I still got my mad math skillz

What a relief to know my 2 years as a Mathlete paid off. Wooooooooo!

You Passed 8th Grade Math

Congratulations, you got 10/10 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Math?

What's that, fall TV season? You rock?

Yes, you most certainly do.

If you've read my previous post on the wonderfulness of fall, then you know we are officially one month into autumn and awesome new TV. I thought I'd post a few of my follow-up thoughts on the cookie goodness I've had the fortune of sampling so far this year.

Chocolate chip: Dependable and delighful, these don't disappoint.
Still tasty: Arrested Development and Gilmore Girls continue to be solid high points to my week. You can't be unhappy with shows that feature a combination "analyst-therapist" (take 3 letters off each title and you get one very dirty hyphenate) and an artfully scripted, Grandmother-delivered verbal smackdown.
Fresh from the oven: Everybody Hates Chris, the chocolate chip newbie I referenced in my previous post, didn't make it into the weekly rotation. Sure, the first episode had some good humor and retro charm, but I wasn't hooked. On the upside, I discovered a CC show in the guise of a snickerdoodle! How I Met Your Mother is a Beckmann/Veltman pleaser that is romantic and sweet without being cloying, funny and sarcastic without being cheap. Best of all, the characters grow on me with every week I spend with them. Yay 3-D TV friends!

Oatmeal raisin: Healthy and heartwarming.
Still tasty: Who knew cookies created in Colorado or a hospital could be so good? I guess the WB and ABC did. This fall I'm loving Everwood, a family-centered drama set in a small Colorado town. Relationships and events that on another show are melodramatic and soapy are handled with just the right amount of angst and emoting on Everwood. For a slightly more heavy-handed take on the ORC, try Grey's Anatomy. I don't think most hospitals have this much sexual tension, but then again, they probably don't have this hot a crew of attendings either! I'm content with what the creators have done with each character this season. They keep giving me what I want, and I'll keep watching - medically accurate or not.
Fresh from the oven: There's a reason so many shows on Friday nights fail. It's because no one watches them. I've been diligently taping Threshold, one of this fall's promising shows, but I have yet to watch a single ep. Looks like I'll keep taping until I hear they've got a full-season order - then I can just wait for the DVD. Sorry Carla Gugino. You're no match for the siren call of sleep after a long week at work.

Snickerdoodle: Light-hearted laughers.
Still tasty: When, when, when, will NBC decide to put Scrubs back on their schedule? This whimsical comedy explores the joy of medical practice through inner monologues, fantasy sequences, and embittered janitors, while reminding us that doctors are humans too. JD, the main character, is earnest without being irritating, and John C. McGinley has a great role as a cynical head doctor. I miss this show!
Fresh from the oven: Hee. That's the sound I hear in my head every time I look at the sweet handlebar moustache Jason Lee sports as the title character in My Name Is Earl. This mellow comedy celebrating the power of karma shows that good intentions and a good heart are their own reward. It isn't laugh-out-loud, but I always end up with a smile on my face watching Earl take baby steps towards being a better person. Then there's The Office, starring Steve Carell. I've never seen the Brit original, but I have a feeling it would be too embarrassing for me to tolerate. The US version balances cringeworthiness with chuckles, and I love the hesitant, adorable near-relationship between good-natured Jim and soft-spoken Pam. Unfortunately, Kitchen Confidential (one of the new shows I wanted to check out) is in direct competition with one of my new faves, How I Met Your Mother. Though I heart me some Bradley Cooper, I'm still choosing "Haaaaave you met Ted?" over him.

Double Chocolate: Sinful, sweet, sometimes sickening.
Still tasty: Ahhh, ANTM. Can you ever get tired of the self-obsessed, catty, awkward, opinionated, ambitious, ignorant, gorgeous model wanna-bes competing to see who is the most fabulous of all? Not if you're Abbey, Sara or me. Deep inside every woman lies the heart of a model, or if not a model, then a girl who wants to wear pretty pretty clothes and have someone else do her hair and makeup. I'll never be tall enough, skinny enough, or pretty enough to be a model; but if I can't join them, I'll beat them, with verbal jabs and cold-hearted analysis of how constipated and/or bloated they look in photographs.
Fresh from the oven: So many trashy new shows, so little time. Generally, quality wins out over quantity, so I'd rather watch a little of the good stuff instead of a lot of the sub-par stuff. Love, Inc. turned out to be Crap, Inc.: grating and predictable. Reunion had an intriguing premise and an attractive cast, but cliched, flat writing. I'm still waiting to watch Related; it's up against my ODCCC show, so it doesn't have much of a chance, but as long as Abbey keeps Tivoing it, I'll keep holding out hope.

Oatmeal dark chocolate chip: Art.
Still tasty: Veronica Mars. The tastiest. Need I say more? Oh, I already did. And if you don't believe me, maybe you'll listen to Joss Whedon or Kevin Smith.

And lastly, a new addition to my cookie menagerie!

Peanut Butter: This cookie is rich, peppy, and reminds me of a wholesome childhood spent full of wonder, excitement, and peanut butter sandwiches. Sometimes you get nuts in the cookie for that extra bit of crunch - a crunch not unlike the sound of a punch or broken bone. Eating a PB cookie gives you that burst of energy that will propel you into action. Watching a PBC show might just propel you off the couch to do some situps so you look as supa-fine as the stars of the show. Arguably, Buffy was a bit of a PBC show, what with all the butt-kicking, but a better example is probably Alias or or the Veltman brother fave 24. If Sydney Bristow and Jack Bauer ever spawned, you can bet their offspring would like peanut butter cookies and kickin' ass.
Fresh from the oven: Veltman and I are both loving the adrenaline-inducing, if implausible, new series Prison Break. This is a show that manages to make structural engineering sexy. It's got taut action, likable characters, and an intriguing puzzle of a plot. Breakout star Wentworth Miller rocks the (cell) block and your world with his laconic charm and mental prowess. Tune in for your weekly dose of escapist entertainment. Get it? Escapist? I kill myself.

