http://xkcd.com/


And Media Studies falls right off the chart, on the faaaaar left.

Sometimes I think it’s not possible to have a blog and a Real Life at the same time. I used to blog prolifically, and most posts were interesting and imaginative and funny. Of course, that was back when I was fifteen, wrote Harry Potter fanfiction after school, tried to teach myself C++ programming ‘for fun’, and was deathly scared of real people.

I’m still a bit scared of real people, but not as scared of real life. Real life tends to be awesome.

About two weeks ago, my brother Niyantha came to London. The timing was not the best because it was in the middle of two exams, but if I was being honest it’s not like I would have done any serious studying in those ten days anyway! This gave me a wonderful excuse to really splurge and do the gratuitously touristy things I hadn’t done yet. Like doing one of the bus tours around the city and buying an overpriced ticket to Madame Tussauds (although the actual exhibition itself was a lot more fun than I’d expected it to be). We visited Oxford and Manisha, and did a lovely walking tour of the city, then my brother visited York and Manasi while I tried in vain to study. I got to see the inside of the Lord’s cricket stadium, and despite my lifelong loathing for cricket, the view of the grounds is seriously spectacular. We missed our train to Manchester but it turned out to be for the best as Niyantha got to do proper tours of Lords and Wimbledon, and I got to take a loooong nap and plan out our two-day trip to Paris.

Paris is, and will always be, one of the most amazing cities EVER. If you find yourself there for a day or two, I highly recommend the New Paris walking tour (in English)- it’s a four-hour walking tour that covers all the major sights plus a few lesser-known ones, and it’s technically free although you should be sure to generously tip your tour guides because they are fantastic.

Not the best picture, but really nothing can compare to actually seeing the Eiffel Tower light up in front of you at sunset.

Niyantha left on Saturday, and I had two days to learn a semester’s worth of statistics theory for my exam. And thanks to a day in Oxford with Manisha, and some rigorous study grouping, I did it, and not only did I pass my exam, but I’m pretty sure I did quite well!

And somewhere in the middle of that week I got myself a super cute haircut at Toni and Guy for 5 pounds. I told you real life tends to be awesome.

And I thought the Forresters on B&B were screwed up...

One of the many awesome things about being at the LSE is the amazing speakers that come here and talk... for free! Today I attended a talk by Steve Coll, Pulitzer-prize winning journalist and author of The Bin Ladens: The Story of a Family and its Fortune.

Ok, I'll admit it... I was extra excited to go to this talk because I'd seen him on The Daily Show last week and it was a pretty cool interview! And it feeds into my slightly odd fangirling (to put it very politely) of Jon Stewart.

But besides cool fake-news appearances, Coll was a really engaging speaker and told the most incredible tale of this incredible family.

Fun facts!

- Mohammed Bin Laden, Osama Bin Laden's dad, was born in absolute poverty in a canyon in Yemen, arrived in Jeddah just at the start of the Great Depression, had no formal education or training of any kind, yet rose, within his lifetime, to become one of the most prominent, wealthy and skilled contractors in Saudi Arabia.

- Mohammed had over 22 wives and 54 children. He had two 'steady' wives, and the other wives he married and divorced in a serial fashion, never having more than four at a time, as is forbidden by Islamic Law.

- He would marry a girl to establish business relationships with her family and tribe, and after divorcing her, arrange her re-marriage to a mid-level executive or business acquaintance, fully recognise any children she might have as his legitimate heirs, and pay them hundreds of thousands of dollars each year in alimony!

- Salem, Mohammed's oldest son and the one Osama was closest to, was the coolest, craziest character I've ever heard of. Incredibly fun-loving and charismatic, he played in a rock band called 'The Echoes', and collected private planes and jets and flew them himself all over the world, taking off to Paris or Rio on the spur of the moment whenever he got bored. Totally westernised and constantly surrounded by friends who were rock artists/pilots, he was a complete performer. He would travel around with a briefcase filled with $250,000 in various currency at all times, and whenever he landed up at a shindig where there was a band playing, whether it was a wedding or the Vanity Fair post-Oscars party at Los Angeles, he would bribe the band to give him the stage, and would then proceed to lead the party guests in a rousing rendition of Frère Jacques, his favourite song.

