the slack daily

Me! Me! Me!

• I could cut and paste it here, but that would require work.  Check out why I won't see Sex & the City over at Antisocial Networking.

• Check out the Slackmistress Appreciation Society!

• I got my Nerd on and met many fabulous people at TweetUp LA.  It's the first internet event I've attended in years where I knew not a soul. (Well, except for the one that's allowed to touch my butt.)  Pictures forthcoming.

• Little-know Slackmistress fact: I hate fast food breakfast.  But Tomas may change my mind when he encounters the Southern-Style Chicken Breakfast.

These are a Few of my Favorite Nerds.

My friend, fellow blogger, and career Democrat Greg Dewar has more blogs than I do.  There's Greg Dewar.com, the N-Judah Chronicles, and the N-Judah Sideshow.  However, it's his latest blog that I believe that will be of some interest to my readers who are fans of the BSG.

My fellow Americans, are you unhappy with our current crop of Presidential Candidates?  Are you looking for a leader with a larger worldview?  Look no further:

Adama for President!

If You're Not on the Internet, Do You Really Exist?

Last night Will and I had the pleasure of meeting up with James, Eden, and Marjorie for dinner and bubbly to toast James' new digs. Partway through the evening Marjorie was lamenting the fact that she had a on of photos to upload to Flickr.  I mean, just because I didn't put it on Flickr doesn't mean it didn't happen! 

I laughed, but agreed.  It hasn't been my intention to post less and less, although I feel like it more and more.  I wonder when I drop off for a couple of days if readers think I'm doing less, which is ludicrous because usually bloggers drop off the landscape because they're doing more.  Because attempting to balance living one's life and recording it is a never-ending teeter-totter, attempting to be both Boswell and Johnson.

I thought about this all this morning as I caught up on the previous week's blogs and ran across Sue Shellenbarger's Wall Street Journal profile of the incredibly-popular Dooce, aka Heather Armstrong.  The article discusses the fact that  Dooce sought therapy to deal with hate mail (she now prints it out and runs it over) and how being a living, breathing commodity has put a huge strain on her marriage and her family.  Shellenbarger writes:

But less obvious is the behind-the-scenes price an at-home mom pays to shoulder her way to prominence in the blogosphere -- giving up her privacy, sustained time off and any remnants of work-family boundaries at all.

This isn't just about Dooce, this is about all of us.  In a technological landscape where privacy is a hot-button topic, I feel like bloggers/Twitters/Social Networkers/Flickrers forget that you don't have to do this.  Your life can still be full and wonderful and meaningful if you don't share it with the Internet.  We choose to do this.  We are our own first defense.  We decide what we share with Internet-Community-at-Large (don't make me say blogsophere!) 

Sure, sometimes the seeds we plant grow relationships and causes and communities. 

But if you chum the waters, don't be surprised if you attract sharks.

That's not to say that hate mail is okay or warranted.  I've received a disproportionate amount for my level of visibility in the blogosphere. (There, I said it! Happy now?)  But if blogging is detrimental to your mental and physical health? The computer does have an off switch.  Use it.

Not Truthy, Just Lazy.

Notes:

1. Dear Crafters: I kid because I love. I am crafty only in the Beastie Boys sense, so I am jealous of people who can Make Stuff.
2. As if the screen grab above isn't hot enough, check out the one at YouTube.
3. JustJENN Designs can be found here.
4. The Self-Portrait Truthiness Project can be found here.
5. I am trying out Viddler, because you can make comments within the video, and I think that's just peachy.  However, I will continue to use and upload at YouTube and blip.tv if you'd prefer to watch there.  I'm good that way.

Victor. Echo. November.

It's a very complicated case... a lot of ins and outs, a lot of what-have-yous. And a lot of strands to keep in my head, man. A lot of strands in old Duder's head.  --The Big Lebowski

My friend Kate Coe, an editor at MediaBistro, has been outed as a CIA covert operative!  According to the site, she's been dispatched to Fishbowl-LA to assist in the cover-up of the alleged hit on artist and filmmaker Theresa Duncan, and assigned the job of destroying Duncan's - and her boyfriend, digital artist  Jeremy Blake's - reputation.

The operation is so covert that even Kate herself didn't know she was a CIA operative.  Clearly we've got a Manchurian Candidate situation.  The switch has been thrown, her microchip has been activated, her only goal: to assassinate the reputation of an occasional blogger, screenwriter, and artist.

