Top Ten People Who Annoy Me

Top Ten Types of People Who Annoy Me

1. People who have allowed television commercials to enter the common vernacular. ("What happens at this party stays at this party. Get it? Like Vegas?" ; "I've got some good news -- I just saved a lot of money on my car insurance. Haha, just kidding. Actually, my wife is pregnant.")

2. People who don't "get" The Golden Girls. This includes a certain man whose name starts with a K and ends with evin.

3. People who think that dude who went hiking and cut off his own arm to free it from a boulder is a hero. Is it just me, or is this guy on Letterman like every other week? You know what I call a guy who guys hiking by himself in a very remote area and doesn't tell a soul where he is going? Stupid.

4. People who say things are "on crack" or "on acid." Just because, like, who says that anymore? And speaking of, does anyone even do crack anymore?

5. People who write checks at grocery stores. Even when it's some little old lady. Especially when it's some little old lady.

6. People who pick their nose while in the car and they think we won't see them. We always see you.

7. People who make Top Ten Lists.

8. People who voted for George W. Bush. This includes you, Dad.

9. People who use the phrase "po-mo" instead of "postmodern."
10. People who use the phrase "postmodern."

Poetry Alive!

For reasons too long and complicated to go into here, I recently had the opportunity to observe a short performance at a local middle school by a group called Poetry Alive! In case you think I am simply adding that ! for extra emphasis, please know that the ! is simply part of the group's name. And don't you know they earned ever ! of it.

Poetry Alive! is a group based out of North Carolina. It is made up of professional actors (and I mean that in every sense of the phrase) who go around the country acting out poems for schoolchildren.

Imagine, if you will, a cross between an Up With People member on crystal meth and an evangelical Christian who is really, really into Langston Hughes, and you will be able to picture the members of Poetry Alive! The two members I witnessed were a large African American man and a small white woman about the size of a teacup. Together, along with several unwilling children yanked from the audience, they acted out Thayer's "Casey at the Bat" and Edgar Allen Poe's "Bells" among many other poems that were the perfect mix of "classic" children's literature and PC diversity. Poetry Alive! also required audience participation. ("Okay, so, okay, so, when I throw my hands at you, you have to scream, `Bells!' Okay? Okay! Let's try it! Okay!")

It was unfuckingbelievable, people. The performance soon had these two professional actors drenched in sweat, throwing themselves around the library chairs, shouting and screaming and in general acting very, very excited about poetry! And the fact that poetry is alive! Both performers were very professional in their actorness in that they e-nun-ci-a-ted every word and spoke with a slight sort of British accent a la Madonna circa 2000 even though as far as I could tell these performers were not in fact British. They were very earnest. They somehow managed to have talkbacks about Poetry Alive! even though no one asked questions. It was amazing. It was incredible.

Poetry Alive!

I Had a Dream About Standing in Line

Last night I had a dream that involved one thing: standing in line. Yes, standing in line. My dream involved me standing behind several people while in a line at a bank or some kind of office. While I line, I held a scrap of paper with numbers on it. That was the entire dream: waiting in a line. I never even got to the front. It lasted forever.

What kind of lame-ass life am I leading if my dreams involve standing in line? Standing in a line, for the love of...

Little House on the Prairie...Can I Get a Witness?

Hey ladies, all the ladies...who's into Little House? I'm talking the books, not the television series. Fine if you were into the TV series, but I'm talking the BOOKS.

I've read them all. I still have the series my mom bought me at a garage sale for $5. All 8 books in the series for like $5. Last Christmas, my dad built me a little wooden bookcase to hold them all. The collection is among my most prized possessions.

The Little House books make me feel safe, warm, and loved. They transport me to a simpler time. When I was 8, I pretended to be Laura Ingalls Wilder every day of the summer. This included dressing in my mom's old 70's wraparound dresses (magically transformed into dresses made of calico...at least in my mind)...then I would go out to fetch water (a.k.a. go to the garden hose).

Yes, I pretended to be Laura Ingallas Wilder while all alone in my backyard and dressed in some von Fursternberg knock-off. Who cares.

I'm kind of drunk right now.

Woop woop Little House!