Sweetney

Already missing Big Love? Have I got a show for you!

Mormons have always had a peculiar hold on the American imagination, but few know who the Mormons actually are or who they claim to be, and their story is one of the great neglected American narratives.

AMERICAN EXPERIENCE and FRONTLINE, two of PBS' most acclaimed series, join forces to present The Mormons, a new documentary series about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In two, two-hour episodes, filmmaker Helen Whitney (John Paul II: The Millennial Pope and Faith and Doubt at Ground Zero) explores both the history and the current reality of the Mormon faith. Whitney gained unusual access to Mormon archives and church leaders as well as dissident exiles, historians and scholars both within and outside the faith. “Through this film, I hope to take the viewer inside one of the most compelling and misunderstood religions of our time,” says Whitney.

Watch the entire program online here.

To have comments or not to have comments -- is that really a question?

Alright, alright, you wore me down. I've gotten some emails asking about comments -- what happened? Why you kill comments, bad lady? DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT I HAVE VITALLY IMPORTANT INPUT TO GIVE REGARDING THE TOPIC OF DEMONIC HAMSTERS? (etcetera.) I hear you. You have been heard.

I'm sure there was a good reason for closing comments, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm still reading. I always feel ... well, I feel BAD reading a site with no comments, because I can't let people know I was there. Fleh. This will make me feel better.

But having comments has always been something I've gone back and forth about -- typically every six months to a year or so, and unfortunately the issue has more often than not been pushed to the forefront of my mind because of some specific EVENT, some internet or blogging-related unpleasantness that my reptilian brain rejects and goes all fight-or-flight about. But in the end I've always kept the comments, because I never wanted to be pressed by external forces into doing something that wasn't wholly just about what *I* wanted. Unless there are backrubs and chocolate involved, in which case WHAT INTEGRITY?

I has bone

Song Of The Week

Courtesy of Baltimore's own psychedelic-primitive supergroup, Animal Collective, “Peacebone”:

I know, I know. WOAH, right?

[Track only]

Afternoon of delight

Here's a little PSA for you: next time you find yourself in the position of having to drive in or around our nation's capital, do yourself a favor and STAY AWAY FROM THE I-495 BELTWAY. There is nothing but evil there -- EVIL, I SAY!!!

Thank you for letting me get that out of my system. Now back to our regularly scheduled fuckin' mommyblarrghing.

On Tuesday the girl and I visited the Amalah household in all its shiny, new-wooden-floored and freshly-painted glory. Amy met us at the door wearing a blindingly white full-length gown and a winking diamond tiara, with Noah squirming under one arm and a bottle of red wine lodged firmly under the other. “WELCOME TO MAH HOME!” she bellowed, gesturing grandly toward the entry foyer.

At least that's how I remember it.

We want the moon

(On the eve of the eclipse of a few days ago:)

It was a dark and stormy night. I'd recently taken a creative writing course...

Demonic Hamster

I WILL HAVE YOUR SOUL... AND YOUR WHOLE GRAIN GOLDFISH CRACKERS. (pleez?)

Today's Exciting Agenda

8:30am: Drop M off at preschool
9am-10am: Make teh intarwebz donuts
10am-11:30am: Get hair cut, colored, and styled into something not repulsive and helmet-like
12:00pm: Pick M up from preschool
12:15pm: Drive to mah biznitch's
1:00pm onward: WINE!!!!!!

It'll be a gloriously full day, but I have my work cut out for me, without a doubt (Driving! Hair! More driving! I'm exhausted just thinking about it!). Detailed reporting on Noah's general squishability (1=moderately squishable; 10=OMFG AM DED FROM TEH SQUISHYNESS), the outcome of what is certain to be an epic Battle Royale of whining between toddler and preschooler, and just how much wine (and whine!) Amy and I are able to consume in a single afternoon (while of course remaining 100% vigilant and dedicated to the care and safety of our children (snort)) to follow shortly.

