WanderingAmylessly 2.0

This made me laugh. I needed a laugh.

What a sad day. Among the day's events that had me wishing it was all a nightmare from which I would soon awake: My president. No, the president of my country, AGAIN used the word "nu-cu-lur" in the State of the Union address. Coretta Scott King died. Samuel Alito became the newest justice of the U.S. Supreme Court. Nice knowing you, Roe v. Wade. The 100th British soldier died in Iraq. My boss announced that he was being promoted, throwing my work situation into turmoil. AGAIN. And I'd add that Walk the Line was left out of the Oscar nominee list for best picture...but that sounds a little trivial compared most other events I listed. Still...Munich? Really? I'm going to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be better. I don't see how.

We're on day two or three of this story now. The new ABC World News Tonight co-anchor Bob Woodruff and his cameraman Doug Vogt were in Iraq covering the war when their convoy encountered a roadside bomb. The two newsmen suffered serious injuries and, following surgery to remove shrapnel and get them stabilized, were flown to a military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany, for further treatment. I'm truly sorry they were injured. I'm glad they didn't die. But this news coverage is insane. Perhaps more accurate would be that the quality of other war coverage should cause concern. Woodruff and Vogt fell victim to an attack by Iraqi insurgents. Just like Iraqi and U.S. soldiers have been doing for months. Do you know how many soldiers have died since this war began? One report I just read said that the number of U.S. soldiers lost in this war is quickly approaching 3,000 — more people than were lost in the World Trade Center attacks of 2001. I've heard sketchy estimates of I...

I just read a story that made me think I was reading one of those urban legend e-mails. You know, the ones that urge people to "send this to everyone you know" because the world must be aware that deodorant causes breast cancer or some prince in Nigeria needs a contribution to his bank account. The headline read, "FDA: You're eating crushed bug juice." I'm what? Definitely an attention grabber. So I continued. The story went on to explain that the Food and Drug Administration has proposed requiring food and cosmetic labels to list cochineal extract or carmine if a product's ingredients include either of the two red colorings... Not any big deal, you think? Then read on..."that have been extracted from the ground bodies of an insect known since the time of the Aztecs." Think you're safe? Go get your favorite lipstick. Or your quart of strawberry milk. Fake crab and lobster. Ice cream. Port wine cheese. Fruit cocktail cherries (great, I just ...

Sam Seaborn: About a week ago I accidentally slept with a prostitute. Toby Ziegler: [pause] Really? Sam Seaborn: Yes. Toby Ziegler: A prostitute? Sam Seaborn: A call girl. Toby Ziegler: Accidentally? Sam Seaborn: Yes. Toby Ziegler: I don't understand. Did you *trip* over something? ***** Josh Lyman: Victory is mine, victory is mine. Great day in the morning, victory is mine Donna Moss: Good morning, Josh. Josh Lyman: I drink from the keg of glory, Donna. Bring me the finest muffins and bagels in all the land Donna Moss: It's going to be an unbearable day ***** Mandy Hampton: Mr. President, if you could also see your way clear to not answering that question like an economics professor with a big old stick up his butt, that would be good too. President Josiah Bartlet: I am an economics professor with a big old stick up my butt, but I'll do my best for you, there, Mandy. ***** Josh Lyman: You know what, CJ? I really think I'm the best judge of what I mean, you ...

NBC is canceling The West Wing. Finally. Put it out of its misery. It's certainly not the same show it once was, having lost all its wit, clever banter and character chemistry when show creator Aaron Sorkin left a few seasons ago. Aaron called it quits, then Rob Lowe (Sam Seaborn). Other greats have come and gone through the seasons: southern spitfire Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter), sweet and sharp-as-a-tack Mrs. Landingham (Kathryn Joosten), cutie pie Cliff Calley (Mark Feuerstein). And without the immensely talented John Spencer (who portrayed chief of staff/vice presidential candidate Leo McGarry), who died in December...well, what's the point. Some critics have suggested that the past season or two have been the show's best, because its politics were more "real." If I wanted real, I'd watch the evening news. I want back my intelligent, funny, compassionate, way-the-hell-to-the-left characters. Don't give me a republican Hawkeye Pierce (Alan Alda's A...

I got word this morning of a tragedy. An earth-rocking horror. A ghastly tale of deceit, betrayal, the unspeakable. I'm not quite sure how I continued on with my day. I was so shocked, I needed a sip of water and an antacid tablet to regain my composure. At any rate, I'm more calm and collected now that some time has passed. So I will share the news. Readers must promise, though, not to get hysterical or out of sorts. Promise? Here it is: Actress Reese Witherspoon's Golden Globes gown was not, in fact, vintage as she had been told by fashion house reps. Even worse, it was not virgin couture. That exact champagne-colored Chanel cocktail dress with the sleeveless metallic top was worn by actress Kirsten Dunst in 2003. OH. THE HUMANITY. I read a 14-paragraph story on this faux-pas at the CNN Web site this morning. I'm not sure what I was more disgusted by -- the fact that this was a story at all, or the dismal realization that I'd just spent a good three minutes (three...

