A lot of people don't realize that i was originally cast for the role of Phoebe in the very first Friends pilot episode. Yes, it's true. They saw me in my high school production of Camelot, and apparently thought i'd be great for the dumb blonde part.

Another little known fact is that the series was originally set in Cancun. This was simply an excuse to keep us all in bathing suits, for marketing reasons. We filmed the pilot during one hazy debauched weekend on the beach and at a club called, coincidentally, Los Amigos. Matt LeBlanc does look great in jammies, by the way.

The reason they decided not to use me in the final cast might have had something to do with my well known weakness for tequila. Plus the fact that i kept shouting "lime!" then giggling uncontrollably when i'd forget my lines. Matt Perry thought that was hilarious.

i'm dissapointed that they fired me, of course. A million dollars an episode would come in handy right about now. But it's for the best, i guess. i would have spent it all on rehab anyway. i am glad that i did leave my own little mark on the show when i came up with the genesis for Phoebe's famous "Smelly Cat" song.

It was originally entitled "Shitty Cat," which was changed to "Crappy Cat," when the network decided that they needed to air the show before ten o'clock at night. i wrote that song during my "cat poetry" phase. Another fine example from that genre can be found here.

i still keep in touch with my "friends" and usually find myself calling on them when my gambling debts become a bit unmanageable. Jeniffer Aniston is always willing to spare me a few c-notes when she can, usually sending them over through an intermediary since she, for some reason, refuses to meet with me in person anymore.

i don't know how many times one should be expected to apologize for an innocent question to someone's husband. i simply asked Brad about the extent of his knowledge of Trojans. You know, he plays a trojan in that movie, so i didn't see what the big deal was, but she made such a stink about it.

But i'm really closest to David Swimmer, who let me in on a little secret about tonight's finale episode. i can't reveal too much, but i will tell you that all six characters end up in a small-town jail, accused of the crime of "criminal indifference."

Wait a minute, that's not right.

You know, a lot of people don't realize i was originally cast for the role of Elaine in the pilot episode of Seinfeld . . .

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Thanks to Sarah for pointing out this heroic member of the Salvadoran military, serving in Iraq. It's a story you won't hear Don Rather talking about, or Seymore Hirsch writing about.

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i should do a Friends post. But really i'm waiting for Ginger and Candace to weigh in on tonight's historic end to the iconic TV sitcom. i'm torn between wanting to watch it and wanting to resist participating in a cultural phenomenon. i watched the Seinfeld final episode and i felt robbed afterwards. If i refuse to watch Friends tonight, it will be my curmudgeonly protest over all the hype surrounding this show, which "jumped the shark" years ago. But since the Lakers aren't on tonight, i'll probably tune in for a little bit, just so i'll be able to participate in the watercooler debriefing tomorrow at work. Maybe the cast will get drunk and make fools of themselves in the final minutes, like they did when Cheers ended.

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This idea is not only idiotic, it makes me a bit queasy in the tummy just thinking about it.

A Dutch artist has used a flap of her own skin to make a replica pistol to be shown at an Amsterdam art show. . . .

. . .

[S]he made the tiny replica pistol with a piece of skin . . . surgically removed from her abdomen. The puckered skin was stretched and sewn over a plastic and fiber pistol mold.

Meester said she had the flap of skin removed under local anaesthetic to allow her to make the pistol. The surgery left her with 16 stitches. She froze the skin, then defrosted it to make a replica weapon preserved in formaldehyde.

And here's the funniest quote i've seen in a long time:

If everyone made a pistol from their own skin, I think they would think twice about using a gun. I think there would be less violence in the world.

Posted by: annika at 01:04 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Yes they did. And this Ananova story informs us that a prostate professor is "particularly proud of the pickled penis."

Well, who wouldn't be proud of a penis that gives rise to inflated comments like the following:

"Napoleon's penis is but a small pod - it cannot stand comparison to our organ of 30 centimetres."

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i've been away for so long it's hard to get back into the swing of blogging. Mainly, i've been preoccupied with planning for my move back north again. But if there's one subject that is always easy to blog about, it's the American Skankwoman.

Here are some recent news stories, which at first might seem unrelated, but nothing gets past my uncanny ability to analyze and dissect the news:

Brad Pitt quits smoking (i assume he means cigarettes).

Brittany hires a hypnotist, says she wants to quit smoking too.

Brad openly questions monogamy, amidst rumors of trouble in his storybook marriage.

More rumors circulate about Brad and a famously tattooed actress named Angelina.

Brittany decides to get some new tattoos, but the job is hilariously botched.

Suddenly Brad declares that he wouldn't mind a "romp with Brittany."

Around about that time, Brittany exclaims her belief in the power of God! ("Yes! Oh God! Yes!")

