“James Durbin has a style all his own too, combining the ’80s suburban angst of chain wallets with a ’90s Latin gang bandana and a “towel out of the butt” look that is always timeless. But his most cherished accessory is his “Fail Wail,” a high pitched ear-piercing shriek that he thinks is a zillion times better than it actually is.”—Love you, Jim Cantiello!
My mother filled out only about 4 pages of a traditional baby book, but the alleged list of considered names kind of horrified me: Hillary, Cynthia, Pamela, and Amanda. I think Amanda was the only one that was seriously considered, really, and that was my father’s pick. If I was a boy, I would have been Alexander.
Seymour. I’m not even kidding. My mom wanted to, thank God my Dad stopped her.
I was always going to be Rachel and my sister was always going to be Haley. However, if we had been boys…Gary and Gunther. We would have been the nerdiest twins ever…oh wait, we’re still the nerdiest twins ever. But still.
The other girl-name my parents were thinking about was Emily, but when I came out screaming, my mom decided I wasn’t sweet enough to be an Emily, so they named me Jessica. If I had been a boy, I would have been either Morgan or Zachary. I think those are both fine names.
So normally when some jagoff has his/her music turned up so loud that everyone on the subway can hear it through headphones, it’s some person listening to hip-hop or r&b. Tonight, I had the extreme pleasure (not) of sitting next to some middle-aged dude who was listening to the Glee cover of “Teenage Dream,” cranked up to Jesus (tm. Mighty Big TV!). I don’t know how creepy you all find that, but I was slightly unnerved.
“Finally, a theory of no particular import or substance: If Pawnee is becoming the new Springfield, with its ever-expanding cast of oddball residents and recurring characters, is Tammy Swanson-Swanson its Sideshow Bob Terwilliger? Stunt casting: Check. Evil nemesis of the show’s protagonist: Check. Presence guaranteed to elevate an already great show into Holy shit, did you see that? territory? Check. If anything, the writers have painted themselves into a corner as far as being able to top the shenanigans here, but that’s a challenge, not a death sentence. If Parks and Rec can find a way to bring Tammy back even just once a season, that’s reason enough to renew this for another twenty.”—I like this comparison! (at NYMag’s Vulture blog)
The WTF reaction to Arcade Fire’s win is pretty much the same as my reaction to that Herbie Hancock win a couple of years ago. That signaled my realization of how shitty the Grammy awards are (most of the time). As I remarked to Maura, it was something like, “Herbie Hancock, really? For an album of Joni covers? That was sold only at Starbucks?!
I have to note this dream (I don’t feel like hand writing it with the rest of my dreams) that I had last night (or this morning, really):
First, I was an observer, watching as this evil fairy cut up Olivia Dunham’s face. And then the fairy was possessing me, only I was the fairy (and I was pixie-size), and I was flying around my grandmother’s house and slamming into all of my family members and being generally obnoxious. But no one was swatting at me or anything like that. And then the evil fairy stopped possessing me and I was in my office, feeling really drained and beat, etc., like you do. Also, I had tattoos, probably given to me by the evil fairy and her minions. Something round on the top of my foot (I don’t remember what it was anymore), and some weird red lettering on my chest, almost like stenciled on. I was really annoyed because I was thinking about how much it would hurt/cost to get them removed, and what my parents would say, and maybe, I thought, I should just keep them. I was planning to go see my parents in NJ, and I didn’t have the energy to take the subway 1 stop to Port Authority because I was so nauseous, so I got a cab, and I must have fallen asleep in the cab, because what should have been a 10 minute ride turned into something much longer. When I woke up, we were approaching the Palisades Parkway, and I was like “Welp, cab driver, you may as well just take me to my house in NJ!” And the dream just kind of petered out before I could get home and see what my parents would have to say about the tattoos. I was kind of bummed about that.
I’m liking this one a lot right now. I find it to be summery, which is what I need, seeing as how it’s gotten to that annual point where I’m ready for warmer temperatures. Was supposed to go see Javelin last night, but that didn’t quite work out.
I’m not getting enough sleep during the week, lately. It’s going to start screwing with my health soon. So I’m usually up when “King of the Hill” comes on. Last night, I stumbled across two episodes that I hadn’t seen before. Both were excellent. Here are two quotes that I especially enjoyed at 1:45am, courtesy of “Bobby on Track.”
I wish I could have gone to Bobby’s meet today. Why do I always have to be Mr. Strickland’s character witness? -Hank
Bobby’s doing the high hurdles? Sometimes it takes him two tries just to get on the couch! -Hank