- He was killed when he flew a plane into some power cords in San Antonio, Texas. His father was also killed in a plane crash. Aviation is a strong recurrent theme in the story of the Bin Ladens.

- There apparently is something called a 'Where's Osama?' parlour game, which, I have to say, does not sound as cool as a 'Where's Osama?' giant picture book.

-Charlie Beckett thinks that Osama is hiding as a baggage handler in Terminal 5 of Heathrow.


Ok, heh.

the solution to post-laptop-theft blues and crippling writer's block?

Hop on the Oxford tube and have Manisha feed you curd rice for two days, while being inspired by the Dreaming Spires to actually WORK for a change!

Word count: Looking good.

crapfest

I got back to London on Friday, after spending ten days in Houston with my parents, and I got one hell of a return present courtesy of my shitty window lock and the absolute lack of security in my hall.

Basically my laptop was stolen from my room while I was eating dinner. In less than 50 minutes, someone had prised open my window (which faces the street), reached in and yanked my laptop through the bars and made off with it.

It was such a huge shock to come back and find my window open and my laptop gone. I know it's just a laptop, and there wasn't any particularly sensitive information on it, but it still has me freaked out about being in my room alone and I had to take a sleeping pill last night to get myself to calm down, finally.

Apparently the hall has insurance for all its residents, but I won't know the details till Monday. I've changed all my online passwords, cancelled any credit/debit card I used online, filed a police report and had them dust for fingerprints... I've done everything right and I suppose I just have to move on now and not think about it too much. My parents have been wonderful, telling me not to worry, it's just money and I should be happy nothing happened to hurt me. I'm really glad all my friends are back in London too, they've helped me so much.

I'm really in kind of shock still, because I have 4 essays due in two weeks, exams starting in 4 weeks, and a hell of a lot of work to do for my dissertation. Most of my work so on my laptop was outlines and random ideas that had come to me for my work, and so I had not backed that up. I usually only back up references and further reading and actual drafts of essays. But because I don't have those pointers with me anymore, I don't know where to start.

And more than that, I just feel... very dazed and hopeless about my future. I know it was just a laptop, but it helped keep me sane and stop the voices in my head whenever I start to doubt myself.

I've lost all of my old pictures, the ones I never uploaded. Also lost all the of fan fic and writing that I've done over the years.

I need to do several things: sleep, most importantly. And shower. And tomorrow I'm going to go to Waterstones to spend some book vouchers that I have to cheer myself up, and have something in the room to distract me.

I really just want to get through these last few months at LSE.

There was no WAY I could have studied from March 14-18...

because I was in SPAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Warning: This post is superlong. I will totally understand a tl;dr reaction, but it's mostly for my benefit anyway, and plus, there are some pretty pictures. :)

And now, a photoblog of my trip to Madrid with my delightful friend and hallmate Carla.

Friday

When we checked in at Gatwick on Friday morning, the stewardess told us to enjoy the sun in Madrid. Apparently it was 20 degrees there. 20 degrees!!!

We landed in Madrid Barajas airport around noon, where we were met by Carla's mom and brother. Thus started a long series of kissing people on the cheeks and being kissed that *still* is a little weird to my Indian sensibilities. Weird, but in a nice way.

Just outside the airport, there was this stunning sculpture.



I tried out my Spanish with Carla's mom, and informed her that 'the statue has very little breasts', which turned out to be an awesome ice-breaker.

Not that I needed any. Throughout my stay everyone was incredibly warm and nice to me, and went out of their way to make me feel comfortable, even with the language barrier.

Then we got to her family's apartment, which had a really lovely view of the Madrid skyline, with mountains at the very back.



Then we took a nap, and then went to get our hair cut, resulting in my greatest hair cut of ALL TIME, as you will see in the pictures. It's awesome. It's short in the back and long in the front, and is layered and choppy like Victoria Beckham's. And it wasn't even very expensive!