I can't believe it. Nowhere, I mean no-freaking-where in her bio does it say she's CIA. Why aren't my tax dollars at work ruining my reputation?   Where's my cool CIA baseball cap?  Why have I been calling her Kate and her calling me Nina WHEN WE COULD HAVE BEEN USING CODE NAMES?

C'mon, hook a girl up.  I look great in black!

Dr. Venture: Why are you naked?

Brock: To prey on their fear, move like an animal, to feel the kill.

Dr. Venture: Alright, now you're scaring me. What's going on?

Brock: I dunno. (holding the decapitated head of a guild henchman) But judging from these goggles, it's The Guild. Seems like you made it to the big league, what'd you do?

Dr. Venture: Nothing! I was just sitting here, watching the worst porno ever. Is that a head?

(More, at Gawker.)

Speaking of secret payouts, I have this question to ask: why is it the people who ask to borrow money from you, citing thins like rent check and car payments, always seem to have enough money for haircuts and tattoos and expensive dinners out?   Then they don't get evicted and their cars don't get repossessed, and they end up tattoo'd, fed and fabulous.  Did I miss out on the slice of that fat money cake?  Am I immune to the siren's song of savoury crepes for brunch?

Am I the only sucker paying my bills?

Edited to add, 7:02pm: Thanks to Vintage Caveman for noting that I have been added to the blacklist!  I expect the black helicopters bearing my CIA orientation kit shortly. 

The Clip Show!

The Daily Randi goes all High School Musical in Church.

AgentLover is back, and has questions for Michael Ian Black.

My husband has to roll for agility in his performance review.  But what about charisma?

I institute the Post-Apocalyptic Workout Home Game!

Enjoy...

Happy Gnu Year!

120 bacon-wrapped dates
+
103 parmesan & pancetta stuffed mushrooms
+
45 garlic crostini with peppered beef & horseradish cream
+
36 spanikopita
+
18 people
+
11 bottles of bubbly
+
3 pitchers of pomegranate-ginger champagne cocktail
=   
1 amazing party

(and 1 exhausted hostess)

The rest of the photos can be seen here...

Inspiration Point.

Anonymous Mom tagged me in a meme that poses the question what song inspires you to write? I was thinking about this last night as Will told the story of discovering Rob Halford of Judas Priest is all about the diction.  I adore music, but I'm not into music the way that Will's into music.  Will requires music to survive the way most of us require oxygen.  An intense love of anything (music, comic books, 80's videogame-inspired cartoons) can lend itself to douchebaggery  when it's discovered that you are not in the know, but the thing that I love about Will is that he desperately wants to share each part of his discovery with you.  The song has a story, and Will always has his own story about the song. (Which kinda demands a podcast, don'tcha think?) 

Anyway.

Recently Will took part in a National Mixtape Trade sponsored by the fine folks over at the CDP.  (Why yes, it's the same CDP that recently released a book, and yes, I know that I should do the same with the slack.  Stop telling me what to do!  You're not the boss of me!)   Will burned me a copy of the mix as a thank-you for mailing out his.  The only place I truly listen to music is in my car, so I slid my copy into the Mini's CD player, where it remained for an entire month. 

Music doesn't always remind me about a past that I can't change, but about a future that I can create.  An excellent album - whether it's a mixtape or a single artist - is like an amazing script.  I become personally involved, I react to the music, to the chord changes, to the phrasing.  I may not know the technical elements behind it, I may not realize the awesome amount of work it took to evoke a solitary refrain, but I can recognize the emotional element as it takes me along for the ride.  As I listened to Will's mix over and over, a script that had been floating in my head for months started to take shape.  The characters began to form, I could hear bits and pieces of dialog and start to tug on those delicate threads of story that begun to weave in and out of my synapses.  When the CD started to skip from overuse, I decided that I had marinated on it long enough, and it was time to sit down and write.

And that's how my spec pilot, The Ballad of Max & Trevor was written.

Thanks to my husband, you can download the mix here.

You can download a .pdf copy of the script (which is copyrighted and registered with the WGA and all that jazz, so if anyone's feeling like a stealerpants, just know that I can and will find you and cut your thumbs off) here.