Devo habitare in Italia perche...

un quiz me l'ha detto.

You Belong in Rome You're a big city girl with a small town heart, which is why you're attracted to the romance of Rome. Strolling down picture perfect streets, cappuccino in hand, and gorgeous Italian men - could life get any better? What City Do You Belong in? Take This Quiz :-) Find the Love of Your Life (and More Love Quizzes) at Your New Romance.

O treasured opiates, how I cherish thee...

As I pop this poppy seed pastry into my mouth, I can't help but be filled with a paralyzing terror that I will fail a drug test as a result.

Okay, maybe not "paralyzing terror", but definitely minor concern touched with slight amusement. Ever since watching an enlightening episode of MythBusters, each poppy seed seems a tiny harbinger of doom.

On one of their oldest episodes, the MythBusters Adam and Jamie proved that ingesting a normal amount of food containing poppy seeds will actually lead to a positive result on a test for opium. Who would have thought? Some of those urban myth things (and Seinfeld) are actually true.

I started watching MythBusters because of Josh. He likes the educational stuff, likes watching people build things, likes people being silly. (Exhibit A: American Chopper.) Well, they say you learn something new every day. Turns out that pretty frequently, that something involves welding, exhaust, and the bullshit tolerance of a beefy man sporting a handlebar moustache.

The Cookie Monster and other menaces

This weekend, I was accosted by the Cookie Monster.

The Cookie Monster's modus operandi, hugging, is harmless on the surface, save for the threat of asphyxiation from fur inhalation. Sure, the cuddly blue fellow looks innocent, but can he be trusted? NO. In the wake of his fluffy embrace he leaves you with a voracious hunger for delectable sugary goodness. I elected to feed my hunger with cookies from my favorite bakery. The hunger can only be sated when you have consumed a) enough to feel nauseated or for those with a hardier constitution, b) your weight in pastries.



Other evils include the Dance Monster. Like Superman, the DM moves too quickly to be observed by the human eye, but has been captured on film as a purplish blur. The Dance Monster's MO features light, nearly indetectable bites as a means of transmitting its infectious dance molecules. Once infected, the victim begins to display symptoms that work their way up the body: foot tapping leads to booty shaking leads to chest pumping leads to arm waving. The face of the victim is a mixture of shock, horror, embarrassment and confusion as the body begins to move with a life of its own. However, once the affliction fully takes hold, it consumes the victim entirely--mind, body, and soul--and they even begin to enjoy the dance. Attacks by the Dance Monster have occasionally proven fatal (see, e.g. Michael Flatley).



The Party Monster is often confused with the Macaulay Culkin film. However, the truth about the PM is much more sinister and disturbing than a simple movie featuring a troubled former child star could ever be. Party Monsters are lured like moths to the flame of revelry that is known as party. However, the Party Monster exists on a different physical plane than the one we do. In order to gain access to our plane of existence, the PM must temporarily inhabit a human body. Humans prove poor hosts, however, and resist the intruder, frequently through wild flailing of limbs and loss of bladder control. This is exacerbated by the PM's aquatic nature; in order to survive in our arid environment, PMs consume whatever liquid they can, frequently resorting to alcohol, readily available at any party. Thankfully, once a human host becomes too inebriated to remain conscious, the PM usually leaves the host, with no remaining ill effects or memory of the party's proceedings, save a dry mouth and the unavoidable embarassing pictures.

Work hard, play hard

This weekend, "working hard" consisted of taking part in the annual Bridge to Bridge run in San Francisco, and "playing hard" consisted of watching an America's Next Top Model mini-marathon with Sara and emptying my bank account at Anthropologie with Abbey. Hee. It was an action-packed weekend.

It's inappropriate, I suppose, to describe a leisurely run along San Francisco's coastline as "work". The sun was out, the air was crisp, and there was no fog to obscure the gorgeous views of the bay that Sar and I were treated to as we made our way from the Bay Bridge to the Golden Gate. It was much fairer weather than last year, when my friends Corey and Darren and I made our way through 7 miles of drizzle and fog to the finish line, where we spent the next 45 minutes chilled to the bone awaiting the shuttle that would take us back to the starting line and the glorious warmth of our car.

While I didn't run a marathon, I did do two mini-marathons: ANTM and shopping.

ANTM is a guilty pleasure that allows viewers to remorselessly mock girls who are overly concerned about their personal style and appearance. However, even as I mock, I grow fond of some of the self-involved lassies. I was sad to see Ebony go this week. She had a lot of flair, and the potential for some hilarious catchphrases (see, e.g., "I'm a forest fire, Tyra").

Shopping is another guilty pleasure, but one that arguably has value, as it prevents me from going to work in tattered rags befitting Oliver Twist. Abbey and I experienced extreme success at Anthropologie, to my glee. She is an excellent shopping companion, able to ask the right questions ("what would you wear that matches this?" and "do you really want to look like you're in your second trimester?"), be appropriately thrilled when a pair of pants flatter your backside, and justify irrational or expensive purchases if she knows you really want them. The hallmarks of any good friend: support and rationalization.