Some people love to hear themselves talk. To the point where they don't hear anyone else talking. Or don't care if anyone else has anything to say. Or don't even care whether anyone else is in the room with them. They could carry on what they believe is delightful repartee with themselves, alone. For hours. And hours. Probably falling even deeper in love with the sound of their own vocal chords. Welcome to my lunch with a longtime acquaintance. It goes something like this: Aquaintance: "Hi it's great to see you. I've been so busy with...me mememe meme meme me memememe memem, memememe mememe memem mememememe ememem me mememe meme meme me memememe memem, memememe mememe memem mememememe ememem me mememe meme meme me memememe memem, memememe mememe memem mememememe ememem me mememe meme meme me memememe memem, memememe mememe memem mememememe ememem me mememe meme meme me memememe memem, memememe mememe memem mememememe ememem > So, how are you?" Wandering...

I adore Anderson Cooper. He's smart. He's witty. He's attractive. He's modest. He's a dog person. On his CNN show AC 360, he comes across as a caring person of the people, who isn't afraid to tackle tough issues or risk his own safety for the story. However...whether he's in hip waders in New Orleans or carefully coiffed and wearing a cornflower shirt that coordinates perfectly with his azure eyes and silver locks in CNN's studios, this Yale-educated son of artistic, talented writers - for God's sake - uses the same four adjectives in response to, well, to anything. I wish a producer would quietly take him aside and give him a list of descriptives he is no longer allowed to utter. That list might go something like this: Amazing. Incredible. Fascinating. Unbelievable. (And he might have said 'unreal' a time or two. I forget.) This might become the new fad drinking game: every time Anderson says one of these four words, you have to do a shot. I...

I completely understand why murder victims' families and friends would want to kill the person who heinously took their loved ones away. If someone harmed my son, husband, siblings, parents...hey, if someone shot my dog...I'd want revenge. Still, how can we tell the world that killing is wrong, then punish the guilty by killing them? I'm still wondering how I'm going to explain this to my son someday when he's "old enough to understand." I'm 34, and I sure don't get it. Compounding my confusion is the latest death-row saga, as California's oldest condemned inmate was given a lethal injection overnight. I'm trying to figure out the moral of this tale. Death row elder needed 2 injections Wednesday, January 18, 2006; Posted: 9:48 a.m. EST (14:48 GMT) SAN QUENTIN, California (AP) -- With the help of four big prison guards, Clarence Ray Allen shuffled from his wheelchair to a gurney inside San Quentin's death chamber early Tuesday, a day aft...

Last night on Countdown with Keith Olbermann on MSNBC, movie critic Michael Musto described the Golden Globe Awards this way: "It was gayer than IKEA on Super Bowl Sunday." And if you know Michael Musto...well, he would know.

It won. I knew it would. It had to. I also knew that, despite my disdain for the phrase, it would reappear in papers all over the world this a.m. For example: "The Australian actor's gay cowboy movie Brokeback Mountain won best film..." -- The Courier Mail (Australia) "...the gay cowboy movie...now the front-runner in Hollywood's Oscar race." -- Reuters And not quite as bad: "The gay cowboy romance wins for best dramatic picture and best director, for Ang Lee." -- ABC News Call it whatever you want. It's a winner. I guess it's "the Golden Globe-winning, Oscar favorite, gay cowboy movie." I'll drop that issue and start with the next. Ledger and Williams got robbed. And where are the nominations for Jake Gyllenhaal?

We saw Brokeback Mountain over the weekend. Haunting. Breathtaking. Heart wrenching. Beautiful. I've used any or all of those words to describe the film. But please, I'm going shove a spurred-Tony Lama in the posterior of the next person who utters the phrase "gay cowboy movie." I actually used those words myself before I saw it when telling someone what my plans were for the evening. I'm worried that the true brilliance of this film -- from the acting to the cinematography, the set design to the musical score -- will be lost because of that ignorant (and, frankly, goofy) phrase. I've heard critics say that the film has a great shot at best picture in many of the awards competitions this spring. The reasoning behind their prediction bothers me, though: It's a unique story and subject, never addressed in this way before. I don't find fault with being groundbreaking. I just don't want people to say, "Well, it got best picture because gay is ...

I noticed that the date I last blogged coincides with the point in time when life as I knew it changed forever. A life in which I could knit, eat snacks on the couch, sit on the floor without having my pantleg chewed off. A life before I became a chew toy. We got an 8 week old puppy the weekend after I last blogged. And then there was Christmas and New Year's and my 2 year old son's two ear infections (or one really long, nasty, pus filled, three week ear infection, take your pick). Anyway, we welcomed into the family this AKC-registered Westie officially named Princess's Margaret B. White. Or Maggie as she's known around these parts. I'm trying to find time to blog again. Lately, the only "laptop" I have is furry and smells of earth and dampness and I don't want to know what else. It's been a dog-beat-blog world so far in '06.