That's for you Mike Pope - BIMONTHLY! Every two months. Go crazy people.
Anyway, I usually bring a book, an MP3 player, a magazine and some kind of doodling thing. My hair lady and I get along just fine, but I'm there for a long time (over 2 hours!) and frankly, I don't think she's obligated to talk to me the whole time.
I read for a while, then we chat, then I read some more. Tonight we talked about feeling old.
Hair Lady: I don't really do sports. Me: Yeah, I don't ski or anything like that. HL: What if I broke my hand? I'd be out of luck. Me: You're starting to sound like a fogey now. HL: I really am.
Moments later she flipped huge hunks of my hair in such a way that I was compelled - by law - to make a Flock of Seagulls joke.
HL: Oh yeah! That was bad. Me: Yeah, nothing like weird black hair with platinum tips. HL: What year was that? Me: I'd say early 80s - like 82 maybe. HL: That's why I don't really remember it. I was born in 83. Me: No. HL: Yeah. Me: Wow, I thought we were closer in age. HL: When were you born? Me: 74. HL: Wow. Me: Yep.
We were silently contemplating the years between us. Nearly a decade.
HL: 74 isn't bad. Could be 24. Me: You are very comforting. HL: So you weren't kidding about going blonde at 40. Me: Well, no. I think about these things now. HL: It's still a long way away. Me: For you maybe.
Frankly, this fact has been previously established – you don’t have to read a lot of blog entries here to figure that out.
I’ve been dodging the Girl Scouts. They’re everywhere: the office, the T station, my front porch.
When I hear them wailing at the train station – I kind of clench and I wonder why they won’t leave me alone.
Stop oppressing me with your delicious thin mints! I cannot have those in my house.
I’ve been faking phone calls when they hit me up. That seems to be working. I’ve suggested that I just give them money and they don’t give me cookies. Technically, I guess the Girl Scouts are shaking me down that way – but I’m cool with it.
Maybe if their troop leader is cool with it, we can work something out. I wonder if those little girls have been watching The Sopranos on A&E.
It's two-fer Sunday at the Big Red Podcast studios. Erin, Salena, Derek and I talk about the last week of February Sweeps. Not everyone made it, we mourn their losses (to varying degrees) and marvel at the ridiculousness of sweeps stunts.
Meredith is blue? Shouldn't she be grey?
Sylar has murder in his heart, in possibly the most gleefully cheesy line delivery ever.
Nobody asked me which three questions I wanted ask - I'm looking at you LOST producers.
Plus we say good-bye to our friends down in Orange County.
And we offer up our best Oscar predictions while busting out bad Boston accents for the DePAHted.
This week I invited Erin and Salena to join me and Derek to discuss neo-noir in Southern California on a little show we like to call Veronica Mars. We cover theories about who killed the dean, fathers and daughters, femme fatales, and share our best reasons for watching the show.
We talk extensively about the mysteries from seasons 1, 2 and 3 - be warned!
This week is school vacation week in Massachusetts. We didn’t have this kind of February break when I was in school in Indiana. We just had regular ol’ Spring Break.
Watching all of these families tromp around the city makes me think about vacations. Lots and lots of vacations.
See – I have this idea that we should take as many vacations as we can this year, just because.
Then I dig around the internets for excellent travel deals or inspiration for travel. And then I remember who I married. I don’t want to call him the Vacation Nazi, but he’s the man who switches from laid-back type B to hard-core Type A shortly after he boards the plane.
He wants a plan, every day, he wants to get up early and start attacking the city like invading Visigoths.
When we were in London, we walked miles and miles and miles every day – in the rain (the rains where most of the UK was flooded in 2000) and mud. We saw every possible museum, gallery and exhibit. I never got to go to a night club or anything because Deeps is a morning person. Not that I could really do anything at a night club because my feet stopped working sometime around 6 PM.
Paris was the same way, although I thought I could thwart Deeps by refusing to assist in translation from French. But even then he overcame his French-deficit by digging in and teaching himself enough French to read the newspaper and find stuff for us to do.
I begged to have a day to sleep in.
I was unconscious by 10 PM every night, my feet throbbing until we were roused early in the morning to take advantage of the hotel’s free breakfast.
I was thinking yesterday that maybe we should go to Italy on vacation. But after reading over this post, I’m starting to think that I might want to just take separate vacations.
Needing a vacation from your vacation isn’t really relaxing.
Yesterday I was so overwhelmed with multiple earworm attacks I could barely stay awake during LOST.
Earlier in the day I was chatting with some friends when one woman mentioned that she was overcoming a debilitating earworm attack. Legs by ZZ Top had been stuck in her head for days, she confessed.
As soon as she said it, she infected me. Someone started humming the song and the highly contagious ear worm had another victim.
Another woman suggested that she had the theme song from the kid’s show Bananas in Pajamas stuck in her head. I slammed my hand on the table.
