Monthly Archives: May 2010

This post has homework at the end. Aren’t you excited?

My love for Alfred Hitchcock has been reignited. Did you guys know that you can watch episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents on Hulu? Now you do.

I loved Alfred Hitchcock when I was a kid. But I watched The Birds far too young, and now I’m traumatized. I hate birds. They scare the shit out of me. If there are birds milling around a parking lot between me and my destination, I will go far, far out of my way to avoid them. If I’m sitting in my car eating lunch with the windows down, if a bird shows up, I roll the windows up, just in case. And I love eating lunch with the windows down. So now, not only do I fear birds, I also resent them. Stupid birds, with their dead eyes and pointy beaks and talons.

Anyway, I’ve decided I’m going to watch all of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and as many of his movies as I can find. Just think of the dreams that will inspire. Can’t wait!


I just learned that I have a three-day weekend, so I’m a little over-eager to leave. As if I don’t already have trouble concentrating on Friday.

Memorial Day weekend and me without a barbecue grill. Or a fridge. Yes, still. The good news is: Memorial Day Weekend Sale at Sears!


Speaking of…stuff that’s tenuously related to Alfred Hitchcock Presents…I also love The Twilight Zone. Which, I know, who doesn’t, right? But I was addicted to all those kinds of shows when I was a kid. And the late 80s/Early 90s was a good time for that particular addiction. There was the new version of The Twilight Zone, Tales from the Darkside, Tales from the Crypt, and this show called Monsters, that you may remember because of the cyclops family in the opening credits.

Yes, I also used to read the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series. I told you, I was an addict.


I was looking at the “state animals” for all 50 states the other day. Some observations:

  • No less than ten states have, as (one of) their state mammals, white-tailed deer. Ten states. I think that means that the white-tailed deer should be our federal mammal. Or that those states should be a little more creative. Whichever.
  • A lot of states have more than one state animal. Leading the pack with 4 state animals (not including birds): Massachusetts, Wisconsin and, of course, Texas.
  • You think moose as a state animal is exclusive to Alaska? Nope, Maine has it, too.
  • Several states have a state cat. I understand Maine (Maine Coon Cat, named after their state) But Tabby and Calico? Come on, Massachusetts and Maryland, respectively. Really?
  • Delaware’s state animals are: Horseshoe Crab (State Marine Animal), Blue Hen Chicken (State Bird), and Weakfish (state fish). Okay, first of all, you have a state fish. And it’s called the weakfish. But beyond that, these are so boring. Surely there is some interesting wildlife in your state. Try a little harder. Do you see why everyone forgets you when they’re naming all 50 states?
  • Texas, of course, has 2 of the coolest animals: Longhorn and 9-banded Armadillo. Not just the regular kind of Armadillo. This one has nine bands.
  • South Dakota’s state animal is the Coyote. I think you should really ask yourself, “What kind of image am I projecting to the other states with my state animal?” You have to dress for the job you want, not the job you have.
  • Maryland has a state horse, a state dog and a state cat. State hobby? Tennis at the country club.
  • The best state animal, however, belongs to New Jersey: Horse. Just horse. Not a particular kind. Just all the horses.


I think that’ll do it for me today.

As for you guys: Do something random today. You’re sure to brighten someone’s day. Maybe even your own.

Also, if your random act should result in an embarrassing story, please share in the comments.


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Guilty Pleasure movies, minus the guilt. Because I have no shame.

I like a lot of movies that some may consider “bad.” Here’s some hidden gems that you should watch in spite of the gag reflex that may engage when you see the titles.

Sugar & Spice – Yes, it’s a movie about cheerleaders who rob a bank. But, listen. I promise you, this movie is so much better than you think it is. Remember James Marsden as the goofy, empty-headed prince in Enchanted? This is where he perfected that act.  And it has Marley Shelton as a cliche-spouting pregnant cheerleader. Mena Suvari being a bitch. Melissa George obsessed with Conan O’Brien. Marla Sokoloff narrates it. Seriously, fabulous movie.

Josie and the Pussycats – This has Alan Cumming and Parker Posey. That should be enough reason right there. But it also has surprisingly catchy music and Tara Reid in one of two roles she’s ever had that don’t make you want to kill her. Also? Donald Faison, Seth Green, and Breckin Meyer in a boy band. Come on.

