Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations.
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| You Listen to Me, Mr. Kick-Ass Ginger's follies, foibles and fixations. |
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Thursday, July 11, 2002 I am posting from the office, at Mrs. Boss's computer. My trusty Toshiba laptop decided to untrustworthily crash today, rendering it almost completely useless. Calling Toshiba I got a few suggestions (Disk Clean-Up, defrag the hard drive, etc.), none of which seemed to help. Strike one. After carting it up the street to CompUSA, I found out they can't touch it, they can only mail it into Toshiba. Strike two. Now I'm attempting to copy files over to one of the other office computers so that I can (sigh) completely reinstall the operating system. The problem: I have no idea where my Outlook information is stored (e-mail, calendar, contacts) and I can't find anyone who knows. I tried Toshiba, the guy at CompUSA and even Microsoft, and NOBODY knows where the e-mail is kept! Is this a state secret or something? I can't be the only one who is concerned about saving my email, calendar, etc. Dises nutsen. I have already tried exporting my internet email files over to another computer, but I don't think this is my actual email, I think it's just the settings for my email account. I've already looked in all of the obvious places, and I've tried searching for obvious things like "email," "mail" and "outlook," but nothing has made any sense. I finally got some guy at microsoft to tell me to export my mail into a .dpx or .pst file, but I can't figure out how to do that. Can any of you computer-savvy people help me out?? I will be very sad to lose all of your nice e-mails!! :~( So, unless one of you knows where Outlook files are stored so that I can back them up, I might not be able to write you because I won't have your e-mail address any more. So, help -- if you can! I can still receive e-mail, if I use a different computer, so you can mail me (see "Contact" link). Thanks. I knew it was a bad idea to bring my laptop in to work...sigh! posted by Ginger | 6:06 PM Wednesday, July 10, 2002 I finally broke down and bought the first Lemony Snicket book. I started reading it on the subway and finished it about an hour after I got home. Ten bucks for less than two hours of entertainment--I guess that describes most movies (unless you're clever like me, heh heh). The author (whose name I don't remember), as the fictional Snicket, has cranked out 8 books in the "Series of Unfortunate Events," which seems to be feeding the children's literature black hole as a result of J.K. Rowling taking four hundred years to write the fifth Harry Potter book (come on, woman!). The Bad Beginning is a cute diversion-- certainly not as, uh, magical as any of the HP books, but not aiming anywhere near that realm either. It is basically a more narrative version of Edward Gorey, though not quite as greusome nor as clever. Still, any story in which orphaned children are smacked, locked in cages, and forced to marry is okay by me, and apparently okay by the zillions of kids who have gobbled up the series thus far. I understand--I would have too when I was ten years old, if I hadn't been so busy reading Kurt Vonnegut. One of the central gimmicks is how "Snicket" introduces his young readers to new vocabulary. The text is peppered throughout with little asides, such as "his voice faking--a word which here means 'feigning'--kindness," and "This is one reason why lawyers make heaps of money. The money is an incentive--the word 'incentive' here means 'an offered reward to persuade you to do something you don't want to do'--to read long, dull and difficult books." He also helpfully explains more adult concepts, such as "casing the joint," "puttanesca sauce" and "gorgonzola cheese." I don't know if it's worth paying $10 a pop for the whole series, which you are bound to digest in a matter of hours. But on the other hand, these charmingly unpleasant tales can make for a more enjoyable commute--a word which here means "hanging onto a pole in a stinky old subway." posted by Ginger | 10:59 PM Tuesday, July 09, 2002 Here it is only 10pm and I am thinking about turning in--quite a switch for me. I've been pretty tired lately and not sleeping enough in general, so I suppose it's time for an early night. I think the weather (once again hot-wet-blanket humid + occasional thundershower) puts everyone in a mood. Mine is tired and logy, my cat meows at me incessantly, and next door Loud Bob just let out an unintelligible shout about something or other. I guess some things never change. Will You Spent the whole day in a proposal-writing class. No, that does not mean I'm about to ask someone to marry me. Part of my job is to write grants (otherwise known as Grant Proposals) which is far more of an art than you might expect. For the last two months I've spent the majority of my working (and non-working) hours either attending classes about writing grants, reading books about writing grants, researching grant-makers, or actually trying to write grants. It's exhausting and fascinating in a weird geekish sort of way. But shit, I've got to get moving on actually finishing one of these things and submitting it. The truth is that most grant proposals are rejected, so I figure I might as well start turning them in and get the rejection ball rolling, thus ever increasing the chances of one being successful. Random Nerdish Once-Removed Semi-Celebrity Encounter An Australian woman was in our office yesterday (not