The 4 Food Groups of Eating Disorders

Guess what bitches? It's my birthday! And you know what that means? I can write about any damn thing I want!!

....

Wait, what? You mean I can write about anything I want all the time? It's my blog? Well crap, just take the wind out of my sails on my goddamn birthday why don't ya?! Now where was I? Oh yeah, vigorous proclamations.

Today I'm getting on my soapbox and refusing to eat cake. Why is everyone so pro-cake on your birthday? Just give it a rest people, I'm not having a slice. I'm too focused on the diet plan I'm constructing, sculpted out of ruthless discipline and deep, deep self-loathing.

My diet plan that will soon be sweeping the nation: The Eating Disorder Diet. Forget low-carb, low-fat, high-protein, eating for your blood type, cookie diet, shake diet, cabbage soup diet. This is where real results begin. Just choose any options from the food groups below. Oh, and these are rather broad extrapolations of "food." Suspension of disbelief helps.

The 4 (actually 5, shhh) food groups are:

• Ice: Drinking things ice cold makes you burn a few more calories as your body has to heat up the liquid to body temperature. Let's be clear here, the amount of calories is rather minuscule, 25 extra calories for every 1/2 liter of ice water consumed but to an eating-disordered person this is like FREE calorie burning. Also, munching ice almost resembles eating actual food, and you get to miss chewing after awhile. Interestingly enough, this practice is completely contrary to the Chinese medicine belief that HOT foods stimulate chi and help boost your metabolism and COLD foods are stagnating and should be avoided. You'll have to just make your own decision on this one.

• Liquids: Valid options include unsweetened coffee and tea, diet sodas, diet lemonade and water. Lemons have a diuretic effect so double bonus points. Karen Carpenter loved her some lemons! Hot tea and coffee will actually make you feel a little full and keep your tummy less rumbly. Feel free to mix it up and alternate between hot drinks and iced drinks. See how many exciting variables there are in this diet? If you are feeling like splurging, add Splenda. Yum!

• Low and No-Calorie Foods: Sugar-free gum (5 to 10 calories), sugar-free jello, diet hot chocolate eaten out of the packet, and almost all vegetables. Iceberg lettuce anyone? Most noobs will start out eating fruits and other real foods they think are healthy in the initiation period, but during the transition and maintenance phases you'll have to let those go.
  

• Stimulants: Anything as ordinary as caffeine all the way up to methamphetamine, Adderall, and clenbuterol (originally used to treat asthma in horses). Your metabolism is going to nosedive once you stop eating and your body starts cannibalizing your muscles so you're gonna need some juice to get you through the day. Has anybody seen my bottle of No Doz laying around? ...

• Purgatives, natural and otherwise: Laxatives like castor oil, prune juice, ExLax, enemas, etc. If you eat, and you will eventually break down and cheat, I mean eat, you are going to need some of these to help get that food out as quickly as possible. Also, the less you eat the more sluggish your whole digestive tract is going to be. Nobody said this was going to be a bed of roses people, suck it up! Do you want to be emaciated or not?!

So there you have it. My simple ED plan all laid out for you. Just combine this eating plan with excessive exercise and a vociferous body dysmorphia and you will be wasting away in NO time. Cheers fatties!

Social Dancing and the Inspirational Bitch Slap

Confession time: I love to dance. I've spent years and years (and years and years) taking classes and workshops and practicing footwork drills so I'm not half bad. I'm not bragging, it's just simple science that hours of practice + $$$ + blisters + sweat + "sorry, can I try that again?" = good dancer. If I had devoted this much time to, say, phlebotomy, I'd probably be rather skilled at that by now.

A few years back, thinking that I was a reasonably capable dancer, I got all excited to go to Camp Hollywood, a huge swing camp held every summer in Los Angeles. Home of the National Jitterbug Championships, it brings in the top dancers and instructors from all over the world. Note that last little word there at the end of that sentence: world. Oh you may be a talented dancer amongst the handful of people you dance with. But then you go and throw World-Class Professionals into the mix and watch out, you get sucky real fast.

