ludicrously

I do not understand our current financial crisis. I do, however, understand adverbs, and Dana Milbank apparently likes them a lot, especially ones that begin with C:

Barney Frank (D-Mass.), chairman of the House banking committee, made his way into the House media gallery to face 75 reporters yesterday afternoon. ... "The Endangered Species Act apparently does not apply to financial institutions," he joked, cruelly.

He vowed, callously, that there will be "no golden parachutes while we are the owners" of Wall Street firms' bad debts. ...

He then cynically turned Paulson's defense of the Wall Street executives upside down. "Let me defend CEOs against Hank Paulson's attack on them," Frank said with feigned sincerity. ...

Lest adjectives feel left out, Milbank also goes hog wild with them too, describing Frank as hard-hearted, merciless, and brazen.

What is he going for here? Sarcasm? Hyperbole? Sloppy writing? I am not clear. But one thing is: Raymond Carver would not approve.

In other, more straightforward news, the Republican ticket had a big day today. Sarah Palin met with world leaders and war criminals and John McCain held his first news conference since fish flopped on land and decided to grow legs. And I am cranky because I am watching the very last, rather grim episodes of the Wire and they are giving me nightmares.

My irritation is probably nothing compared to George Will's, though. He is one serious Grumpy Gus today: he mutters that Obama isn't experienced but McCain is insane and only one of those problems has a possible fix. He'll be lucky if the GOP doesn't disappear him like they disappeared Carly Fiorina (and her golden parachute).

Postcards from the Verge

Jonathan Dee's NYT Magazine's article "The Tell-All College Tour" came out this weekend, making half of my face famous, offering new evidence on the Who's Bigger, Me or Katie Price question (don't I look TINY in that picture down there in the corner?), and catapulting my fledgling company into the spotlight. Our internet traffic spiked on Friday as soon as the link appeared on the NYT website, and there was much whooping and sending it back and forth in the office.

The media attention guarantees nothing, of course, except that we now have a chance. And although we at one point hit #1 on the Most Emailed list, the Sunday loudmouths have crowded the top and bumped us down to #6. Just what you'd expect of the media elites.

Though I'm glad Jonathan Dee had a positive take on us, I have to say that I'm astonished by the utter lack of fact-checking that occurs over at Gray Lady HQ. You'd think the Paper of Record would take note of the following, wouldn't you?:

• there were initially 15 editors, not 20; now there are 13
  
• we each were assigned 14 schools to cover, not 10
  
• our office is on Park Avenue South, not Park Avenue, though I agree that the latter fits better into Dee's narrative
  
• there are only 20 of us in the entire office, not 26
  
• my brother, the quoted "current Cornell student," is, as he should be at 27, an alum

and so on. Also, I maintain that "the New Face of College Admissions" would have been a better title. But it's churlish to complain. The buzz is beginning! Perhaps we are well on our way to becoming the next medium-sized thing.

My coworkers and I hooted over Dee's dour-sounding note at the end of the piece:

It all might seem less suggestive if it weren’t for the fact that this whole “grass-roots movement” seems poised to make a lot of money — most of which seems destined to find its way to the usual suspects, none of whom are part of a grass-roots anything.

As someone who is yet to have made over $30K a year in New York City, I can only say, Amen, brother JDee. Amen.

Say Goodnight, Fiorina

How appropriate that in a campaign built on lies, a person can get shitcanned for telling the truth:

Asked by a St. Louis radio station whether she thought Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin could run a company like Hewlett-Packard, Fiorina responded: "No, I don't."

The McCain folks are pissed.

"Carly will now disappear," this source said. "Senator McCain was furious." Asked to define "disappear," this source said, adding that she would be off TV for a while ...

Fiorina was booked for several TV interviews over the next few days, including one on CNN. Those interviews have been canceled.

No $50 million golden parachute on this ride down, I guess. But who will cry sexism on Palin's behalf now?

What's so frustrating is OF COURSE none of these political contenders could run a major corporation. That's not what they've trained to do. Even George W., who *had* an MBA, couldn't helm Hewlett-Packard. But putting Sarah "Bush in a Skirt" Palin in office would be worse than average, an awful lot like putting Norville Barnes in charge of Hudsucker Industries. Except that Norville Barnes was authentically a nice guy, not someone who fired her enemies and appointed old high school friends with no experience to run million dollar agencies.

