thirtysomething or another

whydoihaveablog: sarazucker: this necklace would do well to place itself in my jewelry box. i’m just saying. DOPE DOPE DOPE DOPE
Nov 16

whydoihaveablog:

sarazucker:

this necklace would do well to place itself in my jewelry box. i’m just saying.

DOPE DOPE DOPE DOPE

thedailywhat: Communal Reaction of the Day: Community stars Joel McHale, Alison Brie, Donald Glover, and series creator Dan Harmon took to Twitter to react to the news that their show has been shelved by NBC until an as-yet-undetermined time. [@donaldglover.]
Nov 15

thedailywhat:

Communal Reaction of the Day: Community stars Joel McHale, Alison Brie, Donald Glover, and series creator Dan Harmon took to Twitter to react to the news that their show has been shelved by NBC until an as-yet-undetermined time.

[@donaldglover.]

(via think4yourself)

hellogiggles: From Our Readers: SCHEDULING YOUR LIFEby From Our Readers
Nov 15

hellogiggles:

From Our Readers: SCHEDULING YOUR LIFE

by From Our Readers

"ADHD is not about inattention,” Gilden says. “It’s a disorder in the way people thread moment-to-moment experiences together. Children with ADHD are often disruptive because their world is moving at a much faster pace and there’s always going to be a mismatch between their world and ours.” As part of his research, Gilden measured how people with and without the disorder tap along to the beat of a metronome. The respondents then continue tapping at the same pace for three minutes after the metronome stops. Although both groups were able to tap to the beat at 60 beats per minute, the participants with ADHD lost the rhythm when the tempo slowed down to 40 beats per minute. “The slower the tempo, the more likely people with ADHD will be less internally consistent with themselves,” Gilden says. “It’s not that they’re inattentive, it’s just that their world is moving along at a slightly faster clip."

-

Putting a new spin on ADHD research, psychologist David Gilden finds the effects of the disorder may be caused by a glitch in internal timing | Feature Stories (via robot-heart-politics)

the details of how this study was conducted are interesting

(via think4yourself)

(via think4yourself)

Sep 2

I’m 36 years old and 26 weeks pregnant. I’m officially old and boring.

Sep 2
Big news…
Mar 28

(via thingssheloves)

Mar 3

(via takemyhandnotmyheart-deactivate)

