Happy Thanksgiving, internet!

There are plenty of things I have to be thankful for, like a job and a house and food, but this year I'm gonna be thankful for my brothers.

I know it's gross, and I know usually I can't stand them, but every once in a while, the three of us hang out, and the boys fight, and everyone makes fun of each other, and it gets loud and rowdy, and it's just...fun. To have a family. Even a loud, rowdy, smelly one.

Anyway, enough of this well-meaning crap. Time to drink wine and stuff my face and fight with my stupid brothers!

I haven't done this in a while

So I got a request to write a blog post, even though I've been updating pretty regularly lately, but I'm agreeable, so I agreed, but instead of writing a post, I went to go look at Nintendo DS games. I miss Dr. Mario. I wish they had that for the DS. I did find this though! Almost as good as Dr. Mario for the DS. In fact, it's better! Because I could play it at work!

Anyway, the point of this blog post was supposed to be lists, so here are some lists.

Top ten most embarrassing songs in my iTunes library:
1. Crazy for This Girl - Evan & Jaron (Oh the shame. It's just so catchy.)
2. Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne
3. Call Me When You're Sober - Evanescence (I hate Evanescence, but Mike and I used to hear this at the bar all the time, and it was fun to wail along with it.)
4. I Turn to You - Melanie C.
5. Does Your Mother Know - Abba
6. Anytime - Kelly Clarkson
7. Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It) - Beyonce (I have no idea why I love this song, because the lyrics and the message are abhorrent, but gosh darnit, it's fun!)
8. My Dad Is Rich - Draco and the Malfoys (Oh yes. Wizard Rock is embarrassing.)
9. Always Be My Baby - Mariah Carey
10. Leave the Pieces - The Wreckers

Top ten favorite words*
1. betwixt
2. halfwit
3. obdurate
4. nozzle
5. bananas
6. corroborate
7. blerg
8. faggotry (used only by the gays and those who love us)
9. weegeltons
10. scrumtrilescent
*Not so much because of what they mean, but because of how fun they are to say.

Top ten favorite meals
1. chicken pad thai
2. sushi and edamame
3. pizza and buffalo wings
4. pork chops and applesauce
5. spaghetti and meatballs
6. bacon cheeseburger and french fries
7. oysters, steamed muscles, and clam chowder
8. grilled cheese and tomato soup
9. steak burrito and beer
10. barbecue chicken flatbread pizza

My stupid cat has fleas, and I couldn't even get him to sit still so I could put the flea medicine on him, so half of it may have missed, and I had to vacuum everything and do more laundry, and I feel like ass. Frakkin' animals.

Let's talk about why I hate Twilight

The girl keeps having to be saved over and over by the boy.

The boy is a stalker, and the girl just thinks that's romantic. Seriously, the vampire breaks into her house every night, and watches her sleep. First of all, that severely violates vampire mythology, because vampires cannot come in unless they have been invited. Which I know because I watched Buffy. Second of all, that is the creepiest thing I have ever heard of, and if Bella had a lick of sense she would run all the way back to Phoenix.

The boy is mean to the girl, not because he's a vampire, but because he's a boy, and she's a pitiful female who can't keep track of her own feet and keeps needing to be rescued.

I read somewhere that Stephenie Meyer is a Mormon and has admitted to using her novels to promote abstinence. Whatever, abstinence is fine--I just think writing a story about vampires as a metaphor for waiting to have sex till you're married is gross.

Knowing that Stephenie Meyer is a Mormon makes passages like this one take on a disturbingly allegorical tone: "Just because we've been dealt a certain hand it doesn't mean that we can't choose to rise above--to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can." This is doubtless almost certainly my reading too much into this, but I can't help it. Religious people who think homosexuality is wrong tend to believe that perhaps you can be born gay, but you shouldn't act on those impulses. Even if you're born that way, you can deny that part of yourself. And I bet for some Mormons (and other religious zealots), homosexuals are just as depraved as vampires.

And finally, if Bella makes one more reference to how achingly beautiful Edward is, I will vomit up everything I have ever eaten in my life and mail it in a ziploc bag to Stephenie Meyer herself.

