+ We were given killer tickets to the Flyers game tonight. They're like, $90 a seat and apparently the Broad Street Bullies are doing really well. We're planning on leaving the game early so we can head home and watch the show on DVR.
+ Dan's had a countdown going since the season 3 finale last May. He actually woke up yesterday morning and the first words he said? "Thirty-seven hours...." I know. I know. I live in a state of constant swooning.
+ Sparky, Dan and I got Paps season 3 for his birthday. He finished the entire season and the extras in a week. I talked to him yesterday and one highlight of our conversation was when he seethed, "Why doesn't Mikhail die?! He took a harpoon to the chest, Jemmy! A harpoon!"
+ In addition to chomping at the bit in regards to the show's premiere, I'm also really excited for Friday morning so I can read the Lost discussion posts on Whitney Matheson's Pop Candy blog.
Word of warning -- don't bother calling me after six tonight. You won't get a response.
- Not being able to find employment. I'm an award-winning, published writer with excellent people skills. My resume may be meager, but what I lack in experience, I more than make up for in drive. I really need a job and I'm willing to do almost anything. Dear God, let someone hire me.
- Not being able to find an affordable apartment. I'd really like to live in a place that doesn't feature an orchestra of sirens and gunshots every night. I'd really like a bedroom that didn't also triple as my kitchen and living room. I'd really like a place Dan and I could call our own.
- Not being able to pay for a wedding. The Hard Rock's cheapest meal option is $100 a plate and they don't allow outside catering. $100 x approximately 100 guests = $10,000. Add to that alcohol, the location, flowers, a dress, a suit, invitations and a litany of other things I can't even begin to imagine right now. My wedding will cost more than my entire life up until this point.
Lord, beer me strength. Preferably PBR or Natty 'cause right now, that's all I can afford.
This was originally posted by Jenni, but I liked the idea so much, I decided to create one of my own.
You should do one too!
The perfect outfit: That's an easy one -- a frock (like this one, perhaps), a pair of cute and comfy Dr. Scholl sandals (maybe like these) and your favorite piece of jewelry. Classic and cute. What more could you ask for?
The perfect meal: This one's a little tougher. Right now, my perfect meal would be huevos rancheros, a plate of chilled mangoes, peaches and raspberries and a tall sweet tea with lime.
The perfect hangover cure: Scrambled eggs, hash browns, onions, green peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms and cheese. Mix 'em all together in a bowl. Add liberal amounts of black pepper, ketchup and maple syrup (I know, but trust me on this one) and serve with a frosty Cherry Coke. It'll fix your hangover right up....or cause your gastrointestinal system to explode in a fury not seen since Pompeii.
The perfect road trip: The only road trip I've ever taken was when Dan and I drove up from Orlando to Philadelphia. A straight shot up I-95, it wasn't particularly scenic but we had a great time.
The perfect facial feature: An genuine smile.
The perfect drink: A decaf skinny vanilla latte (no ice), Cherry Coke Zero or peach mango iced tea.
The perfect song: Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones.
The perfect sign of affection: The hand-squeeze followed up with a smile.
The perfect afternoon: Barbecuing with friends on a sunny afternoon. Good music, margaritas, veggie burgers and lots of laughter. You really can't go wrong.
The perfect vacation: Any city in Europe in the summertime.
The perfect invention: The digital camera.
The perfect type of wedding: Hopefully, the one I'm planning. Me, Dan, family and friends, lots of good food and booze, great music and everyone having a wonderful time at the Hard Rock Hotel in Orlando, FL.
The perfect album: Perfect for what occasion? I mean, Madonna's Immaculate Collection is pretty perfect, but not really when you're bummed. And Appetite For Destruction by Guns 'N Roses? Arguably one of the best albums ever created...but it's not really dance music, now is it? The perfect album of my adolescence was Everclear's Sparkle and Fade and So Much For The Afterglow as well as New Found Glory's self-titled album, but these don't highlight everyone's teenage years. The best albums are the ones you painstakingly craft yourself.
The perfect accent: Australian, although I have a soft spot for English accents.
The perfect date: I'm a sucker for a theme park.
