My Pore Nose!

I have heard that the definition of crazy is repeating the same thing again and again and expecting different results. If this is true, then Biore Pore Strips are my crazy. Time and time again I apply the blackhead removal device to my speckled nose, only to be disappointed. Yet, here I am- bedridden, with a hot water bottle on my lap and a Biore Pore Strip suctioned to my schnoz. It just feels good; kind of like putting clear tape on both sides of your finger and then bending it. If you haven't tried that, I suggest you do it now. The skin around your knuckle folds up and feels sticky, while the outer part of your finger is silky smooth. TRY IT!



Ok, now for what you've been waiting for: my take on the Wikileaks drama. Here it goes. I think it's fine. More information is always a good thing, and if diplomats need to be secretive I suppose they'll have to find new, better ways of doing it. It's hard to keep things private on the Internet, because the internet was designed to be decentralized and open. If leaks of this nature had occurred prior to the Iraq war they might have shed light on the WMD ruse and we would be praising them. In regard to Julian Assange, however, he needs to stay away from the Lucious Malfoy hairdo. Not working for him.

Ok, now for what you have REALLY been waiting for: my take on Top Chef Season 8 All Stars!!! Char and I chose to forgo our usual Friday night clubbing so we could stay in, snuggle our hot water bottles, and watch episode one of Top Chef All Stars. Man-o-man was it good! I don't think a season opener of any season of any series has ever lived up to my massive expectations more. All the very best chefs from past seasons are competing for Top Chef redemption. They have Carla, both Tiffanys, Mike Isabella, Dale, and so many of my all time favorites. Plus, Anthony Bourdain is the third judge, which adds a fresh energy to the show.


Well, it's about time I put some lotion on my dry, scaly hands. Oh Winter, you are truly a formidable fiend. However, I do like the feel of a snowy Edinburgh, so perhaps you ain't too bad after all.

Llama,

Margaret

The olden days were WEIRD.

My friend Will showed me this video and I was struck by two things while watching it:

1. The olden days were WEIRD

2. I have seen my mother (Nadinski Montbrosis, as she's known on Facebook) do that exact dance that they do at the end...leg to the side, arms swinging, foot bent up toward the sky.

For my dissertation I have read a lot about how the internet is ruining our lives. These people talk about simpler days, before we became addicted to technology. Well, this video is my rebuttal. You cannot watch this it and still claim that modern technology has been a curse on our culture. The RIDICULOUSNESS of those dance moves/attempts at special effects proves just how far we've come. Also, the internet should also be revered for providing us a portal (in this case, a Will Portal) into a time and place to which we shall never, ever, return. On top of that, this is high-quality entertainment. I was DYING the first time I watched it (and the 17 other times as well).

What will we find weird when we look back on it years from now? There are the obvious answers: ugg boots, Ke$sha, Oprah, frappucinos, TV news ... but I bet there's something that is just too "cool" now to predict it ever being seen as weird.

Anyhoo, I am about to go walk along the beach with ol' Rammy Rampog. Gotta love feeling the misty sea air on your face. Gotta gotta love it.

Cheerio,

MmAaRrGgAaRrEeTt

Reality Bites

Remember that movie? Reality Bites. Was it good? It was good, right?

Also, a Kenmore Junior High yearbook when Char and Francie where there had a picture of the "world" (globe, earth, etc.) on it with a large serrated bite taken out of it and text that said "When reality bites, bite back". Very strange. Does not seem fitting for a yearbook cover.

Anyway, reality literally bit for me yesterday. I went to the dentist- which is a completely different experience over here, let me tell you. They usher you in, you lie down on the chair, they stick a needle in your gum before you have time to be scared, and 15 minutes later your cavity is filled. It makes me wonder what in the world my previous, American dentists have been doing in my mouth for all those hours. I suspect they're just doing a more thorough job.

ANYWAY, I must have looked like a weakling because they did not take their chances in numbing my tooth. They hit me with a novacaine shot that would have killed a small mammel (rabbit, raccoon, toy poodle). It didn't kill me, but it did paralyze half of my face giving me the appearance of a terrible stroke victim.

Check out these pics of me trying to smile! HAHA!

Then, as one does, I wanted to eat leftover pizza. LIKE A FOOL, I just took a huge-arse bite. Immediately I realized I had bitten the side of my lip. Live and learn. It's healed and I'm ok, but it really ruined the leftover-pizza-eating experience.

