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When I was in the grocery store yesterday, the woman ahead of me in line caught my eye. She was in her late forties, and was very elegantly dressed and generally well put together...medium-height heels coordinated with her outfit, hair nicely styled, tastefully done makeup. What I noticed most of all was her shopping basket; she bought a small bag of peanuts and a Hula Hoop.

I envision her, later that evening: she kicks her shoes off and stands in front of the TV, twirling and twirling her Hula Hoop with a determined expression on her face, pausing occasionally for a peanut and sip of Diet Pepsi.

There are children in the office today (I don't know whose.) Playing hide-and-seek.

It's especially disconcerting when you're in the men's room.

Shoot, I missed it. Thursday was National Towel Amnesty Day.

Even if he doesn't know you, it's a good bet that Bill O'Reilly wants you to shut up.

Ashcroft won't let print reporters cover his press conferences -- only teevee. (via Romenesko.)

The LJ Times is an online "newspaper" (updated every 30 minutes) made up of AP photos and random LiveJournal pullquotes. Remember, you heard it here first: Schadenfreude is the new irony. (j/k, omg, LOL!!!!!!!!!) (via MeFi.)

ADDENDUM: The earlier version, using a WaPo template, doesn't change but is possibly even funnier.

The World's Worst Food. British cookery leaflets in the tradition of Lileks' wonderful Gallery of Regrettable Food. (via MeFi.)

Facelift web page sent to me by my (anti-blog, but he'll come around) pal Mike. Scroll down to the third example.

Tony Hawk is a very good pro skateboarder. Tony Hawks is a very funny British writer and comedian. There's a difference. Tony Hawks has taken to posting errant e-mails from skateboard fans on his website, along with his replies. (via Iconomy.)

(Along the same lines, Gothamist has recently posted a sampling of blog comments meant for Hilary Duff.)

"I think gay marriage should be between a man and a woman." --Arnold Schwarzenegger, in a recent radio interview.

Kind of like what Rick Santorum said, right? This'll be well-received in the Castro, I'm sure. (via Defective Yeti.)

If you like Mein Kampf, you might also like the Bee Gees. (via Anil's daily links.)

Well, Virginia, funny you should ask... (via Czeltic Girl.)

Dial-a-Kama-Sutra.

I know it's already fairly well-covered in the blogworld, but let me add to the applause for the BBC's recent decision to open up all their archives to the public. What a bold (not to mention incredibly cool) step. (Well, they're opening up all the archives that they haven't inadvertently erased.) There's a really good article in today's Gruniad about it. Yet another reason that I *heart* the BBC. (today's Guardian article via BoingBoing.)

ADDENDUM: Hopefully, PBS will be next in line. But I'm not going to hold my breath, given that PBS's funding is different (not entirely government-provided, as is the BBC's), and that PBS produces much less of the programming that it airs than the BBC does. (Outside production companies and powerhouse stations like WGBH, WNET/Thirteen, and UNC-TV sell lots of programs to PBS.)

ANOTHER ADDENDUM: PB wrote a good article in Slate about the BBC Creative Archive.

Suzanne Vega learns to drive.

Interesting chart in Book magazine of the top-selling classic books in 2002. Also, an annotated version of the above chart, showing when each book will enter the public domain. What would be really interesting would be the addition of historical sales data; does The Hobbit sell like this each year, or were those movie-related sales? (via Eliot.)

More shameless self-promotion: My photoblog was an "Editor's Pick" on Textamerica.com again today.

This makes the third time -- they must not have too many members to choose from. I'm very honored. Really, I am. (Apparently some exec types at TextAmerica saw the earlier version of this post and thought I was serious about their membership. Apologies -- just trying to have a little self-deprecating fun. I *heart* TextAmerica and their great moblogging service...and hopefully this doesn't keep me from ever being picked again!)

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the snack food of the new millennium.

Poetic justice. (via Matt's a.whole)

Overheard from one of my supervisors at work, who was simultaneously eating a chicken wing and ordering a sandwich from the deli downstairs:

"Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, gluttony is by far my favorite."

When you phone a home at three in the morning, rouse a person out of bed, and then (without so much as a hello) demand "Where's Michael at?" you have outed yourself as both a rude bitch and a dirty preposition mangler.

I think I'm in love with the Antigeist.

I was curious about the Howard Dean rally Tuesday night in Bryant Park, so I walked by to check it out. As I was heading into the park, volunteers were herding people into two lines: one for people who had "pre-registered", and one for people who hadn't. If you didn't register for the rally, either on the spot or in advance, they didn't let you into the park.