unusual, as the Big Boss is Australian and the Puppetry of the Penis guys--also Australian--frequently stop by), was showing photos of some party she attended and mentioned "...yeh, this goi was in Stah Wahs." "Crikey," The Boss replied (okay, he didn't really say "Crikey"), "Yuh mean tha neyw 'un? Tha wun tha's owt nahw?" "Yeh." So of course I wheeled over in my chair to look at the photo, figuring if I know who Admiral Ozzel is, I could readily identify the teensiest bit player in Attack of the Clones. I looked at the picture and said "Oh! Joel Edgerton!" The woman from Oz looked stunned "Yuh knaw who 'ee is?" "Of course! He's Uncle Owen!" (meaning the young Owen in AOTC, not Phil Brown). The Big Boss, ever amused by my SW geekdom asked "'ow many toimes 'ave yeh seen it nahw, GEEN-juh?" "Uh, four." The woman looked at me like I was a bit nuts, but explained how the Darth Vader stepbrother and future Sci-Fi convention participant was a tremendous great talent and a mighty fine dancer as well. So now you know, dear readers. Fat Head Former veejay Adam Curry (see link at upper right) brought up this New York Times Magazine article on his website. It's long, and requires free registration, but worth reading if you have any interest at all in diet, health, or not dying of a heart attack. The basic point of the article, near as I can figure, is that the long-held belief in the superiority of the low-fat diet is now coming under some challenge as obesity remains epidemic and such radical theories as the high-fat/low-carb Atkins diet have shown apparent success. However, our ability to find out what's really working is undercut by the assumption that any health professionals who suspect that low-fat diets aren't altogether healthful are dismissed as "quacks" and denied research funding. Okay, these are worthwhile issues to explore, but the article is disasterously written, with its valid points hidden among a mess of extra-simplified statements and bizarre assumptions. Example: Well duh. But who the hell replaces milk with bagels? I know he's just making a point, but it's a misleading point. The truth is that if you give up milk and butter, you're probably replacing them (say, in my case) with soy milk and olive oil. Research indicates that these are good dietary changes. Bagels are not. I get that they are trying to say that people, generally, aren't smart enough (or, to be charitable, haven't been provided enough information) to replace "bad" things in their diet with "good" things, but will in fact just eat different bad things. I'm sure this is true in many ways, but this article fails to point out that another option does exist -- eating good things! It takes the article all the way until page six to even mention fruits and vegetables, almost as afterthought: What a shocker! All the way through, the article assumes that people who stop eating--or cut down on--fat, meat and dairy are automatically going to switch to only eating things that come in a "Healthy Choice" box. Unfortunately, this is all too true--judging from the habits of my own supposedly health-conscious parents--but the article doesn't bother to point out that most Americans do, in fact, have the option to purchase fresh fruits and vegetables and other healthy foods if they so choose. In fact the article could stand to explore the reasons behind why fresh, organic produce and hormone-free meats are not more widely available and less expensive. Instead, it implies that we are all powerless under the thrall of commercial food producers (and marketers). Thus, the low-fat diet advocates are basically forcing everyone to turn to heavily-processed Lean Cuisine--which, surprise surprise, isn't good for you. But ya know, last I checked most supermarkets carry apples and broccoli. They might not be organic (unfortunately), but they are there. And they are less expensive than processed foods. If you didn't know better, you would think that your only options are a. the rice cake and steamed potatoes diet or b. the porterhouse steak soaked in butter diet. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that neither extreme is good for you, and by applying one simple dictum to everyday life, we'd all be better off: eat more fruits and vegetables. I know something so highly technical and complex can intimidate the layman, but I have faith that humans will someday be capable of understanding those five words. In addition, the article completely avoids the whole notion of different types of fats in the diet, and how necessary they are to proper human functioning. Extremely low-fat diets are harmful partly because fats are an essental component of our cellular health, and it's by eating a decent amount of different kinds of "good" fats that lead to optimal health. It makes a cursory mention of monounsaturated fats (olive oil) vs. saturated fats (lard) but completely ignores polyunsaturated fats and the issue of extremely harmful trans-fatty acids (ie. margarine and partially-hydrogenated oils--which appear in almost all comercially-processed foods, check labels if you don't believe me). Nor does the article mention the importance of increasing the Omega-3 to Omega-6 fatty acid ratio. It also makes the ludicrously unsubstantiated claim that eating lard with a spoon could be beneficial to cardiovascular health! Jeezus. In other words, eliminating all fat is indeed bad, but that doesn't mean that eating a lot of just any fat is good. And that's the problem with this article--there's a lot of all-or-nothing assumptions made without acknowledging that a