Sarah Palin is officially Not Fun Anymore, even if she does have an action figure.

Please Note

It's unsettling to see one's bra size in the NYT mag prefaced by the words "startlingly large." Especially because I suspect the author has his facts wrong. Seriously, here's me:



And here's Katie Price:



No comparison, right? Right. But why should I expect fact-checking from the NYT? Last week Mo Dowd claimed Hillary went to Wesleyan. (The snobby, media-elitist northeastern liberal arts college Hill attended was, as everyone knows, Wellesley.)

Speaking of secondary sexual characteristics, Mr. Ben and I saw fabulous cabaret/burlesque Saturday night, courtesy of Lazy Rizo and the Assettes. In fact it's the only successful burlesque/cabaret I've ever seen -- it managed to be hilarious and sexy and entertaining all the way through.

In one incredible number, a man who began tap-dancing to "Momma's Little Baby Loves Shortening Bread" in a sailor dress and pigtails transformed, via striptease, into glitter Jesus, backed up by a bouncy version of "Let The Circle Be Unbroken."

Digest that if you can.

The next day, for a change of pace, Mr. Ben headed off to a patriotic photoshoot and the LES Pickle Festival while I hit up the Brooklyn Book Festival with friends. We got to see Richard Price (the Wire, Lush Life), A.M. Homes (the L Word, the Safety of Objects), Simon Rich (SNL, the New Yorker), Russell Banks (Cloudsplitter, Affliction), and Jonathan Franzen (the Corrections, How To Be Alone). FOR FREE. And Franzen flirted with me! Okay, he didn't, but he could have -- we spoke briefly, and he gazed at me with his sad, soulful eyes.

This was definitely an "I <3 NY" kind of weekend.

brightening

Wow! Both my parents are energy lawyers who have worked for the federal government off and on their whole lives, and they never had this much fun. But then, aside from Jay McInerney, and, we now know, members of the Bush administration's Interior Department, who does?:

The report says that eight officials in the royalty program accepted gifts from energy companies whose value exceeded limits set by ethics rules — including golf, ski and paintball outings; meals and drinks; and tickets to a Toby Keith concert, a Houston Texans football game and a Colorado Rockies baseball game.

The investigation also concluded that several of the officials “frequently consumed alcohol at industry functions, had used cocaine and marijuana, and had sexual relationships with oil and gas company representatives.”

The investigation separately found that the program’s manager mixed official and personal business. In sometimes lurid detail, the report also accuses him of having intimate relations with two subordinates, one of whom regularly sold him cocaine.

The culture of the organization “appeared to be devoid of both the ethical standards and internal controls sufficient to protect the integrity of this vital revenue-producing program,” one report said.

The sexual relationships with oil and gas company representatives sound particularly enticing, don't they? Also the paintball outings, because god knows they're hard to come by.

I am trying to be in a better mood about things. The oh-so-wise Gail Collins is telling me to be, for one. Also, contrary to expectations, Rushdie's entertaining but narratively muddled Enchantress of Florence was not even shortlisted for the Booker this year, which means all status quos change eventually. AND the Large Hadron Collider succeeded in creating a small black hole but not in destroying the world. This feels like a good thing right now, although ask me again if McCain/Palin are elected.

NOTE: Do you ever think about the fact that life could end suddenly, in a flash, depriving all the religions of the world of ever knowing whether they were right?

glum.

The events of the past couple weeks have been dragging me down bit by bit, especially as we near the end of my favorite season:

• kind rejections
  
• an extended meal with the Russian hordes. Hours at a time of food I can't eat, drinks I can't drink, and jokes I don't understand tends to get to me, but yesterday's get together was harder than usual.
  
• misuses of the word "limpid"
  
• the disrespect shown to the em dash in my office
  
• the delayed launch of Unigo
  
• The Year of Magical Thinking
  
• of course, Palinpsests. The country loves it some Sarah, while I am scared to the soles of my feet of this book-banning beauty queen and her effect on national polls.

