Fickle Hillary

This is hilarious! I mean, it's possible that Hill just didn't see Bill coming in for the kiss, or maybe she's blinded by Barack's presidential aura, but a snub is a snub. And as embarrassing as it probably is for Bill, it's pretty darn funny, too.

Mad Men? Mad Tweets

Do many of you twitter? I know a few of you do, and I wish the rest of you would, too. It would just give me one more way to keep up with you all minute by minute.

I posted a twitter a few weeks ago about how I wish that my wardrobe was a lot more like Betty Draper's. And it's true--I love most of the clothes on Mad Men, but I just think I could really rock the Betty Draper look (minus all the cigarettes and depression). Later that night, "Betty Draper" started following me on Twitter. Out of curiosity I checked out her twitter feed and attached website. Since then, "Ken Cosgrove" and "Peggy Olson" have also started following me—all based on one comment about Betty Draper's clothes! I did a little twitter searching and, no surprise, there is also a feed for Pete Campbell, Don Draper, and many other characters as well.

I assume that it's just a bunch of random fans who each grabbed one character's name and not a single person or a group of Mad Men-obsessed friends. I'd be curious to know for sure, though. I also wonder how many other shows have this. I mean, are there people twittering as if they're Jack, Sawyer, and Locke, too? What about Captain Adama, Gaius Baltar, Starbuck, and Sharon? It's like fan fiction you can interact with, and it's bizarre.

What shows/characters would you want to twitter as? If I were sassy enough, I'd try to be Veronica Mars. Hmmm...maybe I should see if there is a Twitter version of Logan Echolls out there.

Life As a Student

Kristinn asked for more details on my return to grad school, and Todd thinks I should be blogging about school all the time (blog as study tool), so here you go:

I’m taking two classes this semester. The first is called Analysis, Theory, and Ethics, and all Strategic Communications students are required to take it in their first semester. Everyone who started the program this semester (18 of us, only three of whom are guys) are in it together, and by all accounts the prof is a total stickler for good writing. Before classes started we all had to share personal bios on yahoo groups, and I’d say 80% were well written and the rest were just a mess. I feel bad for those people, because everyone says this guy really cares about comma splices, passive voice, etc. We submitted our first written assignment last week, so I guess we’ll find out soon whether he really is that much of a hard-ass. The class itself is ok. It’s the most theoretical of all the courses in the program and is supposed to be the foundation for everything else. The lectures have been fairly theory-based (last week we talked about social constructionism, for instance), and we’ve done a lot of reading about logic and persuasion.

The other course I’m taking is called Survey and Analysis of Communication Practices. The class itself is actually 100 times more interesting than it’s name, I’m very happy to say. Our homework assignment before this week’s class was to watch all the Super Bowl ads (I loved the Hulu one, below). And we started Wednesday’s class by talking about Michael Phelps’s pot smoking and what that does to his brand and how he should handle the media interest. The content of the class (especially brand identity and positioning) is really interesting so far, so that bodes well.

This week is my first group assignment, which is going to be interesting. Working in groups can either be great or miserable. Here’s hoping my group is a winner.

Ponytail Heaven

Remember that part of Mean Girls when Lindsay Lohan learns what is required of her to be a Plastic?

“We only wear jeans or track pants on Friday. You can't wear a tank top two days in a row. You can only wear your hair in a ponytail once a week. So, I guess, you picked today. And if you break any of these rules you can't sit with us at lunch. I mean, not just you, any of us. Like, if I was wearing jeans today, I would be sitting over there with the art freaks.”
— Gretchen Weiner

I’ve put my hair in a ponytail for the last five days in a row. I’d so be out of the popular clique if this was high school.