The perfect weather: 78 degrees and not a cloud in the sky.
The perfect party: Good people, good food, good drinks and good music. The rest will all fall into place.
The perfect sport: Miami Dolphins football!
The perfect thing to say: "Do you want pizza? I'm buying...."
The perfect day of the week: Saturday. You get the whole day and night to yourself. It's a beautiful thing.
In the words of Jeff Albertson (aka Comic Book Guy) --"Worst. Episode. Ever."
This episode was nothing more than a pastiche of random 90's references -- Marge and Homer move into Springfield Place (a take on Melrose Place), Marge sports 'The Rachel', Homer invents grunge after a brief stint in a Color Me Badd-esque R&B lite group and I fight back the urge to drive golf tees into my eyeballs.
It seems that all the writers did for this episode was watch a marathon of VH1's I Love The 90's and pick out their favorite parts:
Writer #1: Dude! Remember that Closing Time song?! Dude! I love that song! We should put that in the episode. Writer #2: Bro, you know who rocked in the 90s? Bush. Heh-heh...I said Bush. We should put that in too! [The writers high-five and across the country, a girl wails in agony because she realizes that not only do these no-talent numbnuts have the life she wants, but they're getting paid for screwing up an iconic television show]
Why don't the new episodes have the wit and the heart of the movie? Or better yet, why couldn't The Simpsons just retire with dignity like Seinfeld did?
He's an ordained Southern Baptist minister, a former Arkansas governor, a bassist in the rock band Capitol Offense ("Capitol" -- get it. Oh, what witty wordplay) and now, he's a Republican candidate for the 2008 presidential election.
4. Mike Huckabee aggressively pushed for the release convicted rapist Wayne DuMond. A mere year after DuMond's released, he raped and murdered two different women -- Carol Sue Shields and Sara Andresek. At the time of her death, Andresek was pregnant with her first child.
3. Mike Huckabee equates homosexuality with bestiality. This statement is so stupid that I can't wrap my mind around it.
2. Mike Huckabee doesn't believe in evolution. Bill Maher makes a great point here -- "If someone believes the earth is 6000 years old when every scientist in the world tells us it's billions of years old, why shouldn't I take that into account when I'm assessing the rationality of someone I'm going to put in the highest office in the land."
Huck's response? "We really don't know."
Well, Huckster? There's more proof and a much more reasonable argument for evolution than there is for creationism. Just sayin', guy.
1. Mike Huckabee thinks contraception is akin to abortion. Let me make that crystal clear for you -- Mike Huckabee thinks birth control pills, the patch, the nuva ring and the IUD are all forms of abortion.
Wait a second. WHAT?! In what universe does that even begin to make sense?
Now, let's say you've got the IQ of a head of lettuce and actually buy into this idiocy, you've got to be fair, right?
If contraceptives are akin to abortions, so is male masturbation. The sin of onanism, folks. If you're jerkin' your gherkin, you're spilling your seed and destroying thousands-upon-thousands of would-be babies.
Think about that for a second before you get all gung-ho with the contraceptives-as-abortions movement.
In short, Mike Huckabee is a lunatic, a theocrat (truly dangerous in a free society) and should be kept as far away from the American political system as humanly possible.
I've become addicted to Flickr Favorites again. I just go to Flickr, type in any random word, sort by 'most interesting' and find a plethora of gorgeous and inspiring imagery. It's also fun to type in really abstract concepts and see what pops up. Example? I typed in the word 'divine' and got photographs of a cathedral, a sandwich, a hotel, a Blythe doll and a scrap of paper with an Arthur C. Clarke quote scribbled on it.
Anyway, while Flickring around, I discovered this image
and it got me thinking about the perfect mixtape.
Since I missed the mixtape revolution by a hair, I kick it new-school with mix CDs. I love them, constantly make them and am a firm believer that like love, a good mix CD can make a poet out of a mute man.
That being said, here is my perfect mixtape -- a compilation of songs I love fiercely. Songs that whisk me back to a specific time and place in the first three notes. I have all of these tracks on my hard drive, so if you take a fancy to any of them -- let me know and I'll hook you up.
