Hey! I found the secret! The secret to unlocking the secret... of Einstein.

My nephew said that to me today. What I've written above. Kids. Kids today. I've decided that I no longer have a moral obligation to vote for Kucinich but rather, I have a moral obligation to write-in Gore. If enough people write him in, even if he isn't running, does he have to say yes?

Ode to Al Gore

Al Gore
You Man-Whore
Run
Come on, sucka

Run Al Gore
Run
In the sun
And also for president

Dear Al Gore
Too bad your last name
Rhymes with Bore and Snore
I want you to unlock my Lock Box.

Oh Al Gore
That last part was kind of dirty
I want to be your Core
Constituent

Al Gore Al Gore
No More No More!
Four More?
I'd rather swallow Chlor!
(ine)

Gorey Gore Gore
You'd make a good Door
And a good window, or
A president.

Al Gore, Oh Al Gore
I wish you didn't talk so slow
Like I am a 3rd grader
And you are reading The Pet Goat

Al, Al, Al, Do it, Al
Come On! I Dare You!
I double dog dare you
Now you have to do it

Lugubrious L-U-G-U-B-R-I-O-U-S Lugubrious.

I read a salon article today going on and on about my boyfriend Hugh Laurie and I agreed with every syllable. Especially the part where the writer quoted Emma Thompson as saying about Laurie that he is "lugubriously sexy, like a well hung eel." My question is, why didn't they get married and have a son and send him to America to be my war bride? Why? Well? It would have been too much cool for this planet. Too many lugubrious sexy well hung eels muckying up our gene pools.

Razzamatazz Iraq Attack

I pretty much instantly liked the new Rufus Wainwright album. No big suprise there but it would have really been sucky if for some reason I didn't like it. I still don't have Andrew Bird's new one but in my list of priorities it is aways Wainwrights before Birds.

The truth about this morning

This morning I woke up a few times. I stayed up late last night, past 2 pm I think, so I set my alarm for 10am but I got up earlier than that to pee. I reset my alarm for 11am but I didn't fall back asleep. I tried to lucid dream but I haven't done that since I was a teenager. I used to practice in the summer time when I could sleep in forever. After I couldn't fall asleep again I imagined I would make myself a breakfast. A real breakfast with eggs and toast. Then I thought maybe I'd take myself out to breakfast. But I wasn't ready to get dressed and stuff. I got up, turned on the kitchen light, put my shoes on, and went out to the other room where my refrigerator is. I had to put my shoes on because a few days ago I noticed slug tracks on my carpet in the morning. I've read that they don't like coffee so I spread some coffee grounds near the sink where I saw the tracks but I still saw more this morning. I'm not quite sure what to do. I guess I could get up really early in the morning when the slug (or it could be a snail, right?) is more likely to be out and about and then I could just pick it up and put it outside. I spread a little bit of salt too. I feel bad. We'll see what happens. Anyway, the thought of walking around barefooted on slug or snail slime seemed a little bit gross. I got 3 eggs from the refrigerator, some yogurt, some butter, and the ketchup. I had to put the eggs in my pocket because I couldn't carry everything and I was worried that I would forget they were there by the time I came back into my apartment and that I would sit down or something. I made scrambled eggs and toast and ended up not eating any of the yogurt. I made coffee. I watched a few episodes of Six Feet Under. I've been watching all the episodes again. I got through season 2 today and watched part of the first episode of season three when Nate dies but then doesn't. I did some sudoku puzzles. My mom called to read my letter that made it into the Chronicle aloud to me over the phone. It reminded me of when my dad would write letters to Herb Caen and then he would be so excited if they were printed. I wasn't as excited, I just felt like a huge dork. Hopefully tomorrow, the first day in about 2 months that I will have off of both work and school, will be more productive. I think I'll go see a movie.