Then we got dressed up (with Carla's mom actually lending me a lovely dress of hers!) and went out to see Chueca, Madrid's gay party district, to meet Carla's friends. Carla's gay friends were hilarious and deserve a post of their own, so I won't say much about them here.

My haircut from the side. Rock!



Central Madrid is really gorgeous at night, and while driving back Carla pointed out different places she and her friends used to hang out in. This was one of the many great things about visiting Madrid with a Madrileño. She gave me constant commentary on interesting and personalised trivia about the different places we saw.

Saturday

The next day we got up bright and early at 11.30, had torrijas (which were SO DELICIOUS and I ate as many as I could while I was there), and left to see Carla's dad, who lives in central Madrid.

On the way we passed through the 'Mickey Ears'.



Carla's dad is a prolific and well-known Spanish contemporary artist, and his apartment was beautifully decorated with his artwork and sculptures. He took us out for Japanese food, and we had a lovely long lunch and a long conversation about different things. He could understand me if I spoke really slowly, and I could understand him if he spoke really slowly, so basically it was a very leisurely afternoon!

Then we went back to her dad's place, and watched Billy Elliot, and then went out shopping! I got some very cute tops, and then we went to visit Carla's grandparents for dinner. They were so kind and adorable, and her grandpa had gone out of his way to make vegetarian food for me. They commented on my Victoria Beckham haircut, and then suddenly got out Spanish tabloid maagzines about celebrity plastic surgery disasters, and they were totally amusing and cute about it.

Then we drove past the Real Madrid stadium and I took a picture from the outside.



Carla's family supports Atlético Madrid so it was a constant source of annoyance for them that the wrong stadium was near their house!

I was feeling quite tired but the day wasn't over yet. We went out to a bar where a friend of a friend worked, and had free drinks! I also realised that I could get people to laugh AND pronounce my name correctly if I introduced myself as "Madhuri... como madurita." (Madhuri, like 'madurita'. Where 'madurita' means 'sexy older lady'. Heh.)

And then we went home and crashed.

Sunday

We got up super-early, like, noon, had torrijas (YAY!), and set out for a long day of sightseeing. I wore one of my new cute tops, the sun was shining, it was a balmy 19 degrees, and it looked to be a great day.

Here's a picture of the shiny new trains for the Madrid undeground. Look at how shiny and WIDE they are!



We got to the Palacio de Real, which is situated right next to the Teatro Real, and is one of the loveliest places I have ever seen in my life. Huge walking spaces, beautiful gardens, and of course, the STUNNING palace itself.




I can't help it. I see a statue, I must imitate it.

Here's a video of a 360 degree view of the area, with Carla giving us a description of it.

The inside of the palace was breathtaking, but no cameras were allowed, so I bought postcards afterwards to remember the place. It was so opulent. Almost too opulent! All the gold trimming EVERYWHERE inside made it a little too Donald Trumpish, I must say. Still, an amazing amazing royal ex-residence.

Then we checked out the cathedral that was next to the palace, but I can't remember the name. It was very large and very beautiful inside.




Then we made our way towards this place-



to have lunch. But on our way there, I felt someone jostle my handbag. Stupidly, I didn't immediately set out after them. I stopped and looked around in my handbag, and sure enough, my wallet was missing. Carla looked around in her bag, and it wasn't with her either. She had noticed two gypsy women walking behind us, who were now nowhere to be seen.

My wallet had been stolen by gypsies!!!

It was of course quite a huge shock for me. I've never had my wallet stolen before. But I was really lucky that Carla was there, because with her help I was able to call and cancel my credit cards, and make a report at the nearest police station.

I had to phone in my report at the station, to an operator who spoke English. He was a really charming and funny guy, and it actually made me feel better about the whole experience because we were both laughing so much during the conversation.

Him: Right, now how did you lose your wallet?
Me: It was stolen by gypsies!
Him: (laughing) All right. Um. It probably was stolen by gypsies, but why do you think so?

He also politely informed me at one point that he needed to sneeze, so he was going to turn away so he didn't do it in my ear. And then he started to laugh when he realised that I was writing down the report reference number on a tourist brochure with lipstick. (Could I be a more typical tourist? Seriously!)

