Overlooked

In Which I Am Perplexed

2008-07-24T19:32:18Z

I am trying to imagine the contents of this book.

Out with it, goat!

Notice the "Fact & Fiction" tag at the bottom right corner. Are there rampant fictions being spread right now about goat cheese? Have the cow cheese makers started telling nasty lies about goat cheeses, like goat cheese is actually made from baby goats? Is the moon not, in fact, a giant Crottin de Chavignol? Is goat cheese likely to kill you tomorrow?

Amazon is less than helpful. There are no reviews, no comments, no "See Inside This Book!", nothing.

The face of the goat on the cover is inscrutable. She is contemplating cheese; is she also contemplating the laughing goat? There are no "thought bubbles" connecting the two; perhaps he is a figment of her imagination. (And no, there is no particular reason I chose those genders for the goats; I just needed a handy way to distinguish them, and the pensive expression the brown goat suggests that she is thinking about where her milk is going.)

In short, what is going on here? If anyone out there has read this book, please tell me. I love goat cheese and I don't want to give it up because it might make me go insane or something. Thanks!

Ed. note: Welcome to Faye and many thanks for allowing us to reprint this blog post from The Holophusicon!

Make new friends but keep the old and make fun of them when the troop leader isn't looking

2008-07-21T16:44:27Z

Just make sure nobody spills PBR on you

I'm not sure what the kids are up to these days, what with their fancy portable video game consoles and expensive cell phones, but back in my time, we had a calling. And that calling was to be the sole purveyor of addictive confectionary treats that were only available for a few months out of the year.

For one glorious month during first grade, I joined the ranks of those prized citizens known only as the Girl Scouts. It was a whirlwind of badges and after-school meetings and sit-upons. As previously mentioned, I was a shy child (that's right, Steve, I'm calling you out again!), and it was nice to be a part of a social group. However, as was often the case with much of my hypoglycemic childhood, things were about to take a dark turn.

It all started with the stupid dance badge. I was timid and didn't want to dance, and yet I still wanted the badge. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was, for I never received said badge, a fact which my injured six-year-old self has never forgotten. But this was not incentive enough to quit (though nor was it incentive enough to try harder in manner of countless movies centered around underprivileged youth for whom dance is their only outlet).

No, that incentive came perhaps a week later, following that year's cookie sales. Aimee, one of my fellow Girl Scouts, one of the sisters, made fun of me for only having sold cookies to my family. I'm pretty sure it was that very day that I packed it up and told my mother I didn't want to go back. As a practical and un-soccer-mom-like mother, she had no objections and asked few questions (the cookies were already ordered anyway: her sweet tooth was guaranteed sustenance for at least the next few months).

It is for these very traumatic reasons that I prevent the newest Next Big Thing in hipster fashions: The Girl Scout Sash. I'm sure there are scads and scads of twentysomethings who are still trying to get over their scouting days, and what better way to do that by embracing the very thing that caused you pain in the first place? Furthermore, the Girl Scout Sash is fully customizable: it can be decorated with the normal badges (I can finally have that dancing badge after all!) or with all manner of ironic buttons.

Remember, hipsters: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Hunk Friday: Welcome Aboard!

2008-07-18T15:36:58Z

Shaken and stirred!

Today's hunk with the sexiest facial hair is none other than Your Ship's Bartender, Isaac Washington.

Whether he was mixing drinks, dispensing sage advice to lovelorn passengers, or simply pointing both fingers at you and grinning, Isaac and his trademark Zapata 'stache could do no wrong. With his crowning glory, Your Bartender inspires confidence and trust: you want, nay, you are compelled to tell him your every worry and desire. You intrinsically understand that the wearer of such a mustache would never betray this trust and its very presence comforts you beyond all measure.

Such a mustache is an entity unto itself; it transformed not only Ted Lange, its bearer, into a larger than life figure, but the entire Spelling Television production company henceforth was responsible to maintain this same level of approachable magniloquence. Do you honestly think Fantasy Island or Dynasty could have happened without the influence of The Love Boat? Of course not. Such grandiose visions (read: the epic Hervé Villechaize/Ricardo Montalbán pairing, Joan Collin's shoulder pads) were but an (anemic) attempt to top the majesty of Isaac and his facial hair.

In fact, Mr. Washington was so exceptional a character that I dare postulate that he himself was the Love Boat personified. Consider the lyrics to the iconic theme song:

Come aboard. We're expecting you.
[...]
The Love Boat [Isaac] promises something for everyone
[...]
It's an open smile on a friendly shore

Pretty obvious, isn't it?

