Name-Calling

So Ms. ALV has suggested that I come up with a nickname for Jon, similar to her practice of calling her significant other "Mr. ALV". All my personal nicknames for Jon border on saccharine sweet. And I hate saccharine sweetness in public. (Seriously, who told some of these people that making out in public is a decent, civilized thing to do? I'm not your dentist or doctor or other health care provider - there is no reason I should be seeing your tongue!)

*ahem* Anyway, against my better judgment, I've decided to open the floor for suggestions. I'm just not that clever to do it myself. For those of you that don't know Jon personally, a few things you might want to consider:

-- He's a big geek. (I like geeks so I'm not being insulting.)
-- He's Asian. Chinese, to be exact. He doesn't speak the language though.
-- Although he's Asian, he's 6'1". It amuses me.
-- He's in training to be a computer science teacher.
-- He's very quiet and logical. Basically, the exact opposite of me.

Go for it.

Hug Your Confidante Today

Today at lunch for this girl's birthday (and what a fun birthday - an exam AND getting your brief back?!) we briefly discussed how sometimes, moms are the best ones to go to when you're feeling down. When I got home, I had reason to call my mother for just this reason.

I know that I'm extremely lucky to have Jon. A lot of people don't have even one person that they can tell everything to and feel better at the end of the conversation. But there's something about moms. If my mom and Jon said the same assurances to me, the assurance from my mother would be far more comforting. Maybe it's the practice she's had over the 22 years of my life, or maybe it's because I am an only child and am just accustomed to going to her. I don't know. I just know I'm going to miss her when my parents move to Little Rock later this year. But I do get 2 whole months living with my parents in Dallas this summer. I'm sure that will cure me of my uncharacteristic mushiness.

The sun was shining on the sea...

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"to talk of many things.
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax,
of cabbages and kings
And why the sea is boiling hot
And whether pigs have wings."
~Lewis Carroll

This is pretty much how I feel in the time that leads up to finals. I'll distract myself in any way possible from the upcoming terror and the realization that I've basically done NOTHING during the quarter. These distractions take a variety of forms, making Jon wonder if I'm maybe a bit bipolar. I tell him that I don't have the energy to be bipolar. My distractions for the week:

"Cold Comfort Farm" by Stella Gibbons.

This is one of my favorite books. When I'm feeling especially sour on life, I read this or "Jane Eyre", which IS my favorite book. "Jane Eyre" isn't very comical, of course, whereas "Cold Comfort Farm" is a comic satire of all those novels that describe the gloomy and tragic romances English people apparently have all the time on country farms. You know, downers like "Tess of the d'Urbervilles". Anyway, Flora walks into one of these gloomy and tragic farms that all those novels have and decides to clean things up. It's probably not a book for guys, unless you're a big fan of Victorian novels. If you are, kudos to you.

Proving that I might be bipolar after all, my other distraction will be Year Zero, the Nine Inch Nails CD coming out on Tuesday. I've only heard one track from it - "Survivalism" - which didn't actually excite me all that much. With Teeth is looking to be the better album of the two recent NIN albums. But Trent Reznor is near and dear to my heart and I'm going to buy Year Zero anyway. I usually find the songs that weren't released as singles are better anyway. The only reason I didn't go to their last concert was because it was on my wedding day. And I still considered going. In my wedding dress. Those would have been awesome pictures. *sigh*

I'm now done foisting my distractions upon you. Back to outlining.

Please, for the love of all that is decent...

Please, Nicolas Cage, I entreat you to stop making movies. Especially ones where you're a psuedo-superhero. Or just a superhero. Those stink too. If you absolutely insist, at least get some Rogaine. You were cute as the slightly psycho one-handed opera fan in "Moonstruck". But that was 20 years ago. In the immortal words of "The Wedding Singer" from that scene where Adam Sandler's womanizing best friend reveals his inner fears - "No one wants to see a fifty-year-old guy hitting on chicks." And when an Adam Sandler vehicle starts making valid points, it's time to listen.

I realize that this is the second post addressing the issues of the rich and famous and slightly creepy, but I'm very depressed at the moment and I'm feeling the need to make fun of aging celebrities. Besides, Cage named his son Kal-El. He has cursed his child to a life of humiliation during many a recess and lunch time. I think that Cage thinks it's still 1989 and so his son can get defend himself by saying, "My dad is Nicolas Cage and he'll beat up your dad!" But I'm pretty sure even Skeet Ulrich's kid is going to win that one. Which is just sad.

The point of all this being that I'm not going to see "Next", Cage's upcoming attempt to ensnare all of Hollywood in his own personal midlife crisis. Can't you just see the headlines for the reviews? ""Next"? Next!" Then there will be a little blurb under that about how Cage plans to change his name to Jor-El.

Pathetically Amusing Becomes Creepy

Keith Richards has told a British magazine that he snorted his father's ashes with some blow. Um, gross. If Keith Richards wasn't the reason to never do drugs before, this seals the deal. The best part is where he tells the reporter that his father wouldn't have minded. Keith, Keith, Keith... I'm pretty sure this proves that it didn't go "down well". If you just thought forward in this process a little, you would realize that you are literally flushing some of your father's remains down the toilet.

In addition, I think that anything that Cartman from South Park has done is generally not meant to be a shining example for others. Even if you are a rock star.