Lipogrammatic Blog

Just today, I was doing a small bit of wiki-studying, and I found information on lipograms. A lipogram is a book, or anything I think, that has within it no occasion of a distinct part of our jargon, lingo, locution, vocalization, or our manuscription, longhand, shorthand, print or scrawl. This common part is that fifth unit in our ABC's. Do you know of which I am alluding? I'll furnish a hint. It is not found within any of what is so far told in this blog post. Any postulation, divination, notion, opinion, suspicion, or surmisal? No? How about now? Nothing? You stink. If you can't find it, you should go swallow worms, dummy.

You may ask, how is Mandy fairing? Good. I'm doing good. Thanks for asking. Good Luck with finding my tricks and stuff. Good luck with that.

I would like to make a withdrawal... of love.

The reason that I have been MIA (missing in action), is because I've been RRB (real, real, busy). For instance, this last Saturday morning I was witness to a bizarre event indeed. A Civil War Reenactment. In Yreka. California. Yep. Justin said the other day, "I bet Sarah Vowell would be all over that kind of thing, like a reenactment of this war that happened thousands of miles away." Yes. Justin also said this, which I wanted to submit to Overheard.com but since I read it instead of overheard it, I guess it doesn't really count: "her breasts were great but not on her, like she is so bitchy." This was in reference to Jan from the Office. I love google chat. I can take chunks of things people said, put them totally out of context and then make them sound like assholes. Hmmm.. Lets try it. Justin will never chat with me again.

Justin: that would be funny if the producers forced her to get a boobjob to keep her job on the show

Justin: they must just use a wonderbra or computer graphics or something.

Justin: some asian computer guy spends like 50 hours per episode making CGI boobs, she has blue stuff on her chest and the CGI boobs go there.

Justin: and Bill Cosby's murdered son Ennis is buried under the shed.

There you go. I said way way worse things, trust me. Way way worse.

Oh! So here are some pictorial likeness of the event this weekend. Oh, and my sister and her babies were visiting, so they are there in the pictures too.

These are the reenactment shots:

This is my dad and my sister and Ailsa and below is my dad and my mom and little Ailsa

This is little Ailsa, the neice and below is my sister in hot pursuit of Yankees

And no Civil War Reenactment is complete without a camo-ATV. Just like in Sherman's March.

There has been other stuff but I'm tired.

But Really, Where Is My Jet Pack?

Here is an interesting article about all the crap the future never gave us that we wanted, like jet packs and equality.

http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2007/05/12/jetpack/index.html

Reading this article in salon got me a'thinkin' bout my childhood and what I thought the future would bring. I secretly thought the Russians were totally going to out do us and that we were screwed (but not really screwed). This also reminded me of when various adults, usually teachers, would tell us kids about the horrible communists and how they forced children into jobs. There was no freedom. No choice to grow up to be anything you wanted. America was so great because we could grow up to be ANYTHING we wanted. Not like the poor Russian kids. They would have some group of communist government people come to their school and they would tell little Jimmy, "You will be a cosmonaut," and little Mary, "You will be a prima ballerina," and little Boris, "You will be a janitor." Some kid might ask the teacher how these horribile communist would decide who got which job. And the teacher, probably making this up as she went along, would tell us that the future jobs of the Russian children would be determined by a series of aptitude and personality tests and sometimes it would just be a matter of who you know, you know, higher up. Scandelous! Imagine! Little children having their futures decided by perfect strangers. And nepotism! Cronyism! SOOOO much different then us American kids who could be anything we wanted and just took aptitude and personality tests for fun. Anyway, this always seemed like some kind of fairytale life because I always imagined myself in Russia, being analyzed by men in very drab suits and women in babushkas, being weighed, measured, and having my worth determined and coming out ahead of all the other kids. No peer pressure. No school yard system of hierarchy. Highly intelligent and discerning adults saying, this one is something special. This one can be a prima ballerina. This one can become chairwoman of our nuclear war head rocket scientist division. It still sounds like heaven to me.

Cadbury Eggs...smaller?

I can't believe I am posting 2 youtubers in the same day but this made my jaw drop in the most ludicrous of fashions.

