i'm going through the fifty haiku submitted in the haiku contest, and they're all so good, i'm having trouble selecting a winner. i'm considering scrapping my own secretive and arbitrary criteria and substituting the method used by my property professor when he graded last semester's final exams. That is, so far as i can guess, to find a tall stairway, go to the top, throw all the submissions down the stairs and judge them according to where they land.

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Haha, Matt Rustler is a bad bad person. He interviewed me like around Veteran's Day, i think. Then i waited. And waited. Okay, so i know he's a busy lawyer, husband and father, but heck what about my ego? Huh, how about that?! Anyways, better late than never, he's finally got around to posting it. Topics include Anglophilia, bra-lessness, Catholicism, how i started blogging, my (now ex) boyfriend, Douhetian theory, and Murphy's Stout. Matt's a sweetie, and it was a fun interview. So if you are at all interested in what makes me tick, go over there now and read it.

Update: Reading through the interview, i noticed a contradiction between what i told Matt and what i said in my interview with Sarah about the first blog i ever read. As i recall now, the first blog i ever saw has to have been TranceJen, which i probably pulled up during a google search about electronic trance music. The first blog i ever linked to was, i think, Anne straight from the hip, which is still on my blogroll after all these months. Just my opinion, but both are among the best personal blogs you'll ever hope to find.

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For this month's annieconversation, i interviewed Professor Hugo Schwyzer. His blog is one of my favorites and should be on your regular reading list too; it's always so thought provoking. Topics for discussion include feminism and sexuality, chinchillas, religion, and that ever popular subject: butt-cleavage. How's that for a teaser? Read on. more...

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i just read at Michele's that the great character actor John Vernon passed away. Wow. He was best known for his role as Dean Wormer in Animal House, and yes he was great in that. But i will always remember him as the crooked bank president, Maynard Boyle, in Charley Varrick.

Memorable John Vernon lines from that movie are (paraphrasing): "Look at those cows out there. Man they got it made. What's the worst that could happen to them? A short circuit in the electric milking machine," or later in the same scene, referring to one cow in particular: "Would you look at that one. What a set of jugs!"

But by far his best line from the same scene is his warning to the timid bank manager about what the mob bosses will do to someone who fucks with their money: "These people will strip you naked and go to work on you with a pair of pliers and a blowtorch!"

And who ends up bumping off Vernon's character at the end of the movie? None other than Joe Don Baker, as Molly the hit man.

Anyways, it is sad news.

P.S. Does anyone remember the subtly funny tribute in Futurama a few years ago, in the episode that was a take off on Animal House? The character based on Dean Wormer in the futuristic college was re-named Dean Vernon by the show's writers. i thought that was funny.

Which Reminds Me: Thinking about Charley Varrick got me thinking about the late great Norman Fell, who was also in that movie. That got me thinking about celebrities i have seen in my life because Mr. Fell is on that list. i'm talking about seeing celebrities i've encountered when i wasn't expecting to. (Of course i wouldn't include on any such list someone like Jerry Garcia, whom i saw in concert, since i was expecting to see him, although i'm not sure i have any memory of that event.) Here's the list:

• Mel Gibson, walking on Fifth Avenue in New York City


• Conan O'Brien, in a restaurant in the same city


• Norman Fell, walking with his wife on Market Street in San Francisco


• Whoopie Goldberg, shopping in the Century City Mall


• Danny Bonaduce, at an amusement park


• The wrestler known as the Brooklyn Brawler, at a dance club in the West End of London


• Cindy Crawford, at a Malibu grocery store. And she's as pretty without makeup as she is in print.


• Arnold Schwarzenegger, in Sacramento, where else?


• Eric Chavez, shopping in a Union Square department store


• President Clinton, riding in a limousine in Washington D.C.


• The late Chick Hearn, with his lovely wife Marge, at Sunday mass


• Antonio Fargas, in a liquor store, scratching a lottery ticket

Update: Noticing how celebrities always die in threes, this morning i heard about the other two: Max Schmelling and Ozzie Davis.

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Action figures have been in the news recently, so i selected this week's poem accordingly. You may recall that Barbie used to go out with a guy named Ken (That was before she started seeing G.I. Joe, of course.) Barbie and Ken were a cute couple, and Ken was a real doll. But they had their struggles, just like any two lovers. i hear they once toyed with the idea of marriage, but as their relationship soured, eventually they had to call it quits. Some say Ken was gay, and i don't know if that is true or not, but the following poem shows that they had other issues too.

Kinky

They decide to exchange heads.
Barbie squeezes the small opening under her chin
over Ken's bulging neck socket. His wide jaw line jostles
atop his girlfriend's body, loosely,
like one of those novelty dogs
destined to gaze from the back windows of cars.
The two dolls chase each other around the orange Country Camper
unsure what they'll do when they're within touching distance.
Ken wants to feel Barbie's toes between his lips,
take off one of her legs and force his whole arm inside her.
With only the vaguest suggestion of genitals,
all the alluring qualities they possess as fashion dolls,
up until now, have done neither of them much good.
But suddenly Barbie is excited looking at her own body
under the weight of Ken's face. He is part circus freak,
part thwarted hermaphrodite. And she is imagining
she is somebody else-- maybe somebody middle class and ordinary,
maybe another teenage model being caught in a scandal.

The night had begun with Barbie getting angry
at finding Ken's blow up doll, folded and stuffed
under the couch. He was defensive and ashamed, especially about
not having the breath to inflate her. But after a round
of pretend-tears, Barbie and Ken vowed to try
to make their relationship work. With their good memories
as sustaining as good food, they listened to late-night radio
talk shows, one featuring Doctor Ruth. When all else fails,
just hold each other, the small sex therapist crooned.
Barbie and Ken, on cue, groped in the dark,
their interchangeable skin glowing, the color of Band-Aids.
Then, they let themselves go-- Soon Barbie was begging Ken
to try on her spandex miniskirt. She showed him how
to pivot as though he was on a runway. Ken begged
to tie Barbie onto his yellow surfboard and spin her
on the kitcen table until she grew dizzy. Anything,
anything, they both said to the other's requests,
their mirrored desires bubbling from the most unlikely places.

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What the fuck?!
Today's Ground Hog day ain't it?
i totally forgot.
Happy Ground Hog Day everybody.
What are we supposed to do on Ground Hog Day?
Drink a beer i guess.
Whatever.
Late.

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i thought i'd send an urgent e-mail to the brain trust at MSNBC, AP, CBS et al. How long do you think they'll run with my story before they figure out it's not true? more...

Posted by: annika at 07:23 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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