A Jumbled Mess

We were watching The Oscars in fast-forward, which means that we only watch the presenters and the giving out of the prizes without the boring speech stuff.

When they showed a clip from Volver, Peter said:

"Wow, Penelope Cruz's face is actually normal when she speaks Spanish. I've only seen her speak English, which always makes me think, what a jumbled mess."

Did You Say Something?

Peter has finally put his office in the guest bedroom, which for a while, had been our all-the-crap-we-should-have-thrown-out-before-we-moved-out room. It's actually the nicest room in our condo because it's got the nicest view.

This is really great, because we can have more room in our dining/living room area and the sofa is set up so that we can invite overnight guests.

Unfortunately, every time he's sitting at his desk doing work, he can't hear me unless I talk two inches from his ear. He's got this gargantuan computer system that has five whirring motors and fans which cancel out any human voice.

Yesterday I asked him a question and he looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry, did you say something? Because all I hear is whrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

Meredith Grey is Dead

Yeah, like she's going to stay that way.

You know when television shows let people die, just to have them hang out with other people who died, that they're going to get sucked back into their bodies and tell everyone, "Hey, guess who says hello in the afterlife?"

He Really Stung It Up

Like a lot of younger generation X-ers, I didn't get to experience The Police the right way. By the time I became aware of music, Sting was already sliding down the slippery slope of what I call his duh-dwee-di-dwee music. It's embarrassing to admit, but I only became aware of Sting because I had a tremendous, soul-killing crush on Valde Kudal. He was listening to Sting on his Walkman one day, and the very next day I went out and bought ...Nothing Like the Sun which was so different from the Whitney Houston and Mister Mister pop playing on the radio.

One day, Valde noticed that I was listening to Sting, and he said, "You know, if you like this stuff, you should check out The Police. That's his old band. And you might want to listen to some Steve Winwood too."

I still have not forgiven him for the Steve Winwood advice, but listening to Synchronicity for the first time was kind of like the dreams I have when I discover an extra room in my house. And in my dreams, I walk around the room and think to myself, "I can't believe it's been here this whole time, and I never knew!"

A lot of great bands had already come and gone by the time I became aware. I mean, how many of us have sat in our rooms with The Police blasting on our stereos and wondered what it was like to actually see this band live?

I saw The Police documentary where Sting and Stuart Copeland couldn't sit still for five minutes without whacking each other in the head and I felt like I missed being able to experience something.

So I was really excited when I heard that The Police were going to sing at the Grammys. The show started out with a bang, with Sting belting out, "ROXANNE!"

Unfortunately, a few stanzas later, he completely Stung it up. The song sounded more like a cheezy Sting song than the clarion call I remember from my youth. I guess it's better to remember someone at their best than to try to recreate an era that's in the past. Oh well, we Generation X-ers are used to that kind of disappointment.

Forget About the Knives, Tell Me About the Diapers!

I think it's funny that people are not as shocked by the fact that Lisa Nowak tried to kill someone the other day, but the sensational part of the news item was that she was wearing DIAPERS!!

I still don't understand the need for the diapers. Don't you still have to stop and get gasoline for your car? I asked Peter how much time she could possibly have saved by wearing diapers.

"About a half-hour to an hour," Peter said. "But just the fact that she was driving to Florida to kill someone probably indicates that she wasn't thinking straight."

Lemon Meranguh!

For Peter's birthday last week I took him to La Tulipe Desserts to pick out his birthday cake. It's a cute pastry shop with all sorts of goodies. The owner does a good job with the presentation, there's beautiful calligraphy labels on all the cookie trays and pretty gift boxes decorated with ribbons displayed all throughout the store. The place sort of feels a like a little bit of Paris in Westchester.

All except for the girl working behind the counter. She could not have been more bothered by the two of us. Every time we asked her a question about a pastry, she acted like we were total morons. She emitted a silent duh before every sentence. "Those are macaroons" sounded to me like, "duh, those are macaroons." "That's lemon meringue (with her Westchester-y accent, it sounded like lemon merangah)" sounded to me like, "duh, that's lemon meringue."

I have to say, I wasn't expecting a charming French girl with a cute accent and posh demeanor, but I guess she was the best they could do around here.

Peter says I'm being unfair, that she probably only acts like that when the owners aren't there. He always gives people the benefit of the doubt. Like, perhaps she was recently dumped by her boyfriend right before Valentine's Day. And now he's taking her ex-best-friend to the high school dance. This might have all happened yesterday and now she has to work at the pastry shop and we've happened upon her on the ONE day she can't be charming.

Characters on TV Shows I Would Like Killed Off

1. Meredith Grey from Grey's Anatomy
2. Kate from Lost
3. Susan from Desperate Housewives
4. Anyone other wife in Desperate Housewives
5. Derek Shepherd from Grey's Anatomy