes at the grocery store. And they were all wearing Pats paraphernalia. And carrying armloads of chips and dips and salsas.

Some dudes threw bags across an aisle to their buddies. Old ladies doing their Sunday shopping were horrified. I saw men standing around holding giant cuts of meat just looking utterly dumbfounded.

Deeps: I feel weird because I’m not wearing any Pats stuff.
ME: But you’re not a fan.
Deeps: Still – you want to blend in with the natives when making your observations.
ME: Yeah – that pink shirt totally doesn’t blend.
Deeps (thoughtfully): True, but it really compliments my skin tone.
ME: Who could argue with that?

By: Alyssa | Sunday, February 06, 2005 at Sunday, February 06, 2005 | |

Dispatches from Cuddles
I talked with Cuddles last week. I know just the right time to call – I usually call when it is close to dinner (aka “feeding time”). It’s like I dialed directly into the monkey house. Those kids are going nuts.

We exchange pleasantries, and then catch up on the antics of the children. I report that I’m still sick with the plague from her children and that I had to go to see an actual doctor for actual prescription anti-biotics.

She has little sympathy – as she is somewhere between 4-13 months pregnant, hauling Macaroni around while Peanut wails in the background.

Apparently Peanut was scheduled for a hot date with her dad to see Nemo on Ice. Fish on ice, that’s not something you see outside of a seafood restaurant.

Then I hear the stories about Peanut's – uhm, anti-social behavior.

“I heard Macaroni wailing – like there was really something wrong – and I found Peanut in the bathroom with a handful of rubber bands. She had locked him in the cupboard under the sick and was using the rubber bands to tie the door handles together,” Cuddles said exasperated.

“Wow – sounds like you’re raising some little sociopaths,” I said reveling in the idea that I’ve finally gotten some fresh material for the blog.

“This isn’t going on your Web site, is it?” she quickly demanded – sensing a disturbance in the Force.

“No! Of course not,” I lied. I haven’t seen the sun in like 3 days – of course this is going in the blog.

A few seconds later I hear serious wailing in the background – and Cuddles drags the phone along with her as she investigates. She quickly finds the source of the problem.

Peanut has pinned Macaroni down on the ground. She’s sitting on his back and taunting him by holding his pacifier just out of reach. She is truly becoming diabolical at the tender age of two. I salute her!

“Great, now Macaroni is totally going to be claustrophobic,” she huffed.

“Well – I’m just saying – you might have a little sociopath on your hands,” I suggest. “You might want to start socking away a few bucks for therapy now. You know – just a few bucks every week.”

Cuddles sighs and then adds, “I can only imagine what will happen when number three comes along.”

“Well – I’ll be sure to keep a documentary record in the event a court subpoenas them later,” I assure her.

“Thanks, Lys. You’ve always been a giver.”

What can I say, Internet? I am generous.

By: Alyssa | at Sunday, February 06, 2005 | |

I can do better
Internet - you know what is awesome? Penicillin.

It is true. As I type, there’s some coursing through my bloodstream. Maybe this time I will be cured.

Also – I had a very weird doctor’s experience. I went to the doctor, waited for like 2 minutes and then was in the exam room. I was early! And then the doctor came in like less than 5 minutes later. I was out less than 15 after my scheduled appointment time. But I was actually examined for like 20 minutes because my doctor is cool.

And then I went to the drug store and hung out with the elderly in the pharmacy for a few minutes and got my prescription. And the prescription for Amoxicillin was only $6.50. All this time I could have been cured for $6.50?

And at the pharmacy they have a wide selection of sugar-free candies. Like name brands – Reese’s cups and Peppermint Patties. Often, they are on sale too. Amazing. I had no idea.

All I can say to this is – Cornelius H. Mud puddle. I am an idiot.

In the future, I will go to the doctor. And I will enjoy the magic of sugar-free candy.

By: Alyssa | Friday, February 04, 2005 at Friday, February 04, 2005 | |

I am having stress dreams about your wedding
Em is getting married in Italy – to her lovely fiancé, the Tro, in May.

Sidebar: Tro, it would have be super awesome if you guys could have done this last year when I had like some extra vacation and wasn’t trying to buy a house. And also I didn’t have a plague every other week. I mean, I have been calling her every week for almost three years asking her if she was engaged yet.