The Perfect Mixtape
Local God by Everclear: Featured on the William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, this was my first introduction to what became my favorite band during my teenage years. It's noisy, raucous, rebellious and they use the F word. In short, a perfect teenage track.
Dressed To Kill by New Found Glory: Another track reminiscent of my adolescence. I remember unrequited serious "like" being a big theme of my teenage years and the lyrics really hit home for me -- "I can't stop pretending/That you're forever mine/And I can't dream anymore since you left/I miss you singing me to sleep." (Although, I should clarify that no-one ever sang me to sleep. None of the boys I liked in high school were ever that romantic)
My Hero by the Foo Fighters: It's like drummer Taylor Hawkins is riding a stampede of elephants through your central nervous system. And I love the lyric, "There goes my hero/He's ordinary." I really like that idea -- just a regular guy...who happens to be someone's hero.
Stars by Hum*: It starts off as quiet and pretty as a lullaby...and then, the stompbox kicks in and the bonecrushing guitars and drums take off. When I was learning to play guitar (a disaster that reminds me of a line from The Simpsons wherein one of the Flanders children asks their father if Reverend Lovejoy is "killing that guitar"), I actually learned to play the opening of this song. There's something pretty amazing about recreating notes that you love...even if they don't sound nearly as good on your crappy little Squire.
The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and The News: Impossible to hear this song without thinking about Marty McFly. Maybe it's not the hippest song on the list, but you can't deny that hearing it makes you smile. Just a little.
Pride and Joy by Stevie Ray Vaughan*: I first learned about Stevie Ray Vaughan freshman year of college. His music was recommended to me, I downloaded a bunch of it, I fell head-over-heels in love and then, I discovered that Vaughan had tragically died in a helicopter crash eleven years prior. My heart was broken. I know I'll always have the music, but the fact that Guitar Hurricane will never come to play in my town? It hurts.
Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin: The apex. The alpha and the omega, baby. Just like a snake charmer entrances cobras, this song hypnotizes the hips. Revving them up like a '67 Cherry Red Mustang. This isn't making love. This isn't even sex. It's the best, longest, dirtiest, most-eye-rolling, heavy-breathing, back-scratching, moaning-screaming-panting-Oh-God fuck you've ever had in your life. And the extended version is 23 minutes long (tell me that's not the best endorsement for a song you've ever heard).
Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd: You can take the girl out of the south...And besides, it's Freebird. Come on.
Hotel California by The Eagles: We had the Hotel California album on vinyl when I was a little kid and my dad used to play it all the time. I think it was the first record my sister and I ever listened to all the way through. I also remember having this moment of satori when I realized that Lyin' Eyes was a story within a song.
Cherish by Madonna: Old-school Madonna is one of the greater pleasures in my life. The Immaculate Collection is one of those great albums I can put on at any given time and feel completely sunny and cheery two tracks in.
Juicy by Notorious B.I.G.: I'm not a hip hop head by any stretch of the imagination, but I do love and respect the form. While I'm not so much a fan of the 'booty booty booty booties rockin' everywhere', the 'knob slobbin' and the 'chicken wangs and bottles of Dom,' I do appreciate the deft intelligence, searing wit and urban Algerian folklore that comes with really good hip hop. This track contains all those things and a sick sample of Mtume's Juicy Fruit.
Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones: The world's most perfect song. Honey-dipped guitar chords, Jagger's plaintive cry and incredibly beautiful visceral imagery.
* Can we take a second to talk about how car companies have been pimping out my favorite songs to schill automobiles? I realize someone connected to the musicians sold you the rights, but when I think of Pride and Joy or Stars, I don't want to think about a crappy Altima or Caddy.
I am shocked and saddened by this. Ledger was one of my favorite actors. I loved his smile and the easy way it seemed to light up his face. His performance as Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain was a tour de force and completely devastated me. And I've been excited about his portrayal as The Joker in The Dark Knight ever since I found out he was cast in the role.
My prayers go out to Ledger's family and friends. Especially his daughter, Matilda.
