It's been a crappy few months. I'm not gonna lie. I wound up having the flu for a few days, and was hallucinating on my futon. It was not pretty, and I lost ten pounds.
I used to wonder how people could lose touch with the friends they care about, and that is exactly what is happening. It's funny, some of my closest friends at school used to question my choosing to be friends with other people, but it now turns out those close friends make no effort to stay in touch, while the ones they questioned are always in touch and making sure I'm okay.
Weird how that plays out, isn't it?
I may be in DC this week. I'm actually hoping for it, because then I can see my friend Txxx and sort-of get away from here for at least a day. We had a nice talk the other day about all the crap we've been going through...it's nice to know when you're falling down, someone else is falling down too and if you lean on each other you can prop yourselves up just a bit.
And life in New York is...blah. It's not falling apart or anything, but there have been events, actions, and people over the past few weeks that have left a bad taste in my mouth. I don't know. I haven't felt this crummy in a while. Not much is funny.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
when I'm 64
Every so often I hear of someone I may have "been involved with" (I'm leaving this open to interpretation) getting married, having kids, and living in the suburbs with a station wagon and minivan. This happened just now with another one.
Then I'll usually look them up on MySpace or Facebook to see what they look like (at least I'm honest about this), and when I see the photos for about two seconds I'll wonder how I avoided such a fate, and if I ever want(ed) such things.
They do seem geuinely happy. And while they are spending their Saturday mornings with their family, watching Dora with their toddlers, I'm laying in bed, hoping moving much won't trigger the after-effects of whatever I consumed last night.
And those are the nights I make it to my bed. They buy diapers, I buy alcohol. They go home Thursday night after work to relieve the sitter and watch The Office, I go home Friday morning and hope I can get a quick nap in before going to work.
I suppose on a lot of levels their lives do seem more rewarding, but I don't think I would ever want to be trapped like that. While I love this town, it is nice to know if I needed/wanted to I could throw everything on craigslist and head to parts unknown. Once you have a family, you can't do that.
I think that is why I tend to stay away from girls who want kids. Even at this age I'm screening them, because I have no desire to be held down by someone else. At least if it is just the two of you and you both want to get away, it's sayonara NYC.
I drank more at the end of last month and the beginning of this month than I ever have before. Mr. Daniels and I became very good friends pretty much every day after work. We aren't that close anymore, though.
Then I'll usually look them up on MySpace or Facebook to see what they look like (at least I'm honest about this), and when I see the photos for about two seconds I'll wonder how I avoided such a fate, and if I ever want(ed) such things.
They do seem geuinely happy. And while they are spending their Saturday mornings with their family, watching Dora with their toddlers, I'm laying in bed, hoping moving much won't trigger the after-effects of whatever I consumed last night.
And those are the nights I make it to my bed. They buy diapers, I buy alcohol. They go home Thursday night after work to relieve the sitter and watch The Office, I go home Friday morning and hope I can get a quick nap in before going to work.
I suppose on a lot of levels their lives do seem more rewarding, but I don't think I would ever want to be trapped like that. While I love this town, it is nice to know if I needed/wanted to I could throw everything on craigslist and head to parts unknown. Once you have a family, you can't do that.
I think that is why I tend to stay away from girls who want kids. Even at this age I'm screening them, because I have no desire to be held down by someone else. At least if it is just the two of you and you both want to get away, it's sayonara NYC.
I drank more at the end of last month and the beginning of this month than I ever have before. Mr. Daniels and I became very good friends pretty much every day after work. We aren't that close anymore, though.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
keep me in your heart for a while
When my brother was born, my parents asked my Dad's mother what she wanted to be called. Nana, Grandma, Gramps -- the choice was hers. She decided she was much too young (50) for any of these names, and he and all future grandchildren could call her 'G.'
Whenever I got in trouble and was mad at my parents for yelling at me, I'd tell my parents (lisp and all), "I'm going to live with G becauthe she loves me.'
I went away with her just about every summer until I was 13 or so. Florida, Oklahoma, Texas, just staying at her place on Long Island -- anything I wanted to do we would do. I was five when she asked if I wanted to go to Florida to see 'GG' (her mother), and I immediately said 'yeth,' ran off, and returned 5 minutes later with a fully packed suitcase.
