The light has been quite poignant on the book store’s second floor as of late, which is fitting, as it’s downsized to a single floor. I’m in a much better place now than I have been of late, which is an absolute relief. Of course, the sartorial issues surrounding a new work gig featuring a uniform do exist, but those are kind of darling compared to existential fits.
I read Palace of Spies this week, and I’ve been working my way through 1963, which is not exactly what I wanted, unfortunately. I also went to go see The LEGO Movie yesterday at the Alamo (always worth it!), which was as funny as I expected and as heartfelt as I didn’t.
I am not a sports person, but as a French-American kid, my loyalties naturally lie with soccer. Case in point: could a football game be adorably interrupted by puppies? My favorite part is the players that are just delighted with the fact that dogs have invaded the field and pet them.
The Superbowl commercials were just okay this year (my favorite was the one where the horses apparently murder someone to get their dog back), but I truly wish that this could have aired then. It’s incredibly powerful.
That American Gods television adaptation is back on the menu! Huzzah huzzah.
Macklemore is a very divisive figure in music; Jay Dodd lays it all out.
I’ve been trying to get at the roots of Saturday Night Live, which has not been helped by Netflix yanking every season of the show pre-2010. (You don’t understand, I need baby Amy Poehler like air.) So I enjoyed reading this interview with Lorne Michaels, which includes Michaels using my favorite metaphor of Athena leaping fully formed from Zeus’ thigh.
Despite my utter disinterest in sports, I do really enjoy personal fitness. It clears my mind, helps me sleep, and lets me change the fact that nature saw fit to give me the arms of a baby Tyrannous Rex. Without access to a gym, I’ve been doing a lot of pilates at home, and that comes with a lot of really problematic language. (The word “sexy” has been used to refer to so much that it completely lacks meaning now.) Kat Whitfield is a trainer who combats that and fitness myths. Her blog is an interesting read, and she’s created a free book called Let’s Sharpen Our Bullshit Detectors!.
I only understand sports in the context of fandom. At The Atlantic, Michael Serazio examines sports fandom through the lens of religion and sociology. The text—here, the team—becomes the totemic object around which a community builds their identity around.
tumblr user birthdaypartyprincess (who works as a professional birthday party princess) highlights a forgotten Disney princess—Calia, the adventurous princess from Disney’s Adventures of the Gummi Bears. She won her own hand via archery long before Merida.
I have been binging on episodes of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson after watching his latest comedy special and remembering how much I enjoy his work. To show for this, I give you “Bela Lugosi’s Birthday” by the Dreamboys, the band Ferguson drummed in and Peter Capaldi sang in during their college days in Glasgow. Fun fact: Ferguson actually came into the bookstore one or two months after I was hired. I directed him to mysteries like a helpful person and screamed internally because I’m an adult. I have no idea what he bought, but I hope he enjoyed it.
That Fantastic Four remake is considering making Dr. Doom a Victoria instead of a Victor. The more ladies the better, as always, but please do not make Victoria a spurned ex-lover of Reed’s. It will be tempting, filmmakers, but, no matter what J. K. Rowling has been telling us lately, it is possible for straight men and women to be “just” friends (because remember, friendship is inferior to romance! Vomit).
Zhenia at Autostraddle talks about being Russian and being queer. It’s not as developed as I would like, but it does touch on that nebulous area between the two narratives of “supportive parents!” and “hateful, rejecting parents” for queer folk. My mother and I occasionally joke about who the government hates more (“I can’t believe I have to renew my driver’s license more than your father!” “I can’t believe I don’t have marriage rights!”), but I still had to come out to her every year like Christmas for the better part of a decade before she believed me. It’s never as simple as we would like.
John Scalzi’s Hugo-winning novel Redshirts is getting an FX series! It seems like a natural miniseries, so I’ll be interested to see what they come up with. And I do hope the codas are in there—the more meta, the better.
Added: Beautiful Music for Ugly Children by Kirstin Cronn-Mills (via work), Killer of Enemies by Joseph Bruchac (via work)