Galaxy QuestStar Trek-style has-been actors thrown into space for real. Honestly, I shouldn’t even have to tell you about this one. You should already know about it, own the dvd, and be able to lip sync along with the characters. Sigourney Weaver and Alan Rickman are why you come, but Sam Rockwell is why you stay.

Dude, Where’s My Car? – Yes, it’s a stoner movie, and yes, it’s got Ashton Kutcher. But! It also has Seann William Scott. And Marla Sokoloff again. Coincidence? I don’t know, maybe. But still, the movie is great. Aliens! Cults! Ostriches! Bubble wrap! Fabio! How can you resist? Bonus: hot guys making out.

Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion – In addition to the awesome soundtrack and award-winning cast (Lisa Kudrow, Mira Sorvino, Alan Cumming again), this is also a really funny, very quotable movie. And Janeane Garofalo’s in it, doing what she does best: bitching about stuff.

Evolution – This is how I like my David Duchovny: showing his butt to people. Orlando Jones is also wonderful. And Seann William Scott is in it. Again. Clearly some patterns are emerging here. This movie is about an alien invasion, sort of. Also, it was originally written as a straight drama/thriller/sci-fi/horror, but was wisely turned into a comedy. I don’t know that that adds any value, but I thought it was interesting.

Jennifer’s Body – If you aren’t laughing while you’re watching this movie, you’re doing it wrong. Plus, any movie that makes Megan Fox seem like she’s actually acting deserves some credit. And it has Adam Brody as the lead singer of a satanic indie band. *contented sigh* I adore him. If I’d been born ten years later than I was, he’d be my Jason Bateman.

So, what have we learned? We’ve learned that if there was a movie about high school that had aliens in it and starred Seann William Scott, Alan Cumming and Marla Sokoloff, it would be the most underrated masterpiece of all time.

Do you think I’m crazy, and now you’ll never trust any movie recommendations I give you? What underrated movies do you love? Let’s share.

UPDATED: My husband pointed out that I forgot to mention Mean Girls. To which I responded, “Do people really think Mean Girls is a bad movie?” It’s written by Tina Fey, for kittens’ sake. And stars Rachel McAdams. (Don’t let the poster fool you. Lindsay Lohan is the main character, but Rachel McAdams steals the movie. And so does Lizzy Caplan.)


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Spellcheck does not like my made-up words.

For some reason, all night last night, I dreamed about Andy Kaufman.

I realize I may anger all of the internet when I say this, but I’m not a fan of Andy Kaufman. (Andy Kaufman fans are disproportionately overrepresented on the internet, much like Joss Whedon fans. Though I am one of the overrepresented fans in the latter example.)

So, all night long in my dreams, I kept explaining to various people why I didn’t like Andy Kaufman. I’m not sure why Andy Kaufman was on my brain. Could be this post on Ken Levine’s blog. But seriously. I feel like my time was wasted, even though I was sleeping and probably wouldn’t have done anything productive with that time anyway.

So then, on the way to work, I started thinking about dating shows for some reason. (I can’t explain the way my brain works, only that it does work, and random jumps like this are bound to happen at some point.)

Anyway, I used to love dating shows. Change of Heart, Singled Out, Elimidate, Fifth Wheel, Studs, Blind Date. They were awesome, and always came on either right before or right after American Gladiators. But, of course, my favorite was always Love Connection. With its pastel colored couches, and heart-themed set decoration, and video feed to talk to someone who’s sitting backstage. And Chuck Woolery, second only to Gene Rayburn as the best game show host ever. So I googled Love Connection, because I wanted to see if it was available on dvd, and if so, how much it costs. (More on this in a moment). So, of course, google tells me to go to YouTube to watch clips, and I oblige. And in the sidebar thing where they show you supposedly-related clips – that usually are not at all related to what you’re watching – I see this clip of (who else?) Andy Kaufman on The Dating Game.

Clearly, I’m not the only one who makes the leap from Andy Kaufman to dating shows.

Addendum 1:  Love Connection is not available on dvd.  I must ask the universe: Why not? That show was awesome. It only gets better with time. The outfits, the hair, the audience reactions. And all the YouTube clips are grainy or pixely or have that distortion line at the bottom of the screen that you get when you’ve watched a VHS tape 60 times. Does the Game Show Network still show reruns? I may have to start dvr-ing it.

