Eddie Izzard

In Chicago while I'm at school in Seattle.
In Seattle when I'll be home in Illinois.

I could cry.

Airport bookshops are my own personal view of hell.

When I go into a bookstore, my plan is to browse, not run in and run out. I can spend hours in a bookstore, buy nothing, and consider it a completely un-wasted trip. This is a slight exageration, as I don't actually have hours to spend in bookstores, unless I have a layover of, say, 5 hours in an airport because I'm flying standby, and the earliest flight to Moline was canceled, so I now can't get onto a plane until 7 after getting to the airport at 12. In this situation, I really want to just browse the selection, maybe even sit down and read a few chapters of something.

While airport bookstores do include chairs to sit and read in, they give off the impression that they are there for purely aesthetic value, and are not actually meant to be sat in. It is hard to explain how a piece of furniture can give off this impression, but they are strangely located. The fact that there are no friendly "stacks" is also discouraging. Everything's arranged around the walls--necessary in the small space that they have, but still discouraging.

There's also the selection. Generally speaking, there are different types of books, and they can pretty much be divided up into seperate bookshelves. Most of the bookshelves are given over to Non-fiction and "Popular Authors." There is one bookshelf each given to Classics, Simply Good Books (which translates to good literature whose main characters aren't court workers, solving murders, or 20-30 year old women having adventures that somehow seem to revolve around their sexual escapades.) My mother calls this "books for the masses" which I think is simple enough. The "best-sellers" seem to be Janet Evonovich, Danielle Steele, Dan Brown, John Grisham, and similar--these authors probably have their worth, but for me? No thank you. But if you're going to provide a whole two bookshelves just to these authors, there should be about five for the "Simply Good Books."

The third downfall of your average airport bookstore would be the staff. They usually have 3 people on staff in a tiny little shoebox, meaning that, since they have nothing else to do, they instead breath down your neck trying to get you to buy something, quickly, and without reading any of it in advance. And they all ask if you need help finding anything. I think their intention is to actually make sure that every customer is at least offered help by every employee. It can't be that great of customer service--the stores the size of a matchbox, they know that I politely declined assistance from their fellow employee, and it isn't like they are any special joy when they check you out.

Bottom line? Airport bookstores are not for actual bibliophiles, but instead are reserved for the sort of illiterate people who can only be influenced to pick up a piece of writing not accompanied by pictures when faced by a ride in an airplane.

And after enjoying this evil, I discover that the Minneapolis airport has gotten rid of their Cinnabon. It's a good thing I enjoy the whole flying part, because the getting to the plane is kind of miserable.

Apparently, Harry Potter really is addicting.
Now, I think we can safely say that I'm completely obsessed, on an unhealthy level, with Harry Potter. What can I say, Potter is my anti-drug. But I really wanted to deny being an addict. Then I read this part:

"The threshold for addiction is even more blurry than the one for alcoholism — with alcohol, you note whether someone's drinking alone or more of a social drinker. But if the addiction involves a community, it's harder to draw the line between fandom and compulsion. "A lot of the addiction isn't even to the series itself," Rudski said. "The series is over. The addiction is to everything that goes along with it, the ancillary world." So while he only characterizes 10 percent of participants as being addicted, there was an additional 20 percent who gave him cause for concern, reaching what he called "a critical threshold."(3)


My obsession with the series stems entirely with the community, so I guess I'm screwed. Brilliant. I'm now going to go put my Ravenclaw tie on and sit in the corner.

It would appear that March 4th is National Grammar Day; how are you celebrating?

As for me--I'll be editing those wonderful pieces of paper they hang in the dorm-building lavatories, and generally celebrating the fact that through the absolute wonders of punctuation I am now able to write sentences that are longer than some assignments I wrote in elementary school. (I've been known to write 84-word sentences that, as far as I know, were grammatically correct.)

OK, to set the scene. It's 11:40, and I don't want to go to bed, but it's too late to start anything, hmmm, wonder what's on HBO. It appears to be a documentary on the porn industry. I might have watched it. What can I say, they opened with porn from the 1920s. Did you know they made porn in the 20s? Back when films were still silent. I was curious.

Then, something interesting happens. "Porn makes fun of the fact that Hollywood movies can't show sex. They promise sex, but they can't deliver. So they place violence in movies to make up for it." Now, that's sort of profound right? On a porn documentary. Who would have thought it. I really like this theory. I mean, it makes sense right? It's almost Freudian. And next time I see a really violent movie, that's going to be in my head.

And apparently there's a porn musical. With a singing penis. I must admit, part of me is really curious. Porn actors can't act, I'm interested in them singing.

Said by the director of "Space Nuts" about his star, Stormy: "Her sex difinitely rises the bar." And that's why you're doing porn.

OK, this is the least sourced site ever, but I don't even know what the show was called, so I hope that saying none of these thoughts are my own will quite suffice.

On a completely unrelated note; HBO Family's been playing previews for Night of the Museum. During commercials, I'm usually doing something else, and not looking at the TV, not listening. Ricky Gervais's clip comes on, and I snap out of whatever I'm doing and go, "Hey, that's Ricky Gervais," and switch over. I can also do this--and have done this--with Jack Davenport, Jeremy Irons, and Nathan Lane. They have nice voices, what can I say.

Oscar nominations came out today:
I really want Johnny Depp to win an Oscar, but maybe not for Sweeney Todd. Not that he wasn't wonderful, but after some of his other roles, getting Sweeney Todd would seem almost cheap.