The waiting room of the police station was filled with tourists like me who had their stuff stolen. Probably the only place in Madrid where I saw people speak English to each other!

Afterwards Carla took me to have the 'typical' Spanish lunch of raciónes and vermouth, which also cheered me up. :)



Luckily though, the damage was VERY minimal. I didn't have much money in my wallet, and all my cards were replaceable. I still had my passport and my phone in Carla's room, and my camera with me, which were all WAY more valuable, naturally.

We then made our way to the Museum area, to check out the Reina Sofia museum and the Prado museum. Unfortunately, the Reina Sofia was closed, and the Prado had a HUGE queue outside. So I took pictures of the outside of the Prado-




- and then we made our way to the Royal Botanical Gardens.

It was very pretty and quiet inside, but this picture here is what amused me the most.



We think the couple didn't want the bust looking at them while they were making out, so the guy threw his jacket over it. Yes, it was his jacket.

And then later, after the couple had left, some random woman comes along and sticks a bunch of flowers in the bust!



Madrileños are funny. :)

We left the botanical gardens, and decided to get a sketch done of us by a roadside caricaturist. And here is the finished product.



I love it!!

Madrid is so pretty at night!


We went home, had dinner, then went to the police station to sign my report. They kept us waiting for a while, but at least, I told Carla, I now get to say that my trip to Madrid was so wild that I wound up at a police station at midnight!

I now have a Spanish police report of my stolent wallet. It's a pretty cool souvenir, I must say. :)

After the police station, we drove to Carla's friend's place to see Beetlejuice. Unfortunately I fell asleep halfway through. It had been a really long day.

Sunday.

We got up really early, like, 11.30, and had torrijas. (WOO!) Then we went to the Reina Sofia to check out the Picasso exhibit.



Carla gave me a superfast but pretty exhaustive art history lesson as she showed me the different exhibits. We saw the famous Guernica painting by Picasso, along with many other really stunning paintings by Salvador Dali.

The Museum garden was really pretty.



When we came out I bought myself a souvenir of a beautiful old-fashioned flamenco poster, which they printed my name on, so it was like I was the star being advertised on the poster. Come and see Madhuri 'La Madurita', one night only!

Then we had another typical, typical Spanish lunch, this time featuring a big jug of Sangria!



Which made me very happy.



And also made me feel quite posh, apparently.



Then we walked to the Puerto de Alcalá, where we could see the bullet holes left in the walls from the days of the Spanish civil war.

I was still happy from the Sangria.



And then we walked to the Retiro! The Retiro is the largest park I've seen, and it's so gorgeous, even more beautiful than the parks I've seen so far in London.

It had lakes


trees


beautiful fountains


and this statue of Lucifer, which apparently is the only statue in Europe dedicated to Satan.



Then we went back home, and Carla took a nap. During which time I actually managed to communicate with her mom and step-dad on my own! My Spanish REALLY improved the four days I was there.

We were feeling super tired so we decided to stay in and watch a movie. We watched 'The Great Dictator', which I've always wanted to see, and it was just as brilliant as I thought it would be. Carla's mom also gave me a present- a bag full of make-up, really, really nice make-up. It was so overwhelming! I still can't get over how well everyone treated me in Spain, and I understand what Carla means when she says that she misses the people of Madrid. I really miss them too, and I was only there four days!

The next morning I had to say goodbye to Carla, her family, and Madrid, and take the plane back to London.

And now I'm here. I love London, and I'm happy to be back, but I'm even happier that I got to stay in Spain with one of my best friends, and have such a wonderful experience in a country that I'd never even thought of visiting before.

And now I must take Spanish lessons during the summer, because I fully intend on going back there one day.

Hasta pronto, Madrid!



[We're not Basques, Catalans, Castillians or Europeans...

We're Wankers!]

ALREADY?

...is my reaction when I realise that I'm halfway through the last week of the Lent Term.

What an awful blogger I am. A whole month without updating. So what have I been up to?

