sometimes, when I'm sitting there, writing grant abstracts and pushing through performance reviews, I think to myself, that what I really want to be doing is creating 3-minute stop-animation cooking shows using candy and rubik’s cubes. Really, my talent is wasted here in “research”.

Or so, you know, I say.

any way you can, I guess

not that I have readers flocking to this imbecile blog or anything, but just out of curiosity, I ran a quick query on what people were searching for that led them to café bleu.

the overwhelmingly winning google search query? "pussy + cow"

whatever draws you in, I guess.

rinse, repeat

they were airing this back in the 70s, when we were burning up fossil fuels for fun, just because we could!

love is for losers

I suppose it's always tragic when a love story falls apart. or in this case, a beanie-baby filled marriage crumbles under the weight of infidelity. but still, it is one of the funniest things I've read in a while, and I thank the internet for laying it at my feet like a drowned worm after a rainstorm:

http://nomarriage.com/ebay.html

yes, this makes sense

The Shanghai Sheraton, a 5-star hotel in China, was undergoing a week-long cleaning of their windows. How to minimize the disturbance of their guests during that week?

"Nobody wants to see a person suddenly appear outside their window, so we thought of dressing them as [Spiderman]," said a hotel spokesman. It only makes sense.

bboy pop

if you can do any of the following, or know anyone who can, please contact me asap:

tokio hotel

brought to you by my 13-year old self, in conjunction with my present-day self who realizes that her 13-year old self was imminently cooler than she will ever be again:



I did use to love the pretty long-haired boys in eyeliner. where did they all go?

the lead singer, tom, reminds me of j, whom I used to have a crush on and would steal glances at all the time when I was dating i. I'd make excuses to catch him in his velvet-suited glory, leaning against the streetposts on telegraph or at popscene at the cat club, before it moved to 330 ritch. all hair and dark-rimmed eyes and thin, long fingers.

I'm sure he's probably the bagcheck dude at an amoeba somewhere or something.

o, back to tokio hotel. the obligatory ballad:


I told kisling that they were like an early crüe, circa too fast for love or shout. but I take that back now. more on the realm of theatre of pain. but cuter? and cleaner?

pussy cow

does anyone remember cal worthington and his dog spot? I don't really remember much from the 80s, but I remember these commercials:



and apparently, he wasn't saying "pussy cow" but "go see cal". eh. 24 years in translation.

Planet *s!

If you haven't already, I really encourage you strongly to check out Planet B-Boy if you're lucky enough to have it playing near you.

In one of the parallel versions of my life, I am a breakdancer. Of course, a great one. A girl one. I would be known for my crazy blowups and over the top footwork. In this version of my life, tho, I have to live it vicariously through real bboys.


I want someone to say of me, "there's nobody that can touch *s! when it comes to _____" and say that without referencing peeps or sugar consumption. I love the idea of loving something so much you can't contain yourself. And I'm envious of the passion and desperation it takes to throw your life into something. Anything. I mean I'm pretty passionate about Reese's Pieces. But I'd give them up rather than put up a fight. I'm just like that.

More from Last For One, who were the undisputed heartbreak champions of the film and the 2005 International Battle of the Year:

I love their intensity, their complete focus, and most of all, their green and white puma tracksuits. Also, ♥ BBoy Joe ♥

And from France, Phase T, who are probably the most poetic of any of the finalists:

Lil Kev, the eeny white boy, is almost too twee to take seriously. Until you see him fly across the stage.

And then of course, Gamblerz, the defending champions coming into the 2005 Battle:

They're like a series of explosions. One of the only crews to build a storyline for this competition, and one that works whether or not you know it. I love that they're a powerhouse team, but knew that they needed to round out to become a more cohesive team. And then did it.

Finally, just for fun, a clip of Gamblerz v. Ichigeki during the Pre-Elim battle:

I love the in-your-faceness of it all. The show and tell structure of a story told in dance.

coulda been me

last week, I read about nicholas white, who was trapped in an elevator for 41 hours. FORTY ONE HOURS! and the entire thing was caught on the security camera video, a particularly fine condensed version set to music by the New Yorker:



there are two really salient points in his story for me. the first is that no one even realized he was trapped in the elevators the whole time. not the 8 security guards who ostensibly sat in front of the video monitors watching him pacing around and waving at the security camera mounted in Car 4 for nearly two straight days, not the attendants in the lobby where the elevator never returned, not the servicemen who took care of multiple repairs in the other elevators, not even his colleague, who instead taped a snide note onto his computer screen so everyone could see that he'd left her in the lurch.

the other point is more mundane, and yet closer-hitting. this idea that we live in a world over which our ability to control is just an illusion--one which we must create ourselves to trick ourselves, metaphorically illustrated by the door-close button in the elevator. a button whose main purpose is to "make you think it works", providing an outlet for the primal fear of losing control of one's surroundings once you step into that steel and concrete box dangling over thousands of feet of yawning nothing. most of us, step into one of these every day. putting our lives and fate into a mechanism of which we understand relatively little, if anything. and yet, we do it, cajoling ourselves into believing that we, not the elevator, are the ones in control. how many times have you watched someone, or yourself, step in and automatically reach for the door-close button. and of course, that the doors eventually do close, which only serves as evidence for our need to believe in the purpose and authority of that button. as nick paumgarten writes, "Elevator design is rooted in deception—to disguise not only the bare fact of the box hanging by ropes but also the tethering of tenants to a system over which they have no command." isn't it the same with the world we design around ourselves?

just saying.

just to re-emphasize

again, all the things Rick Astley is never gonna do:

Grody McGroderson

Of course. Before the clash of the eloi and morlock, the rise and fall of our society will be documented by robotkind. and the men who love them.

