Do you think this is funny?

I saw this video last week on finslippy and I laughed so hard.

So naturally, I sent the link to a number of friends. People who read fashion magazines and know who Chloe Sevigny is. People I think are funny. People I thought would also find it hilarious.

Not so much.

Responses ranged from: "Huh. Weird." to "I giggled, but no, not really my humor." to "I don't really get the references."

Then I sent it to Nick. I know he has no idea who anyone in Hollywood is, although I think he can recognize Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, but we watch Big Love (go Selmer!) - except somehow we completely missed the entire last season, so now we have a whole bunch of Netflixing ahead of us!

So I sent the link and said, "Chloe Sevigny is Nicki Grant on Big Love."

And he replied, "I have no idea what she's talking about. But she looks terrible. She's really gone downhill since we saw her last."

And all I could say was, "That's not her. That's a MAN."

Mallets for bad behavior and the vigilante justice of an exploding app

As I was walking to work today, I noticed an inordinate number of cars honking impatiently.

There was this man in a Porsche HONKING and HOOONKING because the person two cars ahead was not turning left fast enough. People were laying on their horns at the car ahead, trying to make it through yellow lights.

There was just generally a lot of assholey horn honking. Early in the morning.

Now, I might've had a little less tolerance because I was just coming from having had my blood drawn by a perpetually surly nurse who tends to leave bruises.

I have considered asking her if she hates her job and does it on purpose. But then I thought, crap, she might just take it out on me more in the future.

Also, I cannot find my earphones, and so I have no music as I gad about town. Just the cacophony of sirens and horns.

So.

I was on the sidewalk passing Mr. Porsche as he was applying hand to horn.

And I wished, I very desperately wished, that I had a large, heavy mallet in my bag. And that it weren't illegal to just beat the shit out of someone's hood.

Because boy, I bet that would feel good.

Actually, I don't think you'd have to hit it more than once or twice to get your message across.

Bang! "Be polite!" Slam! "Asshole!" And then maybe another whack for good measure.

Which reminds me.

I've been really wishing that you could put a little exploding device into your laptop, iPod, iPad, iPhone, or any other electronics that people like to steal.

So, say someone stole your phone. You could remotely detonate it so it would self-destruct, inducing, oh, maybe second-degree burns. Because Nick said third-degree would be too severe.

He also said that much like poisoning the pumpkins, this is the kind of thing that is just not OK. Lisa.

I still totally think it should be an app.

So I'm not a zombie and I don't fall down as much as I used to but you don't necessarily want to ride the elevator with me and anyway, maybe I am

Let me just start by saying that as soon as Nick reads this he's going to be all, "You so clearly ate too much sugar for breakfast and how come you never do that when I'm home?"

Either that or he'll just say, "The hell?"

Yah. OK. So you know that fun blue nail polish I put on last week?

So I took it off this morning and now I look like I have frostbite, except that my fingers haven't fallen off. You know what I can't bear think about? Those people who climb Everest and then their fingers and toes turn black from the cold and they have to have them amputated.

I suppose they're glad to be alive, and in that context what's a finger or toe here or there? But I am not that adventurous.

So anyway, maybe it's more like I'm a zombie, but only in my fingertips.

Nick is out of town so I couldn't ask him if I looked all zombified, and if he was scared. Because yes, he's a lot bigger than me, but if I were in fact a zombie, I could totally take him down.

It really just takes a small bite, and the bacteria starts working. Bam! You're a zombie!

Which means they have a lot in common with Komodo dragons, which I find fascinating. Not that they can bite you and turn you into another Komodo dragon, which would actually be pretty cool. But because of their serrated teeth, there's soooo much bacteria living in their mouths, and if they bite you and you don't bleed to death, you'll most likely die of infection.

So they get to eat you either way.

But back to the zombies.

Now, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be mistaken for one, but it is true that another sign of zombiness is the staggering around, and I am kind of clumsy. As I'm walking down the hall, I often wind up glancing off the side of cubicles. Subtly. Like unless you're walking with me, you wouldn't notice. It's usually more like just a little shoulder bump.

The other day at home I leaned over to pick something up and banged my head on the side of the wall.

Nick wouldn't have noticed except that I said, "OW!"

Which caused him to ask if I'd just hit my head. On the wall.

I blame this kind of thing on my astigmatism and poor depth perception. I don't think it's general lack of coordination, because I don't trip and fall all that often any more.

The thing is, my coloring is good and I'm not in any kind of obvious state of decay, and maybe most importantly I'm not trying to eat anyone's brain.

But listen to this: three of my colleagues got trapped in one of our elevators for 45 minutes. Which is only related because elevators are a bad place to be in case of zombie attack.