23-24 February was Oxford weekend Part Deux, hosted by Munchlette and featuring Le Manasi! And I will therefore let Manasi write up in her blog about the awesomeness of said weekend, because I am a lazy bastard.

At some point in the past couple of weeks I had the a very unexpected, but not altogether unpleasant, night out in an illegal Latin club underneath Tottenham Court Road, but that is not for this blog.

A couple of Wednesdays ago, I had the great luck to get front row seats to a show by
David Strassman, the ventriloquist. Now, I love ventriloquists, and I love puppets. And this show BLEW MY MIND. It was HILARIOUS, and FREAKY. Dark humour and puppets! Animatronics! Theatrical lighting and sets! It was brilliant! And I'm so glad I got a chance to catch his show and get just amazing seats.

Now, important things.

I am going to Madrid in less than three days. OMG.

MADRID!!!

I've been practising my Spanish for a month, and I'm pretty good at reading signs and carrying on very basic conversation, but luckily I'm going with my wonderful friend Carla who's lovely enough to have me as a guest in her home, and be my tour guide as well!

I can't WAIT.

Also, Rick Santorum is speaking at the LSE tomorrow. It's been a while since someone's got me well and truly furious, so I'm looking forward to the lecture. :)

for now...

There's a post long overdue about the lovely things I've been up to for the past week, including a fire alarm involving drunk South Africans, Charlie Wilson's War, a lecture by Antonin Scalia at the LSE (not so lovely, that, but awesome in its own way), a wonderful one-man show called Sweet William by the RSC's Michael Pennington, a free cello concert at the LSE's Shaw Library, two days and two nights of happy good fun times in Manchester with Katie my fandom friend, and celebrity stalking at the BAFTAs today.

For now though, I'd just like to plug Nazar Online. This is a newsletter dealing with South Asian issues, created and maintained by a few talented students at UT Austin, and definitely worth a read.

I've spent the past two hours trying to clean up my life. And by cleaning up my life, I mean deleting all the crap from my multiple inboxes.

Good times.

Hallowed, Cloistered Halls

I have four hours to kill between my lecture and my seminar on Wednesdays, and I suppose I could use that time for actually reading for my seminar, but that would defeat the entire purpose of this blog. If I actually worked, then I would have no interesting excuses for not working to elaborate on. Today's excuse is that the recent spate of wonderful sunny skies in London is just too great not to take advantage of.

So I took a walk along The Strand, which is seriously one of the loveliest streets I've seen so far in London, especially if the site of high-powered businesspeople and barristers powering down the street munching on bagels gets you all tingly, like it does for me.

On my way back to the LSE I decided to look around the Royal Courts of Justice. Yesterday evening the Media department had a guest lecture by Samira Ahmed of Channel 4 News, who told us to visit the RCJ if we hadn't already. Most barristers and judges she said, go from the cloistered walls and communities of Eton to Oxford to the RCJ, never really having any contact with the outside world. And they're the ones who make real decisions that affect everyday people. So I dutifully went and checked out the RCJ. As stunning as the building is from the outside, the inside of it is just as beautiful. It has a very ancient and hallowed feeling to it, and I spent a lovely hour walking around and soaking in the atmosphere. It was a lot quieter than I expected. And there are some really nice exhibitions in different corners of the building, like a display on the history of the Legal Costume in Britian, and some manuscripts and books from as far back as the 16th century. One book, the 'Mirrour of Justices' from 1646, listed out the different classes of people who were not eligible to become judges. These included women, 'villaines', the 'deafe', 'dumbe', and 'repugnants'. Heh.

It is of course interesting to think of what Samira Ahmed said, especially considering this article by The Guardian yesterday, which outlines how new rules for a more diverse judiciary isn't really working out as planned. The vast majority of high court judges in the U.K. are still white males who were educated in posh independent schools and Oxbridge.

Unfortunately photography is not allowed inside the RCJ, but I do have these camera phone shots of the building.

Pretty, yes?