There is no question that, at one point or another, Isaac has touched all of our lives - for the better. So the next time you're feeling lonely or sad, just think of Your Ship's Bartender and his legendary mustache. I guarantee that in no time, you'll have a skip in your step, a twinkle in your eye, and two enthusiastically pointing index fingers.

Checkpoint Charlie

2008-07-17T16:06:47Z

I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore...

All my items were in the plastic tubs passing through the x-ray machine. I stood there holding my boarding pass and I.D. with one hand whilst trying to keep my pants up at a decent level with the other. The T.S.A. officer... agent?... The member of the T.S.A. lackadaisically motioned me through the metal detector. I hopped through it and presented my I.D. and boarding pass with a friendly, relaxed, and open smile.

"Mr..." (How he knew I was a mister I wasn't sure but my paranoid mind was awhirl with all the secret information compiled on me from open source resources). He checked himself before attempting to butcher my last name.

"Mr. Vale..." he made his attempt.

"Valenzuela, like the old pitcher for the Padres," I cut him off.

"Or like the singer Ritchie Valens, except he Americanized his name..." he looked at me dryly.

"Funny, Valens doesn't sound Native; I wonder which tribe he was affiliated with..." I smiled politely, innocently.

"Yeah, I liked his music." He was opening up to me; this caught me off guard. Usually you don't see the human side of the security checker people.

"He died in a plane crash!" I blurted out. I think it was the topic and the fact that salient thoughts of me getting on an airplane bubbled up from the guarded 'Don't make a joke about this' part of my brain that caused me to state something so obviously unspeakable at the time and place that I was.

He squinted his eyes and waited to see what I would do next.

"HAHA!" A strangled, nervous laugh escaped me. It is one of my worst habits: laughing at the most inopportune moments.

"He died with Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper and the pilot! They crashed into frozen Iowa farm country!" A torrent of information, that normally would have been useless conversation fodder or an interesting historical tidbit in the right social circles, was quite detrimental to my being on a plane.

"Yeah, if only the pilot had pulled that little knob to allow more heat into the engine..." He was impressed by my knowledge of the event, but wasn't sure if I was more infatuated with my family name-sake's history or of crashing planes.

His hesitation was my cue: I smiled a sad little smile and slowly shook my head. I raised my eyebrows, "The brilliant ones always fade out the quickest..."

"You got that right, partner." He handed me my ticket and I.D. and waved me on.

I put on my shoes and belt and gathered my things and thanked the mean looking T.S.A. lady that was eyeballing me and made my way to the lounge.

I'm just glad he didn't try to pronounce my Iranian first name...

Camden, New Jersey here I come!

With apologies to pirates everywhere

2008-07-16T18:42:37Z

There's nothing like toast after a long day of raping and pillaging.

(To the tune of Blow the Man Down)

Come all ye young fellows that watches TV:
Put down the remote now and listen to me.

I'm a sad old landlubber, I'll do ye no wrong;
You give me some rye toast, I'll sing ye a song.

What's it that you're putting on top of my bread?
It looks like it would be the shape of a head!

Make sure with my toast ye don't cook it too hard -
I prefer that it not be too crunchy or charred.

My matey, you're starting to give me concern.
I really do think that my toast ye may burn!

But a skull on my bread, is that what I spy?
And tis not burned at all; not e'en a bit dry!

How did you do it, such a rogue little scamp?
Ay, you and your secrets: your pirate toast stamp.

Now out of my way; clean up all the clutter;
Hand me the I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.

What are ye saying - I'd sing you a song?
Arr! Back in the kitchen - tis where ye belong.

Hunk Friday: The Power of his Wee Beady Eyes

2008-07-11T16:08:07Z

Oh, you'll buy my chicken.

Continuing our theme of the sexiest facial stylings known to man, today's hunk is noteworthy not only for his own inspirational mustache-goatee/soul patch combination and his participation in the Pentavirate, but also for the good he has bestowed upon mankind. Yes, friends, I'm speaking of the legendary Colonel Harland D. Sanders. Not aware of his many talents? Read on.

Cindy: If you don't watch a chicken while he eats and moderate for him, he might eat too much and he'll explode. It's the nature of chickens.
Cindy: What can you do when they go out of control?
lengli: I see hordes of chickens trying to emulate the sheer weight prowess of Biggie Smalls.
Cindy: So true. and the question is... will this excess first lead to their demise or ours?
Cindy: For the sake of humanity these questions must be answered.

