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Dear homeowner of days past who paid the tiler of days past to refit the downstairs bathroom:

Wherever you are, I hope toilet paper clings to your shoe. I hope birds poop on your hat. I hope grass gets into your carpet!

I hope you have hangnails.

I will never forgive you for putting tile grout instead of maleable caulk at the base of our downstairs toilet bowl.

Never forgive! Never forget!

The lame thing about liking ST is that it's emphasizing the lack of direction in my current life and making me feel a distinct absence of career. All these characters are so talented! I hate it.

wisteria_ pointed her flist to this video of street theater and this Salon article about it, which just brightened my heart. I can't wait to show my mom tomorrow.



from Salon.com, on why people love watching it:

"What they are presenting to the people in that station (and the rest of us, of course) is the ideal of human co-operation. They're showing us the possibility that a bunch of unrelated, unconnected people could spontaneously burst into a song and dance routine in a train station because that's what they all wanted to do and that's what we could do too, if we set our minds to it."

Plus, look how much fun they had preparing for it.


Outside of city parades--which are planned--I've only ever been part of one moment of spontaneous public dancing. ( Read more... )

Brother: "I'm gonna start watching Dexter's Lab."

Rashaka: "Um...are you sure you mean Dexter's Lab? I only ask because Dexter's Laboratory is a cartoon on the Cartoon Network."

Brother: "Whatever. It's about a serial killer."

Rashaka: "That'd be just Dexter. Because Dexter's Laboratory is about a wacky kid scientist...Admittedly they're both sociopaths."

Brother: "What?"

Rashaka: "Nothing, have fun with Dexter! Good show. So I hear. Um."

I had a dream last night and this morning that was pretty weird. I went to a night club and in one of the back rooms there was less music and more people, and my best friend's husband was there (for some reason, the proud new owner of a 10" tall pet mermaid), and he was the only person I knew. But as I was floating around the room, I started talking to this guy who, it turns out, was Keith Olbermann of MSNBC News! And there were all other news and tv production people there, though I don't remember other names or faces

A group of us watched a commercial (or read the script for a commercial, I'm not sure) that Keith Olbermann was producing. Some generic product. For some reason my friend, who IRL is an engineer for a water management company, was fed the commercial job by Olbermann and was in charge of it as head of Art Direction. This is funny because he's an engineer. But when I saw the commercial there was a bit in it that was sexist and insulting to women. I was naturally upset about this, so I started telling my woes to the guy standing next to me--who mid-way into my rant told me he was Keith Olbermann and was producing the commercial. Mind you, he only sort of looked like Olbermann. He looked more like Olbermann at age 30, and I wasn't entirely convinced it was him. I actually pulled over my friend and point-blank asked "Can you identify the person standing beside me?"

My friend said, "Yeah, that's Keith Olbermann," and I was convinced enough for the dream. So I rambled on to him about my problems with his still-in-production commercial, and he wanted me to list them (he was very sincere), but we didn't have any paper. So he handed me his phone: a sort of hybrid that looked like an iPhone but had a keyboard like a Blackberry. He told me to type my review/thoughts onto that. I was having trouble concentrating, almost like I was drunk except I wasn't, so he left the phone with me at the table and went back to wandering around the room socializing.

I spent a while typing my opinion of the exact errors structurally and in terms of script and why the whole thing offended me, which took a while because, as I said, my head was pretty fuzzy. But eventually I was done, and I realized I had lost Keith Olbermann.

Then I realized, aloud, "I have Keith Olbermann's phone."

I had Keith Olbermann's phone! He trusted me with his actual cellphone, the sweet man. And he wanted my opinion on his commercial so it wouldn't alienate female viewers.

I didn't know what to do with the thing. I felt like I was the poor couple in The Pearl who didn't know how to profit from the treasure they had, because it was too big for them to deal with. I knew that a more exciting person, like Veronica Mars, would be snooping around in it, looking up phone numbers of famous people and matching call dates to deduce secret information. Not being a teen sleuth or espionage master, I just stood in the room full of people, in a full body freeze panic, while a voice in my head screamed, I have Keith Olbermann's phone! I HAVE KEITH OLBERMANN'S PHONE!

Such power at my fingertips! But my biggest fear was that I wouldn't be able to find him and give it back; I suppose this means my parents raised me to have better morals than Veronica Mars. Eventually I located him in the crowd and handed him the iPhone. He thanked me graciously, promised to read my comments, and went back to his conversation, while I tried to find my friend so we could go home.

I wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with overly-trusting famous people. I don't remember what happened after that.