=====

Right, so I must make it clear that the above was written yesterday afternoon, when the weather was bright and beautiful. Today it turned on me. It was the windiest day I've experienced yet, and as I was struggling with all my might to control my umbrella, my iPod, which has a lovely sense of humour, was playing "Keep on the sunny side of life." Sure.

BUT! The BBC Weather page predicts that it's going to snow tomorrow! OOOOH.


OOH! :D

Recap

So 21st January was supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. And by extension I'm guessing the week following it has to be pretty damn depressing as well. I mean, poor Heath Ledger died. The day after the most depressing day of the year. Poor, poor Heath Ledger. :(

It's not been that bad for me, though. Far from it.

Last Saturday, Wiebke and I went to see The Lover/The Collection playing at the Comedy Theatre. I'd already seen it on Tuesday, but I loved it so much (and the fact that I may be unhealthily obsessed with Richard Coyle from Coupling) meant that I just HAD to see it again. We waited outside the stage door after the show for Richard to show up, but he didn't. Not a total loss though. Charlie Cox (of Stardust fame) showed up, and he very graciously let me have a picture with him. He is SO SWEET. I hope he's the next Orlando Bloom. Not only do I think he totally deserves it, but that would make my photograph become a lot more interesting to talk about at parties. :P

On Monday, the most depressing day of the year, I turned in my essays. SWEET!

On Tuesday, I just happened to bump into a friend of mine at the LSE who runs the Film Society, who just happened to have two free tickets to Sweeney Todd, who just happened to be busy that evening, so she gave them to ME! I took Carla, and we made our way to a rather obscure Odeon in Surrey Quays, and while getting there was quite an adventure in itself, the movie ROCKED our socks off. Tomorrow I'll be treating myself to TimeOut's audiowalk of Sweeney Todd's London. I can't wait!

On Thursday I went to Primark, the happiest place in London. Especially the first thing in the morning on a weekday. Shopping bliss!

On Friday I went to my first LSE Crush. It was Bollywood Night, and it finally hit me why they call it crush...waaaaaaaaay too many sweaty bodies doing jhatkas in the underground bar. It was REALLY fun (as the current slideshow attests), but we had to leave at around 1 because there were just too many people.

Today I tried out an audiowalk from http://londonwalks.libsyn.com/ and explored my lovely neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. Among many quirky surprises, I found out that there is a church near the British Museum- St. George's Church- which has, on top of the steeple, a statue of King George I dressed in a toga. Weird. :)

And my TV show for the week is The West Wing. Yes, I am incredibly incredibly late for this bandwagon, but what with the writer's strike and the most depressing week of the year, this show has actually been pretty good comfort. And the fact that Josiah Bartlett went to the LSE chuffs me up to an alarming degree. :D

At various points over the past week, I challenged myself to go for a full 24 hours without making a single reference to a television show, or anything to do with television. Fail? Yes, mighty big fail.

I'm actually in the library on a Saturday night, but not actually getting any work done. So now it's time to go home and watch the latest episode of Psych. Buenas noches, amigas. And a very Happy Republic Day to India. Yay for constitutions, and such.

I can't bloody work on my essays tonight...

I met Bill Bailey and John Lloyd at a BBC Radio 4 taping and I can't stop grinning. Like, literally.



Shitty cellphone camera picture, but it is a momentous moment in my London existence. John frickin Lloyd and Bill Bailey! British comedy Gods! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Back in London...

...And seriously jet-lagged! I hope this isn't going to be a repeat of the last time I came here from Houston- one week of compulsively waking up at 3.36 am and watching old episodes of Spin City on my laptop. (Michael J. Fox cures homesickness. It's a tried and tested trueism.)

Speaking of truthiness, I used my wide-eyed state of awakeness to see the new episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, which have joined the ranks of other late night shows coming back on air despite the WGA strike. I, like most fans of these shows, have mixed feelings about them coming back. On the one hand, it's awful to think of the beginning of election year going uncovered by John and Stephen. But then... support the writers! Down with big business screwing the workers! If you're a typical viewer of this show, a left-wing bleeding-heart tree-hugger who spends December 25th at "Osama's homo-abortion-pot-and-commie-jizzporium", then you will obviously feel uncomfortable about the fact that your favourite political pundits are not making a very good statement by coming back on air.

