Shame on Seamus

I watched Star Wars for the first time this weekend and I did it for the only reason that anyone who has gone 24 years without watching it does: my boyfriend made me. I enjoyed it, even though I think Luke is a twat. Let’s just say that I’m solidly Team Vader.

Am I going to need a special filter for the modernism?

Finally, I just picked something and ordered and two weeks later it arrived. I understood why it had taken two weeks once I opened the box. The actual machine was sandwiched in between four different pieces of styrofoam and enough plastic bags to suffocate Juan Valdez’s donkey. I had to wrestle with the box like an otter banging an oyster on the rocks. 20 minutes later, I determined that there was, in fact, something of value inside. Well, of value to someone else. I don’t even drink coffee.

When I first started working I was really excited about the commuting time because I thought to myself, “That will be an hour and a half to two hours of dedicated reading time five days a week. I will be able to read book after book and enrich myself with knowledge!”

Ha and ha. That was before I discovered Vortex on my iPod. Maybe you haven’t heard of it. It’s only the most awesome game ever.

It’s like Brick Breaker but instead of being in a pile the bricks are in rings and you use the circular touch pad to move the bat around. I can’t stress enough how revolutionary the ring arena is. It opens up a multitude of new ways for you to be skilled at breaking blocks. Here is an illustration:

There are also bonuses that have cool tools like multi-bat and multi-ball and guns. Guns! You can tell me that guns don’t kill bricks, people kill bricks, but it is still a most fearsome tool.

The other day I was on level 26, the highest level I’ve achieved to date, with only one life when I broke open a brick that had a gun tool inside. I literally thought to myself, “All right. Don’t be a hero. Move slowly over and get the gun but keep the ball safe.”

I’m slightly troubled by the fact that my inner dialogue speaks about the game with an intensity that should be reserved solely for hostage situations.

As a woman, I’m always interested in reading about the seduction techniques recommended to men for use on myself and others of the female persuasion. So when the wikihow article entitled “How to Touch a Girl” popped up on my Google homepage, I took advantage of the opportunity to stay up to date on what I’m supposed to like and find attractive.

Right off the bat, the author establishes his authority in this area by choosing this photo to illustrate the article:

Before we get into the “real” advice, I’ll give you a free piece here: women who bring machine guns to romantic outings may be extremely sensitive about their personal space. If you’re worried about being rejected, don’t try to seduce a woman who can literally shoot you down.

That being said, here’s a little trick you can try to test the waters as you’re helping her put on her flak jacket:

If you’re both about to leave and she needs to put on a coat, hold it out for her like a gentleman so that she can slip her arms into the sleeves. [...] If she responds positively and you notice that her hair is between her jacket and her back, pull it out for her carefully—pull the ends out without pulling the hair away from her scalp in any way. This is a good time to tell her that she has beautiful hair, or that it smells wonderful. Chicks really love that kind of stuff.

After you do the hair thing, tie her shoes for her and tell her she has cute feet or that they smell wonderful. Chicks eat that shit up. If she responds positively to that, start examining her face and hair for things to remove:

It’s not uncommon to see a loose eyelash on someone’s face, especially the cheek
area. If you see one, tell her, “Hold still; you have an eyelash on your face. Let me get it off.” Some people will put an eyelash on their fingertip and make a wish before blowing it away; if you think she’s the type to enjoy this, then show her the eyelash on your finger and ask her to make a wish and blow it away. If you see something in her hair (a piece of lint, a little branch, a ball of dust), do the same: ask her to stay still, and gently pull it out (but don’t make a wish on it!).

If a man started picking things out of my hair on a date, I would insist on blowing whatever he found (lint, branches, dust?) off his finger and making a wish. You don’t get to scour my scalp looking for excuses to touch me if I don’t get the opportunity to wish that I’d never agreed to go out with you.

Since most women try to remove any large objects or detritus from their hair before a date, the author recommends that you take matters into your own hands:

You might want to take her somewhere that you know she’ll probably get something in her hair (like a dusty attic or a part of the woods with low trees).