I've learned that mistakes happen and you just have to learn from them and move on. We're (Andy and I) trying to get this Backstage Edinburgh business up and running. Yesterday I accidently sent the wrong proof of our map/guide to the printers and it set us back some big bones. It was a poopy, POOPY, feeling, but I went to Char's and got some much needed perspective. THEN, I watched Mary's Haiti video and really got some much needed perspective. So proud of my cuz! THEN, I chatted with my Dad who had just uploaded an amazing video to Facebook for the first time which also made me proud.

WARM REGARDS,

Margaret

VIDEO BLOG: nothing interesting is said.

Love, marg

I've gotta feeling that tonight's gonna be a good good night

Holler,

Tonight is the big night- the 2010 FIFA World Cup final.

Holland v. Spain

Orange v. Red w/some yellow in there

Wooden Clogs v. Espadrilles (?)

Dutch Babies v. Spanish Omelette

Van Gogh v. Picasso

Windmills v. Bullfighting

Phew, that took some googling. Anyway, most people I've spoken to (none of whom are Spanish or Dutch) don't really care who wins tonight. Everyone just wants a good game. Maybe an early Holland goal? Any early goal would set the game in motion. I wouldn't mind seeing a goal scored by the goalie- straight from a goal kick into the back of the net. That would make watching EVERY game of this World Cup worth it for me. I am pretty sure all the English are hoping for a Howard Webb win.

Not to glass-half-empty it, but what the HECKFIRE are we suppose to do after tonight?!? The end of the World Cup doesn't just mean no more football games, it also means we must wave goodbye to:

1. The bombinating, B-flat, drone of vuvuzelas that has been the screensaver of our brains throughout the tournament (at ALL times- not just while watching the games). Won't miss that.

2. AFRICA SINNNNNGING AFRICA SINGGGGING SING SING AFRICA SING SING AFRICA

3. The Guardian World Cup Daily podcast. I will miss it.

4. Paul the Octupus- he'll be calamari by Monday.

Oh well, George Harrison taught us that all things must pass, and so be it. Here's to a great game tonight!

Love,

Margar

P.S. "Bombinate" is a verb that means to make a droning noise. What a fantastic word! Thank you, thesaurus.com.

P.P.S. I understand that calamari is squid, but since there is no name for cooked octopus (other than just "octopus") I just decided to use it anyway.

These week's pop-culture recap!

Well, this was certainly amazing:

BUT, even more amazing is the auto-tune remix:

In other news, an English-born octopus named Paul who now resides in Germany has been predicting who's going to win the World Cup games. He has chosen Spain for the final. He was right about Germany's 6 World Cup games thus far, but it should be interesting to see if his powers work for games that the German team are not participating in. If it turns out that Paul truly is psychic, we can finally have an answer to Karl Pilkington's question about Octopie- "do we need 'em"?

In Cristiano Ronaldo news, he had a baby with an unknown gal and has full custody. More importantly, he got mistaken for Jersey Shore's 'The Situation' at a restaurant in New York. HAHAHA!

Lindsay Lohan got sentenced to 90 days in jail! Dino Lohan, her mother, says she is "disappointed with the system". She must be referring to the "system" that punishes those who repeatedly break the law. Officials at the LA County Superior Court are unhappy with the system in a different sense. This New York Times article said the courts in LA are overwhelmed by celebrity offenders. They're dealing with Lohan front and center, but let's not forget Don Johnson, Anna Nicole Smith's doctor, Leif Garret, and Mel Gibson's babymamma. The article describes the chaos that occurs every time Lohan comes and goes from court. In this last hearing, as Lohan exits amid a sea of paparazzi and security, Danny DeVito shows up on the front steps to report for jury duty!

Hmmm, there were some emmy nominations, but I don't really care about that. All I want is for MadMen Season 4 to start immediately. Only 15 days to go!

The US swapped some Russian spies for some US agents. They gave Russia 10 spies back but they only got 4 spies in return. Whaaaaa? Anyway, they will definitely make a movie out of this someday.

Alright, that's all the pop-culture that I can remember for now. I am going to really make it my beeswax to update my blog more. I miss writing. I miss the fame.

As the Irish would say 'Bye buh ba bye bye byebyebyebyebyebye',

Margaret

P.S. Speaking of Irish, I almost forgot the most important pop-culture news of all! My BRO-in-law Bobby is famous! Check it out!

