Cleolinda everywhere

So I'm done with my exam. I don't know about the second and third essays, but I do think the first essay, the big compulsory question, is a thing of minor beauty ("Pierre seems to offer no moral instruction, unless it's 'Hey kids, don't marry your sister'").

As for the 15-page essay, I said to hell with it and took an incomplete (a common and casual occurrence in my department; I've had professors say, "I want this to be really good, so if you need extra time, just take the incomplete") rather than go to the exam wrung out over trying to finish it. On one hand, I do not have the pleasure of being done with the stupid thing (which I actually think is going to turn out pretty well). On the other, it felt really, really good to have it put off until January and not have a nervous breakdown right before the exam, so I'm going to have to believe I made the right call on this one.

And then I got home and we had another corporate Christmas basket. And this one was a good one: Godiva cocoa! Ghirardelli chocolates! Tiramisu biscotti! Smoked... salmon? Okay, that's a little Which One of These Things Is Not Like the Other, but we'll manage. Oooo, and more Danish butter cookies. And cheese straws! Cinnamon-roasted cashews! Dried apricots! And some kind of English tea that has bergamot but is apparently not allowed to use the words "Earl" or "Grey"! Sister Girl ran off with the cheese spread and the water crackers, which is fine with me because it means I'm more likely to get the chocolates.

(Speaking of cheese, I just got a spam email with the subject heading Careless cheddar. What, guilty cheese has got no rhythm?)

Also, I think I have finished my Christmas shopping. Well, I do have to buy something for the Dirty Santa game (and I know exactly what to get, but cannot mention it here if I want to maintain the element of surprise). And maybe another something for my mother. And I have a deep foreboding that I have forgotten someone or something. But we've got nearly two weeks until Christmas, so I'm sure I have time to make up for anything I've forgotten. (Cue ominous music.)

(I had a weird dream the other night that I came into the den and my father--who I haven't seen in eight years, and has never stepped foot in the house where I live now--had found the Sofia Coppola Marie Antoinette, the one with the trailer I just linked to the other day, on cable. Yes, even though it's not in theaters yet. We were all--"all"; I get the feeling there were other family members in there as well--like, "Holy shit, we'd better watch this then." And then the rest of the dream was a really weird version of the movie that... didn't really have much to do with the movie at all. I think Marie was eventually dragged off from an 18th-century spa to her doom. I just... I don't know what to make of these dreams sometimes, I'm telling you.)

Tonight (as in, Tuesday night): The original King Kong on Turner Classic Movies and the awful Jeff Bridges/Jessica Lange 1976 remake on AMC, both at 7 pm. I'm thinking it's TCM for the win, here.

From the lovely edda: "Would you mind throwing this: www.bestoftimeclocks.com into the mix? It's my former Intern Lady's new web business and I told her I'd try to give it a nudge out into the great wide 'net. If not, it's not the end of the world. It's basically a huge site for clocks, complete with chimes. *adjusts pimp-hat feather and jeweled cane*" Ooo, the sun clock.

The Mission: Impossible 3 trailer. Wait, Philip Seymour Hoffman is in this? Wow, not caring has totally interfered with my knowledge of this movie.

"I'm still lesbing with Angelina Jolie and you can't stop me!"

Depeche Mode win headlining slot at Coachella fest. Mmm, Depeche Mode.

Man Apologizes After Fake Wikipedia Post . "A man who posted false information on an online encyclopedia linking a prominent journalist to the Kennedy assassinations says he was playing a trick on a co-worker. Brian Chase, 38, ended up resigning from his job and apologizing to John Seigenthaler Sr., the former publisher of the Tennessean newspaper and founding editorial director of USA Today. 'I knew from the news that Mr. Seigenthaler was looking for who did it, and I did it, so I needed to let him know in particular that it wasn't anyone out to get him, that it was done as a joke that went horribly, horribly wrong,' Chase was quoted as saying in Sunday editions of The Tennessean. Chase said he didn't know the free Internet encyclopedia called Wikipedia was used as a serious reference tool."