In the meantime -- wholly unrelated to driving or hair -- enjoy this wonderful clip I just stumbled across (some NSFW language):

Hipster Olympics

bwaahahaaaa! bwahahahahahaaaaa! Genius.

Know your prehistory

How adorable and awesome is this poster?

(View letters embiggened)

Just bought one for M for her upcoming birthday... Shh! Don't tell her!

World War Meow

Those cat-worshipping Ancient Egyptians were duped, man. I have proof that cats are not “furry people” -- as some felineophiles would claim -- but rather simple, animalistic meat with pea brains driven by pure instinct formed during the Neolithic period (you know, back when cats wore Mastadon pelts and wielded wooden clubs and drove rock cars by furiously paddling their tiny feet).

Remember our trip to the vet last Wednesday? And remember that it was LAST WEDNESDAY? Meaning FIVE WHOLE DAYS ago? Well its been five whole days of relentless feline insanity here at Casa De Gaughran-Perez -- an unending carnival of multi-cat-on-cat growling, hissing, spitting, yowling and general surliness. Now is the late summer of our kitty discontent. sigh.

Dorky McDorkingpants

Now I just need to get my Flight Of The Conchords “Eat. Sleep. Folk.” T-Shirt and I'll be close to achieving Maximum Awesome.

Hug it out, betches, hug it out.

Beading necklaces so totally bores me out

Song Of The Moment

Some of you may remember that I used to do a “Song Of The Week” feature back in the day, but stopped once the Sweetney audience got large enough that I needed to worry about, you know, getting sued. NOT THAT I WOULD EVER SHARE MUSIC FILES ILLEGALLY, OH NO. cough.

But since so many artists are putting their stuff out there on teh intarwebs free and clear, and so many other sources are picking that up, I thought I'd jump back in the fray (well, a little, and perhaps not weekly).

Anyway, a gift for you: Josh Ritter, “Girl In The War”

Enjoy, friends.

Pet Guilt

I spent about three hours at the vet yesterday. They think I have The Mange.

Actually, the vet visit was for someone of the feline persuasion, and is the direct result of my own hideous animal neglect, which I shall now confess. Post-haste. Tally-ho. (Umm, what?)

SO. Like many functional adults, I adopted some pet-like items before getting married and having a kid. While I was swingin' single and in grad school, in fact, I got myself two whole cats: Wallace and Zelda (named after Wallace Stevens and Zelda Fitzgerald, because I was a freakin' English major and fixated on the modernists). (Oh and a huge, flaming dork.) (As if that weren't already glaringly apparent.) (Shut up.)

When Jamie and I met and (shortly thereafter) shacked up, we unwisely brought a third cat into the mix -- an adorable, tiny calico kitten we named Maxine, who rapidly grew into an enormous mack truck of a cat, with the personality to match. Maxine is hilarious and talkative and almost too full of personality, but she's also something of a bullying asshole to the very laid-back and mellow Wallace and Zelda duo -- a tension-filled standoff of a relationship that wasn't helped when Jamie and I decided to COMPLETELY FUCK UP THEIR WORLD by having a baby.

Cats views on babies can, I think, be summed up in three words: DO NOT WANT.

Wildlife on the back deck

Analog Art

Those of you who, like me, covet the lo-fi technology, should direct your browsers to Tapedeck -- a nostalgia site dedicated to the lost art of the cassette tape.

Makes me long for the back-in-the-day of the mix tape. sigh.

/end old lady prattle

Best buddy's 5th

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the bakery...

August 19, 2007

Don't worry, I made a significant deposit in her Future Mental Health Care Fund this morning

You may recall that my daughter made some muffins for our friends' dogs recently. Well, the reviews are in, and she's the talk of the local dogiverse! Fan mail has been pouring in: “They were super yummy!” “I ate the second one in one bite!” “Better than ass!” Yes, it's high praise and accolades all around.

Cowering in terror during yesterday's thunderstorm

You can almost smell the fear, can't you? (RUT-ROH!)

Best news I've heard all day

THANK GOD. FINALLY!

(is weeping with joy) (and praising various deities) (woot!)

