Lessons Learned Looking at Facebook Photos; Also Letters to Cool People

I have learned several lessons while looking through photos of myself on Facebook just now. This is an activity I partake in pretty much every time I friend new people, since I know it’s one of the first things they’ll be perusing on my profile. I certainly don’t read their agonizingly long lists of preferred books, movies and ice cream flavors…but 837 tagged photos of them taking body shots, showing off their orange tans, vomiting and/or grabbing their friends’ bosoms? Bring it on! Never mind that the photos tagged of me are mostly of me doing one of the following: a) sitting sedately in a bar with a pint glass in front of me b) smiling with a small gaggle of friends, usually in front of a monument of some sort, and with a minimum of bosom grabbing c) doing something dorky and Harry Potter related or d) humping a wall. I don’t know how that last one sneaks in there, but it always does. There are many photos of me humping walls. And doors. Basically anything flat and vertical.

In addition to this very important lesson (Lesson 1: I am Not Cool. Surprise!) I have learned a few others that, because I am so uncool (see Lesson 1), I feel compelled to share with you

Lesson 2: I look better with long hair. While I desperately want short hair and keep trying to convince myself it will look cute, the evidence is quite to the contrary. The shorter my hair is the more ridiculous it looks. Bobbing it will probably be a poor choice, especially in the summer. Especially in a country that has callously discontinued the one styling product that works for my hair. (I suspect this is because I am the only curly haired consumer in the entire United Kingdom. Damn you, genetics!)

Lesson 3: I have the correct items in my everyday wardrobe (read: items I wear out of the house on a regular basis) to make the following costumes:

• Spy
• Male History Professor
• Female Hippie History Professor
• Hippie
• 1920s Safari Person
• Lady Zookeeper
• Equestrian
• Random 1920s person (male)

The moral of the story is that this is a startling number of costume-y pieces for one, ostensibly normal wardrobe. Also, if I lived in the 1920s I probably would have been considered some sort of sexually deviant drag king. (Especially if I went around humping walls.) If loving tweed is wrong then I don’t want to be right!

Edited for clarity: I realize that there’s the possibility that orange, body-shot taking people from my past may find this blog via my Facebook profile and I want to make sure that, in this eventuality, they understand that I mean no offense. You see, we Uncool folks have our own form of social climbing to do, and the prize basically goes to the person who can be the most facetious and self-deprecating. I am not even in the running for this as I am too mediocre for even the heights of Uncoolness, so rest easy knowing I will never be lambasting your orangeness or my wall-humping in the pages of the New Yorker. Also, I do my fair share of drinking and vomiting, I just don’t capture these activities on film. Instead I say things like “Oh, get one of me in the Eskimo costume running from the taxidermied polar bear!” or “Oh look, people dressed up as Quidditch players! Let’s take a photo with them!” You see fair reader (fair=orange), I have my priorities straight.

I’m going to stop now because I think you get the point. No offense but unto myself, etc etc. I still laugh at your tans though.

A 5 Year Old on Christmas Eve

I’m posting this here because, let’s face it, it’s pretty nerdy.

It’s a pain in the ass trying to follow US politics from a different time zone. Yesterday’s Super Tuesday polls didn’t even start closing until 7pm EST. That’s 1am GMT! And of course they’re nothing appreciable by that time. I had to force myself to go to bed around 3am. I dreamt about 7 different outcomes to the primaries, and then was wide awake at 6:30 am. I really wanted to check the results, but I knew once I did that I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. I had to force myself to stay in bed until 9am, and then I made tea before looking at my computer.

I almost fell asleep in class today, but oh man I had forgotten what a thrill it is to be so excited about something that you lose sleep over it. In the good (not the anxious) way.

How to Cope with 24+ Hours of Intense Family Togetherness

It’s Christmas Eve babe, and if you’re not spending it in the drunk tank you are probably spending it with your family [1]. Come to that, you are probably spending all of Christmas Day with your family too. Heck, you may even be stuck with them on the 26th, aka Boxing Day! This is the day you unpack presents from boxes, or engage in a refreshing post-holiday round of fisticuffs, or watch the big match or something. I don’t know. I’m an American and we prefer to spend the day in the department store returns line with 340, 394 of our closest friends.

Well crap Kirsten, you’re thinking. How am I supposed to cope with all this family togetherness? I’m not here to expound on that (the answer is usually booze, by the way. Booze and of course the love and Christmas spirit we all carry in our hearts, thanks to the barnyard birth of that adorable, chubby Savior approximately 1,974 years ago. Hi Mom.) but rather to offer a cautionary tale of what not to do.

When you’re spending 24-72 hours with your family you have 3 options: eat, talk or stare at a flickering screen in companionable silence. Though we tend to ignore the physics of it around Christmastime, our stomachs have a limited capacity and there is but so much conversation you can have about Aunt Ida’s goiter surgery or your cousin’s hush-hush marriage and subsequent hurried divorce from that Balinese prostitute he met over Spring Break. This leaves us with TV Christmas specials! There are some you should definitely skip. Take a nap and sleep off that sherry; there’s no need to watch Mickey and Minnie galavanting around Orlando, Florida wearing fur-trimmed costumes in 90 degree weather. Sure, the cast of High School Musical might make an appearance, but some things are just more important than Zach Efron.