Don't hate me because I'm popular

In sixth grade my friends and I would sit in the "middle room" during lunchtime. The middle room was the small rectangular room between our classroom and the classroom next door. It was where the bathrooms were (boys on the left, girls on the right) and also where the large trash bin was kept.

It was glorious.

We'd close the doors, which each had a square of window that allowed for just the right about of privacy and just the right about of snooping, eat our sack lunches (or, in my case, shrimp flavored ramen noodles given to me by Pim, my family's Thai exchange student) and chat about all the important things 12-year-olds have to talk about.

Then, our teacher told us we couldn't eat in there anymore. He said that it made the other kids feel excluded. My defense was "but they aren't our friends". Initially it seems harsh, but upon greater reflection I don't find it too shabby an argument. We weren't actively excluding anyone. I was sitting in the middle room with the people who I had the most in common with, the people that I got along best with, the people who I had fallen into a friendship with. Why would I go sit next to someone who liked Animorph books or cried all the time in P.E.? Nothing against them, but I just wasn't interested in pursuing a friendship there. Groups form naturally- it's not about being "cliquey", it's just part of our organic social instinct. What angered me was the fact that my group of friends was no different than the groups sitting in other areas of the classroom. The other kids had never approached us and asked us to join them. Why were we the ones being punished?

It was this moment that first alerted me to the phenomenon of disliking something that is perceived as "popular". If a once underground band gets any sort of mainstream airplay it will often be accused of "selling out". Along the same line, those who say things like "the Beatles are overrated" are plain and simply kidding themselves. I am skeptical of people who claim to dislike objectively good things, like chocolate and babies. People who throw around the now worn-out and boring line "I hate kids" are so ridiculous that they might belong to a separate category of those who hate something merely because they're selfish downers.

Disliking what's "popular" is the result of two experiences:

1. Genuine dislike (this is rare, but it does happen and it's completely well-founded)

2. Fulfilling ones need to establish individuality and uniqueness through negative means

That said, I never got into Furbys and I don't care much for the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I promise it's not because I want to distinguish myself as a free spirit.

IN OTHER NEWS, the World Cup is going to end next week and we're all going to have to figure out something to do instead. It seems tragic to think of soccerless days, but it's an ever-encroaching reality. Golf is not going to cut it as a replacement. Mad Men Season 4 starts on July 25th, so it's only about a week and a half that must be filled. I suppose I'll try to get some work done during that time.

Siiiiigh, I am going to make some dinner now. It's between a PB&J or scrambled eggs/toast. The first option is easy and the second option is actually still easy but just seems hard compared to the first option. We'll see how I feel when I'm in the kitchen.

Love you,

Marg

P.S. Babies and chocolate are both wonderful things when they are separate entities. HOWEVER, these "baby-shaped chocolates" are just disturbing:

Celery is not boring.

Celery is under appreciated. I have a hunch people find it boring. As we get older the task of smearing peanut butter into its canal seems tedious and not to mention impractical (peanut butter + sandwich bags = mess). When I was in 4th grade I was told not to feed it to the classroom guinea pig because the long green strings would tangle around its organs and kill it. Maybe that's true, or maybe it's that same anti-celery propaganda I've been smothered with my entire life. Well, ENOUGH. NO MORE. I am ready to profess my adoration for celery right here on the most prestigious of media formats, the personal blog.

Andy was chomping his ginormous mouth on a celery stalk the other day at his aunt's house. She had displayed the celery in a vase full of cold water in the middle of the buffet table. Wanting something to munch on, and eager to avoid calories (as always), I joined him.

It was FANTASTIC! Celery is a strange one- it truly doesn't have much flavor, but it has just enough to make you take another bite. When I eat celery it's like stepping out the front door for the first time in a day. It's breezy.

Celery can really push a dish into interestingness. I'm talkin' chili, chicken (aka fake chicken) salad, soup, thanksgiving stuffing, FOIL DINNERS...

In other news, I just returned from England. During my week there I:

1. Ran a 9 mile race
2. Went to London and saw the sights
3. Got attacked by mating foxes while attempting to sleep outside in a homemade fort
4. Stepped on the entire insides (GUTS! ORGANS AND INTESTINES EWWWW) of a squirrel or rabbit with my bare foot

The moral of all that seems to be that life is, like that one movie with Kirsten Dunst that looked terrible, "Crazy Beautiful".

Llama,

Madge

P.S. I am aware that interestingness is not a word. I used it because I am a POET. I don't play by your rules.

