Oscarzzzzzzzzzz

I spent all of last night on the phone and didn’t watch the Oscars. I
did flip it on briefly and saw Sean Penn prefacing his announcement of
the Best Actor award by defending Jude Law from Chris Rock’s barbs, but
that was it. A next-day recap and a fashion slideshow
is all I need. I was thinking last night that they should have a
scorecard up in the corner during the looooooong broadcast, just like
in football games. A list of those who’ve already won, for those who
join the show late. Then all I’d have to do is flip it on, check the
score, flip it back off.

Cookie Accident

This is what happens when you don’t put enough flour in your Toll House chocolate chip cookies.

iTunes Flirting

Very, very cute story. via Makeoutcity.

Those Repressed Brits

I’m betting this British commercial would never make it on American TV. Those Brits and their office porn. (via GapingVoid) Sort of not work safe. Ironically. Or appropriately, whichever.

Splat

Google has a new movie search engine … their come-on is a bit of a bait and switch, though–on Google’s main page there is the little teaser : “New! Get ready for the Oscars. Find showtimes for nominated films.” So
I clicked. I was actually hoping to see a page that would give you
showtimes ONLY for Oscar-nominated films, but no, it’s just a general
listing for all films. The “Nominated” part you have to figure out
yourself. Disappointing. But as a general showtimes service I guess
it’s okay. They also are starting to add reviews to the entries, so I
guess Google is trying to encroach on Rotten Tomatoes‘ market now too. But Google, you are no Rotten Tomato.

Watertown

I have been spending a fair amount of time in Watertown lately (okay
really I just ride the bus through it on my way to BJFF in West Newton)
and it seems like a very cool little town. Very old neighborhoody-feel,
lots of corner shops, heavy Armenian presence, lots of diners, pizza
shops, middle-eastern food shops. But this is just my bus-eye view, as
I have yet to get off the bus before my destination. Some day. Until
then I will peruse this new Watertown blog.

China-Smasher

The New York Times has taken a position on the Larry Summers “women aren’t good at science” controversy:

Last week’s release of the long-sought transcript of his remarks is
not likely to improve things much. Dr. Summers compared the shortage of
female scientists at the highest ranks of academia to, among other
things, the shortage of Jewish farmers, and white men in the National
Basketball Association. (Coming soon: Female Biologists Can’t Jump.)

Dr. Summers’s defenders say he is being tarred for the very
intellectual openness that places like Harvard are supposed to
encourage. Even in the best of circumstances, it’s questionable whether
the head of an institution that has a bad reputation when it comes to
promoting female scientists was the perfect person to free-associate on
why women have trouble getting tenure. However, the transcript provides
the best possible refutation of the charge of political correctness.
Whatever Dr. Summers was doing at the conference, it had nothing to do
with serious intellectual inquiry. “I don’t think anybody actually has
a clue” was one operative phrase. “I don’t remember who had told me”
was another. It was every woman’s nightmare of what a university
president thinks privately about equal opportunity.

We have
been informed many, many times in the past that Dr. Summers likes to
make waves, and who could blame him? It’s fun to toss out provocative
ideas and watch as everyone’s ears redden and all eyes turn to the
daring speaker who started the hubbub. But it’s an exercise better
restricted to radio talk show hosts than the heads of major academic
institutions. Harvard is supposed to be teaching its students not just
how to start a controversy, but also how to have an intelligent
conversation.

Here We Go Again

Big Brotha

I visited a site I’d never been to before and it had the following ad on the side:

I was very creeped out. How does it know me? I clicked to find out.

How does the Amazon Honor System paybox know my name?

When you look at a Web page, the words and pictures you see actually
may come from several sources. Your browser software assembles the
pieces and displays them as a single page. On the Web site you were
visiting, most of the content you saw was transmitted from server
computers used by the site’s operator. The image made up of the paybox
and your name displayed within the paybox was different–we sent it to
you directly from Amazon.com. This allowed us to recognize you by name
just like we do when you visit the Amazon.com Web site. Because
Amazon.com’s servers transmitted the image containing a paybox and your
name within the paybox directly to your browser software, the site
owner never saw the paybox or your name and never received any
information about you.

Still, I think it’s a terrible
business strategy–scaring your customers. Not all would take the time
to click through and figure out how they know your name. Privacy is a
very sensitive issue on the Internet. If I wanted to donate money I
would certainly not give it to them now, after they freaked me out like
that.

Neo-Oppressive Artists

OK I know City Journal is a conservative magazine but I read this in an article bashing The Gates in Central Park:

For all the cant about the artist as a liberator of the human spirit,
there is much in contemporary art and especially architecture that
seeks to impose upon individuals the artist’s vast ego and confine them
within it, so that they cannot escape his will. It is this whiff of
totalitarianism that makes Polish intellectuals label such architecture
“neo-oppressionism.”

