The hefty price tag on this year's lollapalooza cock-blocked me from attending. It's okay, she can go cavort with her selfish little friends and I'll just sit here at home. That leaves me to reminisce about last year. Ah, good times. Holy hell, there was a lot of good music.

The video's from last year, Jesus etc., probably one of my favorite Wilco songs. You can't see me but I'm the girl trying to con her way to the front of the crowd.

Is it really necessary to have a band perform in Antarctica for this Live Earth thing? For pure novelty sake, sure, but there's no reason to be preaching anti-global warming to the penguins. Ah well, I still enjoy this video.

Oh, Netflix. You're still pretty awesome but some things are putting our relationship on shaky ground.

They give several hours of viewing movies online, even with my little $5 a month account. Great, right? No, you have to have Windows Vista and Internet Explorer to use it. Whopee doo.

And now I noticed that they are daring to predict what rating I would give a movie. It's a little funny actually. National Treasure: Customer Average=3.8 Our best guess for Tamara=3.0. In other words, most of our customers liked this crap but we're guessing you won't be so big on it. Not so far off but I would rate it a 2. Lost in Translation: Customer Average=3.3 Our best guess for Tamara=3.6. Not like I can even give a portion of a star, even so that movie is definitely a four star. Like you know, Netflix. I wonder what kind of crazy algorithm they use to come up with this stuff?

 

A big up to independent business. I just got a package in the mail and my address was handwritten and inside were the little buttons I ordered online as well as the totally one-of-a-kind (meaning literally the only one made) glass necklace. Not expected was the personalized thank-you note or the bonus magnet. How special do I feel? I think that’s so cool. I don’t come home from H&M or Walmart or Target or even a street arts festival with that kind of feeling. That’s awesome to create nice little products for people way out there across the country, reaching out across the shifty void of the interweb. I wish I was more crafty or I would be doing something like that too.

This mango juice has been sitting in my fridge for I don't know how long. A good long time. But this thing had a ridiculously future-date expiration so I just let it sit there in case I happened to want to finish it. I believe the expiration was 5/07. I have to mention that there has been a little bit of a stank smell in my fridge for some time. So I finally ventured to pull it out and when I shook it I was surprised at the volume. It shook like it was full but I drank about 3/4 of it already, I'm pretty sure. I opened the tab and there was a moldy film over the opening. I don't even want to know what was inside. A colony of liquid mold? Bloated mold pustules expanding and filling the carton? A wild party of organic decomposition ready to spill forth and taint the younger, fresher food mass populating my fridge? That mess went straight to the dumpster. I will not be having mango juice for awhile, I suspect.

Can ingenuity, a startling case of inefficient efficiency, and staunch discipline manufacture our own destruction? The hallmarks of our culture, of what makes us American, are these traits so dangerous? Sure, there are jabs at other cultures in Dr. Strangelove but ultimately it's the cowboy that goes down with the bomb.

I think I could write an essay dissecting this movie but I'll spare the blog-space. Man, Stanley Kubrick. I feel another director-themed movie marathon coming on. I signed up with a cheap-o two-a-month plan with netflix so it might be a slow-moving marathon.

I'm not going to even make a sorry attempt at music journalism here. Out of all the things I can write about, I think I have the least skill with writing about music. Words to describe sound? What the hell. The drums crash and then the guitars whirl...that could be anything. People do it, I just don't know how.

"You Are My Face" from Wilco's new album is a standout worth sharing. It has the signature abrupt shifts, equal parts guitar, piano, organ, drums. In the five listens I've gone through while trying to post this the song is really growing on me, it has some good elements.

I watched the DVD included with my CD package this morning. I have to say, there is some pretty good videographic evidence that might just help a secret stalker-fan like me pinpoint exactly where Jeff Tweedy holes out in Chicago. I'm going to find it one of these days.

Finally, stalkers have a device of their very own! It's a sound amplifying machine and I understand the use for old codgers. Not a bad idea I guess, $15 is a small price to pay for continuing to deny that your hearing is shot. The kicker though is that in the commercial they advocate using this thing to eavesdrop on people! No whispered conversation is safe. Now you can catch the neighbors gossiping about you or find out if the babes in spandex across the gym are checking you out. All for only $15, what a deal. I'm sure you can't click this link fast enough.

My first "construction" project is a success! Behold ye the self-built microwave-holding shelf. My first attempt didn't leave enough room to squeeze the microwave in. I only had to lower the bracket on the right a wee bit and instead of drilling a new screw-hole for the lower slot I just hammered in a nail, which I'm not sure does any good for support, but whatever. I didn't think this was going to work but it did. Yeah! No ugly microwave cart for me.

From McSweeney's:

BUTTERBALL HELP-LINE
HELP-LINE.

BY ALYSIA GRAY PAINTER

Q: The vending machine on the second floor is broken and we're starved. Should we call maintenance?
A: Maintenance is home eating a proper dinner with family and friends. Go to the office kitchen and look in the cupboard behind the fridge. There will be a half-eaten box of Triscuits there, because every office kitchen in existence contains a half-eaten box of Triscuits in the cupboard behind the fridge. Triscuit dust is an acceptable snack when poured into a small paper cup and drunk in the manner of water. Do not use a straw.

This is so true! Why are triscuits so unfinishible? Someone should advise Nabisco.