Help us, Colonel Sanders. You're our only hope.

lengli: Or else there will be an inevitable war between man and bird, and neither species may make it out alive.
lengli: Sure, we may have firepower, but have you ever been pecked by a chicken? It is an experience you will not soon wish to relive.
Cindy: It seems all to clear to me know. When Nostradamus was writing his prophecy on the coming of the 3rd Antichrist, he was not speaking of a man - he was speaking of a chicken. A chicken so evil he can challenge the world and stability of man.
lengli: I shudder to even consider it.
Cindy: Shudder now. Die later. They must be stopped!!!
lengli: We must formulate a plan: the resurrection of Colonel Sanders. Only he can save us now.
Cindy: Yes!!! You are a wise, wise woman, lengli!!!
lengli: It is for the good of the free world that I plot.
Cindy: And the world should thank you! I thank you on behalf of the world. Colonel Sanders must be resurrected.
Cindy: There is no other way.

And the ladies love him.

A Canine Public Service Announcement

2008-07-08T18:58:42Z

I'm not a cop, but I play one in this post to deliver an urgent message from the dogs of the world:

PLEASE STOP DRESSING US UP.

You may think it's cute and precious to dress us up in these little costumes, but you could not be more wrong.

Do you honestly think we look happy??

But don't take my word for it.

Cupcake, age 2

I really thought my owner loved me. She was always telling me how pretty I am and brushing my coat to make sure I was soft and shiny - but then Halloween rolled around. Fast as lightning, I had this thing shoved on my head and I was being paraded around the neighborhood like a fool. I've never forgiven her for that - and her fancy, expensive couch hasn't smelled the same since.

Scamp, age 5

A Stegosaurus? A freaking Stegosaurus? I'm a Tyrannosaurus Rex!! When he's not looking, I'll rip out his jugular.

Until then...I wait.

Consider yourselves warned.

Hunk Friday: Happy Birthday, America!

2008-07-04T14:20:15Z

If I weren't a lady, I'd call him Babe-raham Lincoln.

In honor of America's birthday, we are delighted to celebrate Abraham Lincoln, an icon known both for his contributions to the Union and to the illustrious legacy of facial hair. This coif of beard-with-no-mustache (also known as a "chin curtain") has been an inspiration for thousands of Amish and sexual deviants everywhere (I strongly advise you against clicking that link unless you wish to have your idyllic visions of Mr. Lincoln destroyed forever).

Fun Facts About Honest Abe

Lincoln was born in Hardin County, Kentucky and as such was reputed to be the creator of the "Gettin' Lucky in Kentucky" catchphrase.

At the suggestion of an eleven-year-old girl, Lincoln grew his now-famous beard. She also suggested that he dress all in pink and adopt the moniker "Princess Pearly Pie", but Abe wisely chose to disregard this advice. Less than a month later, he was elected president.

Lincoln was known as a bit of a prankster, even after death. During one of Winston Churchill's visits to the White House, Lincoln's ghost hid all of the prime minister's clothes as he was bathing. Imagine Eleanor Roosevelt's surprise to find a nude Churchill scurrying down the hall to the guest room!

A talented singer, Lincoln sang on the recording for Once More with Feeling, the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

From all of us at ShopWiki, we wish you a happy and safe Independence Day, and a belated Happy Canada Day to our friendly neighbo(u)rs to the north! May your holidays be as glorious as the hair atop Lincoln's chin!

Point-Counterpoint: Does Texas deserve its own waffle?

2008-07-03T18:13:20Z

These cause visions of cacti to dance through Renee's head

lengli: how do you feel about texas shaped waffles?
Renee: that makes me feel good
lengli: does it really?
lengli: doesn't it make you jealous in the slightest?
lengli: why is there no delaware shaped waffle maker?
Renee: it reminds of hanging out at waffle houses at 3am
lengli: why is texas alone worthy of such esteem?
Renee: because it's a lone star state
Renee: it's big and vast
lengli: and that makes me think of waffles
Renee: waffle houses are a staple in tejas
lengli: but wouldn't you get the impression that such waffles are full of dust and tumbleweed?
lengli: maybe an armadillo?
Renee: restaurants in texas actually serve these btw
lengli: texas waffles?
Renee: yes
lengli: oh of course they would
Renee: it's like a thing
lengli: but wouldn't steak be a better choice for things texas-shaped?
lengli: i think of texas, i think cattle
Renee: that's a good point
lengli: if there is a state that should be waffle-shaped, it would have to be one of the new england states
lengli: delicate and slightly sweet; yuppies love them

At this point, Renee forfeited the discussion in the name of her fancy-schmancy summer work schedule. Here's hoping she'll be back into her regular fighting shape for our next installment of Point-Counterpoint.