Whenever she traveled to far away lands (China! Egypt! Japan! Italy!), she returned with souveniers for us, and they fascinated us. I remember being obsessed with a blue scarab she brought back for me from Egypt. It was shiny and just this incredibly bright blue. I fawned over it constantly, and kept it in my pocket for months.
We were in Montauk for a long weekend once and I found a conch (living, though I did not know it at the time) on the beach. She allowed me to take it in the car all the way home to upstate NY, where it was determined it was not a good idea for it to be away from the ocean. The smell was terrible. But for a boy who had recently read Lord of the Flies, this was golden!!
As I got older, I saw less and less of G. Whenever she visited she would come to whatever event my brother or I had going on -- track meets or graduation, she was there, and she was beaming. She loved that she was involved in our lives, and treasured all the photos she could go home with to boast about us to her friends. When I was hired at my current place of employment, she told all her friends immediately. Her grandson was working at ____ and loved it, and isn't that terrific?
It was hard to find a bigger cheerleader of my life than G.
And she was always giving -- she always asked if I ever needed anything. She would occasionally send Omaha steaks to make sure I had good meat to eat, and I never had to ask for anything. I said no many times, because I did not need many things and was doing alright supporting myself.
She loved to give, and I never truly realized the pleasure it brought her to give to myself, my brother, and my cousin until a few days ago.
G moved to Texas on her own about ten years ago. At first she was lonely, but then she began volunteering for various organizations. Ronald McDonald House, the Dallas Zoo, the botanical garden, other animal societies -- she did it all, and she loved every minute of it. She was busy from morning to night, and she loved it. I saw her calendar Saturday night, and every page of it was full. There was no stopping her from being as active as she loved.
When I left home, I still called G every few weeks to update her on my life and see how she was doing. And every time I called, she would tell my parents everything I told her, because she was that happy she knew what and how I was doing. And every story I told, she had one that not only compared, but was better. If I went to Vegas once, she was there five times. If I was going on a road trip for a week, she was traveling the midwest for two months. If I was going to Amsterdam, she had done all of Europe.
The family used to joke that G could talk a lot. She could go non-stop, story leading into tangent to another tangent back to the first story to more tangents and so on and so forth. And there was no stopping her once she got going. No way, no how. You had to wait until the entire epic was complete.
G had a heart attack last Wednesday and a friend brought her to the hospital. She called my Dad afterwards to tell him. My Mom called me Thursday to tell me, and to say they did not know exactly how severe it was or what was going on. My Mom gave me the hospital room contact info, but I could not get through and left a message on G's voicemail of her cell. I spoke to my Mom again Friday, and she said they were flying out that day and the doctor had told my Dad the family should be there. All three of G's children, and all three grandchildren were there by Saturday, and we were all in one room for the first time in about 7 years. And she loved it. And that day was great. She was grinning ear to ear when I walked in, and said 'my baby' when I walked over to her bedside to kiss her hello. With the arrival of my brother and I, the entire family was now completely in that one little room.
I would find out later that night G's condition was deteriorating, and she was not out of the woods yet. The best we could do was hope, and for those of us with the inclination, to pray.
Most of the family was by her side the next day when it finally happened. I don't know many people who have a heart attack that kills 20% of the heart and then live another four days, but G is one of them. She was not going to leave us without having the entire family together one last time, and she was determined to get what she wanted. The epic of her life was not complete, and there was no way anyone was writing that last page other than her.
To G, who lived more in 77 years than anyone I will ever know.
Whenever I got in trouble and was mad at my parents for yelling at me, I'd tell my parents (lisp and all), "I'm going to live with G becauthe she loves me.'
I went away with her just about every summer until I was 13 or so. Florida, Oklahoma, Texas, just staying at her place on Long Island -- anything I wanted to do we would do. I was five when she asked if I wanted to go to Florida to see 'GG' (her mother), and I immediately said 'yeth,' ran off, and returned 5 minutes later with a fully packed suitcase.
Whenever she traveled to far away lands (China! Egypt! Japan! Italy!), she returned with souveniers for us, and they fascinated us. I remember being obsessed with a blue scarab she brought back for me from Egypt. It was shiny and just this incredibly bright blue. I fawned over it constantly, and kept it in my pocket for months.
We were in Montauk for a long weekend once and I found a conch (living, though I did not know it at the time) on the beach. She allowed me to take it in the car all the way home to upstate NY, where it was determined it was not a good idea for it to be away from the ocean. The smell was terrible. But for a boy who had recently read Lord of the Flies, this was golden!!