But it’s all about you, isn’t it?

Anyway, I had another whacked out dream (not about plagues) – but about Em’s wedding. She’s getting married in Florence on the 20th. I dreamed that it was May 17 and we hadn’t purchased tickets yet.

In my dream I was like – but it was just February. What happened? I guess we have to buy tickets today. But there were no tickets to Italy and we blew off the wedding.

And then I dreamed about the plague thing.

I recalled this dream later, when I was talking to her on the phone.
Em: So how are you feeling?
ME: Like crap. I’m actually going to the doctor tomorrow.
Em: That’s really responsible.
ME: Kinda. Also – I’m sorry I blew off your wedding. In my dream I didn’t buy tickets in time and Deeps and I just flaked out.
Em: That’s weird.
ME: That is how much I want you to get married – I’m having stress dreams on your behalf.
Em: Wow – thanks. Look, I’ve got to go.
ME: But I want to talk more… (whiny)
Em: I know but I have a conference call with the wedding coordinator and the Tro.
ME: Fine.
Em (pacifying me): Look – you know the Tro. He’s got a lot of requirements. You know that he’s the bride.

Is he ever.

Happy Wedding. We’re booking travel this weekend.

By: Alyssa | Thursday, February 03, 2005 at Thursday, February 03, 2005 | |

It’s what to watch – in your head

You know, I made my little pretend sweeps thing yesterday and last night I had this really weird – vivid dream about TV.

In my dream NBC was doing a big like mini-series about The Plague (like they did about the killer earthquake last year). To promote the plague mini-series they staged like plague outbreaks in cities across the country, with actors wearing prosthetic lesions and boils. And they were slowing down traffic because they were staggering out into the street.

At the Harvard Square T station there were fake plague victims everywhere – and people didn’t get that it was a TV thing, so they started to panic. Then it went all War of the Worlds with the panic and the freak out.

During the whole thing I remember two very clear, lucid thoughts in my dream: Wow, is NBC stupid and Does this mean I have to go to work?

Because even in my dreams, I am keeping it real.

I told Deeps the dream and he was like, you know they’re doing the plague episode on Medical Investigations. Which I recalled vaguely from a commercial.

And then the boils and lesions came from the scene in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle where they get a ride with Freak Show. And I can only presume that the T stop thing was because I am menaced by the red line on a daily basis.

So there you have it – as Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Your low rent dream analysis is presented courtesy of the blog without pity.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 03, 2005 | |

You are invited
When I got home last night Deeps told me that we’d been invited to a party on Sunday.

Me: Is this a sports-related party?
Deeps: Yes.
Me: Is it to watch synchronized swimming?
Deeps: No
Me: Sumo wrestling?
Deeps: Nope
Me: Logging sports?
Deeps: Nuh huh
Me: Poker?
Deeps: Nada
Me: Tennis?
Deeps: Nyet
Me: Competitive jump rope?
Deeps: uhm… no
Me: Cheerleading?
Deeps: I think there are cheerleaders – but it is not the national cheerleading finals.
Me: Spelling?
Deeps: No.
Me: World’s strongest man?
Deeps: Alas, no.
Me: Well – those are all the televised sports we watch. So what could we possibly be asked to watch on Sunday?
Deeps: I think you know.
Me: Oh my god – is it the Poseidon Adventure marathon drinking game?
Deeps: I think you just made that up.
Me: Probably – but I know all the rules.
Deeps: So I guess we won’t be watching the Super Bowl?
I just stare at him.

A few hours later a friend left a message on our voicemail.

Friend: Hi! Hey listen, I need to reschedule because you know Sunday is the big game. Do you want to come watch the Super Bowl with us? There’ll be….

I hit delete.

Internet, it is like these people don’t even know me.

By: Alyssa | at Thursday, February 03, 2005 | |

February Sweeps
I am privy to many exciting Internet sites that offer up super secret spoiler information about what is coming up for Sweeps! (the big ratings tracking time) for February.

Joey – Joey finds an abandoned chimp at the mall and brings him home. Turns out Joey can talk to the animals. Hilarious misunderstandings ensue.

LOST – Kate and Shannon pluck each other’s eyebrows in a pact to keep the “unibrow” at bay. Locke and Boone stage a commitment ceremony. Sayid takes his shirt off because he is hott (with two Ts).