The Lovely Miss Jamie (no, I have not changed the spelling of my name and started referring to myself in the third person) tagged me, so here goes:
Here are the rules: Link to the person who tagged you. Post the rules on your blog. Share six (6) non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. Tag at least 3 people at the end of your post and link to their blogs. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
1. I am always jonesing for good chips and salsa. I'm not talking Tostitos (which taste like salty cardboard in comparison to real tortilla chips) and bottled salsa (an abomination to tastebuds everywhere. I mean, why do people eat this stuff?!). I'm talking freshly made chips and salsa with real tomatoes, onions. garlic, lime and cilantro. Is anyone else really hungry all of a sudden?
2. I have a crush on Chace Crawford. I have no idea how this happened. I don't watch Gossip Girl and I don't think I've seen one of Crawford's movies. Yet, he makes me blush. What can I tell you? I'm a sucker for that All-American type.
3. I have never seen Amelie despite having at least ten people tell me I need to do so because, "you would really enjoy it." Emphasis on the you. Dan does own it, so maybe I can check it out later this week. Expect a post. Maybe.
4. After I saw Back To The Future for the first time, I was convinced that I was going to marry Michael J. Fox. Why? Because we were both short. This didn't pan out as well as I thought it would when I was five, but I am a lifelong Fox fan.
5. I've been onstage with Art Alexakis twice. He was my hero during my teenage years. I still think he's pretty great.
6. I am a sucker for a good mix CD. Three months before we met, Dan made me this amazing mix featuring Everclear and the Rolling Stones and Citizen Cope and the Twilight Singers and the Beatles and now, we're engaged. Coincidence? I don't think so.
This weekend consisted of movies, mediocre Mexican food and shopping for men's clothes.
Movies
We caught Cloverfield on Friday night.
Take it for what it is -- popcorn entertainment that combines the ethos of Godzilla with the camera work of The Blair Witch Project. The movie was surprisingly funny and even managed to have a fairly sweet and cleverly attached back story. Word of warning, though? If you suffer from any sort of motion sickness, be sure to pop a Dramamine before you go. I didn't and ended up having to excuse myself in the middle of the film so I could use the facilities, so to speak. It wasn't cute. Oh and to the catty high schoolers who came into the bathroom after me? A) I'm not a bulimic and B) bulimia isn't funny.
I also saw Transformers for the first time. Now, when it comes to kick-ass action sequences and blowing stuff up, Michael Bay knows his shit, but the forced emotional plot of this movie was just completely contrived and ridiculous. Bumblebee speaks through the car radio...to the poetry of The Cars? Come on! I love Drive as much as the next person, but this was just laughably awful. Loved Shia LeBeouf, though. His performance in this movie gives me hope for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (which totally sounds like a Zelda game, doesn't it?)
Mediocre Mexican Food
The Mexican Post in Wilmington, DE. My whole objective in going out to dinner is to eat food that I couldn't get at home. Bottled salsa and sub-par enchiladas that I could very easily improve on myself do not make a good meal. Why is it so hard to find good Mexican food?! I mean, I'm not looking for Mexican molecular gastronomy -- I just want fresh, good food and a fruity margarita to back it up. Regardless of where you are -- what's your favorite place for good Mexican food?
Shopping
Dan needed to update his wardrobe, so we spent some quality time for shopping for men's clothes. Men's departments, in case you were wondering, are remarkably dull places. The shoes aren't cute, all the clothes kind of look the same and on the off chance that you do find something pink, it ends up being the most garish thing in the universe. Seriously, if Dan wore this shirt -- I'd set him on fire just to get it off.
The system works! Yesterday, I got my interview appointment from the government!
For those not entangled in the fine workings of America's immigration system, this means that on February 28, Dan and I will be trooping down to Philly to meet with USCIS officials to prove that our relationship is on the up-and-up.
I'll be required to bring all sorts of paperwork as well as "proof" of our relationship such photographs, phone bills (to show just how much time we spent talking to one another while I lived in Orlando and he lived in PA), flight records and correspondence.
I'm both completely fine and incredibly nervous. Fine because Dan and I are obviously completely in love and committed to one another (you don't let your fiancee get away with calling you 'Pookie' in public unless you really, really love her) and nervous because I have no idea what to expect or how personal the questions will be.