Some other holiday specials you should definitely skip include:

1. The Yule Log. Honestly, there’s probably something burning in the kitchen if you really feel the need to indulge your pyromania. Or you could go somewhere with a fireplace. Santa’s not coming via the TV, kids.
2. A Christmas Carol, starring Kelsey Grammar. This was a delightful Broadway play with music that didn’t make your ears bleed and acting that didn’t make you want to die with a stake of holly through your heart and be boiled in your own pudding. Then they filmed this atrocious TV adaptation, let Kelsey Grammar pretend to sing, and ruined it forever. And how often do I say bad things about anything involving Jesse L. Martin? Approximately never. That’s how bad it is. (If you need a Dickens fix, I recommend the best Christmas Carol adaptation of all, The Muppet Christmas Carol. We’re Marley & Marley, wooooOOOOO!)
3. Hogfather. A Terry Pratchett classic. It takes 4 hours to watch. Incidentally, it also takes about 4 hours to read. I recommend going the reading route, because it’s an excellent story but a terrible movie. I just watched it yesterday. It was bad. Don’t listen to the crazy people who’ve posted IMDB reviews; they’re crazy! I guess it’s a noble attempt. I guess it was made for TV. I guess you can sort of follow what’s going on if you’ve read the book. Whatever.
4. The Christmas Shoes. I haven’t seen it, but the song makes me want to hurl so I can’t imagine that extending those 5 minutes of listening pleasure into a 2 hour movie is anything but terrible.
5. Anything on Lifetime or the Hallmark channel. Unless you want your heart warmed by tales like A Grandpa for Christmas, A Dad for Christmas or A Very Married Christmas. Definitely not recommended if you are a sentimental drunk.

I hope this guide will help you safely navigate the schmaltz-infested waters of holiday television, even though I know I haven’t even touched the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much out there! So much of it is bad!

But do you know what is good? Most of the other stuff about Christmas like Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, Jesus and cookies. Hooray cookies. So Merry Christmas to you, and I’ll probably update in another month or two.

[1] A million bonus points if you’re an American and you get the reference. Zero bonus points if you’re from a country where they play this at last call.

An update on what I am eating.

Today I added cinnamon and chili powder to my hot chocolate, thinking I should fake some Mexican Hot Chocolate since I certainly can’t afford to buy it ready-made. I’m pretty sure there were choirs of angels singing in my kitchen. It could use a bit more chili powder, but that might be because I have A Problem. (Just as some people think that all shortcomings can be resolved with the addition of More Cowbell, I feel most cooking dilemmas can be solved by adding More Chili Powder. Or cheese. The hot chocolate certainly didn’t call for cheese.)

Cheese. That’s the other thing I’m eating a lot of. What can I say, I like to pack on the pounds before the holidays. I’ve also been eating the potato in all of its forms, and gallons of soup. English cuisine is about as varied and healthy as  any good consumer of popular culture might assume, though I’m certainly no health-nut and am coping admirably. Maybe the food is the reason why English girls seem to think clothing is a bad idea when going out at night; shivering burns more calories.

Excuse this nonsensical entry. I’m practically asleep.

Wahunsonacock wore WHAT?!?

The title of this entry is the title I wish I could give my first essay of grad school. Unfortunately in England, or perhaps just in the University of Leicester Department of Museum Studies, we have to title our essays with the question that was set. Thus my title will be: ‘Choose one object now in a museum. Describe, analyse and critically discuss the object’s biography and social life since its production.’

Somehow it just lacks snazz in comparison.

The object I’m doing is this little beauty, aka ‘Powhatan’s Mantle’, an object that is so exquisitely documented that it is referred to with quotation marks in half of the official literature. I saw it in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford and became kind of obsessed with it, mostly because I’d never heard of it before and the way it’s presented in the museum is as if it’s 100% real, no doubt about it, Powhatan sooo totally wore this like OMG. I was originally doing an essay where I was grappling with the big questions like ‘What is material culture?’, but then I saw that I could do this and immediately reverted back to academic type. I get to write an essay about cabinets of curiosity and cultural imperialism and Jamestown. If only I could have worked Catch-22 in there somewhere (I admit, that would have been a long-shot) we might have hit all the essay g-spots.

I think it’s time for a new Nerdgasms banner. I’m sure I only think this because I need something else to do to procrastinate now that I’ve written this entry. Still, stay tuned. Or just come back in a month, which seems like a more efficient use of your time.

Edit: Or you could just look now, as apparently I felt compelled to change it immediately. It’s a bit dreary, but yay cabinets of curiosity!

Real Englishman or Merely a Delightful Name I Made Up?: The Answers

I almost forgot all about this, which I suppose is par for the course with my blogging habits. Nevertheless, here are your answers.

All the men mentioned are real.

How crazy is that?

However not all of them are Englishmen.

