shoebox_dw: (ratatouille remy herbs)
The Grand Day Out, But Not watch with Shoemom & -sisses continues: we've gone from a day of pampering beginning with a champagne breakfast and ending with a fancy dinner to...getting their hair done, followed by a semi-fancy dinner. In less than 48 hours. I'm looking forward to their showing up this aft with a bag of ketchup chips and a home pedicure kit.

Meanwhile. Having already spent a weekend wallowing recklessly in the baroque hedonism that is downtown Montreal - going to art museums and everything - I am strictly persona non grata today. Which is not a bad deal, as it means I now have a long, uninterrupted Saturday afternoon to Get Things Done. Such as:

--Finally knuckle under to mass media conformity, ie. sign up for Facebook. Yes, I discovered there's a Bob & Ray group. Shut up.

--Decide whether I also want to sign up for Twitter. It's kind of pointless really, since my evenings do not - shall we say - remotely resemble those spent in Casablanca circa 1942 ("8:42 pm: Cleaning up the cat's hairball." "8:43: Oh shoot, the cat wasn't finished.")  But it might be fun to live vicariously through the really exciting people. Still pondering.

--Organise my new bedroom. Because the cold is finally better - have I mentioned the cold? No? OK, consider yourself lucky and let's move on - anyway, I no longer have an excuse to still be living in a random pile of stuff. Except that, damn, do I have a lot of books. And all from different genres, which just complicates things no end.

I mean, thus far the mood is Quiet, Traditional Elegance (or as close a facsimile of same that can be acquired from IKEA) and displaying the Star Trek collection would not help any. Nor would Dave Barry, His Collected Works. On the other hand, the kids' classics and mysteries are be a trifle too cozy. What I really need is a carefully-chosen library of quirky-yet-sophisticated works of historical and/or sociological significance...I think I may have grown up just a tad too late, here.

--Organise the approximately fifty billion photos currently clogging my hard drive - isn't it funny, how the desire to take photos on vacation is in direct proportion to how pointless they seem afterwards? I mean, apropos of the art museum, I couldn't get the stills to work without flash so here I am with about twenty short films detailing things like 'That Cool Display of Moderne Chairs'. It's odd.
Albeit I am glad I got the Gainsborough in. Also the 19th-century Japanese pottery. Exquisite does not do this stuff justice. (The day camp in the background, though, could've done without that reminder. "Look, kids, what's this motif?" "It's a fishy!" "Yes! And how do we know it's a fish?" "'Cause it's a fishy!")

--Likewise, there is no longer any room at the inn for the thirty-odd Mythbusters eps recorded off the TV card, so onto DVDs they go. Also, I have to seriously review my need to keep
Big & Small in my life. It may be the funniest, cutest, smartest and charmingest TV series I've come across in awhile (even without the UK-only accents), but it does star fuzzy cloth puppets. You watch the eps on the iTouch in public, people look at you funny.

Or...I could just sit around and contemplate all the fun stuff I have on tap for the next while. Life really is pretty good, chez Shoe.

shoebox_dw: (hummingbird puzzled)
I recently discovered I have remote access to my work email. Meaning I can check it here at home, anytime.

Let me repeat that: I can check it here at home. This is bad. This is very bad, because I am a compulsive Checker of Things. The instant I make what I suspect is a particularly chuffy post I spend the next hour on Statcounter, refreshing madly to see if anyone's noticed it yet. I slip checks of my TVTropes watchlist between sales report results.
And now I have insta-checkable work email. While I admit the novelty of poring over vendor issues at my own pace and place, where NONE OF THEM CAN GET AT ME HA HA HA, isn't liable to fade soon...I dread the day I start feeling the guilt. As in 'Y'know, you really should review those ex-factory dates, you never got a chance to do it today,' or 'It never hurts to check and see if you've missed any urgent marketing deadlines!' If I ever announce that I've decided to renounce the Internet and go do good works amongst the poor or something,you will know the reason why.

Apropos of all this, I am hoping that I have convinced spilleta42's stalker - who gifted me with a visit from the 36-Point Red Font Fairy the other night - that my mighty Check-Fu means I am a lousy spamming prospect. Trust me, kiddo: I can find & delete 'em just as fast as you can post 'em. Besides which I have younger sisters, which means I can recognise immature cattiness at forty paces, minimum.