Addendum 2: If you must know, here’s the reason I don’t like Andy Kaufman: He wasn’t a comedian. (I’m going somewhere with this. That alone is not my reason.) At most he was a performance artist, and I don’t really like performance art that goes on for the length of a person’s career. He was kind of an asshole, and got pissy when people actually liked the stuff he did. I loved him on Taxi, which I suppose makes me a member of the unrefined proletariat. And he wasn’t even that funny. The rule is, you’re allowed to be as dickish as you are funny. If you’re more dick than funny, it doesn’t make you a misunderstood artist. You’re just an asshole.

Let’s look at young David Letterman:

  • kind of a dick
  • hilarious
  • taught us new things about throwing stuff off of roofs

We can call him a misunderstood comedy genius.

But now let’s look at older David Letterman:

  • At his best, he’s equally as funny as his younger self. At his worst, he’s much less funny than Young Dave. Average it out and call him slightly less than hilarious.
  • But, he’s become crotchety and complainy in his old age. When this is directed at people (Paris Hilton, Joaquin Phoenix), he reaches the same Funny-Dick Equilibrium ™ as he did earlier in his career. But when he’s doing his monologue, he tips the scale to the dickish side of things.

Ergo, older David Letterman is more dick than funny, and that makes him mostly just an asshole.

We could similarly analyze young George Carlin vs. old George Carlin. (I look forward to your hate mail.)

Interestingly, you don’t have to be exceptionally dickish to be exceptionally funny. But if you’re too light on the dickishness, you get relegated to daytime TV (Ellen DeGeneres).

The Funny-Dick Equilibrium ™ is similar to – but not the same as – Asshole Charm ™, a term I coined after watching Vince Vaughn in Swingers.


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I can’t come up with a catchy title. What else is new, right?

Okay, here it is, I’m just gonna lay it all out on the table.

I’m not a kid person. I didn’t play with babydolls when I was little. Cabbage patch dolls creeped me out. I didn’t fantasize about what I’d name my child. I was the youngest, not only in my immediate family, but among all my many cousins except one, who was one year younger than me. I didn’t babysit. Ever. I don’t get the whole “baby smell” thing. I think you’re just smelling Johnson & Johnson shampoo, and if you like it that much, you should just use that shampoo yourself. If you hand me your child, the only thought in my brain until you take it back is, “Oh my god, I’m gonna drop it.” It. Yes, I think of your baby as an it. I’m sorry. I don’t call my cat my kid. I’m not her “mommy.” Adam is not her “daddy.” She is not a surrogate child. The thought of having a human who depends on me for everything is exhausting and terrifying. I sometimes feel that dogs are too clingy.

There are three children in the whole world that I actually like, and two of them will someday call me “aunt.” So maybe you should take this with a grain of salt, but:

Your two-year-old does not need to see Hostel.  This is coming from someone who watched a lot of R-rated movies as a child. Until I was about twelve, the only thing that mattered to me in a movie was body count. And still, I’m telling you. Your two-year-old does not need to see Hostel. If you feel it’s important they learn about the dangers of travel, get them a book. Tell them a story. Get the Rick Steves’ Europe Through the Back Door series. (And you should probably do that last one before they’re old enough to giggle at the title.) Seriously.

Sorry, I’ve been holding that in for a long time. Ever since I worked at a movie theater while Hostel was out.

Also, Hostel sucks. Not only are you a bad parent, but you have crappy taste in movies.



Jeff and Annie!  Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!


I’ve been treating my job like a hobby lately. And treating my hobby like a job. I should stop, but I can’t. Any tricks you guys can recommend?


We still only have a mini-fridge. Harrumph.

And you know, the funny thing is, we don’t use a lot of space in a regular-sized fridge. Everyone else I know has to cram things into their fridge because it’s so full. Not us. Our fridge is usually only half full and half of that stuff is probably past it’s expiration date. The freezer, however, we use every inch of.

I like ice cream and pizza rolls.


In that paragraph above, when I put “half full”, it’s because my brain said half empty, but I was like, no, I’m going to be positive today.