So I haven't finished it yet, and I don't even really want to, but I've never abandoned a book after reading this far, and I sure won't start now. But one thing I really don't understand is why lesbians love these books. I know of two personally, and I'm sure there are more. I mean, I love a good heterosexual love story, but this is...not a good heterosexual love story, and even if the love story part were interesting, the main female character sucks! She's timid and clueless and likes being rescued and stalked and is entirely co-dependent. What is there to admire or identify with here?

Please, lesbians, tell me. What is there in Twilight for you? (I get it. Kristen Stewart is hot. THAT IS NOT ENOUGH.)

I do call myself a booknerd, after all

So yesterday, Melissa came in to work and dumped the first Twilight book on my desk and said, "I read this in four days. Read it, so we can discuss."

Who am I to argue? I started reading it at lunch yesterday, after I went to the library to get a few more books I've been commanded to read. So far it's pretty blech, and I have a feeling it will only get worse, because I'm sorry, but the mortal lady/vampire fellow romance has already been done, like, quite well, and Bella Swan is no Buffy Summers. Not even close. Is Bella going to have to kill Edward to save the world from being sucked into a hell dimension? Then WHY SHOULD I CARE? Cedric Diggory is prettier than David Boreanaz, but that is neither here nor there, is it? Plus, the writing is ungainly. I hate it when a first person narrator has to describe her own appearance--there is no way to do that smoothly, and Stephenie Meyer doesn't even come close. Or when the narrator has to say things like, "I'm clumsy." Hello! Show, don't tell! And why are the vampires so beautiful? Is that a thing with vampires I was unaware of? Because they're immortal, they're all beautiful? Kind of...boring, I have to say.

Anyway, Melissa and I let curiosity get the best of us here, and we had to see what all the fuss is about. The fuss, it would seem, is more than this bloated romance novel deserves, so I have decided to make a list of my favorite young adult fiction.

1. A Wrinkle in Time and its companions by Madeleine L'Engle (aka The Time Quartet, plus An Acceptable Time: Here we have a story that is essentially about the battle between good and evil, and it is perfection. The best I've ever seen it done, honestly. JRR Tolkein can suck it.
2. The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder: Oh, these are classics, and I think they're a charming way to get insight into America's pioneer history.
3. The Hero and the Crown and The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley: Few authors can create entire new worlds so well, and I am utterly jealous of the way McKinley can. These books are engrossing and feature totally badass female heroes. I've only read each book twice, but I will reread them many, many times, I'm sure.
4. His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman: This series does so many things well; it's characters are rich--no one is a cliche; it's a shot to organized religion, which I have to say I enjoy; and it also gives us entire new worlds. Imaginative, well-written, and it has the best young girl hero ever written by a man.
5. Judy Blume's ouevre: Really. I read almost everything she'd written when I was ten or eleven. Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret is kind of quaint these days, but I couldn't get enough of it. She could write about young kids without sounding patronizing. Loved it.
6. Little Women and its sequels by Louisa May Alcott: Oh, come on. Classics. Everyone who hasn't read Little Women, do it right now.
7. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis: Okay, I've become somewhat disenchanted with the Christian propaganda of these novels, but when I was a kid I couldn't stop reading them. Plus, they are very imaginative, and if you ignore the Christian subtext, the stories are quite good.
8. The Giver by Lois Lowry: This book is haunting and lovely. It's simply written, but it really gets to you. I can't recommend this one highly enough.
9. Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Leviathan: This is probably the most recent YA novel to worm its way into my heart. I'm way past the YA target audience, but when YA fiction is good, that doesn't matter.
10. Annie on My Mind by Nancy Garden: I've said this before, I know, but this is the best gay young adult novel I have ever read. Lesbians of the world, read this book.

This list wasn't ranked; I just wrote down books as they occurred to me. Either way, all of them are better written, more imaginative, and more affecting than Twilight. I am getting the sense that this is just a PG-13 romance novel. Like Gone with the Wind for preteens. Plus vampires! Melissa's husband called it "literary fast food," which I think may be spot on. Easy to read, mildly amusing, but it rots your brain. Somewhere on the internet, I read that it was being called "professional fan fiction" which is also striking me as quite apt. We'll see if Bella goes through any kind of transformation--if any of the characters change. That'll maybe redeem it a little bit.