A Fantasy Life

I love New York, but there’s a part of me right now that’s fantasizing about a (slightly unrealistic) life a couple of hours outside the city. This may just be the winter doldrums speaking, but I’m currently entertaining the following: Todd and I move to a small town about two hours from the city. This being a fantasy, of course, it’s not that far from a train station so all our friends can and do come visit on the weekends. This also being a fantasy, I look fabulous despite the fact that I’m baking all the time. In fact, every weekend when we have visitors, I bake fresh bread before everyone gets up; you’d all wake up to the scent of warm bread coming out of the oven! We’d have home made honey butter to spread on it, along with preserves that our awesome new neighbors jar themselves. We’d shop at the farmer’s market, which we’d bike to, of course. We’d have a barn or something that could be turned into an art studio where Todd paints and I make pottery (apparently fantasy barns come complete with kilns these days). We’d also have a chocolate lab, possibly named Otis, to keep Camilla company.

I am fully aware of how many elements of this fantasy are loony, but at the same time, there are parts that are still compelling. Todd and I could conceivably buy a house upstate someday, whereas saving for a Manhattan home is daunting as hell. Even with the real estate crash, they are still wildly expensive. Then again, I have at least two years of grad school ahead of me before leaving the city is an option, and who knows what ideas will spring up in my mind between now and then.

Tori Fullard, Football Fan?

At the end of last Wednesday’s class, my professor instructed us to come to this week’s session prepared to talk about our three favorite and three least favorite Superbowl commercials. I’ll confess: I’ve never watched a single Superbowl in my life. I’m not sure that I’ve actually watched a single football game in my life. It just never interested me. In the name of academic excellence, though, Todd and I put on this weekend’s game. Todd was kind enough to explain the basics to me (having never watched a game, you can imagine that the rules were also something to which I never devoted much mental energy), and we settled in. After the first quarter we ordered in, just like the rest of America. We ordered sushi, which I understand isn’t standard Superbowl fare, but at least it’s healthier than the wings, pizza, and chips that we were culturally encouraged to eat.

The surprising thing throughout the evening was that I was actually entertained for most of it. I did admit that a 3-quarter game would suit my football attention span better, but I was shocked to be interested at all. If it had been more of a runaway, perhaps I would have maintained my bored-by-football status. As it was, I was kind of into it. Wonders never cease.

The Curious Case of Mixed Reactions

This weekend was supposed to be all movies all the time, starting with a double-header of The Wrestler and Slumdog Millionaire with Jen on Friday night. Very, very sadly, Jen’s trip home was cut short, and we didn’t even get a chance to see each other face to face, let alone sink into several hours of movie watching together. I’m woefully behind on Oscar Watch 2009 and quality time with Jen. :(

I did see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on Saturday, though, when Todd and I double-dated with Anne and Aaron. After much confusion about where we’d meet and eat, we finally caught up with them at the Old Castle Pub right across the street from the Ziegfeld, one of the prettiest theaters in the city.

The movie itself was a mixed bag. Anne and Aaron reacted very positively, describing it as beautiful; Todd and I were more lukewarm. There were undoubtedly elements that worked for me (the ending) and elements that did not (Brad Pitt’s NOLA accent). This being a David Fincher movie, it’s no surprise that it was unnecessarily long, and it definitely dragged at times. It is a beautiful love story, but for all of Benjamin and Daisy’s love, it lacked passion. Where was Benjamin’s anger? Why did he never rail against the unfairness of living a life no one else could really understand? Where was his fury that a long lasting affair with his one true love was impossible? Why was he so sanguine about his condition? Benjamin sometimes spoke in fortune cookie nuggets of wisdom, and a second life on a boat felt oddly Forrest Gump-ish. I’m not suggesting that Pitt should have been pissed-off for three hours, but without a full range of human emotions on display, Benjamin seemed even more other worldly, and, therefore, I felt less connected to him.

Having not yet seen any of the other best picture nominees, I’m still willing to make this claim: Benjamin Button, while a perfectly good movie, does not rise above and deserve to be called the best picture of the year. Movies not even nominated (Hello, Dark Knight!) deserve it more.