I need a lot of dirty, ragged late 70's music for my next script, which will be so far afield from anything I've ever written that it may as well be someone else writing it.  Stay tuned.

...

Thanks to all that attended, the blogger get-together was a smashing success.  About ten of us braved the elements (aka the slight drizzle that gets blown into STORMWATCH 2007! on local news) including Annika, Leyla, Louis, Rachel, TC and of course my charming husband, Will.*  Everyone discovered why Will is called Sam, my suspicion was confirmed that I am actually someone's arch-enemy (I knew my shiny clothes and boot collection would come in handy) and that champagne + vodka = love.  There are few things that make me happier than fabulous people with fabulous drinks having a fabulous time.  So thank you to all who made it out, and we'll try to make this a regular thing in the New Year...

 

*Aaaaaaaaaah!  I left off Mike and Randi!  True confession time:I totally copied and pasted the list from Mike's blog because I was being lazy.  Crime, she never pays!  Except when she does.  Mea culpa, folks.

Strike-n-Nonsense...

Since the strike began, I've found myself with a new sense of purpose.  That purpose is: get sleep whenever I can.  Mondays find me working 5:30am-noon at the gym, running home to take out Daisy, then hopping in my SuperCar and heading over the hill to picket at NBC until 4pm.  I get home 'round 5, take the WonderDog back out, answer email, write a wee bit, then collapse on the couch until Mr. Boy gets home.  We scrounge up dinner, then I collapse back into bed to start another variation the very next day.

I am attempted to shoehorn into this schedule: daily blogging, vlogging, exercise, proper nutrition (unlike the three cookies and mug 'o caffeine I just had for breakfast), outlining/researching the new screenplay, freelance job, enjoying the fruits of marital bliss, and oh yeah, I just had an idea for a wee Internet Show I could produce all by my lonesome.

I am tired, people.

...

Yesterday, our fearless leader Patric Verrone came out to our picket line.

Being writers, and thus nerds, we jumped around like puppies at his arrival.  Much to the embarrassment of Wan (pictured above) and Tomas, I insisted we perform our multiple cheers.  Because I am Queen Nerd.

We also had a visit from a boy named Robert and his mom.  Robert brought Lottery Tickets and Scratchers to hand out to everyone on the picket line.

Finally, my belt buckle means I MEAN BIZNESS:

(As always, more strike photos can be found on my Flickr.)

...

THE LOS ANGELES BLOGGER MEETUP: Monday, December 17th 8:00pm-???

I have not heard back from the Red Pearl Kitchen (which, BTW, has 25% off for Guild Members, but I swear I had no idea!).  I may actually have to call them on the phone.  Please reserve this date in what I know if your already-packed social calendar, and email me if you haven't already if you'd like to go.

Speaking of holidays: Will is doing a month of holiday posts over at his blog.  BetheBoy Holidays make merry with Holiday Porn and Shoplifting Santas.

...

Also, today is the First Anniversary of the Slackmistress & BetheBoy Detective Agency!  In case you're wondering what would possess a somewhat sane girl to agree to marry a boy within six weeks of meeting him, start here. (Read from the bottom up.)

Apropo of Nuthin'

Just a few tidbits that have been keeping me occupied as of late:

I recently saw a photo in a friend's flickrstream of his iPhone, charging with a solar charger on the dashboard of his Prius.  It made me want to dump a gallon of bleach in the nearest sewer.  I understand that our resources on this planet are finite, but the Greener-than-Thou Ironic-Nonirony will be the death of me.

...

I'm sure that at least fourteen of you have sent this to my husband already.  He likes robots, but he doesn't, erm, like robots.  I know this because I have actually dated more than one guy into ASFR.  Although it appears we're not all that far off from marrying robots.  And here I thought the whole point of the RealDoll (NSFW) was that she wouldn't be bugging you about getting hitched.

...

Thanks to my fabulous husband, I now have insurance.  I called to make my yearly girly doctor's appointment - for April, 2008.  If I want to actually have a yearly check-up, I have to start by building a time machine to go back and call before he and I even met.

...

Here's something I've been wondering for awhile: what makes you read someone's blog?  Is it because their experience is similar to yours?  Because it's different?  Because you're nosy?  Because you have a hatecrush?  Does the quality of the writing matter? Do you find yourself drawn back to reading blogs of people that you know will irritate you?  Please feel free to expound in the comments.