In the spirit of the title of this blog (and also because I don’t have a lawn mower yet), my back yard is a dandelion utopia. All the dandelions are blooming, thinking to themselves, “I know this is what I said I wanted, but doesn’t it feel sinister somehow? Like maybe it’s too perfect? In our pursuit of perfection, have we lost our humanity?” Relax, dandelions. It’s not like there’s some higher being plotting to cut off your heads, and it’s just waiting til it’s paycheck comes in so it can afford the giant rotating blade machine to do it’s dirty work. *shifty eyes*


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It’s not about religion, but you should still read it.

I got a lot of page views with my religion post. I was trying to think of controversial topics so I could reach that peak again, but instead I’m going to talk about marriage.

My husband told me last night that I have to post a blog today. It’s adorable how he thinks he gets to tell me to do things. But I’ve been a bad blogger lately, so I’m trying to get re-motivated.

I don’t wear a wedding ring and I didn’t change my last name. A casual observer would think I’m not really married. But then how do you explain how my car gets filled with gas, how my dinners get made, and how all my annoying errands are miraculously already done when I get home from work?

The reason I don’t wear a wedding ring is that I’m allergic to metal. I think specifically nickel, but I have no medical proof.

About a month after I got married, my finger started hurting. Like, aching-in-the-bone hurting. But I’m not a big jewelry-wearer, so I figured it was just me adjusting to having a metal band around my finger. Normal people have chronic finger pain when they wear rings, right?

So then my finger started itching under the ring. A lot. But again, I just figured I wasn’t used to wearing jewelry.

Then my skin turned red. I figured it was because of the scratching, so I stopped scratching.

Then my skin started to peel off and scab over. I took that as a sign I should take the ring off.

Shortly after that, I visited my parents and told my mom about my finger. She was like, “Oh, yeah, that happened to me, too. I thought I was allergic to marriage.” Thanks, mom.

So, the reason I haven’t changed my name is a little more complicated. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think I’ve figured out the reason. But it’s going to take a bit to get there.

I never thought I had any particular attachment to my last name (Scarbrough, if you don’t know). For one thing, it’s long. I always ran out of bubbles on the front page of standardized test packets. It’s at the end of the alphabet, which means I’m always near the end of roll call. And in my grade in school, it meant I was always sitting next to this girl who once picked her nose and then wiped the booger on me. Gross.

Also, I had heart surgery when I was a baby, so I have a scar down the middle of my chest. So I got a lot ofLindsay Emphasis-on-Scarbrough.”

So, though I never really hated my name, I was not particularly fond of it. But it was my name. No use fighting it.

I never really wanted to get married when I was little. In fact, I didn’t want to get married until a few months before I got engaged. But, when you’re a girl in an american public school, you often get asked about marriage and your future husband. And, when I was growing up, that meant you got asked if you’d keep your name.

Of course, my first answer was always, “I’m never getting married.” But if they kept pushing, I’d say something along the lines of, “It depends.” I always figured if I’d made a name for myself in some way before I got married, I’d keep my name. And if not, I’d change it. That was pretty much my official policy.

So, decades later, the day actually came. I got married. And I certainly had no career to speak of. My name wasn’t well-known. In fact, some of my closest friends knew my last name only as trivia, because I’d been adopted by a group of girls called the Kolter Sisters, and had been known as Lindsay Marie Kolter for many years. (Side note: Marie is not my real middle name either. Almost everything about me is made up, I’m now realizing.) I’d even told my husband that it was up to him. If he wanted me to change it (he did), I would.

But I still haven’t changed my name. What gives?

I’ve given several excuses to people. It’s so much trouble. It costs money. His name is even longer and farther back in the alphabet than mine, and they reflect the same ancestry (extremely English), so there’s barely any difference anyway. All those things are true, but those aren’t the reasons.

See, when I was younger, I wanted to be a writer. I spent every spare minute reading and writing. I stayed up all night finishing stories. And I imagined growing up and actually getting paid to write. I imagined book jackets, movie credits, Oscars and Emmys, all with my name on them. The name I pictured wasn’t Lindsay To-Be-Decided-Later-Depending-on-How-Successful-I-Am-When-I-Get-Married.

I want the name in those credits to be the one I imagined when I was a little girl. Written by Lindsay Scarbrough. Empress if you want to be formal.

So that’s the real, actual, honest reason I haven’t changed my name. It’s not the most logical one, but it makes the most sense to me.


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I carved out time for this because I care about you.