I am scanning the horizon for mermaids or bright spots, anything that might cheer me up:

• The New Yorker Festival. I'm on Year 5 in the city and I've never managed to get to one of these events. Will this be the year?
  
• Unigo launches tomorrow, 9/9! This is it, folks, the real deal, the website I've been helping conjure out of the ether for the past eight months: The next medium-sized thing. Tell your friends.
  
• "America's Next Top Model"

Honestly, I can't think of other specifics. There has to be something to look forward to! Please, Send Help.

ETA: Gawker mocks my pain and friends email me reassurance. Already I feel somewhat better. Thanks, pals and blogs!

Sarah, Palin and Tall

The Mommy Wars rage on around and about Sarah Palin, yesterday's Bold, Maverick Choice and tomorrow's Harriet Miers:

“When I first heard about Palin, I was impressed,” said Pamela Moore, a mother of two from Birmingham, Ala. But upon reading that Ms. Palin’s special-needs child was three days old when she went back to work, Ms. Moore began questioning the governor’s judgment. Partly as a result, she plans to vote for Senator Barack Obama. ...

Her thoughts were echoed by some Republicans, including Anne Faircloth, daughter of former Senator Lauch Faircloth of North Carolina. Being a governor is one thing, Ms. Faircloth said, and Ms. Palin’s husband, Todd, seems like a supportive spouse. “But running for the second-highest office in the land is a very different kettle of fish,” she said.

Many women expressed incredulity — some of it polite, some angry — that Ms. Palin would pursue the vice presidency given her younger son’s age and condition. Infants with Down syndrome often need special care in the first years of life: extra tests, physical therapy, even surgery.

Sarah Robertson, a mother of four from Kennebunk, Me., who was one of the few evangelical Christians interviewed to criticize Ms. Palin, said: “A mother of a 4-month-old infant with Down syndrome taking up full-time campaigning? Not my value set.”

What a thankless job it is, in America, to be a woman in the public eye making decisions about family. And what a thankless job it is, as well, to be the vice president of a man who lets the press know you were his third choice because he wasn't allowed to ask out either of his preferred dates. How tacky is that? John, will you keep your aides in order, please? They're embarrassing both you and your "soul mate."

The GOP has suddenly become the party of drama, of chick flicks and Lifetime movies. Good for them for defending the ability of women to raise children and have jobs, at least. And good for them for being able to change their tune so fast! The opinion-makers were far less happy about the idea of Palin before the decision was made, according to this hilariously off-message Fox News clip.

While we're on the subject, good for Obama for refusing to engage with this tawdriness and pointing out his mother was only 18 when he was born. Truth be told, Obama doesn't have to do much except keep campaigning and keep Biden from putting his oh-so-tasty foot in his mouth. And Biden's doing pretty well so far:

If Sen. Joe Biden was hurt that Republican operative Karl Rove called him a “big blowhard doofus” at an event in Minneapolis Monday, he didn’t show it. On hearing the news, Biden grinned and said “he’s a great American.” ... A reporter asked if the senator would now answer to “Senator Doofus.” “You can call me anything you want,” he said. “I learned a long time ago you can call me anything you want.”

Oh, I hope the rest of the campaign continues to be chock full of vituperative mothers-in-law and fake blog entries about Foreign Policy that end, "In conclusion, Foreign Policy is a complex but fascinating topic." Please, Election 2008, tell me you're not done entertaining us yet.

Also, Remember This?

On a day when Obama prepares to speak again, let's all take a moment and review where we were four years ago, when a state senator for Illinois ascended the national stage for the first time.

Four years ago, when that speech first blew my mind, I had just begun working at what I like to call the Very Important Talent Agency, a place where I was sworn at, berated, objectified, and sexually harassed, and generally introduced to the "real world." Although we peons were encouraged not to let a lunch break distract us from our ten-hour days, I would sometimes slip out for some stabilizing fresh air.

On one of those days, which coincided with the Republican National Convention's takeover of NYC, I had the good fortune to be hit on by an aging delegate:

i was eating lunch in an outdoor plaza and a delegate (complete with cowboy hat -- they seemed to come standard) started a conversation. his mother sat next to him, spilling things on her blouse and sometimes chiming in.

