The Frogg's Secret Identity, Revealed! (Sort of)

Ok, so first of all, thanks to all of you for not telling me how marvelous I am, despite my heroic exercise endeavors (see previous post). I am sure you were just trying to keep me from getting a big ego (or rather, a bigger ego than I already have). Much obliged.

Now I have a special treat for all of you. Recently, as you may be aware, I went out of town on vacation. While I was gone, my co-workers decided to show me how much they loved me. They took a photo that was on file at the store, and, because it was simply impossible to make me more beautiful than I already am (ah, there's that ego again!), they decided to do the next best thing.

They turned me into an alien. Here I am, courtesy of Bryan ("Blue hair is cool") and Co.



Isn't that sweet? I am still trying to think of how I can thank them.

So for those of you who have been wondering what I look like...well, now you still don't know! People who work with me, who see me every single day, asked, "Who's that?" when they saw the image on the (very very large) theatre screen that we have at our store. So I have no fear of being recognized as a result of posting this picture here. Humiliated? Oh, maybe. But it's worth it for the laugh. Because you are laughing, aren't you?

Have a great weekend. :)

Hooray for Me!

Now you must all pat me on the back and tell me how marvelous I am, because I actually managed to jog nearly the whole way around the Rose Bowl this morning! And that was without dying, which I feared might happen. I am so pleased.

I am also proud of the fact that this was the third time I made it out there this week, to walk/jog the three-mile circuit, so that means I have done nine miles in three days. Not bad for someone whose version of "exercise" as often as not consists of lying in the sun and working hard on her tan. (Hey, if exercise is defined by sweat, sunbathing is exercise, ok?)

My renewed motivation to get back in shape came on as a result of the fact that I signed up for a half-marathon in October. I mentioned this before, and then I promptly forgot all about it. On purpose, I suspect. I think I had a vague idea that I would handle the half-marathon the same way I handled every single one of my college term papers...fritter away the time with trivial pursuits until the night before the paper was due, then stay up all night writing, drinking bad coffee, and swearing that NEXT TIME would be different and I would have my paper done before it was even ASSIGNED.

But the body is a little different than the mind, not quite as elastic or forgiving, especially when you get to be nearly ancient, like me. So last-minute attempts to run/walk 13 miles probably won't work too well, especially in San Francisco, which is where the race will be held. Therefore, it looks like I'll actually have to do some advance training, maybe even (gasp!) change some eating habits. Just don't ask me to give up chocolate, please. There are only so many sacrifices I can make.

No Sequel to This, Please

So, I'm sorry, but was the first Deuce Bigalow movie such an amazing, box-office success that it actually warranted the making of a sequel? The idea seems awfully unlikely, if you ask me, but you didn't, and obviously the studio execs didn't either, because they went ahead and made it. I'll probably see it as many times as the first one, i.e., not at all. Yawn.

Studio execs really SHOULD ask me about these things, by the way.

In general, I am not a big fan of sequels. About the only exceptions to this rule are: Toy Story 2 (WAY better than the first), Terminator 2 (but NOT T3) and the Star Wars trilogy (that would be the original movies, NOT the latest ones).

I became very familiar with Toy Story 2 a few years ago, when I did some babysitting several times for friends who had two little girls. It just so happened that all they EVER wanted to watch was Toy Story 2. I think one time I tried to see if they wanted to watch something else (because as good as the movie is, there is only so much of it I can take, being an adult human), and they indicated that they might be interested in Barney and his wacky, loving adventures. So naturally we watched Toy Story 2, because there is absolutely no amount of Barney that I can take, being an adult human.

(My sister had it even worse when she was a nanny for a family in Napa. That was during the height of Teletubby popularity, poor girl.)

Other awful sequels: Matrix 2 and 3, Jaws 2-4, Bridget Jones 2, Jurassic Park 2 and 3, and I didn't see this one but I have it on good authority (i.e., various friends) that it's bad as well, Blair Witch 2. (Feel free to add to the list in the comments section!)

Well, anyway, at least no one has decided to make an A.I. sequel. That's one thing we can ALL be grateful for.

N.B. Despite my general antipathy toward sequels, I have to admit that I am positively panting for the release of the Pirates of the Caribbean sequels. Can't get enough of Johnny Depp in pirate garb and eye makeup! Arrrr!