I read this article in Gizmodo, about a 33-year old self-described technosexual. In other words, a man who no longer considers himself a virgin, now that he has consummated his relationship with his robot girlfriend of one year, Alice. One year, that is, after robot girlfriend Alice "dumped" him, and he erased her memory before launching back in.

Among the millions of questions that are probably brimming to the surface of your brain right now, I would bet is, "WHY?"

In Zoltan's own words: It just came to me one day. I had a bunch of bad relationships. I would get to the point in my relationship with a woman and I was always too afraid to go all the way. With a robot it is much less scary...Plus there's all the obvious problems with humans—AIDS, alimony, etc—that I just wanted to avoid. I think a lot of people would want to avoid these things.

I too want to avoid alimony and AIDS. Robots it is. Especially a robot as engaging as Alice, built for a little over $200 and fully kitted out with cyberskin lips. Yew. yew. yew.

Of course, Zoltan is a romantic. He is totally monogamous to Alice, and considers her his "mentally-ill, paraplegic wife who [he] love[s] a lot and, strangely, [doesn't] have to take care of much." Smells like Valentine's!

Don't believe me? See for yourself.

astralwerks 2001

Royksopp - Remind Me

It's only been a week the rush of being home and rapid fading failing to recall what I was missing all that time in England Has sent me aimlessly on foot or by the help of transportation to knock on windows where a friend no longer live, I had forgotten and everywhere I go there's always something to remind me of another place and time where love that travelled far had found me We stayed outside till two waiting for the light to come back we didn't talk I knew until you asked what I was thinking until you asked what I was thinking brave men tell the truth the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles a woman holds her tongue knowing silence will speak for her brave men tell the truth the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles a woman holds her tongue knowing silence will speak for her and everywhere I go there's always something to remind me of another place and time where love that travelled far had found me

chimpliment, take 2

chump: who would play you in the movie of your life?
*s!: parker posey!
chump: oh right
chump: someone that looks more ehtnic, please
*s!: o, we'd tape her eyelids, don't worry
chump: yeah, but that won't translate well to american audiences
chump: (or youretough readers)
chump: i'm looking for one to play you
chump: and i found her
chump: don't worry
*s!: I hate you already
chump: well then you're really gonna hate me in about 6 mins
*s!: I'm getting myself ready
chump: good
chump: ok, it's up
chump: i just snickered

*s!: god. I hate you.

Henry Walton Jones, Jr., Ph.D.

...but you can call him Indy.


A couple of years ago, I heard a bizarre story about a group of kids who had obsessively recreated and filmed their version of Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, scene by scene, taking almost a decade to complete. As someone who has similar obsessive and compulsive tendencies, I immediately appreciated both the ability to love something so much that it would take over your life so completely as well as the need to nurture this love and in turn, let it evolve into something new.

The sheer brilliance of a 12-year old, creating storyboards, detailing each of the 609 scenes they would later shoot is just mind-boggling. I mean, just take a look at the meticulousness of the wardrobe sets:

So, how excited am I that it's showing at the 2008 Backseat Film Festival? And that this weekend, I'll be writing to tell you how awesome it was instead of how excited I am to go see it? Pretty fucking excited.

Doing anything Saturday night? Get tickets and meet me there!

In the meantime, this should convince you that we're not talking about some run-of-the-mill afterschool project here:

Angela R. and Chris S. as Marion and Indy.




Nazis marching the Ark through Indonesia.
One version featuring suspiciously diminuitive Nazis.




Eric Z. and Paul Freeman as Rene Belloq.
"Jooones? Jooooooooo-oonnes!"



Chris and Harrison Ford starring in their respective Cairo streetfights.

anyone have any bayer?

mmmm, heroin

with friends like these

*s! (2:31:40 PM): I don't know what my problem is
*s! (2:31:45 PM): I just can't seem to write anything lately
*s! (2:31:54 PM): have you ever had bloggers block?
deacsachump (2:32:53 PM): no
deacsachump (2:32:55 PM): never have
deacsachump (2:33:07 PM): you have yet to post anything in the month of march
*s! (2:33:49 PM): okay, I have a week's worth of writing to do today
*s! (2:33:51 PM): and I'll do it
*s! (2:33:56 PM): just you wait and see!
deacsachump (2:34:06 PM): doubtful
*s! (2:34:46 PM): meh
deacsachump (2:34:58 PM): just throw any old crap up there
deacsachump (2:35:03 PM): something's gotta stick
deacsachump (2:35:07 PM): that's what i do
deacsachump (2:35:21 PM): ah!
deacsachump (2:35:28 PM): today, i'll write an obituary for your blog
deacsachump (2:35:30 PM): awesome
*s! (2:35:35 PM): you suck

from TC to me to you