If anyone has gone through the process or knows someone who has, PLEASE let me know. I'd appreciate any and all information.
Ladies and gentlemen, just when you thought American journalism couldn't get any lower, X17 reports this.
Word of warning, not only is it NSFL (not safe for life), but it's truly disgusting. Don't say I didn't warn you.
I realize that there is a world of difference between The Washington Post and what these parasitic prats do, but we now live in a world where celebrity meltdowns are headline news. Both entities are reporters. One of them just has more dignity than the other.
Stuff like this makes me wonder why I went to j-school in the first place....
$35 + a trip to the mall for their fantastic post-Christmas, mid-week sales results in:
A pair of fabulous earrings and a short-sleeved tee from Forever 21.
A pair of khakis and a pretty pink polo from Aeropostale.
And five pairs (yes, that's right -- five pairs) of super cute undies from Aerie.
Never pay retail, darling.
In other news:
+ Why is everyone all a'twitter about Starbucks' new Skinny line? I've been ordering my drinks like this for years. + I am in love with Landon Pigg's Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop (also known as, 'that song on the diamond commercials'). You can listen to it on his MySpace. Check it out, fall in love and spend the rest of the day smiling and humming the pretty melody. + Saturday night = date night and I'm looking for good Greek/Lebanese/Middle Eastern food in the Southeastern PA area/Wilmington, DE area. Anyone know a good place? Let me know if you do!
My mom's never been a big advocate of Western medicine and prefers to treat any sort of illness with natural cures. Me, on the other hand? I think along the same lines as Denis Leary:
So, I'm taking to Mom yesterday and she's telling me how to cure my irritatingly persistent cough.
Mom: Jemmy, do you want me to send you some ginger? Me: Ginger? What? No. What am I gonna do with a hunk of ginger? Can you even mail ginger? Mom: It'll help your cough and then, you can cook with whatever's left over. Me: Firstly, I never use ginger when I cook. Ever. And secondly, I could just take some cough medicine. Mom: Jemmy, those medicines aren't good for you. You should use natural cures. I was watching TV and this doctor was talking about how medicine actually makes you sick. Me: Mom, was this a real doctor or like, a doctor of poetry? 'Cause seriously, anyone can be a doctor. Mom: You couldn't. Me(pause): Thanks, Mom. Thanks.
Indian woman doesn't think her offspring would succeed in the field of medicine. That's gotta be a first.
For the past four days, I've been feeling like this guy:
OK, maybe not exactly like that, but you get the point.
I've been on the Lindsay Lohan health plan for the past week. No, not a continuous stream of vodka, cigarettes, semen and blow, but rather ejecting every bit of nutrition from my body with extreme force.
In four days, all I've eaten are six Ritz-Bits Peanut Butter Crackers, 3/4 of a bottle of Gatorade, five Triscuits and two glasses of ginger ale. I tried a slice of pizza last night, but no -- you had to rob me of my favorite food. For that, I will never forgive you, you utter bastard.
That being said, I'm evicting your ass immediately. Get out and take your virulence with you. Oh and tell your buddy, Mr. Head-Cold-From-Hell to GTFO too. Seriously -- I've had enough of being Little Miss Infirmary.
I am not a foodie by any stretch of the imagination. Being a vegetarian has a tendency to put the kibosh on chowing down on Kobe beef, roasted duck, lardo and ceviche. I'm not really a food snob, either. I'm perfectly content sipping on Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate instead of plunking down $4 for a Starbucks Hot Chocolate.
But -- I am passionate about what I eat. I fall in love with food in the same way most people fall in love with other people -- completely and rapturously. You can't stop talking about your beloved and want to be with them all the time.
I fell in love again recently. With Sandwich -- a food so glorious that it deserves to be considered as a proper noun. I've had one of these every day for the last three days and I plan on having one for dinner tonight.
Sandwich is simple, easy to make and weepingly delicious. Eating it for the first time caused me to have a bit of a metaphysical crisis -- "Why? Why did I even bother eating anything else? This is so good! So good!"