In it's purest form, swing is almost entirely improvised. In a Jack and Jill, you are randomly paired up with a partner and have to make it look good so you don't even get the benefit of familiarity with your partner. Here is an example of what this is supposed to end up looking like. This video features Nick Williams and Carla Heiney. I'm gonna repeat this again, this is im-pro-vised on the fly. She doesn't know what he's gonna throw down and he just does what he feels fits best with the music and suits his partner. Very hard skill to master and Nick and Carla hit the breaks nicely in this one:



Getting to take classes from famous dancers (like Nick and Carla above) you have only ever seen on DVDs and YouTube is another great reason to go to dance camp. I became a blubbering crazed fan at the mere thought of getting to breathe ... the ... same .... air as they were. That girl in the corner with the slack jaw and hanging on every word? Yeah, that'd be me.

But the competitions are what keeps me coming back year after year. You can watch video clips of amazing aerials and lightning fast footwork 'til you're blue in the face but nothing compares to seeing people dance this kick-ass in person. How did she know to do that right there, in perfect time with him? Did you see how he threw her in the air and she grabbed him and flipped him over her head and then he spun her around and played bongo-drums on her butt? Incredible!



Like a shot of adrenaline watching these people engage with the music and spontaneously express the song? You betch-ya. Inspirational and uplifting? Yes and yes. But then your brain catches up with the action and informs you, quite loudly actually, that it's realized you've made a horrible miscalculation and begins to fill your veins with the same horror you would feel if you were about to plow into a giant asteroid. Redirect, hard rudder to the right, abort, abort.

Watch all you want, oh yeah, soak it up but for the love of God don't get out there and try to move your limbs, you fool! Don't you have eyes in your head?!

You see, your brain has come to the realization that what you have been doing all this time, classified by you incorrectly as "dancing," must in fact be something else entirely because clearly this display you see before you is actual "dancing." What you have been doing and pawning off as dancing is really more akin to syncopated seizure episodes. How could you lie to your brain like that? Your brain is pissed now, trust this. You're about to get pwned by your own mind! Damn.

It's okay, that's just dance camp hazing and everyone has to go through it. Breathe, let the shaking subside, go out to the bar set up in the lobby and get yourself a stiff drink. Then get in there and hit it! Camp Hollywood is almost here, so if you're in the LA area, swing by and check it out.

Oh and if you hate boring old music check this out. Ben and Sheri (great teachers, right in Pasadena) bringing down the house with Footloose, newer boring old music:

Caption This - Lab Experiments

Well it's Thursday and you know what that means ... It's not Friday yet! Oh, and we get to have a caption contest. So let's get right to it. I don't really have anything to say about this picture other than HOLY CRAP WTF?

Raw Beauty Versus Technical Perfection

Okay perfection-obsessed peoples, totally enamored with having everything just so, I have a bone to pick with you. I'm not sure this is such a good idea as a life's goal, or would even be admirable if it was attainable. Which it isn't. I'm not being whiny here, I just think your purpose is to live the best reality you can and be the youest you possible.

My touchstone for raw honesty of being is Maria Callas. Not a typical '50s beauty, with what was described as an "ugly-beautiful" voice, she went through men and roles like a house fire. Remember the '50s were more amenable to pretty, pristine princesses like Donna Reed, Peggy Lee, and Grace Kelly. Headstrong and opinionated, she never tried to be what she wasn't and she never compromised her vision.

Here she is singing Tosca's Vissi d'arte. Her voice was prone to wobbles, sobs, and wails and she was a polarizing force in opera, with people either loving or hating her sound. In this video, you can particularly hear the huge wobble at about 2:50 and her voice almost breaks in half at about 3:19. Still, I can't find any imperfection in the imperfectness of it and flawed as it is, and I wouldn't change a thing.



Compare that to Renata Tibaldi, her arch rival and the "safe soprano", doing the exact same aria. Impeccable and perfectly executed. Not a note out of place, no loss of control, no errors. So it's perfect then? Which feels more true? Which sounds more real?