“What is wrong with you people?” I said, holding my head and trying to figure out how to resolve the dueling ear worms: men with long beards and weird, yellow beings in pjs. “Now you’ve killed us all!”
I’ll let you guess what my dreams were about last night. They were not pleasant.
My beloved, sporter of a bloody nose and conquerer of ice, agreed to pitch in on Sunday to co-host the Big Red Podcast with me. He's so good, he made two pages of notes - so we covered a lot of topics and tried to sound very smart about television.
But despite his good works, I made a tiny little mistake in the podcast feed and iTunes didn't load my podcast until today. Whoops! One must really mind one's Ps and Qs (or in this case Hs).
Luckily, I've fixed the problem and if you're an iTunes subscriber you'll find it now. And if you're not subscribed, why not sign up? We record every week!
Deeps and I spent some quality breaking ice when the temperature climbed above freezing on Saturday.
I’ve never been on a chain gang, breaking rocks – but I’d imagine that breaking ice is probably a little bit like it. Your arms are like jelly after a few minutes.
We couldn’t find any more ice breaking tools, so I figured my semi-hoe thingey would work. It has a fork on one side and a flat hoe on the other.
I’m enjoying using the word hoe.
Anyway, Deeps was using our snow shovel which wasn’t doing the trick. The hoe and I went to town, ice chips were flying and I was making enough noise to alarm an elderly woman down the street. I think she thought I was cursing.
But the ice was thick, maybe five or six inches near the front steps, and my hoe was not quite strong enough. I gave up after about 15 minutes of fruitless efforts – the fork prongs were bent.
I paused for a few moments and spread salt. But not just any salt – table salt because everywhere in town is sold out of sidewalk salt. I figured salt was salt. It isn’t cost effective by the pound, but I spent four bucks and got enough to at least make my steps less deadly.
Deeps took the hoe to the sidewalk while I shoveled up giant pieces of ice. A few minutes later he called to me, looking rather contrite.
“I think the hoe is dead,” he said. And he was right – we’d knocked it off the handle.
“It was a good hoe and it died a noble death,” I said. I hung my head in silence.
“We have some ice left,” Deeps said.
“I’ll be in the house, I’m mourning the loss of my favorite garden tool,” I replied.
Deeps sighed, “I guess I’m going to break up the rest of the ice.”
Deeps stepped up this morning when we learned that Derek's car was frozen in some kind of tundra in Cambridge. Not to worry - he's fine. On to the podcast!
This week we covered a lot of hot television including: The Dresden Files, Heroes, How I Met Your Mother, Heroes, Veronica Mars, Medium, LOST, Grey's Anatomy, The OC, and The Office. Plus we wrangle with a little word, podcasting with your spouse and I apologize to Jacki for going over 30 minutes.
Plus - there is still time to send in your thoughts about Veronica Mars for inclusion in our special round-table discussion next week.
Just send us your feedback: podcast(at)thebigredblog.com.
I heard a terrible banging at the back door about an hour ago.
Deeps had gone out to break up some of the ice that has formed on the steps. It's several inches thick.
I figured he was locked out.
Instead he was hunched over and bleeding.
He fell on the ice and somehow smacked himself in the nose causing a massive nose bleed. He's okay now, but there's blood all over the driveway and the steps and the back of the house. It looks a little bit like a horror movie.
I pulled him out of his bloody, winter clothes and parked him on a chair while handing wet paper towels. We patched him up in a few minutes, and then I convinced him to throw a little ice pack on his face.
I handed him a package of peas.
Deeps: Peas? Me: Yeah, they're easy to move around so you can form it to your face. Deeps: Fine. Me: Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Deeps: No, I just fell on my side. Me: Why were on you the driveway? I told you it was deadly! Deeps: I was trying to get to the ice in front and didn't want to track snow through the house. Me: So you're tracking blood through instead. Deeps: I didn't say it was a perfect plan.
And that is why my husband has had peas pressed against his face for the past twenty minutes. We have a real ice pack, but I find the peas to be more comedic.
Maybe you're waiting for the ice to thaw on your windshield. Or maybe you're waiting for a guy with a blowtorch to melt the ice around your tires. Regardless, you've got some time to kill, right?
Why not listen to my podcast? You like pop culture, right?
So we got a little snow, but we've gotten lots and lots of sleet and freezing rain.
Earlier today it sounded a lot like a giant was hurdling a million little pebbles at the house. Upstairs, the roof sounds like it might be made of tin, the noise is so loud.
Meanwhile, we've shoveled. And by we, I mean Deeps. I've been working.
And I made lunch.
And breakfast.
Things are icing up. We watched our neighbor struggle for a while trying to get his car into a relatively flat driveway. He couldn't get enough traction to get up over the curb.
People are sliding around but we're warm and safe inside. And if I'm not mistake I hear the familiar pinging of my husband stirring hot chocolate on the stove.
People are scrambling: milk, bread, eggs - the usual.
