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Archive for the ‘Rage’ Category

If you’ve been following either CNBC or “The Daily Show” — or basically if you’ve turned on your TV at all this week — then you know that Jim Cramer is in a sort of televised brawl with Jon Stewart. It all began with this “Daily Show” clip.

Cramer, in contrast to his sometimes tough and angry “Mad Money” persona, is actually quite a sensitive man, and he didn’t appreciate the criticism. A weeklong back-and-forth has ensued. It’s all pretty ridiculous (and entertaining), and I honestly don’t know how seriously Cramer is taking it. I have to imagine that he understands that by putting himself out there the way he does, he leaves himself open to criticism. And I have to assume that Jon Stewart gives him the benefit of the doubt, because no one, not even the financial experts, knew quite what the market was capable of before the market punched us all in the face with it.

It all comes to a head tonight with Cramer’s appearance on “The Daily Show,” and along with the rest of America, I will be watching.

What I take issue with is this. Gawker has chosen to bring Erin Burnett into this mess and lump her together with all of the other CNBC pundits when she quite clearly is in a class of her own. For example, today on “Morning Joe,” Erin was caught off-guard having a breakfast of Cheetos. It is the latest in a long list of adorable and charming things Erin has been filmed doing and saying.

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images North America

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images North America

She handled herself capably on the Bill Maher show. She does her job in defending Cramer, and she does it as adorably as she does everything else. There is nothing loathsome about it. And Gawker failed to mention that on Monday’s “Stop Trading!” segment (the wrapup of which I write every day for work), Erin put up a good fight against Mr. Cramer, proving she is far from the network pawn Gawker would make her out to be.

Gawker also recently deigned to mock Ms. Burnett for this gem, a perfect example of why she deserves recognition as business news television’s Cutest Little Button. I have yet to verify her claim that the chocolate chip cookie was invented during the Great Depression, but just watch the way she throws back her head when Matt Lauer pokes some harmless fun at her!

And honestly, where would the world be without the chocolate chip cookie? You tell me! I know where I wouldn’t have been last week at this time: in my kitchen making chocolate chip cookies! And I know what wouldn’t be in my freezer right now: two batches of frozen leftover chocolate-chip-cookie dough!

Also, for the record, I have spent a full day in front of CNBC every weekday for the better part of two and a half years, and I’m here to tell you that it’s not that bad. And it’s not just because Erin Burnett’s so impossibly adorable.

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Chris and I just made it through the latest episode of “The L Word,” which over the last two or thee seasons has spiraled downward to become probably the Worst TV Show Ever.

Here’s a list of recent things that have contributed to the show’s being just terrible:

  1. In a word, Jenny. I liked her in Season 1, maybe even in Season 2 (and Mia Kirshner is hot!), but she has become increasingly annoying and evil, and this season her character’s just totally unbelievable. She’s still super hot, though.
  2. Pam Grier. Was she ever able to act? If so, she’s making it very clear in “The L Word” that she no longer can. Inexplicably, the writers keep inserting her unnecessarily into scenes. Everything out of her mouth is awkward, and now that we’ve done away with the plot points of her alcoholism, her relationship with the super young babysitter, and her relationship with Kelly Lynch (who I’m pretty sure had a penis?), her character is totally useless.
  3. Shane being with Jenny at all. That just would never happen. But if it did happen, and if Shane actually stayed with Jenny — even after Jenny did crazy things like turn Shane’s bedroom into an office after they’d been together for, like, a day — then Shane would not hook up with Nikki Stevens in the dark room that Jenny just gave her (which was a totally inappropriate gift, as all gifts from Jenny are). Shane’s not a bad person! She can control her sexual urges! She’s done it before, and Nikki Stevens is not irresistible enough to explain why Shane would suddenly lose control of them now. Though Nikki Stevens is pretty irresistible.
  4. The hook of this season is that it began with Jenny’s death, and now we’re backtracking to figure out which of her “friends” killed her. In every episode, a new character becomes a victim of Jenny’s evil ways and promptly says, “I’m going to kill Jenny!” Actually, that’s so bad it’s actually good. I have a strange respect for the writers for being able to even attempt something so stupid. Also, obviously Jenny killed herself. I mean, I would kill myself if I were Jenny!

Oh, I have to stop here. If you watch the show, you’ve had enough of this stuff without my repeating it to you. If you don’t watch, the show is boring enough as a television program; I don’t need to blogacize it.

Why do Chris and I keep watching? I’m not really sure. It probably has something to do with all the hot girls.

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Laundry day.

When I moved into this apartment, I thought I’d hit a goldmine. Laundry in the building! No more lugging seven loads of laundry (because I always put it off till I absolutely have to do it) to the laundromat in the morning so they could have it ready for me when I got home from work, inevitably ruining a piece of clothing or losing a sock in every batch. I thought: I’ll just do my laundry as I need to do it, and it’ll be so convenient! I’m even on the first floor, so I’ll only have to take the elevator for a quick ride down to the basement!

Ugh. Laundry is such a nightmare here. There are four washers and three dryers for a 100-unit building, and the laundry room is only open from 9 a.m. till 7 p.m., meaning anyone with a 9-to-6 (when did it stop being a 9-to-5 anyway?) has to do laundry on the weekends. The machines are old, and the room is dirty. Today, one of the washers (I used all four) didn’t spin my load, so it came out sopping wet. One of the dryers is broken, and another one swallowed three quarters without registering them.

The real bummer is that there’s not even a laundromat convenient to me here. At least in the old place, the laundromat was on the way to the train. In retrospect, it was pretty easy just to drop off the clothes and let someone else do all the work.

