overeducated and underemployed

terrorists, take note

Jack Bauer is stoppable. In the rare times that Los Angeles gets rain, he is reduced to a cubey pixellated broken speeched mess. Even his gun, which usually requires no aim, gets all wobbly and multi-colored. In this state, Bauer's only weapon is fostering severe frustration in his opponents, who wish to view his exploits unhindered by satellite interference. And while this is a powerful challenge to overcome, it's nothing compared Jack at full no sleep for hours strength. So plot your nefarious schemes (bomb-planting, biological weapon-releasing, kim-deflowering) with almanac in hand...I suspect that even Chloe could not have freed Jack from his digital entrapment last night.

like sasha cohen, he always loses

Cheney makes a show of clamping his mouth shut as he begins one of his regular "quiet game" battles with the President.

say i'm the only bee in your bonnet

15 year old Megan is so totally psyched that she just heard They Might be Giants' "Birdhouse in Your Soul" on the radio. Has that song ever been on the radio before this moment? I say no.

In a totally related note, I've been tuning in to Indie 103 for extended periods of time this week, and I'm really liking it. Especially when Jonesy sings songs about bacon to the tune of "Pretty Vacant", or declares himself the fuhrer of the airwaves.

who's going home?

I'm guessing Bobby, Gedeon, Heather, and Kinnik. Sure there are other people more deserving of the elimination, but these four were the least memorable. Or in Bobby's case specifically, the least memorable in a good way. Though it did not earn a Simon analogy (Chippendale's?), it was indeed a performance so bizarre I thought I might have hallucinated it.

silver linings

I'm generally what you would call anti-spam, but I really enjoy advertisements that come from people with names like Thaddeus. It's just so much name for a person who (I assume) is huddled in their mom's basement, hair full of grease, surrounded by soda cans, concocting new and diabolical ways to send emails about software and sex tools.

Oh Thaddeus. You can do better.

watch your back, mike smith

There's a new ridiculous announcer in town, and his name is Dick Buttons. As an NBC Olympic skating announcer, Buttons is so full of inane remarks and overemotional diatribes, he's made even ice-dancing watchable. You see, he wants to see the relationship between the skaters. He wants them to ooze romance and latin flavor. If they can't be technically sound, he's happy with them being pleasing. Indeed, he finds a lot of things pleasing, some things exceedingly so. He likes old-fashioned split jumps, and finds them elegant. He dislikes new-fangled positions that earn points but are "ugly". He's tired of girls lifting their skate blades to their heads. I have a sneaking suspicion he wants to pat Kimmie Meissner on the head and take her out for ice cream, because she's got so much darned pluck.

Please, do yourselves a favor and watch the women's long program on Thursday. It'll be good for a few spills, and of course the crowning of a new gold medalist, but mostly, for the mindless ruminations of Dick Buttons.

sometimes there's nothing to say

Because a wonky-toothed British hairdresser in a cravat has said it all for you, with one simple look.

am i really this old?

A teenager actually asked me last night if I had ever heard of The Strokes.

[ed. note: apologies for the brevity. obvs, I'm a bit busy right now...regular posting to resume soon.]

cheney's got a gun

Run away, run away from the pain.

ladies and gentlemen, i am employed

After what feels like ages, I am going to have an actual job of my own. Better yet, it's one I am totally excited about.

I kind of feel like skipping...