I was chatting with a colleague yesterday when she confessed that she'd gotten rid of her old snow boots and hadn't replaced them this year. Whoops. I'm hooking her up.
I don't think my office will close, but I have the option to work at home. Deeps can't work at home but I strongly suggested (demanded, threatened, yelled) that he stay home tomorrow especially if ice is in play. He can snuggle up with a book, I'll snuggle up with the laptop and we're good to go.
Except for one thing.
Me: Uh oh, I'm going to have to run to the grocery store. Deeps: We just went on Sunday. Me: Yeah, but I'm almost out of Splenda. Deeps: So? Me: Look, I need my coffee in the morning and I need Splenda for it. That's just how I roll. Deeps: Sounds like you could have a problem. Me: Oh, it won't be just my problem. Deeps: Ah, man.
The idea of being snowed in without coffee is more than I can bear.
Hey, snow isn't just for Oswego, New York anymore!
We're supposed to get something on Valentine's Day. Yesterday they said "blizzard" and today they're saying "plowable snow event." I have no idea what that means.
I assume that is somewhere between 1 and 100 inches of snow.
Sounds like we might get a lot of ice around here, so I've confirmed we have water and batteries and food. The big blanket is ready, I'm planning to work from home if the weather is bad and our Valentine plans are unchanged: eat soup and watch LOST.
Derek and I chat about the wonderful world of television sweeps. February is here and before we get socked in with a big snow storm (allegedly) we break down the latest episodes of Heroes, Veronica Mars, the triumphant return of LOST (yaay!), The OC, Grey's Anatomy and the Thursday night comedies.
We've seen a couple of disasters, some deaths, babies, babies in danger, and of course mysterious mysteries. Sweeps is on!
Send us your feedback: podcast(at)thebigredblog.com - we're looking for contributions for our special Veronica Mars roundtable discussion at the end of the month.
I was reading Slate's Explainer column about the Aqua Teen bomb scare - as it is being called. I've also heard it referred to as the "the events of 1/31," which is sad and weird.
That said, the big $2 million settlement is interesting to me because the state's towns and cities are starved for funding and this is clearly a windfall. Still, there is a whiff of something unseemly about the whole affair.
Regardless, I remember when I was a kid being fascinated by the idea that something is "priceless" - how could that be? I think the column touches on the challenges of putting a cost to things, events, and efforts.
But just so you know how sick I've been: I didn't watch LOST last night. I've been waiting and hoping and waiting for 33 years and on the night it debuts, I'm too sick to watch. I sacked out around 9:30 and slept like the dead.
On the bright side, I can breathe out of at least one nostril. Big progress if you ask me.
I can't believe I slept through LOST. It was probably the episode when they answer ALL of my questions: what's with Dharma? Why Claire's baby? What's with Desmond? Where is the magic turtle?
I was in Florida during the worst of Deeps' cold. Of course, it lingered. And I could have, maybe, quarantined myself.
Now I have the dreaded mysterious cold which has been dubbed the Asian Cat Flu*. Posting may be a little light for the next few days as I slog through the massive amount of gunk in my head.
I am disgusting.
Drink your fluids, sleep, and be sure to find some ninja movies. That's the best cure I can offer.
Also, blogging about your colds gives you interesting data points. Like apparently we get this in early February. Weird!
*Asian Cat Flu is neither the flu nor cat-related. It is, however, gross and makes you sound like a very old, possibly dead, man.
This week Derek and I talk a bit about Mooninites. We get excited for February Sweeps and break down Extras, Heroes, Veronica Mars, Grey's Anatomy, and I get very excited about the return of LOST. Plus we discuss how to fix The Dresden Files on Sci-Fi.
I review a book by Christopher Moore called Lamb and we talk a little about the Super Bowl.
Send us your feedback: podcast(at)thebigredblog.com - we're looking for contributions for our special Veronica Mars roundtable discussion at the end of the month.
I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm not above it.
I have a podcast. Every week my friend Derek joins me and Deeps for brunch and then we record a podcast (Deeps is our producer). Usually we talk about television, books, movies and games.
Sure, we were a little long-winded in the beginning, but we've gotten better. All the pop-culture commentary you need in 30 minutes(ish).
And this week you get the extra bonus of me, mumbling, due to a trip to the dentist.
It is Friday, maybe you're looking to kill a little time while working on your TPS report.
And traffic wasn't that bad going home. So, there's that.
My sister texted me. Me: RUN BOSTON? Deeps: Huh? Me: Why would Peepers text me RUN BOSTON? Deeps: I think that's R U N - Are you in? Me: Oh. Deeps: So you're not too old to know what a Mooninite is, but too old to understand texting shorthand. Me: I am so ashamed.
A couple of people have been arrested. But the most fascinating thing is the turmoil in newsrooms around the country: do we or do we not blur out the little hand of the guy flipping the bird? The Boston Globe (online) isn't blurring, but some local TV stations are. And sometimes they blur and don't blur in the same segment on the same newscast!