BLOGGING via TYPEWRITER.: Sometimes, it just seems like
Dec 18
tesslynch: Chances are good that you did not see any of Top Chef: Just Desserts. I did. Whether or not you’re familiar with the show, I think it’s worth discussing something that happened on one of the episodes, when a chef named Seth had a nervous breakdown on-air. Anyone who cooks or watches cooking shows knows that cooking and baking are two different things (the look on an Iron Chef’s face when he or she is told that they need to make a wedding cake, for instance). First of all, when you’re whipping up dinner, you get to taste what you’re making along the way, and there are ways that you can adjust what you’re cooking before you serve it. Add more salt? Crank up the heat? Throw it in the broiler? Bob’s your uncle. Baking, however, requires pretty exact measurements and chemical reactions that, once assembled, can’t be reconfigured. When I try to bake, say, a cake or a loaf or some muffins, or even when I try my hand at a pot de creme or custard, if I’m working from scratch I assume that I might not be able to eat what I’ve created. It’s not a big deal because I am not a perfectionist, nor do I care very much because I don’t consider myself a baker or a pastry chef. Pastry chefs, however, especially pastry chefs who appear on television shows to prove their competence, tend to be fastidious, meticulous, and, it would appear from Top Chef: Just Desserts, extremely emotional when they have no control. Contestant Seth Caro, whose resumé includes a stint at Nobu, was an oddball from the beginning. Something about the aggressive manner in which he spoke, the hectic way he zoomed around the kitchen, and the fact that a few quickfire challenges led him to cry, or to scream from behind a bar while trying his hand at mixology, made me ill at ease. There are conflicting reports about what it’s like to be on a reality television series. By most accounts, contestants are vetted thoroughly, psychologically-profiled and deemed by producers up to the task of being filmed while under pressure; on the other hand, wackos make for great entertainment and, subsequently, good ratings. Seth mentioned that his mother was sick in one of the early interstitials, and anyone who has a sick mom or even just anyone who has a mom can realize how that can make you feel a bit off-kilter. Way off-kilter, even. He wept as he explained his use of candy in a quickfire: “I did the Red Hots for my mommy.” And so I guess it’s not very surprising that, when told that he had to make a dessert featuring Breyer’s ice cream (a sponsor) instead of being able to make his own ice cream, Seth totally lost his shit. Have you ever lost your shit on camera? I have! I was at a good friend’s wedding, broke and fragile, wondering if I would ever get married and if I would ever be able to afford to attend other weddings, and I had had a lot of wine. Weddings are emotional ceremonies and my emotions were not leavened correctly, I had forgotten baking soda or powder or opened the oven door at some point, and so I wept miserably in a stairwell before teetering back downstairs to the reception, mascara everywhere, confused as to why I was so upset but feeling a strong conviction that I was upset even if it made no sense to be at that particular juncture. And when I emerged from the stairwell, the videographer and photographers were there, so my facial contortions throughout the night have been preserved for subsequent generations to wonder at. Try this: the next time you’re losing your shit, picture a camera in front of you and think of the bellowing voice inside your brain that will tell you TO NOT LOSE YOUR SHIT NOW. Suddenly not losing your shit feels performative and false, and losing your shit beats down on you like a pulse, like the urge to pee while stuck in traffic on I-95, four miles from the nearest exit.  “Can I make my own ice cream?” “No. You have to use this delicious Breyer’s ice cream provided by our sponsor.” Seth became pale and weaved behind his station, hands bracing himself, as he said and then repeated: “Weaksauce.” A few cuts later he was lying in a hallway as an ambulance arrived. He had had a nervous breakdown over ice cream. Or had he? This episode was different than the others: there were scenes in which we saw producers explaining the rules of the upcoming challenge in that weird anteroom in which the contestants wait to see who’s on the bottom and who’s on the top. It wasn’t Gail Simmons giving them a two-line summary of what they had to do, and then saying “GO!” — there’s so much footage that exists of this, but which we are not accustomed to seeing. Project Runway, ever since it’s moved to Lifetime and this past season in particular, has decided to feature the tension between the contestants and the judges (or even just the constructs) of the show; likewise, Biggest Loser has started to feature certain scenes that take place between those that are usually featured in the show (for instance, this season one of the trainers, Bob, explained that weigh-ins take several hours, during which the contestants chat with each other and the trainers while waiting on set — one of these scenes was used to show a conversation between Bob and a contestant that, we’re led to believe, neither assumed would be used in the televised version of the episode).  Suddenly, these shows have made a move towards stripping the forumla or veneer from what we’ve come to accept as “reality television” by revealing the people who have become cast members, playing themselves, after they’ve let their guard down. Little mini-revolts that once were once probably cut, edited out, or perhaps just result from an increasing amount of pressure placed on reality show contestants of any kind, are now surfacing like Grand Marnier souffles rising above the lips of their ramekins. Is it fascinating? Sure. But it also illuminates the machinations of reality television in a way that makes you feel like even more of a vulture for watching, for tuning in every week more for the missteps and breakdowns than the fragile illusion of a cooking competition, a fitness competition, a sewing competition. It makes viewing these things even more complicated for a poor soul like me, irrevocably hooked on the newish phenomenon of watching people placed in these strange situations for my own entertainment: I don’t think that these shows are without worth, as some people do; and do I think I’ve learned things about people and “who we are now” and how to roast vegetables from these accumulating hours spent in front of the television? Yes! Yes! Just look at the last season of The Real World and tell me that it doesn’t illuminate so much about actual things that happened this year. But is reality TV driving itself off a cliff, is it to blame for small casualties, deaths of reputation or of sanity? Will we one day think of the first generation of reality shows as being somehow innocent? Are we going to get so real that we all explode? Weaksauce.
Nov 10

tesslynch:

Chances are good that you did not see any of Top Chef: Just Desserts. I did. Whether or not you’re familiar with the show, I think it’s worth discussing something that happened on one of the episodes, when a chef named Seth had a nervous breakdown on-air.

Anyone who cooks or watches cooking shows knows that cooking and baking are two different things (the look on an Iron Chef’s face when he or she is told that they need to make a wedding cake, for instance). First of all, when you’re whipping up dinner, you get to taste what you’re making along the way, and there are ways that you can adjust what you’re cooking before you serve it. Add more salt? Crank up the heat? Throw it in the broiler? Bob’s your uncle. Baking, however, requires pretty exact measurements and chemical reactions that, once assembled, can’t be reconfigured. When I try to bake, say, a cake or a loaf or some muffins, or even when I try my hand at a pot de creme or custard, if I’m working from scratch I assume that I might not be able to eat what I’ve created. It’s not a big deal because I am not a perfectionist, nor do I care very much because I don’t consider myself a baker or a pastry chef. Pastry chefs, however, especially pastry chefs who appear on television shows to prove their competence, tend to be fastidious, meticulous, and, it would appear from Top Chef: Just Desserts, extremely emotional when they have no control.

Contestant Seth Caro, whose resumé includes a stint at Nobu, was an oddball from the beginning. Something about the aggressive manner in which he spoke, the hectic way he zoomed around the kitchen, and the fact that a few quickfire challenges led him to cry, or to scream from behind a bar while trying his hand at mixology, made me ill at ease. There are conflicting reports about what it’s like to be on a reality television series. By most accounts, contestants are vetted thoroughly, psychologically-profiled and deemed by producers up to the task of being filmed while under pressure; on the other hand, wackos make for great entertainment and, subsequently, good ratings. Seth mentioned that his mother was sick in one of the early interstitials, and anyone who has a sick mom or even just anyone who has a mom can realize how that can make you feel a bit off-kilter. Way off-kilter, even. He wept as he explained his use of candy in a quickfire: “I did the Red Hots for my mommy.” And so I guess it’s not very surprising that, when told that he had to make a dessert featuring Breyer’s ice cream (a sponsor) instead of being able to make his own ice cream, Seth totally lost his shit.