Brad takes up cigarettes again.

Hmmmm, interesting. You do the math.

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Via Breanagh McTavish, check out this fun website. Remember those two Iraqi kids who posed with a sign, and there was some controversy about whether it had been doctored? This site lets you create your own caption for the sign. i like this one. This is a cute one. Here's one for G&S lovers. And i found this one to be worth a few chuckles. Here's one for Neo fans.

i made some too. Here's one i made for all 80's movie fans, and one for Teen Girl Squad fans. And this kid deserves a piece of pie, doesn't he? And here's some free promotion; what a sweetie.

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Wednesday being poetry day here, i think the perfectly appropriate selection in light of my current dillema is this one, the most famous poem about dillemas:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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1 Aah! A great one! (Though "Stopping By Woods..." might challenge it for his best known...) Frost -- along with Whitman and Poe -- is my favorite!!!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at April 28, 2004 06:45 PM (QzJ0r)

2 This is my favorite poem of his and have used it as a guide in making many big (and little) decisions.

Posted by: Shae at May 02, 2004 10:12 AM (qRr/q)

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i so appreciate the kind words, advice and encouragement you all have sent me. It's really heartwarming to read the comments and e-mails, and your suggestions are very welcome. i also appreciate the stories of hard decisions and their results that a lot of you have sent me, too. Makes me feel like i'm not alone. Also, i learned that some of you are contemplating even bigger life changes than me and to you i say, good luck. i'll be pulling for you, too.

i'm probably going to accept the offer from the good school. i spoke to a number of friends and some lawyers at work, who were also very helpful and encouraging. The partner i worked for told me that he would recommend me for a clerkship or part time job during the school year at their branch office up there.

My Dad seems okay with it. He says, "well we'll just have to go visit you." But i know he wanted me to go to UCLA, or Pepperdine. i didn't get into UCLA, but Pepperdine was his second choice for me because they're a relatively conservative law school. Still, he understands that the scholarship changes the equation.

My Mom remains the tough nut. She really laid it on thick last night. And it's not a situation of her desires vs. my desires. i don't want to leave her. It's not an easy decision for me. She suggested that i go for one year and try again to transfer to UCLA. That seems like an unwise way to go. i'm told law school transfers are not as easy as undergrad, nor are they a good idea, since it's only three years. It's better to stick with the same program. My plan is to convince her that three years is not that long, i'll visit every month or so, and that i will plan on coming back here when i'm done. She seemed really sad and worried last night, though. Which makes me feel like a total shithole.

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i'm serious. Trust me. This is like the funniest thing! It's called Teen Girl Squad. It's totally clean, but you might get in trouble for laughing your ass off at work. Watch all five Teen Girl Squad videos. Actually anything on this site is hilarious.

Thanks to Rambling Rhodes for the tip.

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Bear with me. Stream of consciousness and all that.*

Sometimes you build a life and when it's built you say, that's good, i like it, i think i'll stay here for a while. Then you congratulate yourself, but it's all vanity. You have no control over where you'll be, or what, from one day to the next. And you think you can insulate yourself from the hard choices, but God finds a way to stir things up anyway. And it sucks.

No, i'm not pregnant.

i got accepted to a pretty good law school. Trouble is, it was a fallback school, because it's in a place that i had not planned to move to. To make things "worse," they offered me a scholarship. A big one. Too much money to just dismiss. i got into some other schools too, but they didn't offer to take me for free, and they're not as good.

The whole damn reason i left all my friends, save one, and moved here to L.A. was to be near my parents. It's part guilt and part love. They're getting up there in years. Both of them have had health problems recently and i've been glad to be here and near them. i don't want to be away and get the call. You know the call i'm talking about. i don't want to know that i wasn't here for them. My brother is useless in these things. It's gotta be me, to take care of them if they need it.

Oh, they're fine now. Perfect health. i'm just afraid, really terrified something will happen and i won't be here. That's the guilt part. My Dad can take care of himself better than my Mom, but he's the one with the more serious health problems. Still, sometimes i go through life just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Maybe it's guilt that says i can't accept something nice happening to me. Maybe i'm just a baby who after all these years can't leave my parents. i think back on the other times when i was at a crossroads and i always picked the secure road, forsaking the road to adulthood. Colby is the big one. i could be married now, but i couldn't jump into that really big unknown. When he came back and wanted to give it a second try, i bugged out on him.

Oh, the self-pity and wailing and melancholy over such good news. What's wrong with me. Most people accept change in their lives. Most people look for it. People are always trying to move forward. i didn't want to, really. i'm happy doing what i'm doing. Working one day to the next, looking forward to each weekend, and then the next. Not making any plans. i'll quit smoking when i'm ready, etc.

