Camel and Llama Differentiation League

A week or so ago I changed my buddy icon to a camel. This received some positive responses...

Christi: I like the camel icon.
Christine: hee. camel.
Megan: i LOVE the CAMEL

...a moderate respose...

Matt: What's with the camel?

...some confused responses...

Christina: Is your buddy icon a llama?
Lindsey: I think you should blog about the camel icon because I want to know what's up with that. I don't know what kind of crack addict would think it was a llama.

...and a Justin* response:

Justin: What the hell is your buddy icon? A demented camel?

If you would all be so obliging as to refer to the illustrations below, a camel, as you can see, has a prominent nose, long eyelashes, eyes spread far apart, and funny ears, as opposed to a llama, which has a prominent nose, long eyelashes, eyes spread far apart, and funny ears. The differences are obvious. Camels are camels and llamas are llamas because camels are camels and llamas are llamas. Attempts to refute this watertight logic will be met with hostility from the Camel and Llama Differentiation League, which I have just created, and--as the sole member with voting rights--of which I have just installed myself as Grand Vizier. The Camel and Llama Differentiation League would like to stress that camels and llamas just are, and there isn't a damn thing you can do.

I also serve as President, Treasurer, Bo's'un, and Ship's Girl of the Pirate and Viking Differentiation League, and would like to stress on behalf of this entirely separate organization, of which I am also the sole member, that my previous buddy icon was a Viking longboat, not a pirate ship. The difference is that they are both seagoing vessels carrying marauders who use the elements of surprise and terror to misappropriate goods such as gold, gold, and gold.

Let's try to keep it straight, folks. These are important distinctions.

*The only reason "Justin" isn't listed as an adjective in the Oxford English Dictionary is because the people working for the OED haven't met him. This applies to a number of other people that I know, as well.

Llama, lama, Llama: LLAMA. 

Camello; chameau; kamel: CAMEL. 

brought to you by the lingering effects of red bull, diet coke and multiple lattes

i have been sleeping about four hours a night. i wake up, walk dog, go to internships, go to class, come back to film garden to work, and go home around 3am. i have been living on caffiene and sugar. i slept through half of class yesterday... class is at 4 in the afternoon. i am very tired. i have switched from single shot espresso drinks to triple. i closely resemble a dead person. thank god i am going home tomorrow. seeing duncan will restore me to a human state. i cannot wait for nasty weather and friends. who needs the OC when you have the ROC. see you tomorrow.

Brought to you by the lingering effects of NyQuil

It may have come to your attention that I have recently had a cold. Ways in which this may have come to your attention include (1) me complaining about it, and (2) me singing Beach Boys songs to you in a feverish delusion. We can all agree the second is more fun, because I can be teased about that for weeks and months to come.

Despite its recent failure, however, I would like to point out that my immune system is actually amazing. I take this cold as an example because the sniffly-stuffly part took a whole of an hour and a half to get over and done with, and I woke up this morning happy as a clam. Happy as a clam with the tail end of a disease and a research paper due next Wednesday, anyway. And all that was required of me was to spend a few days watching Monty Python's Flying Circus and West Wing reruns. That's not a cold. That's a vacation.

What they (by which I mean Aaron Sorkin) say about the Secret Service is also true of my immune system: it only gets attention when it screws up. Doesn't really seem fair in either case. Huzzah for my immune system! Huzzah for the Secret Service! And huzzah for television and Yorkshire tea, because we all know neither immune systems nor the Secret Service could get along without them.

P.S. And so the cold doesn't feel left out, I quote Monty Python in its honor: "We interrupt this program to annoy you and make things generally irritating." Colds would be a solid voting block if the BBC ever ran for President.

the reality of my reality television experience

film garden is working on a new show called "popularity contest" for CMT. Technically I am not allowed to tell you about "popularity contest" as everyone in the company including the cleaning staff was forced to sign a confidentiality agreement... but, being the lowly intern, I was overlooked when the confidentiality nazi's came a knockin, so i can actually tell you all about the show without any consequences- this includes paying the 3 million dollar fine (mtv does not mess around when it comes to bad reality television). I really can't tell you what the show is about though... i think i've labeled about 600 tapes and they all have titles like "debra sue practices for the hog calling contest but can only find a goat". of course my new job as "dub rack wench" (i copy tapes), affords me the opportunity to watch all 1,200 hours of the soon to be seven hour series... maybe i will tune in for the goat calling contest and tell you how it goes...

Latin, and a Response

Over the summer, when I asked my father where his old Latin books were so that I could look at them in preparation for beginning Latin 105 in the fall (mock me and I will hit you), he responded with, "AMO AMAS AMAT AMAMUS AMATIS AMANT!"