It’s Friday! Hooray for the weekend! I’ve been slacking on the blogging end of things, and for that I apologize. I have a limited amount of time per week when I can write, and sometimes keeping up with this blog interferes with the real writing that I’d someday like to get paid to do. But enough about me. On to…other stuff about me.


I believe I promised you a story about my doctor’s appointment, involving a description of my butt. The appointment itself wasn’t all that remarkable, but there was some back story. (Ha! Get it? “Back” story? I’m hilarious.)

When I was in college (the second time), my butt suddenly had a growth spurt. Every other part of my body stayed the same, but suddenly my butt necessitated the buying of larger pants (this would not be the last time). So I remarked to my friends that my ass was “growing like a tumor.”

Cut to about 7 years later. I suddenly have a mole on my butt. It was never there before. But it was small, so I thought, “Eh, what do I care?” Then it got a little bigger. And bigger. And it kept growing. So I start to think, “Is this karma for joking about butt tumors? I certainly didn’t mean to offend the universe. I was just being descriptive.”

So, after 2 years of ever-expanding-butt-mole-induced worry (and several hundred web articles about skin cancer as reading material), I finally went to the doctor, who’s like, “That? It’s just a skin tag. We can remove it if you want.” 

I haven’t had it removed yet. I read too many mole removal articles on the internet, and now I’m terrified of the potential pain.


In the spring and fall, and part of the summer (the part where the heat isn’t deadly), I drive with my windows down. It’s my favorite part of the year. It does cause some hair issues, though.

I also listen to my music really loud, so I can hear it over the wind.

And I believe that once I put my sunglasses on, I become invisible, and can do anything I want without people judging me.

So what I’m saying is, if you’re at a stop light, and you hear really loud (and awesome) music, and you look over and see a girl with crazy-ass tangled hair wearing sunglasses and dancing and singing along to the music like an idiot: Hi. Thanks for reading.


I am in love with Kurt from Glee. Isn’t he amazing? I think Broadway directors must be praying that show gets canceled so they can get their hands on him.


I’ve been trying to catch up on classic movies that I should have already watched by now, but haven’t for some reason. A few weeks ago, I watched Godfather I and II. I have Annie Hall at home right now, but haven’t watched it yet. What else should I see? Suggestions, please. And remember, I can’t read your mind (and have no real desire to), so you’ll have to actually comment for me to know what you’re thinking.



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Some updates and addendums

RE: Tight-fitting pants:

I’ve decided I’m going to lose some weight. This was brought on by a doctor’s visit where they actually said my weight out loud where people could hear. Rude.

So, my method of weight-loss is actually pretty simple, and it’s worked for me any time I needed to be a different size than what I currently am/was (this includes both weight gain and weight loss). I get rid of all the too-small clothes and spend a little money to buy clothes that fit me. As soon as I no longer have the smaller clothes and I’ve actually shelled out money for new ones, I’ll magically lose the weight because apparently my body is morally opposed to wearing clothes that fit.

This is similar to the method I use to find a lost pair of sunglasses. I buy a new pair, and I invariably find the lost pair the same day, sometimes while the tag is still on the new pair.

Also, I’m going to start riding my bike around my adorable new neighborhood.


RE: Names I call my cat:

I forgot to add “Purr Factory.” She assembles and distributes purrs.


RE: Celebrities I want to have sign my underwear:

I’m adding Donald Glover to that list. I just adore him. And someone I forgot: Carrie Fisher.


RE: Dreams I have when watching a lot of a particular show:

Once we get a new modem that does wired and wireless internet simultaneously, I will be able to resume watching Arrested Development on Netflix via the PS3. I’m really looking forward to this, because it gives me Jason Bateman dreams. Mmmmmm, Jason Bateman.

By the way, I’m watching Arrested Development for the first time. I never watched it when it originally came on, and I cannot remember why. I mean, not only does it have Jason Bateman, it also has Jeffrey Tambor, Portia de Rossi (Oh, Better Off Ted, how I miss you), and David Cross. And it’s that quirky kind of comedy that I always like.  And it’s got Alia Shawkat, who, though I couldn’t have known this at the time, I would fall in love with years later when I watched Whip It. Seriously, if someone was creating a television show as a gift to me, it would be Arrested Development.


I think that’s all the updates for now. Remind me to tell you about my doctor’s visit later. Here’s a teaser for you: it involves a fairly detailed description of my butt.

And I’ll leave you with that thought.


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