Clash of the Titans

2008-07-02T14:57:21Z

Cogito ergo sum

When a philosopher dates a jock.

"When they said God is dead, did you believe it?"
"No 'cause I prayed for us to win against Riverdale and we did."

"Is there right and wrong? Or only pleasure and pain?"
"Well you can get penalties, and Coach hates those."

"What are we all doing here?"
"Fullback."

NERDS!!!

"When a child is born does it inhale or exhale first?"
"WHO'S PREGNANT???"

"If hope was in Pandora's Box, was it a good thing?"
"I hope I get a field hockey scholarship to Yale. Coach says she'll pay a nerd to fill out the applications."

"If I ask questions without answers, does that make me smart? Or just look smart?"
"Wanna screw?"

Hunk Friday: An Open Letter from Alex P. Keaton's Dad

2008-06-27T16:17:24Z

A public service announcement from Michael Gross

Hi folks,

I'm Michael Gross, but you probably know me best from TV's "Family Ties". I'm here today to inform you about an amazing public service and opportunity for infinite personal gain. Yes, I'm here to speak to you about beards.

You see, friends, I was once like you: tall, gangly, involved in petty gang warfare. The streets of Chicago can be tough, and as an impressionable teenager, I fell into all the usual traps. For years I was without purpose or direction and I myself was convinced that I was forever lost.

Until one day.

Yes, dear readers, one fateful January day, I was walking along the Chicago River in the bitterest of colds. My skin was chapped a severe purple and I was certain that my cheeks would never warm up again. I said to myself, "Michael," I said, "There has to be a better way. There has to be a way to survive this lake effect with dignity."

Tina who?

And so it was this very day that I started growing my beard: the beard that would not only make me a star, but would also save my life. Had I not come to possess this shining beacon of facial hair, I never would have escaped the band of miscreants that had entangled me in their web of crime. With my new beard, I was rejected by these very same scoundrels as a liability: I was now identifiable, no longer just a face in the crowd. Sweet liberty was at last mine!

A few years later, I went on to the hallowed halls of Yale University to get my MFA in drama, and shortly after that, I would find my greatest role as Steven Keaton, patriarch of the Keaton clan on "Family Ties". Look at this photo at the right and I challenge you to see anything other than my glorious beard. Impossible, isn't it?

So if you're looking to change your life for the better, I urge you with all my heart: grow a beard. Do it today. The life you save could be your own.

Sincerely,

It probably sounds better in French

2008-06-26T19:16:40Z

Graham waved goodbye to the mailman and then rushed inside and up the stairs. It had arrived! It had finally, finally arrived! Ever since his wife Melinda had turned 39, she had been sulking around the house, overly conscious of the fact that she would shortly be turning 40 and thus entering "middle age". Graham, of course, thought she was absolutely insane: to him, she would always be that wiry 16-year old he had met on his first day at his new high school. Even as white-hot rage flashed in her eyes (following his customary attack of clumsiness and knocking all of her French books out of her arms), he thought she was the most perfect creature he had ever seen.

He had just known he'd have to do something to help lift her spirits - something bold, something romantic, something that would let her know exactly how much she still meant to him after all these years. Graham knew he wasn't the most suave or debonair of men, and so he had enlisted the help of Arnie, his best friend. Surely, Graham thought, surely Arnie would have an idea - Arnie was an ideas guy. He'd been to Vegas. He knew things.

Oh Arnie knew things all right. He had, without a word, pointed Graham to an online store, then left to go meet his latest squeeze at the corner bar. Graham barely noticed he'd left; he sat spellbound, numbly watching the images wash over him. Within moments, he was sure - everything here would be absolutely perfect for Melinda; he needed only to enter his credit card number.

Nobody knew romance like the Marquis de Sade

Hands shaking with anticipation of Melinda's inevitably delighted reaction, Graham tore open the cardboard shipping box and pulled out the delicately-wrapped package. Gift in hand, he tore down the stairs and ran into the darkened room in which his wife was watching her stories. She cocked her head slightly in recognition of his presence. "Pumpkin," Graham breathed, trying to contain his giddiness, "I have a gift for you."