Beantown minutiae

So Coco Crisp got traded to the Royals, and while I am going to miss him because he was a really good outfielder, I am even more going to miss the way the Fenway announcer would draw out the 's' in Crisp and give the 'p' a really good pop. Crisssssssspah.

The little things, you know.

My brother is a turd

The other night my brother and I went to get Wendy's, and while we were driving, "Creep" came on the radio in his car, and because I am an asshole, and he hates it when I sing, I started singing along. Instead of telling me to shut up, he said, "Who sings this song?" like he was testing me, not like he didn't know.

So I, taking it literally, said, "Thom Yorke," because Radiohead does not sing.

And instead of even rolling his eyes he just said, "Let's keep it that way."

Schooled by a seventeen-year-old!

Another book rant! (Same book, though)

Okay, so in my effort to better understand Wicked, I am watching The Wizard of Oz right now, and I have a problem.

In the novel, when Dorothy's house drops on the Wicked Witch of the East, she is greeted by two Munchkins and the Good Witch of the North. The Good Witch of the North* has no idea how Dorothy is to get back to Kansas, so her magical chalkboard (for truth) suggests Dorothy go to the Emerald City to seek the aid of the Wizard. Then she and the Munchkins depart, and Dorothy sets about preparing for her journey. One of the things she does is take the Witch's silver shoes, because hers are kind of worn out and won't last on such a long walk.

*Let me note that this woman is not Glinda. Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, and Dorothy doesn't meet her until she's killed the Wicked Witch of the West.

In the film, the Good Witch of the North meets Dorothy after her crash landing, but this Witch is Glinda. And in the novel it is Glinda who tells Dorothy how to use the magic in the shoes to get back to Kansas, so one would assume that since Glinda meets Dorothy in the film--and in fact, actually gives her the shoes to prevent Triple Dubs from getting them--she already knows that Dorothy can use the shoes to get back to Kansas. And it is Glinda, I believe, who does tell Dorothy how to use the shoes at the end of the film, right? (I haven't finished watching it yet.)

So why does the rest of the movie happen at all?

I could go on about how the Dorothy part of the story of Wicked more closely follows the film than the novel, but I'm not into it right now. Perhaps later.

Politics and religion! Everyone's favorite topics for a blog post

Look, it's pretty clear I have no use for the Bible as some kind of guide to live my life, and for me it's basically a collection of ancient myths, which is what makes it interesting, but you know, that's just me. It obviously holds a much more significant meaning for millions of people, and that is just fine. But some of them take it far too seriously, and some of them twist its truth.

Anyway, I think every single Christian on Earth, especially those in America who have voted to legislate discrimination, needs to read John 8: 1-11. This story is my favorite story about Jesus, because he comes to the rescue of a skanky ho (ahem, I mean, an adulterous woman). If Jesus loved skanky hos, ain't no way he'd turn away from the fags. There are references to the unnaturalness of homosexuality in the New Testament, but never do they come from the mouth of Jesus. And Christians need to listen to Jesus, not to other Christians who may have gotten things a little bit mixed up. (I am looking at you, Paul.)

So don't use the Bible to condemn us. In fact, if you're Christian at all, you shouldn't use anything to condemn us. Condemning us isn't your job--it's your god's. And you know what else? In this religion, Jesus is God, so he is the only one who could condemn her. Does he?

According to Christianity, Jesus comes to the Jews to...revise the Law of Moses, to oversimplify things (as I do), which was much more strict than anything modern Christians follow. He gives them one commandment: Love one another. What a hippie freak. If he hadn't been turned into a messianic figure for a religion that brought about destruction and hate and division, I would love his ass. Anyway, since Christians no longer stone adulterers (and no longer follow, er, any of the laws laid down in Leviticus), I don't want to hear that book used to defend homophobia ever again.

It is November 15, the day to protest marriage inequality in the United States of America. Let's go, Americans. Act up. Fight hate.