The damn LSAT came back and it was good. A few points lower than i'd hoped, but still good enough to open a lot of possibilities. Too good not to apply to Law School. Then the applications went out. A couple of rejections from some places i'd been counting on. Wait-listed at a reach. Then this one.

i suppose i'll have to go. It's only three years. Really, i want to go. I'm excited about going, despite what i've typed above. Really excited. It's just that i seem to want to cry every time i think about leaving my parents. And i don't even visit them all that often. Certainly not as often as i should. And when i do visit, perhaps i grumble and argue a bit more than i should too. Maybe that's part of the guilt trip.

At the root, i have a big problem doing things for me alone. i don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. It keeps one from being too selfish. i'm very aware of not wanting to be selfish. Though i think i am. Egotistical too. Hell, i write a blog, i got a big ego. i just don't want a big ego. But i gotta do something for me sometime. i can't keep putting it off, like i had wanted to.

The choice is this. Take the better opportunity, push myself, and deal with the worry. Or take a lesser opportunity and coast. If i go up north again, i will have to come back to L.A. a lot, if only to assuage my worries and so they won't miss me. i'll miss the people and the life i've built here, but i may like it up there too.

It's so hard to decide. i've known for a long time that i am a very indecisive person. Lacking real ambition too. Lazy, etc. Whatever.

i have to let them know by Monday.

* Written in a horrible fit of self-doubt, and pity. Not to be construed as the way the blog's author is actually normally in real life. Just a look inside her soul, for a little bit. Aaaack! A word from God would be good right about now.

Posted by: annika at 09:51 AM | Comments (25) | Add Comment
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As noted in the aftermath of Pat Tillman's death, many sports figures gave up successful careers to fight in World War Two, including baseball players Hank Greenberg, Joe DiMaggio and boxer Joe Louis.

Baseball Crank reminds us that things were no different in the Great War.

* 'Harvard Eddie' Grant, formerly an everyday third baseman for the Phillies and Reds, killed in action October 5, 1918 in the Argonne Forest.

* German-born Robert Gustave 'Bun' Troy, who made a brief appearance with the Tigers in 1912, killed in action October 7, 1918 in Petit Maujouym, in France.

* Christy Mathewson, who suffered severe health problems from which he never recovered - possibly contributing to his death in 1925 at age 45 from tuberculosis - after inhaling poison gas in a training accident. (Ty Cobb also served in the same unit).

* Grover Cleveland Alexander, who as I explained here, would probably have made it to 400 wins or close to it if he hadn't lost a year at his peak to World War I, and who suffered lasting trauma from seeing combat with an artillery outfit.

* Sam Rice, who as I explained here, missed a year following his first big season after being drafted into the Army in World War I; Rice also got a late start in the majors because heÂ’d joined the Navy at age 23 after his parents, wife and two children were killed by a tornado (Rice saw combat in the Navy, landing at Vera Cruz in 1914). Without those interruptions, Rice could easily have had 3500-3700 hits in the major leagues.

* Hall of Famer Rabbit Maranville also missed a year to the Great War, as did several others I've overlooked here. [links omitted]

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Can't seem to hurt number one? Try going after number two.

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It all depends on what the definition of 'medals' is.

i don't really give a rat's ass what Kerry threw over the fence. It's the fact that he threw anything over, and the lies he told about the men serving in Vietnam, which he has yet to apologize for, that disqualifies him from the presidency, in my opinion. Not that you asked for my opinion.

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Sunday night seems to be the perfect night to cruise the blogosphere* and check out new stuff. Here's some of the good stuff i found tonight.

. . . Robofrost. i like his take on Dallas radio.

The thing about driving Dallas and its inevitably clogged highway arteries is that the Metroplex's radio stations freakin' rock, and rock hard. When I first scanned through my rental car's 10 FM radio presets, at least five blasted the bejeezus out me with heavy unadulterated loud-ass rock 'n' roll guitar. Classic, alternative, straight-up rock — you name it. Even the Christian rock station, 89.7 Power FM, completely rocked my balls off. It's nowhere near the same in cosmic cowboy Austin, so it was a blast to throw open the moon roof and rattle the asphalt and irritate some tightly wound Dallas yuppies and Range Rover soccer moms.

. . . Mike at Virginia Patriots explains why Iraqi mosques can be a legitimate target. . . .

. . . Matt Armstrong of Paste Magazine's blog sheds some light on an e-mail spam quirk i blogged about here. . . .