About the only thing you've accomplished is to deepen my sympathy for your target. Being the victim of this kind of smear campaign is bad enough; that it's driven by this kind of obsessive malice must be hellish.

shoebox_dw: (silly intelligent things)
The site says I can now 'wear the title of Cool Nerd proudly!'

And you know what? I kind of do. says I'm a Cool Nerd.  Click here to take the Nerd Test, get geeky images and jokes, and write on the nerd forum!

shoebox_dw: (hp snape get off me)
Topless Robot recently did a '10 Most Ridiculous Things About the Original GI Joe Movie' list, and lo, I was gleeful. Because I loved the original GI Joe series with all my little mindless-pop-culture-consuming heart, and that damn Cobra-La trifled with that heart like Aztecs looking for fun on Saturday night.

And then I read the opening paragraph, about the live-action movie remake. I had not known there was to be a live-action remake, possibly because my brain shut down and started going 'nuh-uh! nuh-uh-uh!' whenever I tried to take it in. I mean, we can all agree there are inherent issues in recreating the Joeverse in living colour, yes? For one thing, just try casting Cobra Commander. "Er...yes, you do wear a totally face-concealing mask for the entire picture. But it's shiny!"

Apparently, though, there are depths to which my inner child's heart can still sink:

"In just a few weeks, the majority of us will be exiting theaters on the opening night of the live-action G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra, either laughing till we puke or pummeling each other out of sheer, unadulterated rage. Between Schumacher-esque Joe body armor, Storm Shadow's sneakers and Duke's childhood buddy Cobra Commander, we all know we're in for something painful--but whether it's Troll 2 painful (hilariously bad!) or Love Guru painful (assisted suicide) remains to be seen."

Sneakers? SNEAKERS?

...'scuse me, I'll be over in this corner weeping for a little bit...

shoebox_dw: (garfield well-informed)
Every so often, when I'm in the mood for the sort of satisfying browse through nothing much that may well be the Net's greatest contribution to mankind, I open up the Urban Legends Reference Pages and start hitting the Randomizer button. That most of the whacky facets of human nature contained therein turn out to be products solely of human imagination in no way detracts from the good time. In fact, I'd highly recommend the exercise to anyone with a creative block.

Also collating a bunch of favourite articles turns out to be a great idea for a quick'n'gleeful blog post: - That time Disney murdered dozens of cute little fuzzy animals in search of the perfect shot. No, really. - The day the church furnace exploded in Beatrice, Nebraska...killing exactly nobody from the scheduled choir practice. I don't care what denomination if any you are, this is one severely freaky true story. - No, the 'Anne Hathaway' email isn't true, but the debunking provides a wealth of interesting medieval lore anyway. - Which was the real hoax - that a couple of guys actually convinced hordes of Manhattanites to saw the island in half, or that they convinced so many people to believe they did? - Complete list of people who've died onstage or -screen. - If you ever run across one of the surprising number of people who still believe the 9/11 Pentagon plane crash was all a U.S. government plot, here's a comprehensive debunking guide. - Short version? The 'That oughta hold the little bastards!' legend never happened. Well-nigh exhaustive version? This article. - A second-hand coat bought for a Wizard of Oz character turns out to be startlingly appropriate. - "Yes, this is the psychiatric hospital. Yes, we're all FBI agents. Yes, that'll be twenty large pizzas with everything. What's so hard to grasp here?"

shoebox_dw: (garfield rabid moth)
In the "Hi there! Duh calling!" dept, I do get my share of spam.

Most of it I can trace back either to the source, as for instance the ones that keep promising me A NEW JOB IN MY AREA, or to the general belief among direct marketers that the human race has the collective IQ of dead trout (dead transgendered trout at that, judging by the number of offers I get for discount Viagra. Uh, y'know, the email addy does begin with 'Scarlett'...?)

But none of this quite explains why, recently, my Junk Mail file has been jammed gillward with offers to help me stop snoring.
shoebox_dw: (ratatouille remy caught)
..So I rustled up a few 'How to Attract More Traffic to Your Blog' articles, and interestingly enough, their advice is the same: Start by taking an active interest in others' blogs, reaching out to those with similar interests, reading their posts and commenting.