Don't get freaked out by my super-serious sounding post. I just love Callas singing that aria and needed an excuse to post it. Badoink!

Failia, Goddess of Downtime

Failia, the malevolent goddess of epic fails, crashes, freezes, and all downtimes scheduled and otherwise. She is also known as Parse Errora and the Bringer of the Blue Screen of Death. Here she is about to fling Fail Whale onto the Information Superhighway. There is no proven way of avoiding her, and once roused she is one mean bitch. Like Pele, only geekier.

Known methods of soothing her include:

Replicating this scene from Weird Science:



Purifying yourself with Ajax:



Listening to Dark Side of the Moon:

• Ruling Planet: Saturn
• Color: Motherboard green
• Gemstone: Perl
• Totem Animal: Whale
• Fruit: Apple
• Incense: Blue Smoke
• Drink offering: Java

Oh, and this doodle was actually Friday's subject but behold, with the wonders of Post Options, I can turn back the hands of time!

Oh, and another thing: This drawing was blatantly inspired almost to the point of stealiness, by the 50-Ft Woman.

Doodle Week Vacation

Ahhh, this is more like it! All that drawing was making my hand sore. It was so nice of them to put a doodle vacation right in the middle of the week, give us all a break. Time to grab a bottle of wine, strip down, dial last.fm to '40s radio and just relax.

Doodle Garden

Doodle Outer Space

I have a thing for space girls. Something about space-age materials and ray guns and moonbeams. Also, your hair will stay perfect in that helmet.

More Voice Editing Mayhem

It's been awhile since I did a post on voice editing. It's not that doctors have stopped mumbling, it's that I've been squirreling them away for one big juicy post, like this:

• Two parakeet tumor. The doctor dictated "between 2 brackets, tumor"but I do imagine a two parakeet tumor would be pretty impressive. Much more so than an everyday, run-of-the-mill one-parakeet tumor. Dime-a-dozen!
  

• He has worked as an audible Moe dealer. I think this one is fairly obvious (automobile dealer). What is an audible Moe dealer and who handles the inaudible Moes?

• Zantac and neck intact. Supposed to read "extraocular muscles intact" but God I know it's better when my Zantac comes through a trauma unscathed.

• ...without obvious manuscript exacerbation. Manuscript exacerbation? Dude you are exacerbating this manuscript as we speak!

• The patient works at little seizures (Little Caesers). Seizure.Seizure.

• ...breast aphasia. A malady quite prevalent in the male population.

and just in case you want a peek at the secret, inner sanctum of this glamorous career (replete with heavy breathing courtesy of moi), here is a little taste:

cardiologist.mp3

Doodle Bug

Today is the first day of Doodle Week and today's theme is Doodle Bug.

A Night At The Opera

Get ready for a tow-tally fun adventure, kids. This is going to be a This Is Mayjah first, a trifecta of blogginess including text, photos, AND audio. I know, I know, I'll stay here and wait while you go change your undies. It's pretty exciting, I must admit. You can choose to:

a) Look at the pretty pictures and listen to the crazy audio OR
b) Read all the wordy bits too

You will get the general gist of the story either way. I just want to give you options, that's the kinda girl I am.

And no, the audio portion of this post will not be an aria, unless you consider my undead zombie laughter music to your ears.

Set-Up:

We have season tickets to the LA Opera. I'll get into opera in a later post, there isn't enough room in one post to describe the rapture that is opera. Love, death, sex, murder, it has it all.

So we're on our way to the last opera of the season, La Rondine. I'm looking forward to a Puccini opera I'd never heard live before, but not knowing that much about it, it's not totally heartbreaking when the following events begin to unravel the gauze. Gauze? The gauze that hid the mummy that ends up eating my brain.

We usually drive the Jag to the opera because it is incredibly good fun putting it in SS mode and hauling ass on the freeway. But earlier that day, the engine coolant light had come on, so we decided to just take the Suburban instead.

We get all decked out. I try on a gorgeous lily-white dress that I haven't been able to squeeze my post-baby chi-chis into and, wonder of wonders, it fits again! It's automatically gonna be a great night when your tits fit perfectly in your dress. This is practically a law of nature. Ask any woman and she'll agree.