Ripped from the Tubes "All in the Face - A Tim/Jim Tribute"

A beautiful montage/homage.

Life update for Future Mandy: If you are bored by this, suck an egg.

Well, Future Mandy, you might be wondering exactly what has been up lately. Well, I'll tell you. Still very little. Still no social life whatsoever, except for the promise of a wedding to attend in a little over a month and the occasional visit from your parents, you lucky plucky girl.

I saw Hot Fuzz on Friday and I enjoyed it so much. So much, in fact, that my love for Martin Freeman was resumed (he had a very small cameo) and I've spent the last couple of days watching youtube clips of Tim and Gareth and Pam and David and all the old gang from The Office:British Invasion-Style. Here are a couple of things I've noticed. Tim was a lot more angry, generally, than Jim is. And I think smarter. Not as snappy of a dresser, however. Gareth was delightfully more sexually inappropriate and forward than Dwight is. Delightfully so. I feel sorrier for Michael than for David, as he comes off as slightly more sweetly pathetic than assholey pathetic, HOWEVER, when I do feel sorry for David or feel a twinge of sympathy for him, it is such a stronger feeling and I feel more like I am watching a kitty cat getting humiliated. And that brings up another major difference. The English people make me squirm so much more. There are scenes that were so incredibly uncomfortable and hilarious to watch, like a car wreck with clowns. You want to look away but can't look away AND you are laughing. Not as much with the new one.

But Hot Fuzz = Hot Hot Summer Time Laughs. Mandypantsalot says "Check It Out!" Nick Frost is the funniest. There were also some really funny previews that got me all excited(down there). I can't wait to see Superbad, starring Michael Cera, the kid George Michael from Arrested Development (and who is 19, I found out, so he is totally legal now). It looks so great. Steve and Marigold mentioned it to me after they saw Hot Fuzz. I think it will be a big hit. I kind of think that kid is some kind of new thing. Like the new Adam Brody but better because that guy is already all washed up. And he doesn't have that stupid ironic humor that never ever stops that all the people in my generation have (myself included). And he is Canadian, so he is innately talented and funny. You know who he is? He is Bob Newhart. He is the new Bob Newhart. Good, that's settled.

My sister and my nephew and my niece are all coming to visit the day after tomorrow. I am very much looking forward to that.

School is going okay. I'm king of slacking off and I've got some real work to do in the next few weeks but then it should be done forever.

I applied to this thing at work that I didn't get chosen to interview for and I'm really pissed about it but also kind of glad because it is the kind of thing that is a real job and career and stuff and it isn't anything that I want to have anything to do with.

I've been posting some of my stories on Zoetrope which is this online story thing. It is kind of boring to explain but basically you review other people's stories and then they let you post your own stories for other people to review. It's fun. I like reviewing stuff. I like getting reviews. Sometimes. I should post some of my reviews here. Hmmm... Maybe I will.

I'm still fiddling around with making songs and I bought a microphone thing to make it easier and better. Not too much better, but much easier.

I watched Palindromes the other night. That Solondz guy who made Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness and Storytelling. It was weird but I liked it. I just finished a book about A Chorus Line, the musical and then I got obsessed with the soundtrack again and then I decided to watch the movie again, which is one of the most horrible pieces of crap ever made of a Broadway musical, but which I enjoyed anyway because I like the music and the mirror and the chance to dance for you. Anyway, if you have any A Chorus Line related questions I am now pretty much an expert.

I am continuing to work on this great paper I'm writing for my Capstone project on Amputation in Fiction and I just finished this great section on Captain Hook where I get to use a quote from J.M. Barrie's play that includes my new favorite word "dandiacal." Barrie, a.k.in my head.a. Johnny Depp, uses it to describe the manner in which Captain Hook dresses because he dresses like a dandy. I think those nerds who walk around in girl's jeans are dressing rather dandiacally.

I think I'm going to start using labels. As of right.... NOW!