And it reminded me instantly of Lars von Trier’s films. Specifically Dogma, but it can go for all of them. The other thing that came to mind was the MIT Stata center, which people who actually have to work there are complaining about.

Jetta Theory

I don’t know if I should be embarassed or proud to be a former VW Jetta owner after reading this. I sold mine when I moved to Boston. My sister owns one now.

via Universalhub

Smooth Talker

From this Japanese guide to dirty talk (via Guy), here is an essential example for you guys to emulate:

“Ha
ha, doing it this way pushes all the fat up to your belly. You really
got a lot there. See, you can’t even see your belly button.”

Subway High Tea

Yesterday I was in the Harvard subway station slightly after 4pm and a
woman offered me tea. High tea, I suppose. She had a table set up and
tea and cookies laid out out and she was wearing a taffeta gown and hat
and affecting a British accent. She asked me to join her, but I
declined. I had just had some coffee. I sat nearby to wait for the
train, though, and watched as she invited a couple others to tea. No
one accepted while I was there, but that was just a minute or two
because the train came quickly. She made everyone smile, though. I
wonder if she knows the beehive lady.

I’m Vulgar And Shocking

I was looking up an old friend online and thought I’d found the right
address and sent him an email, and here’s what I got in return:

Dear madam–

I do not know who you are, nor can I help you find
the person for which you are looking.  I will, however, tell you that I
work at a Catholic school and I find your vulgar language shocking.  In
the future, if you are unclear as to who you are sending an e-mail to, you
should omit all profanities.  

I will pray for you since you are
obviously a wayward sinner.  God bless.

I am half-inclined to think that this email is a joke from my actual
friend, but have gotten no other correspondence so I can’t tell. I used
the word “shit” once in the email, and it was a quote. This has to be a
joke, right? I responded saying that he was the one who needed praying
over if he can judge a stranger as a “wayward sinner”, and I could
either be continuing the joke with my friend or sparring with a
religious freak. We’ll see what happens…

Go Erin

Erin is on the cover of the Improper Bostonian! But her blog won’t let me comment. What’s with that.

Create Your Own Icon

At this site. Here’s my closest approximation of me:

The hair’s not right, but they didn’t have any curly hair. Maybe because it’s a Japanese site.

Grow Up

“He felt as though he were surrounded by enormous and powerful children.”

That’s a quote from a short story I’m reading, “The Tutor” by Nell Freudenberger. The line is spoken by an Indian guy who comes to Harvard for college, and he is describing sitting at a lunch table with some Lacrosse players. I laughed when I read that line, but it got me wondering what it is about American men that makes them seem so childish. This character, Zubin, says he felt “hundreds of years older.” And I recall a conversation with Serpico in LA, where I mentioned that I thought a certain non-American guy was attractive because he seemed to be “a man, and most guys I’ve dealt with are boys.” Serpico said, “Well when you’re not American it’s more likely that you’ll be a man.”

So why is this? What is it about our culture that makes men here giant children?

More Plough & Stars News

The Plough & Stars is holding an all weekend all music benefit this Saturday and Sunday.
The benefit is to help the club cover the cost of emergency sound proofing repairs required
as a result of the recent Cambridge Town Council decision. My personal
friends Los Diablos are playing Saturday 10pm, and I’ll be there.

Blue Skies Right, Gray Skies Left

Circumstances will be dropping me at Kenmore Square tonight at around
10pm and I was looking forward to walking across the bridge from
Kenmore to MIT to get home but I just heard about the snow that’s
coming our way so it’s looking like that would not be a very fun walk.
Damn. I guess I’ll have to Green-Line-to-Red-Line it after all.

But on a good night, that is a great walk.

Girly Time

I haven’t had a spare moment to do laundry in the past two weeks thanks to the new semester and my new crazed schedule, and now I’m out of socks. Or I was until last night. I had an epiphany that rather than trying to squeeze in a visit to the laundromat in my zero free time I could just BUY NEW SOCKS. So I did. Though my quick sock-buying excursion turned into a two-hour girly moment at the highly addictive Burlington Coat Factory. I got my socks (with pink dots!) but not before spending hours trying on every single dress coat in my size, and nearly buying a $9 purple Liz Claiborne purse (despite the fact that I never use purses). And I might’ve bought it until I looked down and noticed my purple boots, and my purple gloves, and forced myself to lay off the purple.

So I spent two hours staring at myself in the mirror in various coats when I could’ve spent those two hours doing laundry. But hey, I have clean socks now.