As I got older, I saw less and less of G. Whenever she visited she would come to whatever event my brother or I had going on -- track meets or graduation, she was there, and she was beaming. She loved that she was involved in our lives, and treasured all the photos she could go home with to boast about us to her friends. When I was hired at my current place of employment, she told all her friends immediately. Her grandson was working at ____ and loved it, and isn't that terrific?
It was hard to find a bigger cheerleader of my life than G.
And she was always giving -- she always asked if I ever needed anything. She would occasionally send Omaha steaks to make sure I had good meat to eat, and I never had to ask for anything. I said no many times, because I did not need many things and was doing alright supporting myself.
She loved to give, and I never truly realized the pleasure it brought her to give to myself, my brother, and my cousin until a few days ago.
G moved to Texas on her own about ten years ago. At first she was lonely, but then she began volunteering for various organizations. Ronald McDonald House, the Dallas Zoo, the botanical garden, other animal societies -- she did it all, and she loved every minute of it. She was busy from morning to night, and she loved it. I saw her calendar Saturday night, and every page of it was full. There was no stopping her from being as active as she loved.
When I left home, I still called G every few weeks to update her on my life and see how she was doing. And every time I called, she would tell my parents everything I told her, because she was that happy she knew what and how I was doing. And every story I told, she had one that not only compared, but was better. If I went to Vegas once, she was there five times. If I was going on a road trip for a week, she was traveling the midwest for two months. If I was going to Amsterdam, she had done all of Europe.
The family used to joke that G could talk a lot. She could go non-stop, story leading into tangent to another tangent back to the first story to more tangents and so on and so forth. And there was no stopping her once she got going. No way, no how. You had to wait until the entire epic was complete.
G had a heart attack last Wednesday and a friend brought her to the hospital. She called my Dad afterwards to tell him. My Mom called me Thursday to tell me, and to say they did not know exactly how severe it was or what was going on. My Mom gave me the hospital room contact info, but I could not get through and left a message on G's voicemail of her cell. I spoke to my Mom again Friday, and she said they were flying out that day and the doctor had told my Dad the family should be there. All three of G's children, and all three grandchildren were there by Saturday, and we were all in one room for the first time in about 7 years. And she loved it. And that day was great. She was grinning ear to ear when I walked in, and said 'my baby' when I walked over to her bedside to kiss her hello. With the arrival of my brother and I, the entire family was now completely in that one little room.
I would find out later that night G's condition was deteriorating, and she was not out of the woods yet. The best we could do was hope, and for those of us with the inclination, to pray.
Most of the family was by her side the next day when it finally happened. I don't know many people who have a heart attack that kills 20% of the heart and then live another four days, but G is one of them. She was not going to leave us without having the entire family together one last time, and she was determined to get what she wanted. The epic of her life was not complete, and there was no way anyone was writing that last page other than her.
To G, who lived more in 77 years than anyone I will ever know.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
this was started Sunday, so it is a bit old in the beginning
I am proud to live in a country that can blatantly violate the terms of the Geneva Convention. If there is one thing this administration will be remembered for, it is
oh who am I kidding, this administration will be remembered for tons of things!! I was telling a friend Saturday if I ever have kids, I want to read their history textbook to see what viewed perspective of the Bush administration they give.
The best thing to happen for the Dems in this election is for Bush to campaign with McCain. More.of.the.same.
Of Course, Hellary is doing her best to make sure Obama doesn't get elected
Ok so after writing all that we all know what happened with Spitzer blah blah ok over it. On the same day 7 more soldiers were killed in Iraq and the day before the President refused to outlaw torture. Sex scandals > Human Lives
My hoodie hasn't been washed yet and still smells...
oh who am I kidding, this administration will be remembered for tons of things!! I was telling a friend Saturday if I ever have kids, I want to read their history textbook to see what viewed perspective of the Bush administration they give.
The best thing to happen for the Dems in this election is for Bush to campaign with McCain. More.of.the.same.
Of Course, Hellary is doing her best to make sure Obama doesn't get elected
Ok so after writing all that we all know what happened with Spitzer blah blah ok over it. On the same day 7 more soldiers were killed in Iraq and the day before the President refused to outlaw torture. Sex scandals > Human Lives
My hoodie hasn't been washed yet and still smells...