I'd gotten numerous e-mails from the Dean campaign urging me to register for the rally, but I didn't realize that it was compulsory. I'll admit to not reading the fine print here, but I figured that they were asking folks to RSVP ahead of time so they'd have an idea of the expected turnout, and to get people to commit to attending.

I didn't want to register, for various reasons (privacy, general lack of enthusiasm for registering anywhere, the fact that my media-organization employer doesn't like its employees to publicly support political candidates, being tired from a long day at work and not relishing the thought of standing in a long line), so I decided to skip the rally and thus headed home. I have some unanswered questions, however:
--There's a longstanding tradition of anonymity in American democracy, most notably in the rules guaranteeing a secret ballot. Is Dean not in favor of this? (Yes, I'm aware that I'm making an absurd argument here, and that attendance at a rally is not the same as voting. It still strikes me as hinky, though.)
--The campaign already knows that I'm a supporter; I gave them my e-mail address. I'm in their database already -- why do I need to sign up somewhere ELSE? I asked a couple different volunteers about this, and no one had an answer.
--Bryant Park is a public park, as far as I know. Could the Dean campaign limit access to it?

I'm not exactly out to pull a Gilmore over this. But having to give my name (even a fake one) in order to attend a public political event -- for a candidate that I'm not sure I'm even going to vote for -- seems odd, and certainly contrary to the grassroots spirit of the Dean campaign.

Apologies for the recent hiatus, by the way. Today is my dad's 60th birthday (Happy birthday, Dad!) and I went off to Darkest Ohio to pay him a visit and attend the surprise party that my stepmother threw for him. I won't bore you with the details, but here are a few notes:
--The Parkersburg, WV airport is the smallest commercial airport I've ever flown into. There are four "gates" -- one room with four doors out onto the tarmac. Here's the entire baggage claim area. And here's a chainsaw sculpture of a briefcase-carrying bear, apparently hailing a taxi. (More airports should have chainsaw sculptures on display, I've decided.)
--I picked up a couple bags of the best potato chips in the universe.
--I also picked up some pasta. (Yes, I know that bringing pasta to Astoria is like bringing coals to Newcastle. But it's really good pasta. (Play your cards right and I'll invite you over for a plateful. I'll even put on the Sinatra.)
--While we were in Marietta, Ohio (a charming little town just across the river from the not-at-all charming dying industrial town where I was born), the Delta Queen was also there. She was beautiful, and the biggest sternwheeler I'd ever seen. (I still want to get back to Marietta sometime for the Sternwheel Festival.)

I returned to Noo Yawk just in time for another edition of Blogger Karaoke. Fortunately, no pictures survive. Mr. Chico Bangs did get down with a smokin' rendition of "Hit Me Baby One More Time" that you really should have seen. Efforts are afoot to persuade him to include it as a bonus track on his next album. Mr. Jonmc rocked the mic several times (most notably with "Centerfold"), and Cowboy Sally (+ the elusive K.), Mo Nickels, a less-green-looking Bari (not suffering from food poisoning this time), and of course Miss Lola Belle (who frickin' SHONE on "Total Eclipse of the Heart", incidentally) were also in attendance. Yours truly actually got up to the mic as well (what was I THINKING? Or was the Guinness singing for me?)

The less said about this the better, except for one word of advice: When cursed with questionable (or downright non-existent) vocal "talents", picking obscure Dutch hip-hop from 1994 (which was at best only semi-popular on certain college radio stations) wasn't a bad move.

Congratulations to Julie on the successful completion of her project. (And I hope the blog continues.)

Went for a burger tonight with after work with Chico. We discussed writing, music, and other subjects near and dear to our hearts. Then we went to Kim's, where I picked up a few CDs (Polyphonic Spree, Evolution Control Committee, a compilation of '70s porno-movie music (really!)) and Chico wore himself out desperately looking for Lionel Richie's first two albums. Poor little fella couldn't find them, though he kept flipping through the discs with a stricken expression on his face, muttering to himself "They must be in here SOMEWHERE!" So if anyone has them and can bear to part with 'em, I know a guy who can give them a good, tender and loving home.

I also recently found this interesting meditation on the London Underground, the strange redefinition of space by the Tube map and the A-to-Zed, and how London visitors can often find themselves lost in the pale dreamlike distances of the city. (True...I think Kingsway was built with elastic pavement.)

And now I can't sleep, drat, and I have a 6:35am flight. Why am I not able to sleep when I most need to?

ADDENDUM (at 2:04am): Guess I'm not the only insomniac...