Latest Crush

Just a little bit of a crush going on right now.

The international language of the butt slap

After watching a few of the international basketball teams playing, I'm amazed at how everyone has seemed to approriate the American body language of sports: butt slaps, hand slaps, chest bumps, etc. How does this body language spread so quickly internationally? I always thought it was a peculiarly American thing, but now I see that I'm wrong. After the bronze finalist game, I watched Larry Brown give an approving butt slap to a passing Lithunian player, who took it in stride.

I have to wonder, do the Chinese and Russians butt slap, too? Hard to imagine.

What's Not Hot

Since this is the SexOlympics, I thought I'd offer a short, useful primer on what is not sexy.


1. Music being played while competition is being judged
2. Synchronization
3. Competition being referred to as "a routine."
4. Spirit hands, glitter, or a gamine toss of the head
5. If the participants look like they could be the back-up band in Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love" video

Say it, Sister

And I thought I was harsh.

Uh Oh

Just saw the commercial for Garden State on television. The promo quote was "this summer's Lost in Translation." I was thinking about going to see Garden State, but that endorsement gives a big warning sign for me.

I really wanted to like Lost in Translation, but it just made me impatient. It reminded me of a funky, cooler, thrift-store version of Scent of a Green Papaya. Green Papaya made me want to tear my eyeballs out. I'm all for unspoken moments, lost chances, roads not taken blah blah blah but 2 hours of it? Too much, I tell ya, it's too much.

Two, two, two tasks in one

It is now almost physically impossible for me to do one thing at a time. Since I'm feeling badly this evening, I'm resting. My resting includes watching television while simultaneously reading email and blogs. If the remote had not mysteriously disappeared, my third task would be switching channels during the boring parts of the SexOlympics.

I have a theory of why this multi-tasking mindset exists, and I call it Computer Time. I work on the computer a lot, churning big files and laying out pages. My current set-up renders art fairly quickly, but anytime there's a hang, when the file doesn't render instantaneously, I turn to another task while the computer finishes. I've had to do that a lot lately, while using my old G4 450 that still has OS9. I think "Oh, Photoshop's gonna take a while. I'll just check my email on my laptop while it catches up."

What does this mean? I can no longer sit and wait. I have to do something while I wait. Standing in line at the check-out register, I have to be reading a magazine. Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's office, I'm checking off to-do's on my Palm. I can never, ever let the microwave countdown to the final time. I'm always in there a good 20 seconds before, checking to see if the food is done even though it is I that put the time down in the first place.

Tonight, though, I wish I did have the remote. I'm stuck in commercial hell. In closing, I just have one thing to say: McDonald's, nobody, and I mean nobody, is going after your chicken.

I wanna sex you up

Just finished lunch on the couch, while watching the SexOlympics. All those sweaty bodies shimmering in the hot Greek sun. Yes, Nelly, it is getting hot in here.

At any rate, I was watching women's water polo, which so far seems to be the only water sport I've seen that has totally missed the boat in terms of glamour. Those girls are truly working it. This has got to be one of the most athletic competitions out there. Are they nuts? They're treading water, fighting each other, and trying to throw a ball into a net. Made me tired just looking at them.

Plus their head gear gives them this oh-so attractive nun habit look. I have no other way of describing it. They look like broad-shouldered, fierce, kick your ass nuns. And because they're so focused on the game, the expressions on their faces seem positively beatific.

NBC tried to make up for the sex appeal though, in these little jazzy breaks between plays where they'd show individual team members. First a close up still photo, then a live-action shot while the girl would gamely, yet hesitantly shuffle along to upbeat music. I could just hear the director, off camera saying, "Loosen up, have fun, throw your hair! You're at the SexOlympics!"'

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou

This article in today's New York Time's (subscription may be required), talks about how the iPod seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to shuffle preferences. Seems kind of odd to feature it in the paper now, since the iPod has been out for a while. Nevertheless, I found this particular passage amusing:

"It is truly bizarre," said Mr. Cedarholm, who no longer likes Fugazi. "Before, it was this hidden gem, and when I heard them I would be like, 'Oh yeah. Fugazi. Cool.' "

Now he hits the Fast Forward button.

And now the NYT's writer show her age. Maybe not in physical years, but in mindset. Fast Forward? What is this? 1977 in front of Mom and Dad's tape deck? I think not.

Skip, people, skip. Mr. Cedarholm skip's through his music.

With one term, the NYT's sounds positively dowdy.

All's Fair

This is what we are striving for: equal opportunity oogling.

Truly. This land was made for you and me.

Truly shallow

My thoughts watching the aftermath of Gail Dever, after she had plowed into the first hurdle, putting her out of the race: Hey, when she sits down and curls over, she shows stomach flab, too!

A dramatic, poignant moment of a championship athlete watching her dreams race by. And I'm thinking about her stomach.

All we need is love

Why is it called "Peace and Friendship Stadium?" Did they name it for the Olympics, or has it always been called that? Because it's wrong. It should be named appropriately. It should be called, "I want to kick your ass stadium." Or "That gold is mine! stadium."

Peace and Friendship. Give me a break.

Is Reese back?

While watching the Olympics, I caught some of the commercials for Hawaii, one of NBC's fall offerings. I pretty much ignored the commercial until one voice cut through. It was male, snarling, and gritty. The unmistakable voice of actor Michael Biehn.

Who? You say, who's that? Michael Biehn aka Kyle Reese in the original Terminator, and Corporal Hicks from Aliens.He was in James Cameron's stable of actors, back when Cameron was still teamed with Gale Anne Hurd and produced movies that had heart, action and soul.

Of Cameron's lengthy filmography, I think his first two are the best and here's why: the female and male lead characters were in real relationships were they needed each other to survive. If one failed, both failed. If Kyle Reese never made it back to Sarah Conner, John Conner would never be born. They had to survive at least until the evening of conception--pipe bombs, anyone?

Hicks and Ripley needed each other to make it back to the Sulaco off of that alien-infested LV-490. Hicks taught her how to use an automatic weapon, but Ripley's calm, clear thinking paved the way for them to get out of there. They had a mutual respect for each other's talents and intelligence.

And here's the thing. All that mutual respect in the face of death-defying adventures generated real romantic heat. You want to root for people who seem like they'd be good together if they were able to survive the odds. And you're genuinely sad when things don't work out (like when one of them gets killed off in the third installation of the film, because the director wants to go in another direction and put his own stamp on it. Whatever, Fincher!)

So here's Michael Biehn now, on his own NBC series. After the Terminator became known as an Arnold vehicle. After James Cameron went big Hollywood on the popularity of the pap that is The Titanic. And after his own foray into B-actor territory. The series website doesn't give me much hope that this will last more than a few episodes. But what does give me hope is the sound of his voice on the commercial: cold, deliberate, and a little crazy. It's enough for me to tune in for the first episode.

WOW. The whole summer is nearly over, and the Provida box is still sitting on top of the entertainment center, hardly touched. I would have to say so far for this experiment that: no, infomercial products do not work. But I think I should actually USE the product before I make this pronouncement.

What they should sell on late-night television is motivation. I would buy that in a minute. And then of course, it would take me years to use it...

We just got back from vacation where I have perfected the art of microwave s'mores, and yet still, I do not lose weight.

I've been watching the Olympics, and every time that I do, I think: "Gosh, I would LOVE to have focus, determination, grit, and abs like that...perhaps I should hire a coach to yell at me while I learn to do perfect, splashless swim strokes.

Or perhaps, I should just open that damn Provida box...