This is the present indicative active of the first-conjugation verb AMARE, "to love." Apparently it is ingrained in the mind of former Latin students everywhere, because when I told my sister the other day that I had to go study Latin, she said, "AMO AMAS AMAT AMAMUS AMATIS AMANT!" like I was some kind of Latin Drill Seargant.

I admit that Latin is a strange and dangerous world, but goodness. The only imperatives I know are "Praise!", "Warn!", "Give!" and "Teach!" That doesn't even come close to, "Down and give me fifty! And then, wage war on the Peloponnesians!"

And a side note from The Narrator in regard to the Narrator's latest entry:
1) "upon the production of candy" there meant, "candy must be turned over, in whatever form." Said candy does not need to be home-made. In fact, in light of my experiences with home-made candy, I hereby rule that it should be store-bought.

2) Yes, Simon and Ivan both require the candy. They have different tastes and these should be inquired after before the deal is made, in order to avoid a misunderstanding with gruesome results.

3) The turnaround between receival of candy to mailing of pamphlet is somewhere between three weeks and never.

4) The pamphlet, were one to be produced (which here means "made from scratch") will be a joint creation.

5) Whether this is a well-rehearsed goose-chase is something--which, incidentally, reminds me of a pantomime I saw in York last January, which featured a very diverting short film of a man dressed as a woman chasing a man dressed in a large goose costume and dog ears around the most recognizable portions of that great and dignified city of York, which, if I could get my hands on it, I would watch once daily and twice on Sundays. I hope I have answered your question.

an ode to kt

what do you get for a friend you've known for twenty some odd years for her 22nd birthday? well, the obvious answer is Jonahtan Strange and Mr. Norrell, a book you told her about months ago, but what do you do when her mother purchases the book before you can mail it? i've tried to come up with something creative for my nearest and dearest bucket, but no such luck. i wrote a couple hikus but they are all along the lines of:

owning a hedgehog
especially a drunk one
will seal a friendship

or:

removing a fly
from many flat surfaces
is quick with hatchet

not very birthday worthy. no, no i need something perfect. something that says "wow, raising two drunk hedgehogs and creating a mythical forest meant a lot to me these past years even if i received many many unnecessary mosquito bites". well, i will come up with something soon. maybe a limerick.

The Irate Narrator

Narrator: It has come to my attention that steps have been taken to demistify Simon and Ivan's blog. It seems Simon and Ivan's friends and . . . well alright, their readership is so small it doesn't even include family. At any rate this highly exclusive readership has expressed confusion over the purpose of this blog, meaning that I, Narrator, have not been cranky enough to scare off pesky questions like "Who are Simon and Ivan?", "What is this blog for?" and the one blogspot.com does not like: "Why don't you have a LiveJournal?" Therefore, let me fulfill one of my many metafictional purposes by saying this: There will be no explanation. In this way the blog exemplifies life--so unfathamably profound that it is its own raison d'etre. Translated from the French, this means, "Just read the damn thing and comment so Simon and Ivan feel their musings have reached someone's interested ears; for heaven's sake what else is a blog for?"

I shall now assiduously hide the infamous Demystifying Post*, severing once and for all the link between Simon and Ivan and any stable semblance of reality. The only revelations we will allow to stand concern a longstanding friendship based more or less on a synchronized feeling of eleven o'clockishness, and a mutual fondness for hedgehogs.

*Said post will be made available in pamphlet form and can be obtained upon the production of appropriate candy goods, certain of which will only be accepted frozen, and with curled ribbons tied around the package.

the LA i <3

oh yes, i did use the "<3" and LA in the same line of text. It has been raining here for about three days straight... the first measureable rainfall in los angeles in 181 days. rain makes me happy. i was actually getting used to the sunshine though... hopefully it will come back. but yes, life is good in la la land. the rain does make traffic move about 75% slower because people here are idiots, but my road rage is soothed by the soft pitterpat of something besides birdshit falling on my car... feels like rochester. I also saw Jason Lee yesterday and Kevin Spacey today. celebrities and precipitation... what a great city. well, that's all from the west coast. good night and go sox!

Oh, bother.

Why do I persist in mistaking getting up in the morning for a good idea when it repeatedly demonstrated to me that this kind of wildly unreasonably optimism does not, in any way, behoove me?

attack of the pod people

i spent most of my weekend at "the grove". for those of you not living in the park la brea (plb) complex, the grove is a shopping center that closely resembles disney land (you thought i was going to say hell... no, that's park la brea itself). either way, it's the one place within walking distance of the plb that isn't frighteningly ghetto. the grove functions on the principle (as all LA businesses do) that los angeles natives are inherently lazy and will always enjoy the convience of having a gap, j crew, nordstrom, banana republic, barnes and noble, over-priced movie theatre, hagen daz, guess, and pac sun within twelve feet of a parking garage (valet parking upon request). a trolley runs up and down the middle of the strip just in case you feel johnny rocket's is too far away from starbucks to walk. either way, i spent many hours holed up in barnes and noble this weekend reading a good book that i lacked the funds to buy... of course with the amount i spend on overpriced coffee, i might as well have just bought the book and flown home to read it. poor planning on my part. just thought i would share this piece of pod culture. rock on east-coasters.