Thanksyous to Kelly for the heads-up!

Good Life

10 o'clock. Climbed the stairs to my daughter's room, found her curled under her much-loved Hello Kitty blanket, gently snoring. Brushed a soft tangle of hair from her cheek and kissed it, and then her forehead. I love you, baby.

Happy Birthday, Compact Disc

The CD is 25 years old today. And yes, you ARE old.

Throughout my teenage years I was a pretty staunch supporter of analog, having most of my music on LP at the time. Not eager to give up that particular ghost -- having invested so much in it -- I continued to nay say the new media until my late teens, giving in only when it became apparent that the compact disc was not only not going away, but fully set to trounce the album. (sniff.)

I still have all my old LPs, though I admit I rarely listen to them, having repurchased the lion's share of the titles on CD for the sake of ease-of-use (and how often does one really want to listen to the complete works of Half Japanese anyway?). First CD I ever bought was an import first issue of The Smiths Hatful Of Hollow. I think that set me back something around $25 in the late 80s.

What was the first CD you ever bought (and BE HONEST)? Do you still have it? Do you still listen to it?

Make your own Rubik's Cube

Random timewasting fun ahoy!

dumpr Rubik's Cube Generator

Letters never sent

Therapy is getting more interesting every week.

Following today's therapeutic weepfest (and its pretty much always a weepfest, which might tell you something about the present constitution of my mind and how far I have to go before that resembles something other than swiss cheese badly patched with scotch tape), my therapist (who is A FREAKIN' NINJA -- have I bragged about that recently?) asked me, among other things, to answer this question:

What would you say to (x person) that you haven't said, if you really could Say Anything? (yes, a la the John Cusack movie (LOVE!))

Doggie bags

Hand-crafted with love (and a little help from Jamie) by M, to ferry the doggy muffins she made this weekend to our various friends with pooches. (Doggy muffin recipe available in this book.)

Mother's little helper

A reader sent me a link to this story (which links to this story), about parents who smoke pot and believe it not only doesn't negatively impact their parenting, but actually makes them better parents. Finally! An article that speaks to me! snort.

You should at minimum check out the (crazy! rabid! knee-jerk!) comments related to the first link on AOL -- man, shades of the recent Cocktail Playdate Fiasco ahoy!

But since more level(ish) heads tend to prevail here (Sweetney readers being Da Bomb Diggity and all), what do YOU think about the subject? Can one indulge in pot smoking specifically and be a good parent? And is this really any different (better? or worse?) than parenting and drinking alcohol? (And before someone feels compelled to apply the obvious with a sledgehammer: YES, WE ALL KNOW POT IS ILLEGAL. THANK YOU FOR NOTING THAT. Next!)

Le thoughts?

Pears from my mother's neighbor's tree

My mother would like you all to know, for the record, that she didn't steal these. They fell off of her neighbor's tree and into her yard -- almost like the tree wanted her to have them. True story.

Japanese Weekend

Because I've been just ridiculously busy for the past week or so, I haven't yet gotten a chance to tell y'all about last weekend's exciting festivities, when our household was overtaken by foreign hipster invaders. (Quick! Hide the children! And that Best Of Hall & Oates CD!)

Our friend Raji -- who is a DJ and music promoter, among other enviable things -- came down to Baltimore from NYC with his pal Yuuki in tow, who was visiting from Tokyo. Yuuki was in NYC because his Mom is a filmmaker shooting an independent film in the city and needed his assistance, though he also happens to do promotion for the nightclub Womb in Tokyo. Raji and Yuuki had VIP passes (OF COURSE THEY DID!) to Virgin Festival that weekend -- which is sort of Woodstockesque in form and flavor, but without any socially constructive pretenses -- and since the festival was being held just a hop, skip, and jump from us over at Pimlico, they crashed our pad for the weekend.

In other words, I was totally and completely out of my depth.

Totally bored out

Horse With No Name

This is my daughter's favorite stuffed friend, Horsie.