. . . All About Latvia reports that while Latvia debates its continued involvement in Iraq, the Latvian foreign minister denied a visa to an Al-Jazeera reporter without explanation. Good. If you ask me, the fact that he was from Al-Jazeera is reason enough. And in other Baltic news, Estonian blogger Tall Blonde reports an interesting statistic:

15% россиян не знают, кто такой Ленин

. . . Snazzykat unilaterally declares this week Blogger Love-in Week!

Today - and the days hereafter (because love shouldn't be limited to one day if you don't come across this until Tuesday!) - is the start of Blogger Love-in Week. Go to each of the blogs you read and tell them why you love them so much. Then come back here and let us know you're a part of the love-in, which is sort of like a sit-in but with a lot more touchy-feely action goin' on.

Then i thought, bad idea. Spamming blogs with comments might cause someone to accuse me of being a "male college student capitalizing on cute pictures of his girlfriend" in order to raise my popularity on the blogosphere.

i think i'll just stick to trackback begging. (Ooops) . . .

* Some bloggers may shy away from the term "blogosphere," but i think it's quite descriptive.

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It should be noted that on this day, in 1917, the greatest singer in history was born: Ella Fitzgerald.

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i'm simply embarrassed for him.

Inspired by the Alliance's Filthy Lie Assignment.

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i got a chuckle out of this idea. But i can't imagine anyone having the balls to walk around in one.

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Arion ater jacqchirac, a recently discovered pest, belongs to the family of spineless inverterbrates* which includes the garden slug. A voracious eater, it consumes indiscriminately and without gratitude. It secretes a disgusting oily slime that both lubricates its body and coats the path upon which it slithers.

Its tiny vestigial shell is of no use in protecting A. jacqchirac, which is why it begs shamelessly for other animals to protect its weak ass whenever it feels threatened. These particular mollusks smell bad, yet think themselves handsome. They talk tough, but inevitably cower when challenged. If you come across one, try sprinkling a little salt in its path and watch the creature squirm in pain and frustration as it tries to find a way around the simple obstacle. They move slowly and never in the right direction.

* An invertebrate is an animal without a vertebral column, or spine. Literally, it's a creature without a backbone.

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There's so much to say about the death of Pat Tillman, and i know i can't say it all. i knew about his story before he went into the Army because i listen to Jim Rome's show. i can remember the glowing praise Rome had for Tillman and his decision to give up his pro career to join the Army and enter Ranger training. Like Rome, i always thought he'd come back to us.

It's true that Tillman's sacrifice is equal to the sacrifice of all the brave men and women we've lost in Iraq and Afghanistan. But if there is a difference, it's that we civilians who have not been touched by any personal loss, have now been given a face to put on the sacrifice of those heroes who are over there protecting us. i feel Tillman's loss because i knew him as a fan, however remotely, and it brings home to me the sacrifices of all the men and women who have died or been injured to protect me.

Here's a very poignant salute to Pvt. Tillman written before he went overseas, which reminds us that Tillman joins the ranks of other great patriots like Ted Williams.

Here are some of the tributes coming in now.

And i want to note that Tillman was killed in action, on a mission to hunt Al Qaeda. He was literally killed in the act of protecting you and me.

Pat Tillman was my age. When 9/11 happened i, like many people i know, thought about enlisting in the armed forces. i also thought about the FBI or the CIA. But i didn't follow up on anything. There were others who joined and would join. i had my life and my plans, and my patriotic fervor subsided in time. Not that i ever became un-patriotic, but let's just say i chose not to make the personal sacrifice.

Pat Tillman did. And not only did he give up the comfy bed and the new wife and the safety of life in the U.S., he gave up millions of dollars too. Not only that, he was in the NFL. It's not just money. It's fame, too. He gave up the adoration that anybody who's ever played the game of football knows is one of the great perks of the sport. Chicks dig football players. i was a cheerleader, i know. Even a married guy like Tillman must have appreciated the rare power to turn heads in any bar or restaurant simply because they are in the NFL.

If somebody offered me three mil to join the Army, i would have done it in a heartbeat. But Tillman did just the opposite. He gave up an NFL contract for the opportunity to risk his life. Why? Because he loved America, and he had a sense of duty so great that i can't even comprehend it. And he not only risked his life, he gave it.

i know that somewhere up there this morning, Ted Williams is buying a beer for Pat Tillman and saying "good job soldier." God bless him.

More: i've been somber and teary-eyed all day, because of the news. Today being casual Friday, i took my usual Friday lunchtime power walk around Century City. i listened to Sean Hannity on my walkman. Of course he was talking about Pat Tillman, and saying the nicest things about our people serving in the military. That made me even sadder. Then he played Toby Keith's beautiful song "American Soldier" and i totally lost it.

Oh, and I don't want to die for you,
But if dyin's asked of me,
I'll bear that cross with honor,
'Cause freedom don't come free.

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