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Han shot first
Cosmo Magazine has a whole section on the best places to meet a guy (I was directed to this section by another blog, I don't regularly read Cosmo). Number 1 on the list? An Apple Store.
Sayeth Cosmo: "Most guys are natural gadget lovers, and with sales of iPods and MacBooks skyrocketing, more men than ever are stopping by Apple boutiques. The vibe at the stores is conducive to man meeting too: You can check your email among cuties, take a free workshop on anything from Photoshop to podcasting (a great opportunity to strike up a conversation), or just survey the, ahem, good-looking merchandise."
Sure it's not a sci-fi convention or comic-con or anything like that, but talk about the geeks inheriting the Earth. Although it's all fake-geek, not Freaks n Geeks geek.
Not that I'm headed straight for the Apple store, but goddamn. I never thought I'd ever see the day when one of the number 1 women's magazines was telling them to head to geek central and land a man.
Maybe I should plant myself into various video classes so I can "help them."
Sayeth Cosmo: "Most guys are natural gadget lovers, and with sales of iPods and MacBooks skyrocketing, more men than ever are stopping by Apple boutiques. The vibe at the stores is conducive to man meeting too: You can check your email among cuties, take a free workshop on anything from Photoshop to podcasting (a great opportunity to strike up a conversation), or just survey the, ahem, good-looking merchandise."
Sure it's not a sci-fi convention or comic-con or anything like that, but talk about the geeks inheriting the Earth. Although it's all fake-geek, not Freaks n Geeks geek.
Not that I'm headed straight for the Apple store, but goddamn. I never thought I'd ever see the day when one of the number 1 women's magazines was telling them to head to geek central and land a man.
Maybe I should plant myself into various video classes so I can "help them."
Saturday, March 1, 2008
if there's a housing crisis in the n anymore
the tent so big in your pants baby
I would gladly share the tent in my pants with Peaches, but I would prefer her ex-roommate Feist.
Our President will now exit office after having presided over one of the biggest financial tumbles in recent US history. There is definitely more damage to come, and there is no silver lining in sight.
I have finally purchased a receiver (and speakers), which means I no longer have to connect my record player to a guitar amp. Although I don't know how Metal Machine Music is going to sound in surround sound. I am excited to find out, though.
Although setting up the receiver has been a bit difficult, what with all the different connections I have going on. And considering what I do, this should not be a problem for me.
I want to go to a good old fashioned rock 'n roll show. Not the standard NYC everyone stands around, arms crossed. I want to go see Of Montreal for the 11th or 12th time and dance dance the night away. Or to a Flogging Molly show and dance/skank. Say what you will about that band, their fans love to get-down.
Durex did a survey and found Americans rank behind Canadians and Brits when it comes to frequency of sex.
Dear America,
This is one thing we should at least try and be best at. Our economy is tanking, the dollar is worth less and less every day, at least let's show the world we may not give a fuck, but we do love to fuck.
I still don't understand this country's awkwardness when it comes to sex, and I grew up here! I mean, yeah I get a little shy when shopping in certain stores, but at least I am open-to-new-things.
I am (and most people I know are) in the best of moods when getting laid on a regular basis. Plus its good exercise.
Like today, I thought about joining a gym. I didn't, but at least I thought about it. If I was having more regular sex, the thought would not have even crossed my mind.
I want to write a book about the economy of sex. I could go on Oprah and hawk it.
I would gladly share the tent in my pants with Peaches, but I would prefer her ex-roommate Feist.
Our President will now exit office after having presided over one of the biggest financial tumbles in recent US history. There is definitely more damage to come, and there is no silver lining in sight.
I have finally purchased a receiver (and speakers), which means I no longer have to connect my record player to a guitar amp. Although I don't know how Metal Machine Music is going to sound in surround sound. I am excited to find out, though.
Although setting up the receiver has been a bit difficult, what with all the different connections I have going on. And considering what I do, this should not be a problem for me.
I want to go to a good old fashioned rock 'n roll show. Not the standard NYC everyone stands around, arms crossed. I want to go see Of Montreal for the 11th or 12th time and dance dance the night away. Or to a Flogging Molly show and dance/skank. Say what you will about that band, their fans love to get-down.
Durex did a survey and found Americans rank behind Canadians and Brits when it comes to frequency of sex.