And go Casey Affleck!

Razzie nominations came out yesterday:
Thank goodness, other people who thought the Number 23 was horrible, and think that Orlando Bloom should go back to acting school.

Must watch Casanova later. Or 10 Things I Hate About You. (Yeah, because those are the roles I want to remember Heath Ledger in.)

What happened to this show!?!

I've been catching up on my season 2. Soo much better. Not that it isn't good now, it is, but it's lost a lot of its substance.

Some 9 year-old girl convinced Chase to kiss her. I want her skills.

They should bring Stacy back. Though I'm sure if I keep exploring season 2 I'll discover why that won't happen.

So, I, of course, have a slight weakness for the delicious smuttiness that is E! around the time of night that they show the Soup and Chelsea Lately--and that's only about half sarcasm--and I was watching it tonight. OK, story set.

Scott Baio... I don't know who the hell this current reality show is, I'm pretty sure his career was over and in reality TV before I was, well, born. Anyways, on Chelsea Lately tonight, she asked him how he still looked exactly like he did, oh 20 years ago. I don't know the exact timeline. And his reply was, "I have a portrait in the attic." Now, me, being a complete geek, was absolutely amazed and impressed. And Chelsea answers, "Well, it's interesting you say something like that because... blah blah blah." And I'm just sitting there, thinking, "K, uh, she got the joke right?"

Whatever. Illiterates.

And P.S. Watching Pearl -f&@ing-Harbor. Proof that nothing else is on. This and Titanic makes me seriously doubt Hollywood.

You know, I generally believe that no time is too late to start the homework that I've been putting off all day, but when I start spelling words incorrectly in my papers--I believe the spelling is not "surrtan," which I honestly started writing earlier, but certain--it is time for me to say screw it and head to bed. The same applies for the time of night when I start believing that the plural of "man" is indeed "mans" as opposed to the more widely accepted "men."

Has anyone else ever noticed on the eHarmony commercials that every couple is made up of the exact same color and opposite gender?

I have no idea why this caught my attention, but I just sort of had one of those "hey, wait a sec..." moments. I mean, someone who is using the internet for dating is generally pretty forward-thinking right? So how come the matchmaker is channeling the 40's?

Just thought it was sort of weird.

I always feel extremely guilty when my first introduction to any theatre production, especially musical, is a film version, but considering where I grew up isn't particularly a happening theatre spot... I hope it's at least a little excusable. It's not like you can do Phantom of the Opera at the Dubuque Opera House. Actually, they probably could. They should look into that. Wait, my example was an Andrew Lloyd Weber? I really need do go out to the theatre more often...

That said, the song "Johanna" is going to be stuck in my head for the next 5 days.

And I really really need to see Les Miserables, the musical, considering it's one of my favorite books ever. Which means the fact that I haven't seen the musical close to a crime. So if anyone ever sees that available anywhere near them, I think I'll kill for tickets...

I'd forgotten how much I love snow. Maybe it's because here it isn't accompanied by ice and rain, or lost power. Maybe it's all the evergreen trees here that make it white and green instead of white and brown. And muddy. Maybe it's the fact that it's only 32 degrees out, instead of in the negatives.

So yes, all my friends stuck in the Midwest... enjoy the ice.

So, normally I love commercials, and movie trailers, more than any one person should. I love clothes too.

So why are clothing stores so intent on ruining my favorite songs! Car commercials tend to do this too...

Everytime I hear Kohl's version of De-Lovely, I want to throw things. It's such a good song, and they kill it. Essentially, if said song is over 20 years old they seem to think they need to re-write it to fit into today's mindless bubble-gum sound of the masses. And these great songs are now only being reached through commercials by our generation. It's like "Anything You Can Do" all over again.

And the Victoria's Secret air-bra commercial makes me sick.

More contributions to the general slide into illiteracy.

Rufus Wainwright was on the Graham Norton show tonight...

Well, it was a rerun, but I saw it tonight.

My life is complete.

Because, you know, applying to college was so much fun the first two times around, I'm now entering round three of college entries. Not that round two was difficult, but whatever. I'm seriously approaching a nervous breakdown. I say that it's because I'm turning 20, but it's more the entire lack of a plan. I mean, I know where I want to go to school next year--here--but I haven't yet decided for what. And if I can't afford it yet again, what then? I really really don't want to continue school in Illinois, I love it so much here. I don't even know where to apply in Illinois. And lets not even talk about the major thing. As in, what major? Does anyone actually know what they want to do? Is it normal to still be considering majors come halfway through sophomore year? Because I'm freaking out!

I just saw a commercial advertising some new cellphone technology.

"The sequel just got a green light."
"How green?"
"Green as money..."

Anyone who is familiar with my general outlook on sequels can probably understand my dark little chuckle.

Oh look... they're finally just admitting that the whole point of sequels is financial gain. Stories get ruined, characters get flattened, but the money keeps rolling in.

Why is it that whenever someone asks why I'm reading a book instead of doing.... whatever else, I have an overwhelming urge to throw it at them?

I proly cnt Ndrstand u dmass.

I hate netspeak. Learn to spell dammit! Actually, I use WTF and LOL all the time, so I guess what I hate is, textspeak? I don't know. Learn to spell, I hate staring at your messages trying to decipher your lack of intelligence. It doesn't save time if I have to stare at it for 5 minutes to know what you said.