Sucked in

Ok, you can stop the conspiracy theories. I am here to put the rumors (rumours!?) to rest once and for all.

I'M ALIVE.

Just because I haven't been blogging with the usual frequency, I assure you I am still a living, breathing, human.

In general it's fair to say I've been sucked in to life in the UK. Sometimes I say "courgette" instead of "zucchini", and soccer is now almost always "football". But it's more than just an issue of vocabulary. This is serious.

I now know the names of at least 5 British politicians- compare that with my previous number: 1 (Churchill). At nighttime I don't go to stores (shops) because they're closed. This is a weird one- I don't hear accents any more. When my friends talk I just hear their voices but I don't think they're talking in an accent. WOAH. On average, I ride in a car once or twice a month. Did you know about the Falkland Islands? Well, it turns out they are a thing that exists.

I am pretty sure that Seattle might just be the greatest place on earth but I can't quite get over how amazing it is to be so close to so many OTHER countries. There is a greater sense of being in the thick of it all over here. Contrary to my previous beliefs, Kenmore, Washington is not the epicenter of world activity. Who knows if it's the UK either- but it does feel a bit closer to it here than anywhere else I've ever been.

So, I've been sucked in. Speaking of which, the other day I was watching cricket in the pub (see what I mean?) and the topic of quicksand came up. Two out of the five people in our group claimed to have been caught in quicksand at some point in their life! I had no idea it was such a plausible risk! Their advice: don't struggle, stay calm.

Blog topic suggestions?

I love you,

Margaret

Simply the stressed

I need a stress relief ball to squeeze. They're always there when you don't need them (waiting in line at Bartell Drugstore) and they're never there when ya do (right now).

This urge to clinch a sand filled balloon comes from an epiphany I had in the shower yesterday. I am STRESSED OUT. To make matters worse, I am not just temporarily stressed out- it is part of my personality! Hells bells.

I know this revelation probably comes as no surprise to many of you, but to me it was shocking. I've always pitched myself as a laid back person. Ha!

Silver lining: this explains a lot.

Why I have irritable bowel syndrome. Why I have restless leg syndrome. Why I webmd things. Why I never successfully open cereal boxes (impatience coupled with stress). Why I want to cry right before I sign into my school email. Why I eat popcorn really fast. Why I speed walk to every destination. Why the sight of elderly people fills me with guilt. Why I bite my nails. Why I chew gum a pack at a time. Why I sigh so much. Why I don't sleep.

So on and so forth.

It all comes down to priorities- what REALLY matters? Not a lot. It doesn't take much to be happy. I have everything I need.

Love,

Margaret

Suit Yourself

The other day we were playing the game "what would I buy you if I won the lottery".

I told Andy I would buy him a set of perfectly custom-tailored suits in the style of every decade since the 1920s.

What a nice gift, eh?

Well, all the Mad Men I've been watching lately has given me a new appreciation for mens' suits. It really is a sharp look. Classy. Powerful. Serious. Important.

As for the female suit- meh, I am not convinced. Actually, I think I might hate female-business-chic. Pencil skirts, white blouses, blazers. Doesn't work for me. Again, with Mad Men as my muse, I much prefer colorful and printed dresses. Old fashioned, maybe, but also more flattering and more fun.

On a completely unrelated note, I have come up with about a million potential dissertations that I prefer to my own. Some include:

1. A Winning Foreign "Ball-icy": How sports aids international diplomacy.

2. Candidate Mr. None of the Above: The history of politician name-changing for better ballot positioning.

3. The political ecosystem of national animals- the food chain from the Latvian White Wagtail to the Armenian Dragon.

4. Vitamin Addiction: A Mental Illness

Well, that's all for now. I am watching the health care bill votes via nytimes.com- vurrrry interesting.

Toodledo,

Mog

Grey Areas: The Good, The Bad, The something in-between good and bad.

I tend to shy away from defining things in black and white. Everything is a bit of both. Life is complex. It'd be irresponsible to think in such dichotomized terms. Right?

However, I can't help but think that floating around in this purgatory of opinion makes me a pathetic weakling. I can manipulate any topic so neither side is credible, or both sides have areas of merit, or perhaps boiling it down to two sides is dangerously oversimplifying things. I'm too good at this, it makes me queasy. I remember Max Kay once told me "At a certain point, you have to choose a side". We were talking about Democrats and Republicans, but the sentence could be applied to a lot of topics (satsumas v. clementines for example).