The idea of being stuck in the elevator freaks me the fuck out. It doesn't scare me as much as thinking about zombies, though. Seriously. That damn Dawn of the Dead movie, which I saw yeeeaaars ago, still makes me twitch. So combining the two would be just unimaginable.

Also, on the elevator thing: sometimes I stand just a little too close to another person in the elevator, just to see what they do. I don't do this if there are only two of us in there, because that would be creepy.

I do it like I'm totally oblivious, not like I'm trying to edge up to them. I'm pretty sure it works, because people always shift away, but nobody has ever given me a weird look.

Plus, nobody ever suspects me of anything. Which is why I should've been a spy. I suppose there's still time.

Anyway, I know zombies are all popular now, and this New York Times article posits that it's because "modern life is a lot like slaughtering zombies" - just one repetitive task after another, one repetitive day to the next. The zombies stagger around and attack, the humans kill them, over and over and over. It's all the same and the same and the same.

Which makes me all, oh, fucko. Maybe I am a zombie after all.

In any case, you probably don't want to get stuck in the elevator with me.

And, no, I don't know what's up with me today. I really don't.

In which I am totally cutting edge in 2007. Also, what are you reading?

So tonight when Nick gets home I am going to be the owner of a brand shiny new Kindle.

Yay! Naked backflips down the hall! OK, I exaggerate on that one. But I am pretty excited.

Now, I am one of these people who loves books, and loves turning pages and I definitely judge, and occasionally buy, books by their covers. I( do this with wine as well and it's not the best approach, shockingly enough.)

Anyway I just did not feel the need to invest the money in a Kindle.

But then I got to the point where I was like, you know, I have been spending a lot of time waiting around in doctor's offices, and there's only so much People Magazine I can read, and when I'm on public transport, I'm now super-paranoid about my iPhone...and how awesome would it be to always have a book or 500 in your purse?

Also, I realize that with the Kindle and other e-readers (that's the term, right?), there are a lot of free books that are classics. This is an idea I kind of love. Free! And edifying!

Have you done this? What have you downloaded?

Also, I've been making my way through suggestions from old posts of mine soliciting suggestions. Thanks to your suggestions I've read the Hunger Games, the Twilights, The Book Thief, The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, The Graveyard Book (and subsequently Coraline, and I have another one lined up to borrow), and I can't think of what-all else.

But seriously, when I am looking for books, I refer back to these posts.

Sometimes suggestions do not strike me in the moment - like The Book Thief, which I wasn't in the mood for when it was first suggested, but read recently and absolutely loved. (Nina - I don't know if you still read LG, but it was such a wonderful suggestion.)

But I always LOVE hearing about what you're reading, because you all have clever, entertaining, interesting taste in books.

So, what are you reading?

I keep thinking in a moment that time will take them away

Sometimes something completely unrelated to your life will just punch you in the stomach, knocking all the wind out of you, and bringing old bruises to the surface.

(Um, and if you couldn't tell by that first line, lemme tell you now: if you're looking for sparkly kittens and sunshine, click yourself elsewhere. Or look at yesterday's post - shoes!)

So here's what the disappearance of Emily Hershenson - who I do not even know - did to me.

It dredged up all those feelings of my dad disappearing on us.

And I know she was found, and I presume she's OK. And her story is completely different from mine.

But triggers are triggers, and here's how this one went.

If you've ever been in the position of having someone you love walk out the door, without indicating that they will never come back, and then had them not return, or anyway, not of their own volition, and ultimately, not ever, you know what I mean.

I don't expect you to know what I mean. I don't even expect you to know what to say. Most people don't. And it's OK.

I'm pretty sure that even with immense amounts of therapy, that flame of panic lives somewhere deep inside you forever. And it only takes a small, familiar spark to set it alight.

I suppose these are the splinters and shards. I forget about them until I'm reminded with a sharp jab to an internal organ.

When Emily's friend emailed and asked for help spreading the word about her disappearance, I just couldn't stop thinking about her. And every time I thought about her and her husband, and her baby - the same age as my Jordan! - I would start to cry.

I can still feel the desperation of supplication, of begging God, of the ridiculousness of bartering with a higher power. I will do anything. Just please, please let this person I love be OK.

I know the feeling of calling the police - more than once, and apologizing for calling repeatedly, and yes, of course, you know they'll call you as soon as they hear anything, but you were just hoping...

I know the drill of calling the credit card companies, the cell phone company, looking desperately for clues on location.

Of calling the hospitals, one after another after another...

Of driving around because you can't bear to just sit around not feeling like you're being proactive...

Of calling and calling and wondering where else you could call, and finally, with a tremendous pit in your stomach, wondering if it's time to look up the number for the morgue.