good diet is as simple as the general principles of variety and moderation, and basic common sense. Yeah, it might be too much to expect Jane and Joe Velveeta to track their Omega-3 intake, but frankly the basics ain't hard: cut out refined starches and sugars, cut out processed foods, don't go overboard on the protein, eat more olive oil, eat more soy, eat more fruits and vegetables. If most of us did just those things, we'd be a lot healthier. posted by Ginger | 10:04 PM Monday, July 08, 2002 Dang. When I decided to visit Seattle on Labor Day weekend, I chose it mostly because I could get away from work for longer. I completely forgot that it would be Bumbershoot time--the most insanely populated arts festival of the year. But that's okay, because at least I know that Peter Parker will be playing while I'm there. If I can only get past the maddening crowds, *sigh.* posted by Ginger | 11:13 PM Plug O' The Day Every once in a while I have to freak out about how Peter Parker is the best fucking rock band working today and I don't understand why they are not really really really really huge. It's all your fault. Go buy their CDs right now. Yeah yeah yeah yeah I know, I am the one who almost went to Britney Spears. But honestly, I know when it matters, and this stuff is so good I can't imagine anyone not liking it (except for my boss who--being the opposite of me in almost every way--hates all rock music). Someone more indie-literate than I am can probably find some other band to compare them to, but the best I can do is say it's guitar-driven rawk that is so catchy the songs will invade your dreams. In fact, today's freakout stems from waking up with the chorus of "Braille" running through my head. It's booty-shakin' frustration; it's perky rage. And--with the addition of second guitarist Josh--there's more than a little Sonic Youth-style feedback canoodling on their second album, Semiautobiographical. I could quote the lyrics (which are outstanding), but that would only give you half the picture. The way Matthew spits, croons and howls them enmeshed with the crunchy wall of guitar and exquisite backing vocals by bassist Mona offers an emotional clarity unexpressed by the words alone. Um...and drummer Steve is good too! To prove my loyalty, if any of you readers have a birthday comin' up, give me your address and I'll send you a copy of Semiautobiographical myowndamnself. As long as I can afford to, anyway. posted by Ginger | 10:26 PM Sunday, July 07, 2002 My computer has been operating painfully slow the last day or two. I have lots of catching up to do here, so I want to get to it before either Blogger or my computer conk out completely. Fourth of July Hot hot hot hot hot HOT! It was the kind of day where you walk outside and the sweat just starts running off of you. There's nothing to be done but make your peace with it. Sheila got to town and found her way to my place on the subway from Queens, and we had brunch at Cafe LuluC in Cobble Hill or Carroll Gardens (I always get those two mixed up). Then she rested, I made a spinach salad, and we ended up on a rooftop in the East Village, having a potluck with Nell, Christy, Anne, Malin and Rafael (after a bit of a warm up/cool down at a well-air-conditioned happy hour down the street). We had a great view of the fireworks, which were appropriately huge though not as awe-inspiring as I expected. Maybe we should have listened to the simulcast music for full effect, but nobody bothered to tune in the radio. It was nice that, as far as I know, nothing blew up that wasn't supposed to. Sheila crashed at L'Hotel Ginger, and after a leisurely morning we hit the Staten Island Ferry (nice view of the Statue of Liberty) and the West Village before parting ways--her to the LIRR station, and me home to fetch Malibu Stacie, who had to go back to the vet for more blood work (boo!) Triple Feature Let me just say right now that at no point did I ever plan to sneak into any movies, no sir. See, I had decided it was time to see Star Wars Episode II again. And I fully intended to leave the theater right afterwards, honest. But let me ask you--when was the last time you paid $10 for a movie? Especially one you've seen before, three times, and you have to admit it really isn't all that good--not terrible, but not great--and you feel a little foolish paying to see it so many times, though you know you probably will again. So, when that movie is over you walk out of the bathroom and there's a theater right in front of you announcing a different film that you wouldn't mind seeing--but wouldn't have paid $10 for--starting in five minutes, and you have nothing in particular planned for that evening....well, if it were so bad to just walk right in, they wouldn't make it so goddamned easy. [I was right, it wasn't worth $10. But it was amusing to see a giant worm eat most of the same train I take to and from work every day.] Now after the second movie, when you emerge from the bathroom (again) and you walk by yet another movie that you really did want to see and in fact probably would have paid $10 to see at some point, and you notice it's starting momentarily, and you walk in and take a seat--and then as the previews begin latecomers holding their popcorn and drinks can't find places to sit--well, heck, that is just stealing. By the time I came out of the bathroom for a fourth time (including the visit before the first movie), I was feeling sufficient guilt to give Like Mike a pass. Plus it was late. posted by Ginger | 12:53 AM |
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