BUT, to stick with my inescapable compromise philosophy, I think there are situations that require concise, undoubting conclusions and there are situations that really are too complex to put in a nutshell. It really just depends on the situation. Ahhhhh, I can't help it. I'm a deplorable apologist.

Anyway, something that I am CERTAIN about is peoples' love of lists. So here are some lists for your viewing pleasure:

Enjoyable Grey Areas:

1. Your semi-autistic friend. Everyone has one (or more) of these- a friend who isn't diagnosed with autism, but definitely has some of its quirks. An autism grey area- this could mean saying bizarre, cringe-worthy things, being freakishly talented in one specific area, or having a weird tick.

2. Last orders. When a barman hollers out "last orders" this could mean another hour in the pub. This grey area varies depending on the friendliness of the bar staff and the stubbornness of the patrons.

3. Finger food. Even if you're at a ritzy, 5-star, restaurant, it's still ok to eat some food with your fingers. It's at least acceptable. Ribs? Pizza? Bruschetta? Go for it.

Non-Enjoyable Grey Areas:

1. Teacher's names. Do you call them by their first or last name? If you're sticking with the last name, do you preface it with "Dr", "Professor", or just "Mr/Mrs"?? This is a stressful grey area.

2. High-five? Handshake? Hug? For the past two years I've just gone in for the hug...it's better to go for it than wind up with an awkward fist-pump or a side-hug.

3. Acknowledgement of homeless people who are on the street asking for change. Bear with me- but we've all been in this situation many times. I think most people just ignore and walk past. Some say "sorry" and keep walking. I tend to smile and shake my head. Does anyone actually give them change? Should we? I've heard both.

Also interesting, is the spelling of "grey" is itself a grey area. It can also be spelled "gray". I think.

Have a nice grey (HAHAHHAHAHA),

Madge

P.S. No, I don't think the picture really relates to the "grey areas" topic. I just found it on google image search and liked it.

Phoney and Deafiant

My friend George got punched by a deaf girl last night. The whole thing was very weird.

One of us saw one of them take George's phone off the table while he was up having a boogie to the song "I Saw Her Standing There". You know the one. It goes "She was just seventeeeeeen if you know what I mean. And the way she looked was way beyond compare...". Great song. We were doing the twist, spinning each other around, pointing at the singer and giving all our fellow dancers thumbs ups. If only it was possible to freeze that moment in all of its glory, because what followed was not pleasant.

It really did not help that they were deaf. It made us the bad guys. It made communication difficult -conveniently difficult- or maybe just difficult. They denied taking it before we even asked. I've seen enough episodes of Law&Order to know that's suspicious.

George was calm. He had just returned from two weeks back home in Greece. Goodbye sunshine, family, and delicious fresh-pressed olive oil. Hello frigid weather, puke-splattered streets and phone theft.

He and Andy motioned "Do you have the cell phone? Please give it back" as best they could. The main suspect and his friends heaved and flailed their bodies angrily. I was perplexed by the bizarre scene. They were so angry, but obviously not at the accusation which they knew was justified (by the way, the perpetrator has since texted using George's phone, confirming that he did indeed take it). So what were they angry at?

The situation was almost instantly impossible. We were at a standstill.

Then, in an act of seemingly unprovoked rage, the girlfriend of the main guy lunged at George and smacked him on his right eye. It made his eyebrow piercing bleed and swell a bit. The bartender got him some ice.

Our two options at that point were to leave the pub or to call the police. We just left.

What I learned from the experience:

1. There is no excuse for being objectively angry- not even deafness.

2. Most people are nice and understanding. The bar staff, for example, were genuinely concerned. And I will not forget that before the whole drama happened we were dancing with random, happy, friendly people.

3. Violence is irrational and scary. I felt sick a bit and apparently the bartender's hands were shaking (Andy saw when she was writing down his contact details).

Anyway, on a less depressing, more generic note- isn't the internet great? I'm STILL not over it's incredible awesomeness. Today, in Starbucks, I googled the lyrics to a song that was playing as I ate my chocolate chunk cookie (indulging after last night's insanity). Now the song is purchased and resting patiently in my iTunes library until I can get home and play it without the fear of disturbing the fellow s-bucks patrons. So, yeah, the internet is once again brilliant.

Love you,

Margaret

UPDATE: George has a legit black eye!