She & Him

I heard the NPR pledge drive was fast approaching, so I bought a new CD.  This probably won't come as any surprise.

I'm a tiny bit obessed.  I've  listened to it about 7 times already, and I think it's going to be a good companion during the pledge drive.

Plus, She & Him take some pretty cute pictures.

I told Matt the other day that if I could choose what I looked like, I would look like Zooey Deschanel.  He made a disgusted face, and said that she was too waif-ish.  I think that was Matt's nice way of saying, "Oh, Mandy, I like you plump."

Other celebrities I would like to look like, say, if someone allowed me to just point to a picture and make it happen: Elizabeth Hurley, Jenna Elfman, Michelle Obama, Connie Britton.

Who's your celebrity dream look-a-like?

Victory!

You're going to have to forgive me while I gloat.

First, you should know that we own a Zune. Two years ago, I got a bug up my ass that I needed a good mp3 player, and on the day after Christmas I headed to Target, armed with gift cards, ready to buy a nano. But, because it was the day after Christmas, Target was completely sold out of ipods. But they weren't sold out of Zunes. I had been intrigued by the Zune when doing my research, especially because of its FM radio feature (I'm an NPR addict), so I decided that it was a sign. Also, I'm impatient, and my haste sometimes leads me to bad decisions.

But the Zune has treated us pretty well. I especially love the Zune pass (unlimited free "leased" downloads for $15/month, plus 10 song credits that I own forever each month), because it has allowed me to explore different types of music and to set up a playlist for each of my classes at school. My point is, there are some good things about the Zune.

But there are some shitty things, too. The worst thing about the Zune is the software. It fucks up all the time, and can drive a person to insanity. I didn't really think much of those Mac v. PC commercials until I experienced the 1,000,000 glitches with the Zune software.

So it was no real surprise when, about a week ago, Matt downloaded the latest Norton software, and, GASP!, the Zune would no longer sync when we plugged it in. Matt was so frustrated. (He is an entertainment addict, and if he's not talking to me or watching tv or reading a book or browsing the interwebs, he's listening to one of his 1500 podcasts. He even listens to them in the bathroom. I call them poopcasts.) Without his entertainment, he wandered about the house like a lost puppy. How would he find entertainment to help him through household chores? Who would entertain him when he played online poker? Oh dear!

So Matt worked for several days to fix the problem, but was unsuccessful.

And then, while he was busy talking to his buddy Drew on the phone and watching the Senate get 60 votes for cloture (horray!), I worked diligently on our little Zune problem (for about 40 minutes).

And would you look at that?

See how it says "syncing"?

(Oh, and if you're thinking it already, I'll confirm it. I have the worst taste in music ever.)

See how that little Zune icon is red? (Red = syncing.)

You know what that means, don't you?

It means that I am a badass.

I spent the next 20 minutes or so prancing about the house, raising my arms and trying to emulate Tammy Taylor's dance from the intro to Friday Night Lights. Matt is happy to have his podcasts back, but angry that it was me who gets to claim the victory over Microsoft.

I'll be gloating about this for approximately 180 days. That's an appropriate amount of time, right?

Pledge Drive off a Cliff

I love the Jeopardy before and after category.


Dear NPR:

I love you. You keep me informed and make me feel smart. But lately, the last week or so, I can't enjoy more than a minute of news without someone begging me for money.

Your fall and spring pledge drives are necessary. I get it. But can you invent a device that, once I've donated money to you, allows me to return to regularly scheduled programming? Think of how many donations you'd get! I donate money to Comcast every month.

I can't take another second of the begging. My head is about to explode.

Yours truly,

Mandy

Frenemies

Do you listen to This American Life? If you don't, you should probably start. It's pretty much the best radio show that's ever been. It's actually a TV show now, too, on Showtime. Both are smart, witty, moving--the works. Each week the producers pick a theme, and then provide a variety of stories on that theme. Don't think for a second that it's boring.

One of the more recent episodes was on the theme of Frenemies (listen to it here). Oh, Frenemies.

If you are reading this, and you are female, there is a good chance that you either 1.) Have a friend you hate, or 2.) Have had a friend you hated. Frenemies. It's one of those things that just happens in girl world.

Pop culture has been tackling the concept for some time now. Think Brenda and Kelly, Lucille and Lindsay Bluth, Liz Lemon and Jenna dumbass, Rachel Greene and her sisters, Monica Lewinsky and Linda Tripp. It's become accepted that we just won't like or respect some of the people with whom we have close relationships. Isn't that terrible? What bitches we are!

What I found most interesting about the "Frenemies" show was the discussion about how there have been studies done that have shown that it is unhealthy for people to maintain friendships with people they don't like, or to remain in toxic relationships. You know, heart rate, blood pressure, and a host of other medical problems.

I made an executive decision a few years back when I decided that I would no longer be friends with people I didn't like. Unfriending, if you will. The idea was so simple, but it was life-changing, liberating.

And I'll never look back. Life's too short to spend it in shitty relationships, especially when you could be around people who are caring, sincere, interesting, fun, kind, and loyal. Fortunately for me, I have lots of those kinds of people in my life.

