Strike management

Apropos to the conversation I got into in the ladies room today, one way to survive the WGA strike is to watch America's Next Top Model, which is how MTV is surviving the strike. If you get it during an especially good "cycle," you can see things like future winner Nicole (who doesn't know what Bollywood is) say, ""Are you serious? You know that's whack." to Jayla, who has confessed to cameras: "I am extremely confused by this competition." Not to mention the Bre vs. Kim the Lesbian showdown involving some Red Bull, a granola bar, and who's still in the running to becoming America's Next Top Model.

I'm just hoping they replay season 1, which was so innocent that when two Christians refused to pose without their clothes on, one was eliminated because Jay Manuel, then not "Creative Director" but lowly make-up boy, confessed to Tyra that Robin had jiggled her naked boobs at him. Priceless.

And I'm gonna get my abs in shape

I went to see I am Legend tonight, and came to the realization about one of the archetypes of disaster films. You know the characters who are always the first to give up? In PG movies, the other characters rally them until they realize their potential. In PG-13 movies, they attempt suicide. In R rated movies, they're the ones that jump into the East River to escape the monster.

If I were faced with the end of the world as we knew it, that'd totally be me.

First off, I'm a total pessimist. I'm sorry, but if a giant spaceship/alien/virus is coming towards me, I'm not really having a "I'm gonna live to fall in love another day" attitude. And two, I don't really have a lot to give society. I couldn't come up with a cure, or fly a shooting spaceship. I'd pretty much be done with life as soon as the coffee ran out.

But I think there might be one plot twist that would keep me from being the wife in Cormac McCarthy's The Road. The concept is: the only way the United States can beat the aliens/terrorists/virus is by giving a twenty-something idiot savant directions on how to work their vessel. In order for the awkward hipster--who only responds to witty prose that connects with his generation--to understand the dry, scientific directions of the military manual, someone has to edit it.

I'll get from Brooklyn to DC by stealing a horse from the Kensington Stables and riding her over the Verrazano Bridge.

I've been wiping my ass with puppies.

More specifically, jungle puppies.

It all started the other day at my local market. I was out of toilet paper, and they were out of Charmin Basic, my preferred brand not only because it's the perfect thickness (not too rough, but not so soft I feel like I should be upholstering my freegan chair with it), but because it doesn't hide behind words like "original" or "super" or "nacho cheesier." It's just "basic," and that's OK.

But I digress. One Stop Market was out of Charmin Basic, so I picked up some Cottonelle. But this wasn't simply Cottonelle, it was Cottonelle for kids, which, if I am reading the graphic on the package correctly, supposedly shows kids how much toilet paper to use by putting a picture every 4 squares.

"This is hilarious!" I thought, and what normally happens after that I utter that phrase once again happened, as I smacked down money for something that was decidedly less funny once I got home and remembered that no one ever comes over.

What gets me about the Cottonelle for kids, besides the uncomfortable feeling of shoving a dog into my yammy, is that the puppy is pictured in two poses. One, with his tongue out next to a parrot, and the other, in a canoe with a monkey. No, seriously, in a canoe with a monkey:



As someone who works in a creative field for a big corporation, I am really trying to picture the meeting that occurred before these illustrations were commissioned. There must have been a lot of excitement about this thrilling new product, the downer of the group must have mentioned that they could only spend the money to have two different illustrations done, everyone immediately thought puppies should be involved...and then here is where I am drawing a blank. Jungle puppies? Jungle puppies in canoes steered by monkeys? Sgt. Joe Friday used to come after the type of people who would think up such things.

In the meantime, I have almost four whole rolls--"double rolls" even--to get through. Someone drink some prune juice and come over!