So, because I want you to be as gloriously happy as I am when eating Sandwich, here is the how-to:
+ One Amoroso Hoagie Roll (Yes, it must be an Amoroso roll because they are proof of divinity. Dan told me that bread tasted better in Philly because of the water. I didn't believe him and then, I moved here and completely changed my mind. Trust me on this one). + Extra Virgin Olive Oil (And for those of you thinking, "Oooh! EVOO!", let me paraphrase a little Anthony Bourdain for you -- "Rachael Ray does to food what Hitler did to Poland") + Red onion + Green pepper + Portobello mushrooms + Mozzarella cheese + Sundried tomatoes + Salt, black pepper and basil.
Drizzle the olive oil lightly on the bread. Lay down portobello mushroom slices. Lightly drizzle olive oil again. Layer alternating rings of pepper and onion. Sprinkle with salt, pepper and basil. Lay down sundried tomatoes. Add cheese. Add salt, pepper and basil again. Bake at 350°F for ten minutes or until melty and slightly blackened. Serve with sweet tea and experience gastronomic ecstasy/metaphysical crisis.
A conversation between Dan and I last night:
Jaime(with mouthful of Sandwich): I love you. Dan: I love you t...Wait. You're talking to the sandwich, aren't you? Jaime(muffled by Sandwich): Mmmhmph...yeah.
And if that doesn't convince you how amazing Sandwich is, here is a man who truly understands the importance of sandwiches -- Mr. Ross Geller:
MTV is running a Hills marathon today and since I miss blogging about teen-oriented television, here for your enjoyment is a quick wrap-up of episode six of My So-Called Life -- The Substitute.
In this episode, Dead Poets Society comes to Three Rivers in the form of Vic Racine (played by Roger Rees), a far-less fuzzy version of Robin Williams (both in demeanor and body-hair coverage). He causes a literary awakening at Liberty High and ends up influencing his students in some very real ways.
The opening scene is like Dangerous Minds in the 'burbs. Instead of bumpin' to NWA or Tupac, these guys are blasting old-school TLC. See, this is another reason I love 90s television. The soundtrack always kicks ass.
I recall some pretty interesting substitute teachers from high school. We had this monolithic Indian teacher who wore feathers, turquoise and leather, a big jolly Jewish guy who reminded me of Mel Brooks and actually made math understandable and this completely insane man who thought I was mocking him after I sneezed in class. He made me stand a lectern for fifteen minutes as part of my punishment. Ahhh, the joys of public school.
If a sub had told us to 'continue wasting our lives', we would have. Seriously. I remember a class in high school where we spent the entire period playing with an oversized beach ball.
News of the sub's subversive teaching tactics spreads and before you know it, students who aren't even in the class are showing up to see this guy teach. How is the school allowing this?
Angela writes a piece called The Fable:
"Once upon a time there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy. She was always asleep. One morning she woke up, and the candy had mold on it. Her father blew her a kiss and the house fell down. She realized she was lost. She found herself walking down a crowded street, but the people were made of paper, like paper dolls. She blew everyone a kiss goodbye, and watched as they blew away."
When I was fifteen, I would have found this to be the most pithy thing anyone had ever written. At 24, I realize that lousy poetry is to teen angst as bad breath is to garlic.
One of the better submissions is a racy little piece called Haiku For Him:
"He peels off my clothes like a starving man Would peel an orange. His lips taste my juicy sweetness. My legs tangle with his; We become one being, A burning furnace In the cold dark basement of love."
Barring the basement of love (which sounds like a B-52's song), it's actually pretty good imagery and reminds me of one of my favorite Zeppelin songs -- Tangerine.
To no-one's surprise, Jordan Catalano is illiterate. Now, riddle me this, Batman -- how does one get past elementary school, middle school and half of high school without knowing how to read?
Never in my life have I ever seen high schoolers fired up about a literary magazine. The only way this ever would have happened at my high school is if the magazine contained a nude centerfold and was made from paper that could have been promptly rolled up and smoked once you were done reading.
The author of the racy haiku turns out to be Angela's prissy friend, Sharon Cherski. Lady in the street, freak in the bed. I'm just sayin', is all.