Dear America,
This is one thing we should at least try and be best at. Our economy is tanking, the dollar is worth less and less every day, at least let's show the world we may not give a fuck, but we do love to fuck.
I still don't understand this country's awkwardness when it comes to sex, and I grew up here! I mean, yeah I get a little shy when shopping in certain stores, but at least I am open-to-new-things.
I am (and most people I know are) in the best of moods when getting laid on a regular basis. Plus its good exercise.
Like today, I thought about joining a gym. I didn't, but at least I thought about it. If I was having more regular sex, the thought would not have even crossed my mind.
I want to write a book about the economy of sex. I could go on Oprah and hawk it.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
57 channels (and nothing's on)
There is a certain story making its way around the Internet/blog-o-sphere/digg/slashdot that has made me think a little more before writing some things. If you follow the news like I do and know where I work, you know the story I refer to.
That said, I am not going to comment on it.
This gives me hope:
Students walk 7 miles to vote.
That said, I am not going to comment on it.
This gives me hope:
Students walk 7 miles to vote.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Public Service Announcement
In a previous post, I mentioned bacterial vaginosis, and that I would touch upon it at a later date. Today is that date.
I am going to try to keep this simple and to the point.
I did not know what bacterial vaginosis (hereafter to be called BV) was until I was lamenting to a friend about some recent sexual (or non-sexual, to be more precise) relations I had. You see, I was all set to (insert title of famous Petula Clark song here), when BAM! my nose was knocked backwards by, well, pretty much the worst thing I've ever sniffed. I lost all desire to have sex right then and there. I had to make up some lame excuse and we didn't do anything. It was TERRIBLE! The entire night I was mad that she was getting her stink all over my clean sheets. That's how bad it was.
Buuuuuut I thought maybe it was a one-time thing, and so she came over again a couple weeks later. Still.the.same.
It was like a carton of rotten milk combined with one of those smells-like-smoke scratch 'n sniff stickers you get on fire safety day in second grade.
So again, there was no sex. At this point I look:
a. impotent
b. gay
c. all of the above
ANYWAY, when I complained to two lesbian friends about this (that's how I roll), one mentioned that it was probably BV, which I had never heard of. And after learning what it was, I determined this is what the girl had.
I don't know if my diagnosis is correct, but I did not have the heart to tell her she should get it checked out. I'm sorry. There are just some things I can't do. Telling a girl to get her BV checked is one of them.
So ladies, the moral of the story is this: If your fella is completely put-off by your clamshell, you might wanna think about polishing that pearl.
I am going to try to keep this simple and to the point.
I did not know what bacterial vaginosis (hereafter to be called BV) was until I was lamenting to a friend about some recent sexual (or non-sexual, to be more precise) relations I had. You see, I was all set to (insert title of famous Petula Clark song here), when BAM! my nose was knocked backwards by, well, pretty much the worst thing I've ever sniffed. I lost all desire to have sex right then and there. I had to make up some lame excuse and we didn't do anything. It was TERRIBLE! The entire night I was mad that she was getting her stink all over my clean sheets. That's how bad it was.
Buuuuuut I thought maybe it was a one-time thing, and so she came over again a couple weeks later. Still.the.same.
It was like a carton of rotten milk combined with one of those smells-like-smoke scratch 'n sniff stickers you get on fire safety day in second grade.
So again, there was no sex. At this point I look:
a. impotent
b. gay
c. all of the above
ANYWAY, when I complained to two lesbian friends about this (that's how I roll), one mentioned that it was probably BV, which I had never heard of. And after learning what it was, I determined this is what the girl had.
I don't know if my diagnosis is correct, but I did not have the heart to tell her she should get it checked out. I'm sorry. There are just some things I can't do. Telling a girl to get her BV checked is one of them.
So ladies, the moral of the story is this: If your fella is completely put-off by your clamshell, you might wanna think about polishing that pearl.
News Views Use
While this blog is merely months old, I have been blogging since August of 2001. That blog exists as a livejournal that is never updated, and never updated is how it shall remain. I think 6+ years of the same journal is enough. That one contains 3/4 of my collegiate career, and the years that came after. This one is much less personal (read: no teenage angst).
I'm starting to realize I pay too much attention to the news. I almost never watch it, but I am constantly reading it online. My homepage on Firefox consists of RSS feeds from NYTimes, Time, Newsweek, Salon, Alternet, The Economist, Slashdot, NPR, Reuters, Wired, Digg, and CNN. And I check it all.the.time. I can't watch the news on tv because it does not show the stories I want to know about when I want to know about them.