Do you have frenemies? What do you do about them?

Nerd Post: Sloanism

Yesterday, Matt got a new phone. He'd had his old one for 3 years, and it finally kirked out. Matt's not generally a fan of change, and seemed to find himself in awe of the phone choices now available to him: keypads and touch screens and colors and slidey things and interwebs. It's so interesting how many choices there are now for something so simple as a phone.


And while we sat there at Best Buy I got all nerdy on Matt and starting going on about one of my favorite things: Sloanism. I learned about Sloanism when I was a junior in college and signed up for what I thought would be a bullshit history class, The Automobile in Twentieth Century America. I figured it'd be an easy A, and I would actually get to be in a class with boys (I was an English major at a school with a girl to guy ratio of 2:1). I was right about one part, I was one of two girls in a class of 30. What I'd been wrong about, however, was how much I would learn in the class. Hell, the teacher even introduced me to Car Talk on NPR! But back to Sloanism.


In short, Sloanism has to do with capitalism and what a company can do to prosper once its market becomes saturated. Alfred Sloan's principles originated when he tried to revamp the automobile market after the Great Depression. To sell more cars, the car companies provided more options to consumers; they introduced new body styles each year, provided new and impressive features and colors--a direct contrast to Henry Ford's well-known remark that "Any customer can have a car painted any colour he wants so long as it's black." (You can read about Sloanism in more detail here and here.) In many ways, Sloanism has helped to propel capitalism because people (particularly we Americans) are always buying more stuff, even if the stuff we already have is working fine. We want the newest and prettiest and coolest stuff to show off our individuality. This principle is how we went from these cell phones. . .


. . .to these cell phones.

Today I also came across this video about one of my favorite things, the KitchenAid stand mixer, and its color history. You know, how we go from this. . .

. . .to this.

Aren't they gorgeous? Although the KitchenAid mixer has introduced a host of new colors, its basic design and function has evolved very little over the years. I think that's part of the appeal. Also, even if you don't use it, you can buy a KitchenAid mixer and display it as though it is a piece of art.

I have an old white KitchenAid that Matt's godfather, my soulmate Bill, gave to me in January. It's amazing and beautiful and has kept me fat, and it's one of my favorite things. I was thinking about having my car painter of a brother paint it a pretty color for me, perhaps turquoise or lime green. What do you think? Should I leave it alone, or try to improve something that needs no real improvement?

Delilah, Love Someone Tonight

Recently the antenna on the Volvo broke, so I've struggled to find a radio station that gets reception. I normally just listen to NPR, but my NPR station is often fuzzy now, especially at night for some reason. I don't have many CDs, and I've tired of the American Idol CD I made.

So I've returned to an old favorite, on the Savannah station 98.7 (The River!). It's Delilah. It's horrible and I hate it, but really I love it. I hate her but really I might love her. I hate the people who call in and who email her, and I really do hate them.

In case you haven't had the pleasure of listening to Delilah, let me educate you. Her show is kind of a cross between Dear Abby and the worst dedication show you've ever heard. She has a voice like butter, she's deeply compassionate, and she plays horrible soft rock hits that I love. Like so many things in my life, her show is simultaneously the best and the worst thing that's ever existed (please excuse my love of hyperbole).


The greatest part of Delilah's show is the strange and lonely people who call her. So many times I've heard them say that they listen to her every night in their living room. WHAT? Is this the 1930s? Don't these people have TV? Computers? I just picture these callers, surrounded by cats, with some old-fashioned radio, sitting in a torn up recliner in a dark and dingy living room.

What I can't seem to understand is why these people turn to Delilah to talk to when they want to share their joys and their sorrows. Why her? Don't they have friends, family, or therapists? I think they need to find some. And just to be clear, Delilah can give some terrible advice. She's no Dear Prudence.

When I first moved to Savannah I listened to Delilah more than I would care to admit (but always in the car--never at home!). Her show runs from 8 p.m. to midnight, and I would listen when I was returning home from work or on my way to visit Matt. Most of the time I just mocked the callers and Delilah, but occasionally the show and the stories shared would touch my heart. On more than one occasion I arrived home sobbing about whatever sad story I had just heard.

My friend Tori and I used to play a game where we would listen to the caller's story and try to predict what song Delilah would play. Often these songs are highly inappropriate (like people who play that John Mayer "Daughters" song at their wedding), but the title seems to fit. Usually the winning songs were by Whitney Houston or Boyz 2 Men, and they had to be at least 10 years old.

Last night Matt listened to Delilah with me. This girl called in and was talking about how her father just died and how she was getting married in a month. Delilah suggested that she move the wedding date, but the girl said it wasn't a possibility. They continued to talk; the girl was on the verge of tears the whole time, and Delilah offered her sympathy. Matt and I talked about how depressing this show was, but quickly tried to guess the song Delilah would play. My guess: "Butterfly Kisses." Matt's guess: "Stairway to Heaven." He doesn't really understand Delilah just yet.

Delilah played Madonna's "This Used to Be My Playground." We were both wrong.