... him: so where are you from?
me: dc
his mother: she's from new york, of course.
him: no, mom, she's from washington.
his mother: ohhh. (clear implication: if there's any place worse than new york ...)
him: so what's your name?
me: ester.
him: that's a great name.
me: it's a little old-fashioned.
him: i like old-fashioned women.
his mother: [spills something on herself]

And, to keep injecting sex into this political conversation, here's Rude Pundit's totally obscene take on the Convention so far. Enjoy.

Remember the Maine

On our trip to Maine last week, we decided that we had to eat either blueberries or lobster every day. In effect, we decided to eat lots of blueberries, because it turns out that lobster is hella expensive even in Maine, where I figured they basically give you two just for waking up in the morning. But we all got gold medals in blueberry eating: in pie, in muffins, on yogurt, on ice cream, and straight off the bush.

Also, I learned that Maine is about much more than food. It's also about really cold water. The water up there was clearly on loan from Titanic. One lovely day, just outside the idyllic, remote town of Machias, we decided to risk hypothermia, just for fun. We swam out to a bridge, let the river's rapids carry us, screaming, to the other side, and then swam quickly towards shore to avoid getting dragged out to sea and ending up dropped on a beach in Newfoundland looking like the Montauk Monster.



It was awesome. And, to thaw out our purple fingers afterwards, the lovely family we were visiting gave us all china teacups of homemade lobster bisque. It was as salty as the many locals who cut their eyes at us at rural gas stations along Coastal Route 1.



We also spent one long, hilarious night playing Settlers of Catan, a German colonialist board game. It's like Diplomacy meets Monopoly meets Sim City, and it's so absorbing we were up til 2:00 AM. We didn't even remember to watch the Olympics.

The area where Ben's dad has a beautifully decorated house is peaceful and small; there was very little to do except to tire ourselves out walking in the woods or on rocky beaches during the day, cook a lot, and then fall into a stupor not long after sunset. We did make it to an adorable little library, watched over by a woman who knew the name of everyone who came in. I listened to her making personalized recommendations and I realized that, in another life, I would totally be her. And pretty happy, too.

A Country Song

I had to agree with George Stephanopolous about the DNC stage: gross. Barack Obama's head appearing in that screen, framed by neon lights, made him look like he was inside a jukebox, some kind of alien warlord informing a fifties diner that he is going to attack.

But that's my only complaint. Ted Kennedy looked even stronger last night than he had the last time I saw him, speaking at my little brother's high school graduation. How can you not go all mushy and sentimental when you hear him he say, "I promise you, I will be on that Senate floor on January 5"? Remember to factor in that you have your period in this scenario, with hormones coming out your eyes. Okay, go.

Michelle, meanwhile, is a goddess, and her brother is adorable. You don't get to see that kind of close sibling relationship too often; the narratives of Father-Son, Mother-Daughter, Parent-Child, or Feuding Siblings take up too much space. And, of course, with this convention, the narrative of the Clintons Hate Obama but Love the Kennedies who Love Obama. It's a country song!

God, I'm tired of thinking and hearing about Clinton and her disgruntled, spiteful supporters. It's like no one ever lost a primary before. "It is a fact that millions of Americans voted for Mrs. Clinton this year," acknowledges the NYT. Well done, factcheckers! Millions of people also voted for Jesse Jackson when he ran, but you didn't see him hosting cry-ins about not making it to the White House.

Silver medal, Hillary! It's not so bad! Other fabulous women have had to settle for silver. Try to do it with some grace.

Meanwhile, in *actual* drama, four people have been arrested for plotting an assassination:

The police said they had found two rifles, one with a scope, in the car, along with walkie-talkies, a bulletproof vest and licenses in the names of other people.

And enough meth to power ten long-haul truck drivers.

Luckily we're being prayed for: the DNC even has an official prayer guy! And Tara Leigh knows him! Because apparently the world of Christians who are willing to chill with Democrats is very, very small.

Remember the Maine

Kicking my feet up in Bath, Maine, en route to Macchiasport. The houses are old, the locals are salty (and eco-friendly!), and the lobster rolls are very tempting. Thus far in my life the only lobster roll I've ever had was in Chelsea Market in Manhattan. That's gotta change.