Triumphant return of the book rant

Here is something I have discovered this week: The Wizard of Oz bites--actually, the book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, bites. Also, the titular wizard. But anyway. Let me tell you a long and boring story.

Back in August when I had mono, and all I could do was lie on the couch and bemoan my fate, I decided to while away the hours by reading, since, try as I might, I couldn't sleep. Which is especially brutal when you have mono, and all your body wants is sweet, sweet sleep. I realized that I was out of books to read, and I didn't feel like rereading any of my old standbys, so I turned to one of my few friends who likes to read and asked her what her favorite books are. Apparently, her favorite book is The Lovely Bones, which made me puke (but she somehow made me agree to give it a chance when I was not ill and depressed--will I keep my word?), but the rest of the list seemed pretty okay, so I made my brother drive me to the library, and I checked out three of them.

One of these books was Wicked by Gregory Maguire, which I picked against my better judgment, because I had told myself if I were to ever read this book I would have to do the background reading first. The background reading being, obviously, L. Frank Baum's Oz books. All of them. But at that point in my life I was in no mood to do such extensive background reading (I was really sick, see), so I just checked out Wicked and plowed through it in four days.

Ultimately, I thought the idea was pretty brilliant, telling the Wizard of Oz stories from the point of view of the witches (wicked and otherwise), but the execution as a whole bummed me out. It seemed really cynical, even for me, and I don't think anyone would ever call my disposition sunny, if you know what I'm sayin', but looking back on it, that could have been because I was pretty bummed out about mono effectively ruining the end of my summer. Also I was trying way too hard to find some kind of, like, meaning in it, instead of just reading the damn story. I don't know why I was so hellbent on that--I never do that shit--but... I don't know. I ruined it. And I finished it, and I was like, "Well. Next bitch."

Then this friend of mine ever so kindly sent me a mix CD with not one but two songs from the Wicked musical on it, and I fell so crazily, madly in love that I immediately demanded the rest of the album with all the ferocity of a rabid animal, and this friend of mine ever so kindly obliged, and since then I have been listening to that album all the damn time. Naturally, it made me want to take another look at the book. Naturally, it made me want to actually do the background reading first. And what I have discovered is that I'm pretty sure Gregory Maguire took some stuff from the film version of The Wizard of Oz as well, and now I have to watch that shit again, because I think I basically knew the story of The Wizard of Oz from all the parodies and updates and blah blah--did anyone see that Muppet version with motherfuckin' Ashanti?--and I have no clear recollection of seeing the original film whatsoever. Except I have a vaguely unsettling memory of flying monkeys and dark mountains. Who knows if that's even a real memory.

Anyway, I guess the point of that story was to tell you how I came about deciding to read The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Now let me tell you why it sucked! First of all, none of Dorothy's trials ever last that long or are the least bit suspenseful. An obstacle is presented; she goes oh crap; five seconds later, they're back on the yellow brick road. I couldn't bring myself to give an ass rat's.

Second, let me make a sweeping generalization! It would seem to me that when male authors write a fantasy story with a young female protagonist, they have no idea what do to with her, and she remains the least interesting character in the story. I mean, I think this judgment is at least a little fair, because male authors have no idea what it's like to be an eight-year-old girl. Some you'd think had never even met an eight-year-old girl. Lewis Carroll, C.S. Lewis, L. Frank Baum: their young female protagonists are so boring: Alice just weeps, gets confused, and wants to go hoooome; Lucy Pevensie never has a naughty thought ever in her head--she's good and true and brave, which, you know, are not bad characteristics, and Lucy Pevensie is certainly the most fleshed-out of these characters, but...a little boring.

Now Dorothy, I just do not understand. She's a little girl, and she is good and pure and true, as evidenced by how she wants to help everyone she meets, blaaaaah. The whole time she's in Oz, which seems to be this rather fascinating land, all she can think about is getting back to Kansas, even though Baum made sure to make Kansas sound as unappealing as possible by only using the word gray (over and over and over again) to describe it. Even her aunt and uncle are gray. Why would you want to get back to that shit? Yes, she's in a strange place, and at least Kansas and Aunt Em and Uncle Henry are familiar, but she makes friends in Oz right quick.

