Uncaffeinated Daily View 7/7

So.... sleeepy...

• Wanna be an extra in Pirates of the Caribbean III?? Your chances improve if you're an "exotic amputee".


• These plates from cul de sac are awesome. If you're going to have a platter, why not have a platter with a goose on it, for chrissake? I dig.


• Fat Wonder Woman has her own blog. ?


• Ryan at Good Hodgkins laments the Garden State effect (aren't you a bit late with this, brutha? This argument is already a little mainstream...)


• Marmite & chocolate?? Gross.


• I've been told that I can talk to anyone about anything—indeed, I'm often utlized strategically at parties and function specifically for this ability (works well with the old ladies). Yet even I have moments where these conversation cards would come in handy. (Actually, a little gadget recommending ways to gracefully remove myself from the conversation would be more helpful... but they haven't invented that yet, alas.)


• Knitta, please. DIY thug gloves. (If I did this, mine would say HOLD FAST. Naval history nerds, unite! Woo!)


• Fluxblog lets someone name Emily take over and gush like a maniac about A Hard Day's Night. Even if she is a bit crazy and throws around the term joycore, her enthusiasm is totally contagious (I've just added AHDN to my Netflix queue).


• The British are surprisingly paranoid.


• These awesome birdfeeders are cheap and nice to look at. I'm becoming obsessed with birdfeeders, because of my poor cat. When I lived in green, spacious St. Louis, the Fatman had a nice comfy window sill upon which to rest his girth—he'd bask in the sun, either snoring audibly or ready at full attention, intent on the birds in the trees outside my apartment. Now I live in New York City. There are no trees outside my window—my limited, greenless view is of a depressing backalley and the Staples across Broadway. I have two small windows in my room, one which is rendered useless by the AC unit and the other which is rendered partially obscured by my weak ass box fan. The cat has nothing to look at and really no place to look out. The occasional pigeon will fly by and, I swear, you'd think it's kitty Christmas. I feel bad about this, but that's NY real estate. A two dollar bird feeder isn't going to drastically better my cat's daily reality, I know that... and, in fact, would likely make mine worse, bringing pigeons crashing and thumping and cooing into my windows. But the idea is firmly in my head. Bird feeder=improved quality of feline life. Sigh. Really what I need is a tree. A four-story, concrete conquering tree. Or a fabulous new job that allows me to move into a nicer apartment where the creature I'm responsible for (not to mention myself) could enjoy the benefits of a green view. Arg.


• More on my increasing NYC restlessness: yesterday a crazy person tried to cut through an innocent bystander with a saw, and honestly, that's a bit freaky (especially because it happened on my train line). This only a few days after the grand plot to fatally gas the subway system was discussed. I'm not down with widespread fear of terrorism, nor am I someone who spends time fearing death, but I just woke up from an incredibly violent dream (in which I, from the POV of an unknown middle-aged male killer, brandished a shiny medieval axe and, on the roof of a hospital, sliced off the limbs of "my" former girlfriend and half the brain of her current boyfriend before hacking off my own legs. The girlfriend hopped over on her one remaining arm to assist me). Really, the combined forces of the internet and too many movies are probably to blame, but I'm taking this one out on NYC, because I'm grouchy and woke up tense. Sigh.