1. Alfred James Hipkins - British artist 1826-1903
2. Edwin Horatio Fedarb - Real. Incidentally also unremarkable enough that my previous entry is the second result when you search his name. I’m very sorry Edwin; that is the epitome of tragic.
3. Wenceslaus Hollar - Czech! Hollar at me, Wenceslaus.
4. Sir Dingle Mackintosh Foot - Real! Doesn’t it make you feel good to live in a world where that’s a real name? I think this may actually be the greatest name I’ve ever heard. (Politician who worked with Churchill, by the by.)

All of these men were either buried or commemorated at Westminster Abbey/St Margaret’s Church, which is how I came by their names. And what names they are! Sir Dingle Mackintosh Foot’s parents had to have been wonderfully absurd individuals to saddle their son with a name like that.

Things That Are Happening in the World

Despite my giant hiatus, I promised that this blog wasn’t dead. It’s not, it just seems I have very little to say.

So I will link you to other people saying things. I bring you the first edition of Things That Are Happening in the World:

1. Somewhere in the world, I am vomiting a little in my mouth. This is why. One the giant scale of awful, Kiddie Prom is only about 5 slots below Kiddie Porn.
2. Somewhere in the world, someone is finding this journal by Google-ing the last two words in the item above.
3. A quick perusal of BBC news indicates at least 3 floods (and one “more probable than it once was” flood), massive fires in Greece, an impending plague of locusts and one cosmic nothingness. I’m not even going to attempt to count the bombings.
4. Somewhere in the world people are waiting for the Second Coming. Somewhere in the world, still others are scratching their heads at this.
5. Somewhere in the world, my 86 year old Nana just got a mobile phone!
6. Right here and right now, I am going to bed. Actually, first I’m going to read a fashion magazine and then I’m going to bed.

Sorry this was such a boring entry kids. Maybe its  best if I don’t update when I don’t have anything to say…

Lord help us all…

…people have been finding this blog by searching charming terms like “COCK SUCKER” and “suck my penis.”

And of course, I have made this entry so that their numbers will multiply exponentially. Greetings to you, you seekers of smut. You’re not going to find anything particularly saucy here.

In terms of what’s up with me, I am a huge slacker who is putting off all 3409809834 things I have to do before I can go to grad school. What can I say; I’m lazy and I need to schedule in time to re-read Harry Potter before July 21st.

Angry Blonde Pancake

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Draco Malfoy is killed by a falling Hagrid never knowing the ultimate truth Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

As July 21st inches closer and closer I do grow concerned for all three (Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and Draco Malfoy) of my favorite characters. Aside from Voldemort, I think they’re the three with the biggest literary prices on their heads.

In which I bare my soul

Time to get in the sharing zone kids.

Dr. History has tagged me in some sort of “8 Facts” meme, and I lack the self control needed to resist the sweet siren song of exhibitionism. Here be the code, me hearties:

• Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
• Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
• Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

1) I dyed my hair somewhat recently and people like myself, my mother, and my co-workers were unable to tell the difference. I visited some friends from college last weekend (who I haven’t seen since last October) and it was one of the first things they noticed. Weird.

2) My college computer (a Dell) was named Yossarian after the protagonist of my favorite novel, Catch-22. This was because he was stubborn and unwilling to submit to my authority. My current computer (a black MacBook…and a much better computer) is named Blackadder after the BBC series of the same name. He has not attempted regicide as of this writing.

3) One two recent-ish long-haul travels I have been seated next to some very interesting people. I will leave it to you to interpret what I mean by “interesting.” One was a man penning a treatise lovingly titled “Zionist Criminal Jew Chieftens in Latin America,” and the other was a man who spent the entire trip masturbating. I was very uncomfortable during both trips. (And so help me God no one had better find this blog by searching the title of that treatise. In fact, I just Googled it myself to see what comes up. Mostly articles from the Economist, if you’re curious.)

4) Back before I was an all-purpose nerd, a nerd-of-all-trades if you will, I was a poly-sci nerd. Before that I was a film nerd. I guess I still do specialize a bit in my nerdy-ness since I’m far more into history and culture than, say, genomes or string theory.

5) I knew I wanted to go to the College of William & Mary since I was 5 years old. Either I am excellent when it comes to long-term planning or very, very stubborn.

6) I am painfully honest. To the point of being blunt. I am also a very talented liar. If you ask me a question I can guarantee you a straight answer (and to earn my trust you must not ask me too many questions, since I prefer to play things rather close to the vest). However I sometimes lie about completely unimportant things just because I can, and if you abuse my honesty by asking too many prying questions I will certainly lie then.

7) I don’t remember birthdays, I’m atrocious at keeping in touch, I hate phone calls, and thoughtful little gestures just don’t occur to me. By the way, I have two X chromosomes.

8) The town I’m getting my MA in, Leicester, is apparently the curry capital of the UK. This means there had damned well better be some spicy food there, because I require copious amounts of spicy food.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a bit drained from all that sharing. I also don’t know 8, non-LJ blogosphere people to tag, which is perhaps one of those shameful things I should be a lot more hesitant to mention. So, for the two I do know, I tag Courtney and Sara. I guess I could tag my mom too, but she’s never realize it so it would be a waste.