Freeloaders. Harrumph.

While I was at work today, someone stole my chair. I went to go help a user post depreciation, and when I came back, damned if my chair wasn't gone. I worked for a few minutes (standing up), and then I asked the gal next to me, "Excuse me, but did you see who took my damn chair?" Oh, yeah, the incredibly important dudes in the conference room took it. Degenerate freeloaders.

I mean, my computer was open and on my desk. There was a half-drunk coffee and a half-eaten croissant. It was perfectly obvious that someone was going to need the chair. I'd love to know exactly which jerk took it. Every time I walked past the conference room I looked inside, looking at all the chairs. I swear to God, if I'd seen a dude sitting in my chair, I would have walked right up to him and told him I needed it back.

Someone's mother needs to hear about this. Ya know, maybe she taught her son to steal chairs from defenseless working women who make several hundred thousand dollars less annually than he does. Maybe she did. Or maybe she'll kick his ass. A girl can dream.

NPR Interview with Kevin Spacey

I always liked Kevin Spacey, and I'll admit I'm not his most critical audience. But when he took over the Old Vic theatre in London, I came dangerously close to actual worship. What a guy. The Brits, perhaps predictably, thought the idea sucked. The reviews of the Old Vic's productions were strident and hostile, and for a while it seemed they'd never forgive him for horning in on their territory. But he just sat back and told them he wasn't leaving no matter how much they bitched, and now he has a hit, with a Eugene O'Neill play (well played--the British love O'Neill almost as much as they like Tennessee Williams). I am almost certainly too darn poor to get to the Broadway show of "A Moon for the Misbegotten," but oh well. Go Kevin! I knew you could do it.

Gay Weddings For Disney

I'll admit, I think of Disney the ultimate breeder empire, so I personally would never have thought of this. But I can appreciate the idea of gay and lesbian couples sharing another stereotypically heterosexual part of the American dream--it's not exactly equal rights, but rock on.

Part of me is thinking about the reactions of some folks back home who are going to have a classic moment of internal conflict--they'll want to boycott Disney, but they just won't be able to, because it's nearly as integral to their home life as their church. Which is not to suggest that Disney and their church share the same actual status in their hearts and minds, because they take their faith seriously and practice it with genuine passion and tolerance, and for them Disney is sacred mostly because the brand provides suitable family entertainment that, if it doesn't support their religious views, at least reliably fails to challenge them. Plus, animation--yay! I'm just saying that an alien anthropologist visiting their home and sorting through the ratio of religious relics versus Disney paraphernalia would have a hard time telling the difference.

My guess is that they'll do what my friend's dad always used to do--say that gays might as well suffer the indignities of marriage just like the rest of us. And if they want to drop forty-five grand at Disneyland to do it, well, they're contributing to the economy, so at least they're making themselves useful.

I just desperately want a Disney gay wedding brochure. I'll treasure it. I promise.

New Yorkers Are...Unique

I totally understand how things like this happen. I talk to my cab and car drivers all the time, and there are quite a few of them who wouldn't mind getting the hell out of dodge for a few days, although I talked to at least one man whose chief concern once he got out of New York was not getting behind the wheel for any purpose.

Still, you have to admit, you're not surprised they're cat people, are you?

Another Reason I Have No Business Hiking

Well, that's not true. I enjoy hiking, actually. I prefer walking, because it seems more civilized, and it typically requires less specialized gear. Also, there's less of a chance that my survival will hinge on having to eat a spider. And I simply couldn't eat a turtle. Because if I did survive, my cousin would never speak to me ever again. Ever. And life would no longer be worth living.

So it's a damn good thing I'm never ever planning to go hiking in French Guiana.

Read the whole thing, because the money quote is in the third-from-the-last paragraph. Yeah, the one about the amazing spider diet (better than Atkins!) and with cooking tips (hint--if spider were on a menu, there would be a little star next to it warning that it would be cooked to order but that the restaurant wasn't liable for what might happen to you if you ordered it rare).

Something tells me these boys are going to be more grateful than most for their Easter dinner today, even if they wouldn't normally have celebrated the holiday.