I’ll never forget the first time a boy made me crawl through shrubbery. He said the leaves and twigs stuck in my hair looked just like a halo. I really love that kind of stuff.

Since not everyone has access to a forest or dusty attic, I came up with a few more great date spots:

• An abandoned rock quarry: They’re dusty, and no one can hear the screaming.
• A laundromat: Pull a giant hunk of lint from a dryer and pretend it was in her hair.
• An oil spill: Imagine how adorable your lady will look as you hose the crude petroleum off her like a baby seal.
• A pile of asbestos: Playfully shove her into it and if she responds positively, wrestle with her a little. After your romp she’ll have enough carcinogenic fibers in her hair to give you an excuse to touch her for hours. PLUS: If things go well and she gets leukemia, you’ll have “A Walk to Remember” scenario on your hands. Very romantic. The downside of this is that the chemo will cause her to lose her hair and you’ll have fewer contrived reasons to touch her.

Armed with this wisdom, I don’t see how young men can go wrong. But if things get tough, remember: never be nervous or barf! But if you have to barf, do it on your date. Cleanup will provide a convenient opportunity to stroke her.

I had reason to be on the Red Eye website today (WARNING: Not safe for epileptics or people who can read) and came across another delightful news story about Joe the Plumber. After clicking on the headline, Joe the Plumber endorses McCain, says that a vote for Obama ‘is a vote for death of Israel’, I found the following:

“When a McCain supporter asked him if he believed ‘a vote for Obama is a vote for the death of Israel,’ Wurzelbacher replied, ‘I’ll go ahead and agree with you on that.’”

Sure, why the hell not? Whatever you say, dear. Real mavericks don’t just vote against their own economic self-interest — they also make totally irrational and unfounded statements on foreign policy. Joe the Plumber: Ignorance We Can Believe In.

Hello, dumplings! Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about this site. I couldn’t possibly. If I don’t update for awhile, my mother calls me to make sure that I’m not lying dead on the floor of my bachelorette pad, computer mouse clutched in my hand as I died trying to blog for help. (Christmas is coming up, Mom, and I think you and I both would sleep better at night if you put a pet that can dial 911 in my stocking this year.)

I turned 24 this week and it was AWESOME. My friends and family were calling and writing and I felt so special and loved, but not at all awkward like you do when a group of people sing “Happy Birthday” to you. I think being the target of the birthday song may be the worst thing in the world. Yes, it’s cute in theory, but in practice it’s like having a laser ray of focused attention searing through your forehead and straight into the embarassment section of the brain.

Did you know that restaurants used to give women menus without prices if they were dining with men? Just learned that today.

“If anyone asks, just tell them it’s your Christmas card list.”
“Some of them are Jewish.”

The Associated Press did a story entitled “25 Things You Might Not Know About McCain.” Here are my five favorite things I learned about McCain today:

5. Going on vacation with him is anything but relaxing. His children call it “Camp McCain.”

“All right, you c*nts, let’s roll! This billionaire’s resort isn’t going to ethically compromise itself!”

4. He wasn’t happy when Hudson, the neighbors’ black lab, ate the tenderloin he’d been marinating to grill for dinner at their ranch in Sedona, Ariz.

Oh, Hudson, you scamp! But seriously, I appreciate how the AP is incredibly specific, except for reporting when this supposed Tenderloin-Gate happened. Has Hudson been indicted? No? Then I think this is all just scurrilous rumor.

3. His wife is super-rich. They have a prenuptial agreement.

Awesome, highly professional use of the word super-rich there, AP. Thank you also for your precision in hyphenating it.

2. He doesn’t like to be alone.

THE CO-DEPENDENT MAVERICK: He needs no one, except when he needs someone.

1. He played Scrooge in the POWs’ staging of “A Christmas Carol” at the Hanoi Hilton.

First, perhaps McCain should start worrying about the troublesome typecasting that’s dogged him throughout his career. And second, they were staging “A Christmas Carol” at the Hanoi Hilton? Now I understand what he means when he says they tortured him.