Back next weekend!

Olympic Madness

This is like the movie version of My Fair Lady, with the studio casting Audrey Hepburn instead of Julie Andrews and then using Marni Nixon's voice: the little girl who sang in the opening ceremonies was the face China was looking for, but the voice was provided by a less adorable seven-year-old. God, how depressing. We'll never get over our perfection-obsession, will we?

(Because I can't resist the Biblical reference, I have to admit this quote also sprang to mind: "The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.")

Predictably, people are pissed:

The outrage was especially heated over the cold calculation used to appraise the girls. “Please save the last bit of trueness in our children,” wrote one person with an online name of Weirderhua. “They think Yang Peiyi’s smile is not cute enough? What we need is truth, not some fake loveliness! I hope the kids will not be hurt. This is not their fault.”

Another person added: “Children are innocent. Don’t contaminate their minds!”

Though I'll happily debate the "children are innocent" canard, otherwise I agree. It's this kind of stage management that makes people either strive for the unattainable or become cynical about everything. Like the New Yorker article about photoshopping, which made it clear you can never fully trust what you see. Do you think there would be so much conspiracy theorizing -- about the moon landing, 9/11, and Britain's 7/7 -- otherwise?

The idea that a child needs to not only have the best voice but the best look is American Idol-type nonsense. So is the idea that no female Olympian is complete, not even with a gold medal, if we don't know that she also has a husband and a baby in the wings, as a Johnson & Johnson ad last night made clear, or is about to start a family, as the media and announcers during the women's beach volleyball competition kept stressing. Already they have to compete in bikinis, so that we can objectify them even as we admire them.

Seriously, isn't it enough that these athletes do unreal things with their minds and bodies to perform for us on an international stage? Do we really need them to shrink back to human size once the cameras are off?

Welcome to the Team, Condi!

Everyone's letting the masks slip these days! Is it the August heat? First Paris Hilton reveals that she's actually shrewd and funny. Then Morgan Freeman decides to stop pretending his marriage is working (he and his wife have been secretly separated since December!). Now Condoleeza Rice has admitted she's an Obamaniac:

"Look, I’m a Republican, all right? Senator McCain is a fine patriot and he would be a great president. But there’s something to be said for fresh blood." ... Rice was also asked “Would you feel safe with a President Obama?” to which she responded, "Oh, the United States will be fine."

Check out that future tense! Very sly.

I'm going to try to move away from thinking about politics and polls all the time, the ridiculousness of which this New Yorker piece captures nicely. If only there were more distractions. At work, we're grinding through the last month before we go live -- exciting but stressful -- and mourning the sudden loss of our CTO. The office feels a bit like a bachelor pad these days, lacking necessities like toiletries and water (not to mention an HR department and an Office Manager) but boasting a big-ass flatscreen TV and an X-Box to go with it.

When I told a friend about the X-Box, she replied, impressed, "Are you guys like Google now?" The answer is, Absolutely, if the employees at Google have to fish used paper towels out of the trash can to wipe their hands.

Largely, the boys in the office are thrilled to get to play Rock Band and Avatars Play Soccer and Shoot That! And That Too! Get Him!. But I'm past the point in my life where I can enjoy watching other people work a controller. At least you can use the X-Box to play DVDs. Chipper McCheerful and I are staying after work to watch Season 3, Disc 3 of The Wire.

A Good Year

dancey dancey
Originally uploaded by shorterstory.

Instead of doing work, I'm reading archives, since work right now makes me cranky and archives make me agreeably nostalgic.

One year and sixteen days ago, Mr. Ben studies -- hilariously -- for the Bar.

One year and five days ago, I reflect, "I’ve had over a year to get used to the idea of being a "wife." I’m not quite there yet. I am more comfortable with the idea of being a "bride," anyway, but that’s largely because my mother has made it easy on me. And now the wedding is in five days. FIVE DAYS!"

And one year ago, a woman on the street gives me a pre-celebration blessing: "'My GAWD,' she twanged, hand over heart, 'you look so beautiful! You look just like I did before MY first marriage!'"