24 – The brown kid figures out how lame his show is and spins himself off into his own, better show that features less expositional dialogue and more exciting car chases. And a talking monkey that rides around in a truck with him. Meanwhile, Kim comes back to take over. She joins up with TerrorMom and Aisha Tyler to create a triumvirate of evilness that cannot be defeated because they have such fabulous, shiny hair.

Law and Order: Criminal Intent – Vincent D’Onofrio reveals that his weird squinty and head shaking is a result of an unfortunate ear infection. A ten-day course of anti-biotics clears it up. Confused, he buys a trench coat and turns into Columbo.

The OC – Kirsten and Sandy’s marriage encounters problems, until Kirsten actually sees Sandy’s old flame (played by a bloated and badly coiffed Kim Delaney). Then Kirsten laughs and laughs and Kim Delaney fires her manager and hires a life coach. Seth and Ryan join the police academy.

The King of Queens – the fat dude and the skinny lady argue about something stupid the fat dude did. And then the old dude falls down a well – forcing the fat dude and the skinny lady to reconcile and pull old dude out of the well. And they adopt a lost monkey.

Desperate Housewives – Bree and Lynette decide to go on a shopping spree at Restoration Hardware. Edie becomes convinced that Mike Delfino is actually a robot. Gabrielle and John get into a car accident on their way to eloping – their boring storyline disappears for weeks. And Susan discovers that there’s something weird going on in Wisteria Lane.

Alias – Sidney wears a wig and a tight dress. Vaughn takes his shirt off. Nadia flips her hair. Stuff blows up – Dixon and Marshall decide to try their hand at starting their own decorating company. And Jack remains a magnificent b*stard, rivaling John Glover on Smallville.

Smallville – Super Dog comes to town and brings a girl that can act – any girl. Things heat up when Clark and Lex get stuck at a spooky old hotel and are forced to spend the night. Lana and Chloe cavort with a lost monkey that promises to lead them to an Actor’s Studio workshop featuring John Glover.

Fear Factor – In the most exciting episode yet Joe Rogan has three words for you, America: Live Human Sacrifice!

Disclaimer: These are all lies that I made up.

By: Alyssa | Wednesday, February 02, 2005 at Wednesday, February 02, 2005 | |

Who picked this movie?
We’ve been Netflix members for like, maybe two years. It is such a great idea: you pay, they send you movies, you watch them, send them back – the cycle continues.

We fall down on the whole “watch” then “send back” part. Sometimes a movie sits unwatched for weeks. We’re just not in the mood for it at that time. But you don’t want to send it back, because you paid for it. Just watch it. But you don’t.

This problem is compounded by the fact that we have a giant queue of movies – well over a hundred. The list is totally long and random and eclectic. Right now we’ve got “Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle,” “Onibaba,” and “The Barefoot Contessa.”

At one point late last year I got a pirate movie that I’d put on the list the previous summer, when I thought pirates were cool. Okay – pirates are always cool, but the pirate movie came like a year late because of the giant queue of doom. We also don’t necessarily know who put what in the queue – and sometimes a real stinker comes in and no one will claim it. This is not a perfect system.

Case in point – the mystery of the untitled Korean thriller-movie-thing. We watched a really terrible Korean movie a few months ago.

About 20 minutes in, we realized this movie had a lot of problems.

Deeps: You picked a terrible movie.
Me: I didn’t pick this – you like foreign movies.
Deeps: Yes, but I pick good ones.
Me: I don’t always pick bad movies.
Deeps: Really?
Me: Sometimes they’re good.
Deeps: I didn’t pick this movie. (grabbing movies sleeve) Look, it says that it is a horror movie. This is totally your pick.
Me: No way. I would not have picked this movie.
Deeps: Think about it for a minute – which of us is more likely to pick a moody, gory thriller from Korea?
Me: Uhm…
Deeps: Who was just talking about how the Koreans have outpaced the Italians in being the goriest of all horror film makers?
Me: Uhm?
Deeps: With slicing and dicing and making squishy eyeballs seem like something you’d see on Saturday morning television?
Me: ALRIGHT. ALRIGHT. I DID IT. I picked it! This is my MO. I love a trashy Asian horror film. Sue me.
Deeps: See (satisfied). You totally picked it.
Me: (huffy) I hate it when you’re right.