For theatre_angel: Oh, Paris Hilton. Please. :-)

"Hi, I'm Paris Hilton. I first became famous for being rich, and then used my wealth to become more famous, which in turn... well, it didn't really make me richer, because my perfume sucks, my single tanked, and I spend most of what I earn on nose candy and tiny dog sweaters. As for my acting career, I am best known for 1) amateur porn and 2) a reality series in which my best friend and I desperately compete to see who can out-stupid and out-asshole the other. Not for money or anything--just to see if we can. I don't wear underwear, and I let the paparazzi know it when at all possible. [Editor's note: MY EYES!] I am selfishly hoarding massive amounts of fame that could be given to vastly more deserving people, such as that American Idol contestant who got booted in the first thirty seconds for being 1) tone deaf and 2) mildly retarded. No, the other one. No, the other one."


For robyn_ma: Cheese sculpted in the shape of Paris Hilton. :)

Only Paris Hilton would be so megalomaniacal as to order a cheese statue of herself. Even Michael Jackson stopped at giant metallic alloys. And what poor cheese would have to suffer such an indignity? Would we make one cheese bear the burden? Could you ask such a sacrifice of the noble cheddar? Would you so offend the delicate sensibilities of the sensitive Brie? Or would this atrocity be shared among many? And if you sculpted Paris Hilton piecemeal out of many cheeses, what raunchy Cheese of Disease would you possibly choose for her... You know what? Don't answer that. I don't even want to know. Jesus, people, what did cheese ever do to you? Cheese just wants to love you.


For luna_k: Give me a rant on the most overrated (in your opinion) Academy Awards nominee. Can be an actor, director, or movie.

"Hi, I'm Clint Eastwood. I make Very Serious American Movies About Very Serious American Things, including but not limited to murder, death, wrongful death, homicide, and old guys in space. Who probably die. And while that's great and all, this year I was nominated not just for Best Director for Million Dollar Baby, but also for Best Actor, knocking out either Liam Neeson or Paul Giamatti. (Look, you can't blame me for both of 'em. Cheadle's gotta take some responsibility here--hey! What do you mean, "He actually does more than squint gruffly"?) But you should vote for me because--hey, I've been squinting gruffly for something like two hundred years now, and I'm not gonna stop until I get an acting award. And while we're at it, I should clearly win Best Director (again), because I managed to pull a Best Actor performance from myself."


For peloquyn: Please rant for me about "netspeak."

[Adapted from something I said on the matter way back on... OMG, January 23rd of last year. That's three days away from being rilly, rilly freaky.]

Okay, look. I don't know why this is so hard for people to understand, so I'm going to speak slowly and make handpuppet motions in the hope that you will get it this time. On the internet, people cannot see you. Even if you post a picture, no one can prove that's actually you and really, I don't give a shit what you look like anyway. So, in lieu of a visual, your words stand in for your face. In a text-based medium, you are what you write. Typing like the syphilitic spawn of ee cummings and a crack monkey (omG im not a monk3y u r a stoop1d hw0re lOL!!!111!) is the visual equivalent of showing up for your school picture in red leather chaps, a dirty bikini, and a dozen infected piercings. So basically, like Xtina. You don't want that, do you?


For the_wanlorn: May I request a rant on... Computer speakers. Specifically, the cloth-covered ones (as opposed to the hard ones with little holes poked in the... hard stuff).

I dunno, man. I usually wear headphones, so I don't really know anyway. Well, I do have the hard hole-poky speakers now, on a bar mounted on my new flat screen (*cuddles*). My old speakers were cloth-covered, and... actually, they were punk-ass little bitches. By the end, they were shorting out all the time, and they took up too much space, and they were falling over and off the desk all the time, and--you know, you're totally right. DEATH TO CLOTH-COVERED SPEAKERS! FUCK Y'ALL AND THE CORDS YOU'RE ATTACHED TO! TO HELL WITH YOUR CLOTH AND THE STARVING INDONESIAN CHILDREN WHO WOVE IT! BITCHES. *spits*