"Huh." Melinda's eyes were still glued to the screen.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" he asked, dangling the package in front of her face. She grabbed at in annoyance and started picking at it when the commercials came on. "Honey, I remember how much you loved studying French in high school, how much you wanted to go to the City of Lights, to Paris, France. Well today, Sugar, I brought a little of Paris, France to you!"

Melinda had gotten through the wrapping paper and was staring blankly at her gift.

"Sweetie, that there is an eye mask with the words of the Marquis de Sade on it," Graham said triumphantly. "He was French!"

What happened next was a blur, but when Graham came to, he had a black eye and the eye mask proclaiming the words of Sade, "Treat me like the whore that I know I am" shoved in his mouth. Melinda was nowhere to be found.

Hot Pants

2008-06-24T18:58:12Z

She's got The Look

The bass pounds away all inhibition. Sweating dancers moving to the same heartbeat. A massive social display plays out, the subtle intricacies of courtship and communication like an infinite puzzle.

She danced up on me. I noticed her jeans. I placed my hands on her hips and felt them sway under the smooth yet durable fabric. My fingers played along the solidly stitched belt loops, tugging at them playfully, testing them. The back pockets fit her more than ample form immaculately, yet had room to spare even with my hands in them. I teased out of her back pockets and around to the button-fly, I could feel her grinning against my neck. I got down on my knees as she writhed against me, like thick heavy oil on deep dark water. I ran my hands along the hem, then up along the double stitched inseam. I caressed the faded denim front of her thighs with my palms. I stood up and pressed my lips against her ear:

"You're ugly as hell but those are some really hot jeans."

Hunk Friday: Evil is such a loaded word, isn't it?

2008-06-20T18:02:25Z

Goatee be thy name

One of the most beautiful facial hair stylings around is arguably the goatee. From the French Fork and the Musketeer to the Van Dyck and the soul patch, few 'dos have the capacity for not only a nearly infinite number of variations, but also for complete versatility. I daresay there is a goatee to go with every outfit, hairstyle, and moral persuasion known to man (and woman, should she be so lucky!).

When it comes to the most memorable personality-related goatee of all time, two examples run practically head to head: Star Trek's Evil Mr. Spock and Garthe Knight, Michael of Knight Rider's evil brother. Just look at the passion in their eyes - do you think that's pure coincidence, my friend? The same dedication that goes into their facial coiffures is in direct proportion to the fire that exists in their souls, such that even Vulcan emotional suppression cannot contain it.

Passionate and proud be thy game

Now, I'm not saying that wearing a goatee necessarily makes one evil, but if you're looking to stand out from the rest of your goody-goody, clean-shaven family, it's certainly a cheap and easy way to do so. Additionally, it inevitably helps eliminate the embarrassing rooftop scenario of some wild-eyed, gun-toting ingenue shooting the wrong twin by mistake - I think we all know how priceless that can be!

So the next time you've forgotten to shave for a couple days, consider making the goatee your new best friend. But beware: not everyone may be able to handle the new lust for life it offers. Will you be ready?

Social Studies

2008-06-19T18:19:36Z

Just check one, ok?

Hey,

I made you a mixtape. I was going to give it to Corey to give to you but I didn't want you to think it was from him. He thinks you're cool too.

I had to request a couple of the songs over the radio cause I didn't have the albums.

The songs are pretty cool, write me a note in social studies.

1. Nirvana - About a Girl
2. Tom Tom Club - Genius of Love
3. A Tribe Called Quest - Find My Way
4. Prodigy - Charly
5. INXS - Need You Tonight
6. Metallica - Sad But True
7. Depeche Mode - Just Can't Get Enough
8. ODB - Shimmy Shimmy Ya
9. Psychedelic Furs - All That Money Wants
10. Scorpions - Still Loving You
11. Peter Tosh - Stepping Razor
12. Aretha Franklin - Never Loved a Man
13. Renegade Soundwave - Can't Get Used to Losing You
14. Erasure - Love To Hate You
15. Tears for Fears - Mad World
16. Peter Gabriel - When You're Falling
17. UB40 - Red Red Wine
18. Air Supply - Making Love Out of Nothing at All

P.S. I had to fit it on a 90 minute tape so try not to rewind it in your walkman too much or else it'll get eaten. You can like use a No. 2 pencil to rewind it, it fits perfect and saves you batteries. Are you going to prom?