By: Alyssa | at Wednesday, February 02, 2005 | |

Body Politic
So I was home today because....I was, rhymes with click.

DON’T. I know. Jeez – do I know.

Anyway, the point of this entry is that sometimes your body will betray you. As I learned today by watching Maury Povich. Apparently, this woman was on because she had “wild” and “crazy” hair. Her hair looked a lot like a cross between Cybill Shepherd’s jet lag hair and Yahoo Serious circa his Young Einstein years.

This “hair” damage, according to the woman, came about through a bad perm several years ago (when she was nine). She looked to me to be about mid twenties. The hair was blonde (suspiciously blonde, with no roots) and frizzy and like in a big, bad fro. Apparently she’s had this hair problem very for a very long time and she’s really suffering for it. SUFFERING.

Now, look – I know I’m watching the freaking Maury Povich Show, but I cannot suspend my disbelief. I know an ungodly amount about hair. Let’s just say I’ve made a few bad hair decisions myself: the Aquanet/krimping debacle of 1987, the Sun In incident in 1988, the great cutting off of 1999. And who can forget the magenta dyeing episode of 1993?

The average human grows about six inches of hair his/her head each year. I don’t know how a bad perm could, therefore, last like 15 or more years (she mentioned have 2 babies – and she was sporting a shiner).

In 15 years you’d have a lot of new hair that hadn’t been damaged by the perm. And if chemicals from the bad perm (when you were nine) penetrated your skull, I think you’d have more problems than frizzy blond fro.

Perms grow out – that’s why you had to go back to get new ones. Did we learn nothing from the 80s?

I didn’t see how things turned out. I had to take a nap. I know, I am disappointed too – and Google didn’t offer me any real help.

The real question is now about the hair, but is: is this the best daytime television can offer us? I’d much rather watch reruns of Manimal.

By: Alyssa | Tuesday, February 01, 2005 at Tuesday, February 01, 2005 | |

Up with February
January, you were cold and I was sick a lot. I was tired of snow. Did I mention I had to wear two pairs of pants every day? I’m just not that in to you. I’m really pinning a lot of high hopes on February.

February has a lot going for it: Black History month, Ground Hog’s Day, Valentine’s Day (even though I ignore the “holiday”), President’s Day, and a bunch of other lesser known holidays including (my favorite) Public Sleeping Day.

So here’s to you, February. Do not let me down.

READING:
In honor of Black History month I’m re-reading W.E.B. DuBois’ fantastic book, “The Souls of Black Folk.” You should be able to find it anywhere – including the complete text online.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 01, 2005 | |

What to watch
Me: What are you watching?
Deeps: 24
Me: Why?
Deeps: Well, I’m interested in seeing what happens to the brown kid. There are not a lot of brown people on TV. Usually they don’t make it.
Me: Like on the OC?
Deeps: Yeah, that kid didn’t even get a real name.
Me: His name was DJ.
Deeps: D-J is just initials. He didn’t get a last name either.
I wrack my brain – he is right.
Me: So what’s this kid doing?
Deeps: He might be a terrorist or something. He’s killed a teenage girl and now he’s moved up to killing swarthy guys.
Me: How is the rest of the show?
Deeps: Not really good.

We watch quietly for like 10 minutes. I start getting frustrated.

Me: Don’t they know to check for moles? There's a mole every freaking year. They have the worst security ever.
Deeps: It’s really bad.
Me: I feel like I’m watching a bad play.
Deeps: Yeah, it’s bad.
Me: Exposition anvils keep falling from the sky. Everything feels very forced.
Deeps: Well yeah. But it isn’t that guy’s fault – he just reads the lines he gets.
Me: (mimicking actors on TV) “Where am I going? I’m going to get fabulous conditioners for my shiny black hair!”
Deeps (mimicking): "Never touch the hair."

I stand and stretch – about to leave the room.

Deeps: Where are you going?
Me: I can’t watch this show – now think about who is saying this – because it is too stupid.
Deeps paused a moment and looked thoughtful.
Deeps: Yep – it is pretty craptastic.

By: Alyssa | at Tuesday, February 01, 2005 | |