The lit mag ends up being confiscated by Principal Foster due to obscene content, Racine leaves and this gets the sophomores at Liberty High incensed.
One of the more shocking moments of the episode:
Brian: All that crap about honesty and truth. What a jerk. He didn't even teach. Jordan: He did teach! He was the best teacher I ever had!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Not only did Jordan Catalano emote passionately but the man actually makes a positive statement regarding his own education. Incredible. And speaking of incredible -- let's feast upon a little Leto, shall we?
That one's for you, D.
A-ha! Plot twist! The hapless viewer is lead to believe that Racine was sacked by the administration, but it comes to light that Racine left on his own accord after being subpoenaed regarding non-payment of child support.
Angela confronts Racine about abandoning his family. Racine tells 'Amanda' to drop out of the mind-control factory that is high school and to let the walls of her gingerbread house come crashing down. The only thing that comes crashing down, though is Angela's idealistic view of her firebrand substitute teacher.
The episode ends with Angela photocopying issues of the Liberty Lit and passing them out, an offense that could very well get her suspended. After a joint meeting with the Chases, Principal Foster decides against suspending Angela, but the little girl who spent all her time sleeping in gingerbread houses is now very much awake.
A pretty good episode but I think I'm biased because I've always been a fan of the inspiring English teacher. I had two teachers like this -- Justin Kay and Terence Oliga. Amazing, talented, witty and passionate men who I not only consider my mentors but the very reason I know how to put pen to paper.
In Other News:
- Congratulations to Barack Obama for taking the Iowa caucus! - I can't even begin to comment on this Britney situation because it's entirely too heartbreaking. I've never really been a fan of Ms. Spears, but do we really need round-the-clock coverage of her emotional breakdown? I hope she and her family get the help they so desperately need. - I redefined the word 'nerdy' this week when I discovered I had a crush on Orlando Bloom's character Legolas from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Why the crush? Because he looks like Link from The Legend of Zelda. Let the mockery commence.
Hi! It's nice to finally meet you! Sorry I was all doped up on Tylenol Cold when we were first introduced. Hopefully, you'll give me a second chance to make a first impression.
So, here you are -- all new and shiny and filled with limitless potential and promise.
I really want us to get along. 2007 was pretty good to me and I'd like to see you live up to the legacy of your predecessor.
That being said, let's talk employment. Hopefully, my work authorization card will be coming in the mail any day now and I'd really appreciate it if I could get a job. I'm not asking for my dream job or anything. I just want to work five days a week, hopefully utilize some of the skills I've learned in school, make a decent salary and if we could do margaritas with the co-workers every now and then, that would be awesome.
Secondly, you're a pretty important year when it comes to politics and I would absolutely hate to see you go down the path that your buddies 2000 and 2004 did. Man, what were they thinking? That being said, here's to hoping that you Barack the Vote in 2008. It's time for a change and I'm a firm believer that he's the man America needs.
Hmmmm, what else? Oh! Movies. You know, on the cinema front, 2008? You're looking pretty good already. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (which totally sounds like a Zelda title, thus making it even cooler), Harold and Kumar 2andThe Dark Knight (in IMAX, nonetheless!!)? You've barely begun and you've already outdone yourself! Looks like I'm going to be spending lots of time at the movies this year. Do they sell Coke Zero at the concession stand? I hope so.
Anyway, my other hopes for our relationship this year are pretty simple: I want this to be a great year for music. I want Dan and I to move into our own place. I want to find really amazing local tapas, Indian, Greek and Lebanese food. I want to make lots of indelible memories with Dan. I want to see my family and friends more. I want to write more, read more, work out more and become a better cook. I want a cuter wardrobe (more frocks and bright cheery colors) but more than anything else -- I want the people I love to be happy. I want them to be healthy and lucky. I want them to eat well and laugh often. I want them to know they are loved and accomplish everything they dream of doing. In short -- I want them to have a fabulous time with you.
That's about it. I'm really looking forward to getting to know you better. In the words of Jack Johnson, "I can tell that we are going to be friends."