Fiddle-dee-dee

The only good thing about this morning is that I learned that the deadline for my research paper had been extended. After further thought, however, I realized that this will merely prolong the torture of midterm week. A revised evaluation thus reveals there is nothing at all good about this morning and as a precaution I should probably shove the boxes out of under my bed and hide in their place with a blanket and a package of Chocolate Double-Stuf Oreos until it's tomorrow and I can try again.

dogsitter

A woman came into the post department yesterday with her tiny dog, Sadie. Between all the ooohs and ahhhhs she mentioned needing a dog sitter. I volunteered and she gave me all the job information including her address and that she would put clean sheets on the bed if i wanted to have my boyfriend over before she realized she had no idea who I was... it was an ackward moment as my post comrades vouched for my reliability but i passed the test. i will be staying with the puppy all next weekend. party on.

typical moviola day: arrive. read email. clean coffee maker. make coffee for wretched students. field some calls about over-priced classes. bug some people about sending in credit card information to pay for over-priced classes. blog a little. nap a little. go home. in short: i do nothing in a typical moviola day.
now, let us compare to first day at fox: (this internship thanks to lior... fabulous friend) arrive at fox. read cool new scripts. watch cool new tv shows. see semi famous people. go home. yea! life is grand! i even enjoyed ordering supplies from staples... they let me pick the pens! what an awesome internship!

NARGH!

Narrator: Ivan has requested that Simon blog. Unfortunately Simon has a prior commitment to work on a certain thesis this afternoon and has been forced to hire the Vikings to do it instead. The Vikings, as mercenaries (mercenaries should not be confused with missionaries, as has been known to happen, because though both use fear to their advantage, mercenaries are deadly and if they ask you to tea, the correct answer is "AAAAUUGH!", while missionaries are merely bothersome, and it is verging on but not quite an appalling act of hypocrisy to eat their cookies and fail to convert)--to repeat, the Vikings, as mercenaries, are most familiar with war, pillaging, desecration, and, oddly enough, bathing. They understand doing something for money, but what they are being asked to do is slightly beyond them, and their behavior in this type of peaceful engagement is highly unpredictable. Thus, the special instructions which accompany this particular blog include reading it from a safe distance, armored with the proper protective gear, wearing a Babel Fish in your ear, and most importantly, suspending any accurate ideas you may have concerning history, sociology, or linguistics.

Vikings: NARGH! We are fierce! We are smarter than the Saxons! NARGH! And the French! NARGH! And we have cool names! Like Ivar the Boneless! NARGH IVAR NARGH! And Eric Bloodaxe! NARGH ERIC NARGH NARGH! Simon is paying us in gold Rollos! NARGH SIMON NARGH! We do not know what Rollos are! But some of us are named Rollo! NARGH EVERYONE NAMED ROLLO NARGH! Perhaps Simon will give us more Viking warriors! Viking warriors named Rollo made of gold! We love Simon! NARGH SIMON! We wonder what else Simon has made of gold! NARGH GOLD NARGH? We will look around Simon's room! Rollo is searching hastily and with little concern for the state of Simon's things! Rollo has found something gold! NARGH NARGH NARGH! What is it? It is round and has buttons stuck in it! Pretty pearly buttons! NARGH BUTTONS NARGH! There something stuck to it on a string! When Rollo pushes the pearly buttons, voices come out! NARGH VOICES! Rollo has ordered Chinese! NARGH ROLLO NARGH NARGH! We can't wait for the Chinese to come! We have never fought the Chinese! We hear they have strange armor! NARGH CULTURAL EXCHANGE NARGH! Simon's room is fun! We love Simon! NARGH SIMON NARGH! We're playing catch with Simon's TV! NARGH! NARGH! NARGH! We are the best mercenary bloggers ever! NARGH VIKINGS NARGH!

it's an eeevvviilll rental car

so i was about a week over on my car rental contract and still not quite sure how to approach the whole scratch/dent/gouge issue. i was pretty sure enterprise would not be pleased to see the large black mark branding the left rear door, so i ventured to pep boys and raided the scratch removal isle. at work i begged my fellow employees to help me remove the scratches, citing numerous menial tasks i complete during the day giving them time to do things like: create rubber band balls. they shot some rubber bands at me and decided i was worthy of their expertise. the "detailing" went surprisingly well and the car looked much better when we finished. too bad the car rental man was evil. he took one look at the car and said, "wow, looks like you got a little scraped up there... we're gonna have to get that fixed. we don't have any small cars right now, so i'm gonna send you home in a dodge ram". to this i said "i think not". if i managed to scrape up a car the size of a carolla, putting me in a tank masquerading as a car seems like a poor decision. i conviced him to wait till december to fill out the "accident report" therefore saving me more driving drama.