Have you ever lost your shit on camera? I have! I was at a good friend’s wedding, broke and fragile, wondering if I would ever get married and if I would ever be able to afford to attend other weddings, and I had had a lot of wine. Weddings are emotional ceremonies and my emotions were not leavened correctly, I had forgotten baking soda or powder or opened the oven door at some point, and so I wept miserably in a stairwell before teetering back downstairs to the reception, mascara everywhere, confused as to why I was so upset but feeling a strong conviction that I was upset even if it made no sense to be at that particular juncture. And when I emerged from the stairwell, the videographer and photographers were there, so my facial contortions throughout the night have been preserved for subsequent generations to wonder at. Try this: the next time you’re losing your shit, picture a camera in front of you and think of the bellowing voice inside your brain that will tell you TO NOT LOSE YOUR SHIT NOW. Suddenly not losing your shit feels performative and false, and losing your shit beats down on you like a pulse, like the urge to pee while stuck in traffic on I-95, four miles from the nearest exit. 

“Can I make my own ice cream?”

“No. You have to use this delicious Breyer’s ice cream provided by our sponsor.”

Seth became pale and weaved behind his station, hands bracing himself, as he said and then repeated: “Weaksauce.”

A few cuts later he was lying in a hallway as an ambulance arrived. He had had a nervous breakdown over ice cream. Or had he? This episode was different than the others: there were scenes in which we saw producers explaining the rules of the upcoming challenge in that weird anteroom in which the contestants wait to see who’s on the bottom and who’s on the top. It wasn’t Gail Simmons giving them a two-line summary of what they had to do, and then saying “GO!” — there’s so much footage that exists of this, but which we are not accustomed to seeing. Project Runway, ever since it’s moved to Lifetime and this past season in particular, has decided to feature the tension between the contestants and the judges (or even just the constructs) of the show; likewise, Biggest Loser has started to feature certain scenes that take place between those that are usually featured in the show (for instance, this season one of the trainers, Bob, explained that weigh-ins take several hours, during which the contestants chat with each other and the trainers while waiting on set — one of these scenes was used to show a conversation between Bob and a contestant that, we’re led to believe, neither assumed would be used in the televised version of the episode). 

Suddenly, these shows have made a move towards stripping the forumla or veneer from what we’ve come to accept as “reality television” by revealing the people who have become cast members, playing themselves, after they’ve let their guard down. Little mini-revolts that once were once probably cut, edited out, or perhaps just result from an increasing amount of pressure placed on reality show contestants of any kind, are now surfacing like Grand Marnier souffles rising above the lips of their ramekins. Is it fascinating? Sure. But it also illuminates the machinations of reality television in a way that makes you feel like even more of a vulture for watching, for tuning in every week more for the missteps and breakdowns than the fragile illusion of a cooking competition, a fitness competition, a sewing competition. It makes viewing these things even more complicated for a poor soul like me, irrevocably hooked on the newish phenomenon of watching people placed in these strange situations for my own entertainment: I don’t think that these shows are without worth, as some people do; and do I think I’ve learned things about people and “who we are now” and how to roast vegetables from these accumulating hours spent in front of the television? Yes! Yes! Just look at the last season of The Real World and tell me that it doesn’t illuminate so much about actual things that happened this year. But is reality TV driving itself off a cliff, is it to blame for small casualties, deaths of reputation or of sanity? Will we one day think of the first generation of reality shows as being somehow innocent? Are we going to get so real that we all explode?

Weaksauce.

"If a black Republican president had come in, helped turn around the banking and auto industries (at a small profit!), insured millions through the private sector while cutting Medicare, overseen a sharp decline in illegal immigration, ramped up the war in Afghanistan, reinstituted pay-as-you go in the Congress, set up a debt commission to offer hard choices for future debt reduction, and seen private sector job growth outstrip the public sector’s in a slow but dogged recovery, somehow I don’t think that Republican would be regarded as a socialist. This is the era of the Big Lie, in other words, and it translates into a lot of little lies - “death panels,” “out-of-control” spending, “apologies for America” etc. - designed to concoct a false narrative so simple and so familiar it actually succeeded in getting into people’s minds in the midst of a brutal recession. And integral to this process have been conservative “intellectuals” who should and do know better, but have long since sacrificed intellectual honesty for the cheap thrills of enabling power-grabs."

- Andrew Sullivan (via technipol)

(via stfuconservatives)

Nov 10