The Cat Came Back

So I read today that Yusuf Islam, the artist formerly known as Cat Stevens has decided to play some music again. Write some songs. I'm happy to hear this. I read that his son bought a guitar and he just decided to start playing again. This kind of blew me away because when I imagined him not playing anymore I assumed that meant that he just didn't perform anymore or write music or record or anything. But he didn't even have a guitar in his home. Crazy. As for as Father/Songs go, I put this one at number one, totally blowing that Cats in the Cradle shit away. 2nd is Like Father, Like Son from Into the Woods.

My father the famous playwright

My father sent me an email today. Here is what it said:

Mandy,
Please link this to your My Page website.
Pops

http://www.lazybeescripts.co.uk/cgi-bin/AuthorWeb.asp?sAu=Gerald%20P.%20Murphy

So that is what I am doing. I'm not sure exactly what he means by "My Page website." I think he means this blog. Who knows. He is a crazy man.

Sometimes I think the Media Nazi is a little retarded

This is what I read on my friend quiz page. I thought Justin (the media nazi), with the choices of St. Ralph, Austin Powers:The Spy Who Shagged Me, Memento, and Hostel would have liked Memento the best as it is the only movie on that list even worth paying money to see. But I was wrong.

"Love for Only One!Incorrect Answer! Justin actually rated 'Memento' 2 stars, but loved 'Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me', rating it 5 stars."

5 stars? 2 stars? Jebus.

Of the many, the best racist joke I made up today

But rappers have to use it because, I mean, how many words can you think of to rhyme with trigger?

Much Obliged

I decided that I have a moral obligation to vote for Kucinich. Even though he is a dwarf.

This is what happens when people don't update their blogs often enough to keep me entertained.

I get bored and then I have to perform searches.

Far from the maddening pants.

Here is the word association between Marigold and I today. I hope she is posting this on her blog right now! This really says alot about our personalities and also how gay Marigold is for me.

Marigold is "Steve" and I am "Me"

me: My name says that I am busy and it also says, "single and lovin' it."

Steve: that's a lie

me: You're right, I'm not single.

Steve: you are multiple

me: sclerosis

Steve: word association!
Montel

me: Free

Steve: bird

me: rice

Steve: cake

me: monkey

Steve: urinal

me: fat

Steve: whore

me: bait

Steve: jail

me: mars

Steve: igolds

me: tracy gold

Steve: anorexia nervosa
okay!
JESUS
I'm going now

me: STOP!
Bye!
fine

Steve: BYE

me: lates
bye
sexual

Steve: healing

me: healing

Steve: STOP

me: ha!
We are like twin sisters!

Steve: bye FOREVER

me: God bless the mister.
Young
Bye!

day after May Day! day after May Day!

A Poem for the lusty month of May:

May I have your attention please!

Will the owner of a pale blue pair of pants with nobody inside them please call the operator?

The owner of a pale blue pair of pants with nobody inside them, please call the operator.

Thank you.

May day. May Day! Day Time! Day Time!

And the end was nigh.


Also-I have tickets to see Cats on Tuesday but I won't be able to attend so if you want them email me and put Caticketism in the subject line. The body of your email should read:

Esteemed Colleague:

I am heretofore expressing deep interest in the tickets thusly mentioned thusly in your previous post on that day of our lord which presented itself verily as May 2nd, 2007. I wish heartily and with the utmost earnestness to see this "Cats" of which I have heard so much. Jellicle? What a delight! Memories,etcetera and so forth. Please, with haste and dutiful sense of efficiency, allow me to purchase said tickets so that I might see the dancing kitties. I will be forever in your debt, dear fellow, and if I should ever find myself on the lucky receiving end of a passport to such glee as these tickets to see Cats is sure to be, you will be the first on my list of contacts.

In anticipation of gratitude,

Ever your servant in all matters and dealings from this day forward,

(Your name here)

P.S. Boobs (this is the secret code word so that I'll know you are serious)

Oh wait, I don't have tickets to see Cats. That was a god damned lie.