In other news, Arthur’s amazing, and I woke up this morning to find that he’d finally pooed in his litter box. I was so worried last night that he kept eating and eating and wasn’t using the potty! We’ve had a lovely day together of sleeping (him, not me) and eating and watching a couple of mediocre movies. He’s so exhausted from it all, he just collapsed next to me on the couch and fell right asleep. Again. Take a load off, Arthur!

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I forgot to update all of my loyal readers on the shower-curtain situation at the gym.

I had the idea last week of attaching a magnet or small weight to a string tied to a safety pin, which I would then pin to the bottom of the shower curtain and remove when I was done showering.  Chris was repulsed by this idea.  Even though he showers at the gym barefoot, the idea of my carrying a wet magnet around in my bag that had touched the shower floor was pretty much the grossest thing he’d ever heard of.

I still don’t understand his reaction, but I did realize that I was probably not going to rig up the magnet-string-safety-pin combination any time soon (see: Even Simple Things Take Forever in New York). Luckily (especially for that curtain, which I’m not sure could have survived too many more of my foot-beatings), on Thursday I was struck by genius, and I devised the Perfect Solution to my problem.

NY Sports Club provides three bottles in every shower stall: body wash, conditioner and shampoo.  They are removable so that they can be refilled.  I only use the shampoo, because I bring my own soap and try not to over-condition my hair, so I simply take the body wash and conditioner bottles out of their holder and set one on either side of the stall door, tucking the edges of the curtain around them.

It works like a charm.  The only irritating thing about it is having to lean down after my shower and pick those bottles back up, but that takes significantly less effort, I imagine, than it would to unclip a safety pin with string and magnet attached.

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Brotherly love.

I just need to publicly announce my adoration for my older brother, Nathan. Not only did we have a really wonderful time on Friday night playing Trivial Pursuit, drinking wine, eating cheese (try goat brie RIGHT NOW if you haven’t already) and installing Leopard on my computer, but today, when I discovered my VPN client wasn’t working with Leopard, he took control of my screen remotely and did some furious typing and clicking that I didn’t even begin to understand. An hour later, my VPN is working, and I can do my work!

VPN

At one point, I was in tears, so frustrated, imagining how miserable it was going to be to go into work at 7 a.m. tomorrow to finish my leftover work. Nathan was stumped, but I just told myself, “If anyone can fix this, Nathan can.” And he did!

Thank you, Nate!

I don’t know what people do who don’t have a genius computer programmer for a brother. I always thought this about my father, too (and, more recently, my sister-in-law). What do people do who don’t have a doctor in the family do? When the kids you’re babysitting across the street get a baseball to the wrist, whom do you call to see if it’s broken and needs a trip to the emergency room? When you need to know if your sore throat is just the result of a late night out or strep throat, who do you have look down your gullet so you can avoid the hassle of going to the doctor unnecessarily?

Of course, these are just the smallest of the reasons I’m blessed to have the family I do.

In other news, the Puppy Bowl is as fine a sporting event as any I’ve ever seen, and my cupcakes are still delicious, if a tad messy.

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Clean break.

Update: The curtains on the other side of the room blow at me too, though not quite as much. Today is a rageful day for me in general, and my shower certainly threw me into a small fit of growling and snarling and kicking and cursing. I’ve come up with an idea, though, to fix this problem. I will highlight it on my tributary blog, to be created and announced in the near future.

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photo by PLBG Design

I am having an ongoing battle with the shower curtain at the gym.  I for some reason have chosen a favorite shower stall.  I do not like to shower in any other stall, though for the sake of cleanliness, I will, if my stall is occupied.  Perhaps it’s because it’s the first stall I used at that gym.  Perhaps it’s because it’s at the end of the row and so does not share its hook with another stall.  Who can tell, really?

The shower curtain in this stall, though, will not stay put!  It keeps blowing inside my stall and touching my legs, and this drives me insane.  I found myself this morning kicking it repeatedly–and violently!–and growing increasingly frustrated as it insisted on blowing right back into the stall at me after every kick.  I started growling at it!  I swore at it, even.  You could not have convinced me at that moment that this shower curtain was not on purpose blowing into my stall just to irritate me.   The shower room at my gym is no wind tunnel!   There’s no open window to create a draft!  How else would this curtain be blowing into me if not of its own volition?

Tomorrow I will not choose this shower stall.  I will try another one, in the opposite row.  Perhaps this mysterious breeze will not work in the reverse direction.

This battle, however, did not compare to my battle this evening when, upon arriving home from my tutoring job (grad school loans to pay!) I happened upon a cockroach in my kitchen–my first cockroach in the new place. This was not one of the baby cockroaches I had at my old third-floor apartment, which really didn’t bother me much.  No, this visitor to my new first-floor digs was a full-sized pest, and I screamed into the phone and did my customary hopping-on-tiptoes dance that I do when faced with roach or mouse or cricket.  My poor mother saw me through the slaying of the roach.  She suggested I use a shoe, but that brought me too close to the thing, so I used the broom instead.  As I had earlier with the curtain, I hit that roach over and over again, and I’ll be darned–unlike the curtain, it eventually stayed put!

New York, I have mixed feelings about you.  You bring me pizza unlike any other city’s.  You bring me Restaurant Week.  You bring me Chris.  But you also bring me cockroaches. Have I angered you by venturing, as I so rarely do, above 23rd Street today? Have I upset you that I only try your finest dining establishments when I can get an affordable prix fixe (and on my anniversary, of course)? What can I do to ensure you don’t show me your more vile side again? Please, my dear city, keep them roaches away from me!

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