Random Thursday: Scattershorts

Janie recorded the Hannah Montana Movie a week or two ago and has been replaying the “Hoedown Throwdown” segment until I found myself chanting the lyrics, or a version of the lyrics, this morning at work.  All morning.

I’m still doing it—not even R.E.M.’s  “Stand”—the universal earworm eradicator—is shifting this one:

Pop it, lock it, polka dot it
Countrify it, then hip hop it
Put your hawk in the sky, move side to side
Jump to the left, stick it, slide.

I know it’s a wholesome, fun song with no profanity or suggestive imagery, but won’t someone please think of the parents?

oooOOOooo

My copies of R.E.D. and the first season of the BBC’s Sherlock arrived yesterday, but I remained strong and stuck to my writing schedule instead of opening them—which, considering standard DVD packaging, would have taken most of my evening, anyway.

I did position the latter so that I could gaze at Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman every so often, as a reward.*  Neither are actually my usual physical type—as my husband pointed out—but this does not appear to pose a problem.

oooOOOooo

Yet another newly-discovered time suck!**

Daily Routines explores  the ways well-known writers, architects, painters, politicians, and other individuals of note get, or got, through the day.

These examples can be either comforting or a little frightening, depending on the quirks you share and with whom you share them.

Just remember:  famous people are eccentric.  The rest of us are still plain weird.

oooOOOooo

Genevieve Valentine’s take on Oscar Red Carpet fashions was marvelous, as always.

Can’t say I agree with her assessment of Cate Blanchett, who appeared to be wearing an embroidered peekaboo tabard, but I always enjoy Ms. Valentine’s posts. And her short stories, too!

oooOOOooo

Gary Corby has a fascinating post about ancient Greek tax laws over on his blog.

No, seriously.

We have to try this system over here in the States—Televised.

Heck, if the IRS  made it pay-per-view, we could settle the National Debt.

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*My adoration of John Malkovich is slightly more cerebral, though not by much.

**I’m going to have to start a new link list for these.

Armchair Fashionistas

I may not realize that its Superbowl weekend or that the World Series is going on until the grocery store bakery starts sticking little plastic footballs in green-frosted gridirons and decorating the doughnuts like baseballs, but I do know when the Academy Awards are.

This is the one year I haven’t seen any of the movies up for Best Picture, or any of the actors or actresses in the roles for which they were nominated. I re-read True Grit and borrowed Janie’s Great Ballets picture book to reacquaint myself with Swan Lake, but that’s about it. 

Not that this is much different from other years—I tend to use all awards ceremonies as prolonged infomercials. 

But what really interests Janie the most about all these people who worked so hard to write, visualize,create visual stories that evoke such strong emotions and reactions in their audiences . . .  is what they’re wearing. 

She examines jewelry, colors, necklines,hair, and shoes—oh, heavens, the shoes. Even the make-up, which she won’t be wearing for five years.   

 She’s an eight-year old fashionista, is that one.

I know that I’m encouraging her to judge people by their looks–which, in my defense, is exactly the opposite of what I preach the other days of the year— but I cherish the time she looked at Joan Rivers, who was snarking on and on about some poor kid’s purple dress, and said, “Mommy?  What’s wrong with the mean lady’s eyebrows?”

And I secretly love this stuff, too.  My favorite award is for best costumes, and my favorite Oscars remains the night Whoopi Goldberg wore a sample from each Best Picture while introducing the clips—as well as ten or twelve other outfits.  It didn’t even matter that it was, perhaps not coincidentally, the longest Academy Awards to date. 

I think—I usually fall asleep before the final award.*

It’s on!  Bye!

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*Yes, I know it’s a school night—the kids are bathed and ready to be tucked in at their usual time.  Jane spent all afternoon at the batting cages, so I think she’ll be out by eight, anyway.  Sunny is almost out now—she had a birthday party.