And, to be perfectly honest, I'd kind of selfishly hoped for something a little more creative in the name department. We discussed different naming possibilities back when she first singled him out from the mountain of entangled stuffed animals piled on her bed. How about Fred? Brownie? Mortimer? Jedediah? Diddy? But no, Horsie it was, Horsie it remained. Sigh.

Extreme Makeover: Garden Edition

Before:

A bit frumpy and dowdy. And though the shade of green is quite lovely on you, I'd like to see a little more color and contrast... something with some pizzaz to make you stand out from the other bits of foliage...

links for 2007-08-08

• Circuitry Snack
  Its like a hungry geek's dream come true!
• 15 Unfortunately Placed Ads
  Nice job there, suits.
• You Can Get Arrested for That!?
  Oh yes, you can.
• The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord"
  "I will not grow a goatee. In the old days they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X."
• The Lemon: History Of The Internet
  1994: "First piece of spam appears in USENET newsgroups and is quickly removed. 'Well, that should be the last of that', say users."
• Adventure-Time.net !!!!!!!!!!!!!! Rhombus!
  I am so joining this fan club. Its totally math.

Imperfect camouflage

From My Ever-Expanding *Actual Real Life vs. Preschooler Absurdity SMACKDOWN* File

Can you turn that light off for me? Its boring me out.

Its what?

Boring me out. And I don't want it on anymore.

Umm, okay.... (turns off light)

[beat]

Did you say BORING you out?

Yes.

What does that mean?

You know, when something is boring, and you don't want it anymore, so you call your Mom or Dad and they come and take care of it.

Oh, so you're bored with it.

Yeah.

Dudes, I'm so totally calling my Mom right now and asking her to come take care of my bills and scoop the litter boxes. BORING ME OUT. DO NOT WANT.

So what's, ahem, boring YOU out?

A modest proposal

And who could refuse? WHO?

thiziz Zodiak speeking

(Our cat Maxine, who would indeed like to take your soul and make you a slave for her afterlife)

(Hey, guess which movie we watched this weekend?)

Shout Outish

My dear friend Kelly -- she of MamaPop, the awesome of this video, and Tracey's list of favoritest peoples in the whole wide world -- just went and got herself one of these here bloggy things. Please to go give her some lovin' and help her break in the new digs, yes? (And BE NICE. I will beat senseless anyone who is unkind to The Kelly, yo.)

thankyoucomeagain.

Golden Slumbers Fill Your Eyes

What's in yer wallet, beeeyotch?

I had a rather interesting consumer experience the other day that I feel the need to share with you here, as I think y'all might find it informative and instructive (or, umm, something). And what am I here for, if not for the betterment and uplift of all humankind? snort.

Anyway, yesterday I went to get the mail as I do everyday, and found lying in wait the typical junk n' magazines fare, along with what appeared to be YET ANOTHER questionable offer from our current credit card company -- something, I imagined, along the lines of “Unspecified Valued Customer! We want to send you an enormous check for thousands upon thousands of dollars WHETHER YOU NEED IT OR NOT! Ask us how!” These letters make me itchy. And scratchy. And considering the frequency with which we get them one might imagine I would perpetually look as though I'd just endured a fresh Bear mauling or something, but I've learned (much like a rat in a Pavlovian experiment) to identify these computer-generated credit-abuse-lures based solely on an ill-defined combination of 1) the size and shape of the envelope, 2) the font used, and 3) the general heft of the mail-like item, thus enabling me to send them directly into the purgatorial recycling bin before succumbing to their epidermal irritation.

But for whatever reason, yesterday I opened the envelope.

MiniMoos

They've arrived (and they're just as awesome (and adorable!) as I imagined they'd be)!

Get yer own here.

I laughed, I cried, it touched my very soul

(click for flickr enlargo-version)

Something you should so totally read

From this week's New Yorker: Damn Spam

More than 70% of traffic on the internet is spam. Amazing.

King Of The Blue Plastic Baby Pool

(pantpantpant) mypool mypool mypool mypool (pantpantpant)