I'm Here

Yes, I have returned...but I am in a bad mood because I spent nearly nine hours on the road yesterday, and I haven't gotten over it. My love affair with 101 has decidedly come to an end, I fear, and it was always a tenuous love at best. The drive along the coast is certainly more beautiful and less hypnosis-inducing than the route up the middle of the state through bogglingly-boring stretches of flat farmland and along a road that is almost completely straight for six hours, but there are not as many convenient stops as on I-5, and it takes even longer.

But I've always thought that perhaps the scenery was worth it until yesterday when I hit...TRAFFIC! On a Sunday! I HATE traffic (oh the irony of living in California, and LA in particular), and the worst swear words in the world are not sufficient to do justice to my absolute abhorrence of sitting in a car on a freeway going 0-5 miles an hour and having to shift, then downshift, brake, shift, downshift, brake then watch someone with their signal on who has either forgotten to turn it off (grrrr) or is not agressive enough to do what needs to be done and just CUT INTO THE LANE. Then shift, downshift, brake, shift, downshift, brake, ignore the catcalls and stares and horn-honking of guys in trucks that you get stuck next to, because you are going 0-5 and so are they, then slam on the brakes because you were paying more attention to ignoring the guys in the truck than to the car in front of you and nearly ended up in someone else's back seat. And so on, repeating, indefinitely.

BLEAH. And then there's the feeling when you get to a place where you can see the freeway ahead of you for a few miles and you hope, hope, hope with a not-so-quiet desperation (in my case) that you are almost out of the woods, but no...all you can see ahead of you is the forest of red taillights.

Near Santa Barbara, in an entire hour I went all of 12 miles. Aaaarrrggghhh!

Well, I am not a patient person at the best of times, and I've noticed with some alarm and disappointment that I am becoming less patient as I get older. I sort of hoped that the reverse would be true, and I'd be wearing a saintly halo shining with the brightness of my angelic forbearance by the time I hit 30 or so, but alas!

Anyway, let's just say that it's a good thing I do most of my driving alone, because if road rage had a poster girl, I would be it. I mean her.

Postcard from Me

So do you miss me yet?

I was here today:



And here yesterday:



I'll be back soon. Until then...

Oh, the pics are from Cesar Chavez Park in Berkeley (where the Golden Gate Bridge is unfortunately obscured behind a layer of thick cloud, across the bay), and Shell Ridge in Walnut Creek.

I Must Away...

...but not 'ere break of day. I am not a morning person, as a rule.

I am taking a vacation as of tomorrow, heading up to the Bay Area. Be back in a week. Miss me, my darlings.

(PS I made all my deadlines! Yay!)

Crazy Frog is Weird, Ok?

Crazy Frog's Crazy Hits

Ok, let's face it: allies or not, Americans and Brits are very, very different breeds. How else to explain the fact that the top song on the UK charts is by a creature called Crazy Frog and consists of (and I quote) "a combination of a ringtone from Jamster!, a premier provider of mobile content, and the theme song from the classic Eddie Murphy film, Beverly Hills Cop."

The site goes on to talk about the single, called (for no discernible reason) "Axel F":

"Axel F," leaped to No 1 on the UK Singles Chart and was outselling the No 2 single, Coldplay's "Speed Of Sound," by three to one. This marks the first time in UK chart history that a ringtone has not only competed for chart positioning with conventional full-length tracks, but has reached the No 1 position.

Here's what it boils down to, folks: A ringtone beat out Coldplay for #1 single in the UK. A ringtone.

British people are so weird.

Now before I get any angry comments from potential British people among us, I will grant that Americans are weird too. We have things like monster truck rallies, Tupperware parties, and the WWF. Not to mention hot dogs. But you've got to draw the line somewhere, and so I feel compelled to point out that at least the #1 song on our top music charts is not based on the sound of a cell phone , nor "composed" by a psychotic-looking amphibian. (Just look at the picture!)

No, in the US, the coveted top-spot belongs to Mariah Carey.

Hmmm. On second thought, bring on the frog, please!

For the record, my brother thinks that Mariah kind of looks like a frog. Sooooo...maybe she and Crazy Frog are really the same person! I mean frog. Or whatever. Of course, if they were, then my argument about Brits and Americans being weirdly different doesn't really fly, does it? And that would be unfortunate indeed.

Let us hope that Crazy Frog and Mariah Carey forever remain distinct personalities. It's just so much more fun that way.

N.B. No actual Brits were harmed during the making of this post, but they were slightly maligned. I count many British people as friends, but probably less of them now.