How Very Unfortunate for the Goldfinches

Today I intend to inflict a highly instructive experience with the gerund, that part of speech that sounds like a lot of fun if only one knew what it was. Here's what it is:

gerund, noun a part of speech in English that looks like an adverb but cannot function as an adverb, though it can function as very nearly everything else including a heat source, adhesive, and pliers; in an isolated instance it was even alleged to have been used as a blunt object in the 1859 murder of one Wm. Lamont Lamont, Esq., but this has seemed to most linguists a stretch, as the claim could only be corroborated by said Wm. Lamont Lamont, Esq., who, after his demise proved an uncooperative witness

The gerund, as you can see, is a very useful part of speech in that it affords a prime opportunity for diverting anecdotes. It can also be put to use in the example paragraph below, which, as an extra bonus, includes the gerund phrase as well. The gerund phrase has a close relationship with the gerund, but they have never married and continue to be “just friends.” They have a starring role in the following example paragraph:

Simon awoke on Tuesday with fanciful aspirations of running that morning. Simon thought of running in the early morning as a stress-relieving inauguration to the day. However, on Tuesday, the pouring rain put a stop to Simon’s foolish notions of maintaining a healthy habit of exercising daily. Simon found this disappointing, but not that disappointing because it meant an extra half hour of sleep. But the rain did not stop by the time Simon had to go to class, and Simon discovered that the pathway between the house and the parking lot seemed very like a swiftly flowing river. It turned out that sleeping in had not saved Simon the experience of running in the rain. Rather, Simon quickly became expert at jumping across, streams, puddles, lakes, and small oceans—and this was just to get to the path to campus. The path itself was also a river, which in some places turned into a waterfall. Looking for dry patches is a slow-going and tedious method of keeping dry, and Simon feared being late for class. The situation had become drastic. It seemed likely that a removal of footwear would behoove Simon, so this is what Simon did. With the umbrella in one hand, and sneakers in the other, Simon happily swished downriver, enjoyed the waterfall-steps immensely, daintily crossed the street, and skipped onto campus through puddles, wet grass, and mud. Unfortunately, having been slightly distracted by the joyful feeling of cold water on bare feet, Simon was late for class anyway. This is how Simon, who had previously given the impression of being a very ordinary, punctual person with shod feet, came to enter Latin 105 on a Tuesday morning looking befuddled, bearing a dripping umbrella and a tangle of socks and shoes, and track wet leaves across the carpet to the single left-handed desk, where, upon carefully bestowing the umbrella and shoes on the ground, sat down, our subject extended those bare and leafy feet, and proceeded to give no indication that this was not exactly the way everyone else had come in, too.

To challenge the grammatically adept, the gerunds may have been intermingled in the above fictional account of a certain fictional Simon and Simon’s fictional campus and the fictional downpour that caused Simon to miss five vital fictional minutes of Latin class with present participles and present participle phrases, the definitions of which involve a very long discussion of the activities of Mrs. Henry Middlesmith of Norfolk, Virginia, whose cat, Tilda, ate several under the impression that they were goldfinches—a mistake not uncommon in late nineteenth century Virginia--and which will be dispensed with at this time for the sake of brevity.

the LA metro is probably just a movie prop...

last night, in a fit of stupidity, i managed to lock my keys inside our neighborhood cafe. this would not have been a problem except for the fact that park la brea is a gated community and los angeles is a city of disgustingly lazy people who would rather chew their own legs off than walk anywhere making it almost impossible to cross the sprawl without some sort of gas powered vehicle. i had no idea what would i do without my gate key, my top door key, my lower door key, my parking garage key, my mailbox key and my car key. well, i decided if i couldn't find my keys by 8am i would take the metro. there are theories that the los angeles metro was actually constructed as a movie prop. most native angelinos don't even believe it exists. i figured it was worth investigating as it is only a two mile hike to the nearest stop and by rollerblading, i would not be afforded the opportunity to scratch, dent or otherwise maim the rental car (not that i've done that). but yes, thankfuly i found my keys. jessica, the owner of the cafe, saved them out for me. what good peoples. i will save the subway for another day.

Distinguished Portrait