Well. Whaddaya know about that.

[blushes slightly]


In other news, och, am I gonna be grateful when this American election mania dies down. It's starting to affect even the funnest, most lightweight 'other blogs' I visit - even the Comics Curmudgeon came down with a bad case the other day, and it still hasn't fully recovered. has been all 'Here're the latest outlandishly stupid rumours an hysterically suspicious populace are taking as gospel' for weeks now. It gets dispiriting.

(If I could persuade myself that the one troll on the CC was putting on an elaborate, Dr. Strangelove-style show, it would make me feel quite a lot better. Alas, my faith is at al all-time low. These people really do hate each other, don't they?)

Thank goodness for blogs emanating from Australia, is all I can say. Specifically, that of LJ-friend lizbee, dedicated Tudors-watcher.

Read more... )
shoebox_dw: (pbs truism)

So I'm browsing the threads over at the Comics Curmudgeon the other day, and ran across a poster with the handle 'Wally Ballou'. This provoked a mild little ripple of mirth from a few others...along with comments on how unexpected it was that people were getting the reference, as they'd've thought it 'too old' for the audience.

Erm. Given what I've been able to gather about the average age of the 'Mudgeons, also further observations elsewhere...this gave me reason for a rather lengthy pause. Apparently I'm not just the only dedicated Bob & Ray fan online, I may be the only Bob & Ray fan anywhere under 45.

Realising you're this unique on the World Wide Web is, as you can imagine, a deeply bemusing experience. Still, it's rather a pleasantly knowing one, as compared to...perhaps that one person on TVTropes who keeps adding Jem & the Holograms examples. I'm sorry, love, but there it is. On this side, brilliant, groundbreaking comedy; on the other, the '80's version of Hannah Montana.

...About that. Not Hannah, so much as High School Musical. Owing to media saturation around the third edition I have finally figured out what all the hype is about, and I gotta tell you, gang, no offense, but as far as I can tell the reason I hadn't picked up on it before was because there's nothing there to pick up. Something like cotton candy on a hot day at the Ex - one swipe, a shrug, and it's on to the next bright shiny distraction.

Well, maybe not that cheap. I mean, the part where friend[info]shing_ posts hot pictures of shiny wet topless Zac, that I get OK. Not my taste, but I can sincerely appreciate the effort. It's just that...hell, Jem had the computer gimmick, y'know? And Hannah M. has at least the occasional amusingly surreal Dolly Parton cameo. Maybe the ep I watched was the anomaly, but for one glorious moment Dolly was there. Vicki Lawrence, too. And the 'Achy Breaky Heart' guy.

HSM, on the other hand, is...just...there's no there there at all, except inasmuch as its leads are pretty. Yes, historically this has been justification for quite a lot of pop-culture, but this...this is like a running compilation of all the moments that the teen dream media machine itself considers cliche. Realising that the current craze sweeping the post-millennial nation is based around an episode plot used by every single 80's sitcom I ever watched (and a healthy few of the 70's ones, too) is the second most deeply bemusing thing I have encountered this week.

(Especially the 'Sharpay' business. I'm a little slow, so it just hit me: A Shar-pei is a dog breed. A notoriously goofy-looking dog breed. Yeah, I get the joke, but the point is, it's a really stupid joke. I can just about see proud [if slightly dense] new parents gazing down at their little red wrinkly bundle of joy and saying "Awww, doesn't widdle snookums wook just wike a widdle shar-pei doggers!" But a screenwriter naming their blond bombshell rich-bitch nemesis? Not so much.)
shoebox_dw: (holly hare)
I need something new to read. More specifically, I need some new smugly pointless cleverness to distract me from the fact that my actual life doesn't involve backpacking across Europe, a lucrative writing career, and a running tab at Godiva. C'mon, mass media! You're falling down on the job.

I got desperate enough this afternoon to try surfing through the link-lists in the comics blogoverse. Unfortunately, most turned out to be complete wastes of space (as defined by level of disagreement with me over the lameness of Captain America's new costume) and one actually went so far as to totally dis Spider-Man. So, no joy there.


shoebox_dw: (Default)

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