Oh, god. I have to tell you about the preface Baum wrote to this story: he says something about how now (the turn of the 20th century) children don't need their fairy tales to teach them a lesson or moral or whatever, so he has presented a fairy tale which will only enchant them. This is the problem with this story: Dorothy doesn't learn anything. She doesn't leave Oz changed one whit. What is the point of telling a story if the main character doesn't change? (This is also why I hated Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, I just realized.) I'm not saying she needs to learn some kind of moral or life lesson or anything, but her journey through Oz should have affected her somehow. But no. She does all these things, saves the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, helps the Cowardly Lion find his courage, exposes the Wizard for the fraud he is, accidentally kills an evil and powerful woman, and then she just runs on home to Kansas. The end.

And, I mean, maybe the fact that I didn't care about the main character could have been made up with an interesting story, but I already said the story was not interesting. The only halfway interesting part was the story of the golden cap and how it can be used to call the winged monkeys to do the wearer's bidding.

Anyway, despite all this, I want to watch the film and then read Wicked again, because I love the musical soundtrack that much.

Self-censorship

This is the rough draft of an email I wrote to my college pals. Recently, some genius decided it would be a good idea to send out monthly emails, just so we could all be kept in the loop of each others' lives. I liked the idea in theory, but loathe thinking of something worthy to write about myself in an email I am pretty sure the recipients are actually going to read. It's quite easy to fill this blog with all kinds of self-absorbed nonsense, because I do it mostly for me, and it seems to entertain the 2-3 other people who actually read it. However, if they don't like it, I don't have to care, because I am not writing it for them! Nyer!

Anyway, here:

Hey ho bags,

As 'tis the twelfth day of November, I figured I'd do what I should and send out a mass email. I wish I had anything to tell you people, but the only things I have to talk about are boring or better saved for one on one conversations. I imagine Seth has no desire to hear about lesbian sex. And neither does Sarah for that matter, but she may not have a choice!

I may have set out to be as inappropriate as possible in this brief email. Hope you enjoyed it.

I also hope you all are well, and though I may not have much to say about myself, I quite like hearing about you.

Emily

Here is what I decided to ultimately send instead:

Hey people,

Since twelve is my day, I figured I'd do what I should and send out a mass email. I wish I had anything to tell you people, but the only things I have to talk about are too boring to be worth it (work) or better saved for one on one conversations (girls, how angry I am about the passing of Proposition Eight in California and similar measures in Arizona and Florida). In fact, the only exciting thing to happen to me in a long, long while is that I won a Dr Pepper hat by checking the code under the bottle cap of my eight billionth bottle of diet Dr Pepper. I can expect the hat in 10-12 weeks, and you best believe I will wear the shit out of that thing.

I hope you all are well, and though I may not have much to say about myself, I quite like hearing about you.

Emily

Ultimately, I think the boring Dr Pepper hat story was a better choice than the brief mention of lesbian sex for my largely conservative, Catholic group of friends.

Why does a heathen like me have conservative, Catholic friends, you ask? I have no idea. But I love them. And I have a fellow heathen in the group, so we get by.

Outnerding myself again (this time by request!)

Things I have noticed on Battlestar Galactica that are unquestionably earthling in origin:

1. Laura Roslin uses the phrase "pound of flesh" (and I totally forget why--but it was apt), which is from Shakespeare's play The Merchant of Venice.
2. Dr. Cottle, astonished to learn Dr. Robert is refusing to give the Sagittarons medicine, demands to know what happened to "First, do no harm" which is widely thought to be part of the Hippocratic Oath, but is not. It is, however, attributed to Hippocrates, who came from Earth.
3. The Cylon siren song is "All Along the Watchtower"! That is even more unmistakably from Earth than the other two! (Unless Bob Dylan is a Cylon. Then all bets are off!)
   
4. Baltar uses the phrase "shuffle off this mortal coil" in one of his wireless broadcasts. That is from Hamlet.
   

Anyway, I mostly figure that all the signposts they find and interpret as the 13th tribe's path from Kobol to Earth are actually signposts of the Earthlings leaving Earth for Kobol--leaving markers along the way in case anyone needs to go back.

Listen up, bitches