TV news is just not for me. I don't care what Pundit X thinks, and I know for a fact Analyst Y is an idiot.
Anyway, my obsession with the news can lead to some social problems (as if I didn't have enough already). I can make for REALLY boring dinner conversation, especially if the person(s) has/have no knowledge whatsoever of the world outside their window. Which does not happen often with the people I choose to spend my spare time with, but it did happen recently to the point that I was flabbergasted when I had to explain the presidential primary process to someone.
A person who was born and raised here has no idea how our electoral process works. That's terrible!! I know I love to rip on this country and the state it has gotten itself into, but I LOVE the idea of America. The one in the Constitution. The Bill of Rights is still the single greatest work of non-fiction ever written (the Bible does not count because, like I said, non-fiction).
I don't understand how an educated person can live here and not know how their leaders are elected or the goverment process works. Which explains a lot about how the current administration came to be.
I do not know what my liberties are; therefore, I will not notice when they are taken away.
I'm starting to realize I pay too much attention to the news. I almost never watch it, but I am constantly reading it online. My homepage on Firefox consists of RSS feeds from NYTimes, Time, Newsweek, Salon, Alternet, The Economist, Slashdot, NPR, Reuters, Wired, Digg, and CNN. And I check it all.the.time. I can't watch the news on tv because it does not show the stories I want to know about when I want to know about them.
TV news is just not for me. I don't care what Pundit X thinks, and I know for a fact Analyst Y is an idiot.
Anyway, my obsession with the news can lead to some social problems (as if I didn't have enough already). I can make for REALLY boring dinner conversation, especially if the person(s) has/have no knowledge whatsoever of the world outside their window. Which does not happen often with the people I choose to spend my spare time with, but it did happen recently to the point that I was flabbergasted when I had to explain the presidential primary process to someone.
A person who was born and raised here has no idea how our electoral process works. That's terrible!! I know I love to rip on this country and the state it has gotten itself into, but I LOVE the idea of America. The one in the Constitution. The Bill of Rights is still the single greatest work of non-fiction ever written (the Bible does not count because, like I said, non-fiction).
I don't understand how an educated person can live here and not know how their leaders are elected or the goverment process works. Which explains a lot about how the current administration came to be.
I do not know what my liberties are; therefore, I will not notice when they are taken away.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
TV is back! TV is back!
Well, not quite yet. But the Writers' Strike looks to be over, so (very) slowly there might be some new writing on the television.
First impacted will be Conan/Daily Show/those shows, then SNL, and then the other comedies/dramas, but since production can take 2-4 months, we might not see new shows until April. Just in time for sweeps in May? A quick 5-episode count to wrap up various seasons?
I think both the studios and writers lost. People realized they have so many more alternatives now than they did during the strike of '88. You know who won? The Internet. iTunes. Netflix. DVR companies.
My Netflix usage tripled during the strike, and I'm still finding more shows and movies to add to my queue. Why bother finding new shows to watch when there are so many old ones to catch up on? The Rock and Roll Grammarian (who I would link to but I don't feel like typing the html, see link on right) introduced me to the wonder that is Battlestar Galactica, and I love it! It appeals so much to my inner/outer geek!
Speaking of geek, I am getting press access for NY Toy Fair AND NY Comic Con!!! It's a dream come true for any 14 year old/me!!
First impacted will be Conan/Daily Show/those shows, then SNL, and then the other comedies/dramas, but since production can take 2-4 months, we might not see new shows until April. Just in time for sweeps in May? A quick 5-episode count to wrap up various seasons?
I think both the studios and writers lost. People realized they have so many more alternatives now than they did during the strike of '88. You know who won? The Internet. iTunes. Netflix. DVR companies.
My Netflix usage tripled during the strike, and I'm still finding more shows and movies to add to my queue. Why bother finding new shows to watch when there are so many old ones to catch up on? The Rock and Roll Grammarian (who I would link to but I don't feel like typing the html, see link on right) introduced me to the wonder that is Battlestar Galactica, and I love it! It appeals so much to my inner/outer geek!
Speaking of geek, I am getting press access for NY Toy Fair AND NY Comic Con!!! It's a dream come true for any 14 year old/me!!
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