Here is the wedding entry. Thanks to mystical good fortune, I am as happy now as I was then, although I am still not yet okay with the idea of being a "wife." Perhaps I can just be a Newlywed for a really long time.

Happy One Year, baby.

Top Five Things Wrong with McCain's Newest Ad

#5) Britney Spears <3s President Bush. Remember this, from 2003?:

CARLSON: You're going to be on the National Mall [in Washington, D.C.] soon performing for Pepsi and the NFL and also to support our troops. A lot of entertainers have come out against the war in Iraq. Have you?

SPEARS: Honestly, I think we should just trust our president in every decision he makes and should just support that, you know, and be faithful in what happens.

CARLSON: Do you trust this president?

SPEARS: Yes, I do.

This interview also includes the following unrelated, hilarious exchange:

CARLSON: You worked with Pepsi for a long time. Candidly between you and me, how much Pepsi do you think [you drink] on an average day?

SPEARS: I really do like Pepsi.

CARLSON: Really?

SPEARS: I really do.

CARLSON: What's your favorite kind?

SPEARS: My favorite kind of Pepsi? Pepsi's Pepsi.

CARLSON: You don't drink Diet Pepsi.

SPEARS: No, just regular Pepsi.

Britney is my idol. Okay, back to the list!

#4) The Hiltons <3 McCain, or <3ed, anyway, to the tune of $4,600, the maximum allowable donation to his campaign. Now, not so much.

#3) McCain <3s 25-year-old blond heiresses. His own wife was one when he met her.

#2) The world <3s Obama -- why isn't that a good thing?

#1) The GOP <3s celebrities.

This shit makes me tired. Worse is the most recent deflating Gallup poll, which puts Obama only one point ahead. In one corner, you have a young, dynamic, intelligent, good-looking, thoughtful, church-going family man. In the other, you have the technologically illiterate Grampy LaGrumps who traded in his first wife for a far younger lady, one who came with a well-connected political father and no embarrassing personal disfigurements. And voters are painfully divided?

Well, as I do every four years around this time, I will try to keep from sliding into cynicism about the American people.

Everybody wins!

Everyone has a flatscreen today these days. I was thinking that as I sat on a wooden bench in the DMV this morning, clutching a see-through bag which contained everything anyone would need to steal my identity and take it to Bolivia without first making sure it has its shots. The DMV has no TV, flatscreen or otherwise; it doesn't even have a clock. I was looking around for a telegraph machine, whose clicks could perhaps be pleasantly distracting, but all I saw was a small fuzzy scrolling marquis comme ca:

In between text ads for the jewelry store next door and jobs in the police department, the marquis informed me, in its Lite Brite way, that there would be a TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE tomorrow but that no one would be able to see it but NASA. This struck me as a little bit unfair. Then again, anything seems unfair when you're shuttling from window to window only to pause and smile hopefully at a machine that decides whether bouncers will smirk at you for the next five years.

They took my DC license -- goodbye, friend! -- and gave me in exchange a woeful slip of paper that functions as both a temporary ID and a receipt. Thanks a lot, fellas.

The office now has a flatscreen, which makes it that much more pleasant than the DMV. Right now it's leaning up against the wall, but some point it will hang gloriously above us, attached to cable and everything and maybe an X-Box. This led my coworker, Chipper McCheerful, to say: "I've been looking for a game for our conference room, but it's difficult. It has to be a game that everyone can play and a game that nobody loses."

Lifestyle Justified!

Studies in newspapers exist to confirm what we already know. All the same, sometimes it's nice to get that little refresher, like someone handing you a towel when you've just stumbled into a puddle of doubt. Two studies recently have functioned in this cheerful way: first, this one showing there is no difference anymore between the math scores of boys and girls. And second, this one, letting us know that living together before marriage decreases the likelihood of divorce!

None of this would have happened had Betty Friedan not thrown down her apron.

The researchers found no difference in the scores of boys versus girls — not even in high school. Studies 20 years ago showed girls and boys did equally well on math in elementary school, but girls fell behind in high school. "Girls have now achieved gender parity in performance on standardized math tests," Hyde said.

And as for the "living in sin" business:

The odds of divorce among women who married their only cohabiting partner were 28% lower than among women who never cohabited before marriage, according to sociologist Daniel Lichter of Cornell University in Ithaca, N.Y.

