Shampoo Solo

Oh, hello, blog.

This is, um, awkward. I’ve been busy — working — so, um, that’s why, um, I haven’t called. I’ve thought about you so many times — there are so many things I have to tell you.

So, um, maybe I can call you some time? Would that be OK?

OK. I’ll call you sometime. Soon.

The backup generator that powers the emergency lights and whatnot for our 12-story building is insanely loud, and creates a slight wind tunnel effect. So, of course, when we got home tonight and discovered that power was out in the building AGAIN, it made perfect sense to me to scream at Scott.

ME: GET ON THE CHOPPER, SAWYER!
HIM: WHAT?
ME: THIS IS OUR ONE CHANCE TO GET OFF THIS ISLAND!
HIM: WHAT?
ME: GET ON THE GODDAMN CHOPPER!
HIM: WE HAVE TO LEAVE THE CALICO BEHIND — THERE’S NO TIME!
ME: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And then we trudged up eight flights of stairs for the 854th time so far this summer. And ever since we got upstairs, he’s been working on his thesis in the living room, and I’ve been working on freelance stuff here in the office (two down, two to go!), but we did manage to shout the following things at each other:

Me: Man. I can’t believe Angelina Jolie gets to have unprotected sex with Brad Pitt. What a lucky bitch.
Him: So … does Leona Lewis have her period?

And with that, it is 9:33, the Stop Working and Have Glass of Red Wine time of day, and also tonight the Battery Power Getting Awfully Low time of day.

See you in hell, Monday.

It’s intern season!

This is both good and bad.

Good: Interns can help with work.
Bad: Interns think I’m old.

Good: Interns have fresh ideas.
Bad: Interns think I’m old.

Good: Interns don’t mind working late.
Bad: Interns think I’m old.

Yesterday in a meeting, I was sitting next to some other team’s new summer intern (our team, we don’t actually get our own interns; we just ogle other teams’ interns, which is probably because every year I try to convince my boss that we need an intern just to make Starbucks runs). This intern in particular had one of those white wristbands they give you at bars and clubs to signal that you are old enough to pay inflated prices for copious amounts of alcohol. It was covered in blue motorcycles, and I recognized it.

“Rock and Roll Hotel?” I asked him.

His eyes got all wide and surprised, and I could tell he was thinking: My God, you go there? You’re OLD.

At this point, I wish I could say that I said something wise and snappy, like, “You don’t become boring just because you turn 30!” but, sadly, instead, I said: “I got so drunk the last time I was there.”

A few people in real life have asked me what I think will happen today at the Belmont, whether or not I think Big Brown will be the first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978.

The answer is no; I don’t think he’ll win.

Don’t get me wrong — I would like nothing more than to finally, after two and a half decades of watching horse racing, see a Triple Crown winner. If he does it, I’ll be cheering; if he doesn’t, the glass of bourbon I intend to be drinking before, during and after the race will have no tears in it.

I have a feeling Big Brown is going to get challenged in the stretch by Casino Drive, the Japanese import. He seems to have the same stride,the same burst of speed and the same reserve tank of energy as Brown. And — more important — he doesn’t have a crack in his hoof, and he hasn’t raced in weeks — he’s rested and fresh. Big Brown is tired, and his feet hurt.

I realize I’m probably going to be wrong — all signs, and all experts, including Andrew Beyer, are predicting that he’ll win. And, while he was the favorite at The Race Which Shall Not Be Named and the Preakness, I wasn’t in his camp, and he proved me wrong both times, soundly.

So my track record on Brown: Not so good.

But still, I just can’t get behind him; it’s partially his dickwad of a trainer, Rick Dutrow (who told reporters on Friday that other Belmont jockeys should, “Stay out of his way”), it’s partially the bad taste I have in my mouth still after The Race Which Shall Not Be Named, and most of all, it’s the $50 million in stud that’s waiting for Big Brown at Three Chimneys.

I know there have been rumors of a $5 million Big Brown vs. Curlin match race; but the choice of a shot at $5 million or a guaranteed $50 million is no choice at all. Win or lose today, I doubt we’ll ever see Big Brown on a racetrack again.

So what’s the point of getting attached?

(Addendum: I just popped over to ESPN.com after I finished writing this, and saw that Casino Drive has been scratched, due to a bruise on his left hind hoof. This turns the race from a challenge to, most likely, a cakewalk for Brown.)

This isn’t really a tease: ‘X-Files’ Star Is Pregnant’

Because, well, let’s think it through. Hmmm. Men can’t get pregnant, so it’s not David Duchovny or Mitch Pileggi or Nicholas Lea or Robert Patrick. That leaves … um … THE ONLY WOMAN ON THE SHOW.

The whole point of a tease, my little Tic-Tacs, is to make it a little tricky to figure out.

XOXO,
Nitpicky Girl

How awesome would it be if this turned out to actually be some kind of viral marketing campaign? For Hellboy 2, maybe?

YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY: George Clooney Reportedly Splits With Girlfriend

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go buy a plane ticket to Italy. Those are pretty cheap, right?

WHORDIE*
PUZL LVR**
ORC FOE***

*At first I thought this said WHORIDE, which is entirely different, and acceptable.
**Really? You love them so much you put them on your license plate? At the time, I thought this person had to be the biggest nerd ever.
***Biggest nerd ever.****
****In an awesome way, of course.

You know what, Internet?

Enough.

All this time, I should have been picking up the pieces, putting them back together, but this morning, I realized that I haven’t been doing that at all — I’ve just been breaking the pieces into smaller pieces, mixing them together, blurring them, jacking them up on caffeine, and then chewing on them.

Enough. I am fixing this now.

That is all.

Oh, and: Five songs for a long weekend:

1. Black Dirt - Sea Wolf
2. C’mon Sea Legs - Immaculate Machine
3. Traffic Light - The Ting Tings
4. Bleeding Love - Leona Lewis
5. Tape Song - The Kills

That is all.

Me on IM [11:53 A.M.]: I just had the following thought: “Wow. I hope I have a few spare minutes this afternoon to organize my Firefox bookmarks.” Followed by this thought: “HOLY SHIT, I AM BORING.”
Her on IM [11:54 A.M.]: That’s OK. On my mental to-do list is to buy leather protector and buff my leather shoes.
Me on IM [11:55 A.M.]: I might go back to Target this afternoon because when I was there yesterday, I forgot to buy a little blind spot mirror and a rag to wipe off the MINI’s back window when it rains.
Me on IM [12:13 P.M.]: FASTLANE.

Also, unrelated, I am now on Twitter. My username is my real-life name; I’m finding it hard to find people I know, both real and Internet, so look me up if you’d like.