Also, the fact that you've downloaded the shows off iTunes gives you other things to think about in your jet-lagged state.
1. By paying to download these shows, you're supporting the AMPTP, and the writers get nothing.
2. But then, for these particular shows, there were no writers involved! So it's not like they should get paid in this case.

My solution- Download them for free. That way you're sending a symbolic screw-thee message to the producers, and you get your John and Stephen fix, and nobody gets paid, and everyone's happy.

Ok, well you're happy.

The shows were interesting. I thought Stephen was cleverer about the whole thing by relying more on old clips, and his opening teaser (with nothing to say) and 'The Word' segment (with no word), and the sudden blankness of the magic box that reads his mind and transcribes his thoughts (the teleprompter) was hilarious. The fact that one of his interview guests was an LSE alumnus made me happy inside. I liked that Jon paid more attention to the strike itself, and that he acknowledged that this show without the writers was not 'The Daily Show', but he seemed a bit uncomfortable. Probably because he doesn't really have a convenient right-wing blowhard characterisation like Stephen to hide behind, and I think he overcompensated with the extra-long interview segment about the strike. And he just seemed to ramble at times.

I did however, think his comparison of the WGA strike to 9/11 was awesome. Not because the joke itself worked (it didn't), but because the audience had no fucking clue how to react! Hee!

Links:
Variety live-blogged the return of the Daily Show.
Fans in support of the strike discuss the episodes.


Well it's past 5 am and I'm still not in the least bit sleepy. So now I can either-
1. unpack
2. work on my essays
3. watch The Simpsons.

And if you know me at all (or have at least read the title of this blog), I think you'll know what I'm going to do. Ciao, bella.

I love being a nerdy girl...

And this blog totally reaffirms my awesome nerdy way of life. Plugging: The Park Bench. Celebrating the girl nerd way of life with news, features, reviews and general musings on all things nerdy.

They have a Nerdy Man of the month which just- yes. Michael Cera! Nathan Fillion! Stewart and Colbert! All of whom make the little heart behind my pocket-protector go pitter-pat.

To the above I would like to add James Roday and Dulé Hill, stars of my new pet obsession- Psych. I've been watching the episodes in order and I think I may have a crush on the entire cast. You know that a show is good when its website makes you laugh just as much as exchanges like-
Shawn: Simba... I am your father.
Gus: Mufasa never said that.
Shawn: Mufasa, Vader, it's all James Earl Jones .

And, you know. You get the in-jokes and feel proudly geeky.

So. James Roday should be added because he's a theatre guy with a theatre background, who co-runs a theatre company in L.A., and theatre guys are oh so slightly more geeky. He's a writer. He's really, really, really funny. Plus, his character is just the most charming, incredibly joyful person on tv right now with a photographic memory (which, hot!).

Dulé Hill needs to be added because he's a West Wing alumnus and has an awesome name. And his character is the epitome of adorable nerdiness. Spelling bees, 6th grade accelerated law classes, the SuperSmeller(tm), Astronomy, Comic Books, Super Stealth Powers... and that's just the first ten episodes or so.

But the Most Important Thing that qualifies them for the nerd hall of fame- when the two of them share a frame, the HoYay meter cranks up so high it orders Apple Martinis and indulges in surreptitious foot-tapping in the restroom.

And just as a treat, one of the most awesome scenes in the series, ever. Gus and Shawn compete in 'American Duo'.



So, anyway. The blog. It is good. And Liz totally shares my digust for Sex and the City, which, thank you. SatC is just one of those TV shows that I wish had never been made. Like Two and a Half Men. Which, considering I've watched Ferris Bueller 6 times solely for Charlie Sheen's two-minute cameo, should tell you something about the depth of my hatred for that show.

I can't work on my essay, I'm too busy falling in love with fictional private-eyes. Later.

Neil Gaiman says it best...

And I remember when he said it, three years ago.

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art -- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.
http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2007/12/as-i-was-saying.html

I don't think it can be put any better.