For people who believe in sin cohabitation can still feel wrong, of course. But I like that it has been proven to have the social utility I instinctively believed it had. What pleasant news to come along right before my very first wedding anniversary.

Not a Novelist

On Saturday, Mr. Ben and I went up to Chappaqua where his father, in an expansive mood, was hosting a party for MDs who can hold their liquor. At one point I found myself out on the patio with a small crowd of them, all women.

Russian #1: How is your novel?
Russian #2: It has a happy ending, no? After all, you are American.
All Russians: [Laugh]

I admitted that yes, my book has a relatively happy ending. They cut me with their eyes, then began talking with each other about ballet.

A half-sloshed neurologist told me about his new apartment and his new wife. "I've had three of these already," he said, holding up his vodka glass. "I plan to get drunk."

"I'll be right back!" I replied, escaping.

I ended the evening playing ping pong in the basement with a seven-year-old who looked like a Hanson. He told me he was from Maui and that I was 35. Neither of these things turned out to be true, but he was very convincing.

Winners of the Hot Stuff Competition!

ben brunches with hotties
Originally uploaded by shorterstory.

Pictures from birthday brunch (and another recent outdoor foodsy events) are up on Flickr. I wore a pretty dress! And for once, I was not out-boobed by Rebecca (to my left in that picture, in the amazing bright red 1940s number).

Whatever happened to the eye of the beholder?

I remember enough from working in textbooks to say with 92.6% certainly that this Natalie Angier piece about mirrors will be anthologized up the wazzoo. It's got everything! References to popular Greek myths, a sprinkling of statistics, some fluff, some science, all in two highly-readable pages. My beef with Angier's latest attempt at channeling Malcolm Gladwell? This graph:

In a report titled “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Enhancement in Self-Recognition,” which appears online in The Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, Nicholas Epley and Erin Whitchurch described experiments in which people were asked to identify pictures of themselves amid a lineup of distracter faces. Participants identified their personal portraits significantly quicker when their faces were computer enhanced to be 20 percent more attractive.

20% more attractive, Natalie? Wow! You mean there's an objective standard to these things?

The fact that people conceive of themselves as better looking than they are is fascinating. But the idea that readers will take it for granted that there is a concrete way to look 20% more attractive -- fewer wrinkles? smaller nose? fuller lips? -- makes me want to walk into walls.

Luckily I've been in too good a mood lately to let an ideological disagreement get me down. Birfday Saturday was all Food-Show-Food-Show, with friends along for the loopy ride. Show #1, the Dark Knight, was great, as I'm sure you've heard: too long -- two movies buckled together, really, and played consecutively -- but seriously well-directed. Still, my favorite parts all had to do with Heath Ledger. [SPOILERS AHEAD!] He has the most compelling performance and the funniest lines, and he gets to mock one of my least favorite cinematic/psychological conventions, the idea that all crazy adults had a pivotal moment in childhood that made them the way they are. It was my father, the Joker says, and you feel for him, you really think he means it. Then, later, equally seriously, It was my wife. He tries to tell a third story when Batman, who, of everyone, understands him best, cuts him off.

Watching the Joker, I found myself thinking about the line from the New Yorker's recent piece on Obama: "Who sent you?" But just like that article ends up shrugging and admitting no one sent Obama (there wasn't much dirt on him to dig up, it turns out) it's not nearly so simple in the Joker's case either. He is chaos, manic, like Twain's Mysterious Stranger. Whether that's intended to be a commentary on terrorism or God or the weather -- whatever we Americans can't control -- is up in the air. But regardless, it works. Throughout the movie, I was scared enough that my hands were shaking. [Okay, spoilers finished. Those were pretty minor/pathetic spoilers too, but I'm trying to be sensitive.]

Show #2 was the very meta, very enjoyable [title of show], which just opened on Broadway. (It moved after running at the Vineyard for a while.) Much like Passing Strange, which Mr. Ben and I saw recently, it's a smart, self-aware musical targeted at young people. Apparently, in the case of the latter, the strategy didn't quite work out, which is really too bad. I'm glad we got to support it a little bit and I hope [title of show] has better luck.