Behold, the Mummy Emerges:

We are making excellent time, damn we are going to be way early. So we decide to just take the back way. Uh oh, but traffic is bad over on this freeway. Why is the car acting like that, all shifty and lurchy? Then the hubs informs me 'this may be a problem' and I interpret that to mean 'wow, we should get the car checked out in the next week or so' when what he really meant was 'this may be an imminent problem'.

Just like that, the alternator dies. At the convergence of one freeway onto another, in the middle of a blind corner. So people are barreling toward us at LA freeway speeds, coming around this curve expecting to accelerate onto another freeway. With the alternator dead, the hazards will only work for so long because the battery doesn't have the juice to run them. So our death clock starts ticking.

My husband turns to me and casually asks if I've called AAA like we had talked about a few days earlier. Ummmm no, but God my blog is looking great, have you seen it? We call 411 to call a towing service for us. Handy fact: It will cost you about $45 to join AAA, but it will cost you $300 to get a non-AAA tow. Gosh, it is right about now that I'm wishing my blog was uglier and I'd called AAA.

Look closely at the picture below and you'll see part of my not-ready-for tow-truck dress. I am now deeply regretting not climbing out of the truck and snapping pics up on that hill full of weeds. It would have been so fucking Vogue.




So we're waiting for the tow truck and I'm panicking, thinking about all those people talking on their cell phones at 80 miles an hour, about to plow into our ass. My husband tells me point-blank that if we get hit it is going to be my fault because I'm spewing negative energy and that I just need to relax. (Only in California, people). Hasn't he heard that I'm Ms. Optimistic? No one can take my crown away from me! I didn't want to have to do it, but I then proceed to unbox a most potent version of 'the look' because I didn't have any other options at my disposal. I figure it was that or trying to walk home, which would have completely ruined my pretty white dress.

Just then, a very nice gentleman pulls over in front of us and tows us over to the side of the road where we'll be safer. There really are nice people left in the world, and sometimes they even have ropes.

So we wait, and wait some more. I take pictures, I take video, I discuss what a great post this is gonna make. What kind of crazy good luck IS this breaking down like we did?

The Mummy Eats My Brain and I Become a Blog Zombie:

While we were waiting I had the brilliant idea to dig out my microcassette recorder that I unearthed from my medical transcription paraphernalia stash and plopping into my purse a few weeks back. After what happened to me in this post, I always keep it with me in case I'm overcome with a great idea I know I'll forget. What I apparently didn't do was ever tell my husband about said recorder so when I whipped it out and launched into my spiel about our adventure, he was left slack-jawed. He wanted answers. What the hell was that thing? Why did I have it? How many tapes had I made already? WHAT had I been recording? Men have dirty, dirty minds it turns out.

So after assuaging his fears and assuring him that this was, indeed, only the second time I'd ever used it, and only for blogging good, never blogging evil, I started recording our story. He gets over his initial shock that his wife has actually gone off the deep end, and interjects some witty banter, and we were off and running, having a merry old time. Hell yes, I think we're ready for our own podcast! Do you hear that, negabloggers? I had a fun time in a broken down car on the side of the freeway, - $400 opera tickets and -$300 towing and -$200 car parts, and getting ready to sit in a tow truck in my fancy-ass frock, so nanners.



All is going great until I look down and realize I'd had the fucking thing on HOLD the entire time. So below is take 2, that is the cause of the maniacal laughter at the beginning. I decided to leave it in, sort of like the background music that sets the stage for a scene in a movie. I really do start speaking normally, you just have to get past the intro of me laughing and my husband mumbling incoherently ...

Enjoy!

freeway.mp3

Negablogging

I want to talk about a disturbing trend I'm seeing more and more of. It's probably been here since the amoeba-like beginnings of blogging but I'm late to the rodeo so indulge me for a minute.

I'm talking about the Negablog (fuck yeah I'm trademarking that), whose sole purpose it seems is to spew out post after post after post of complaininess. It's usually right there in the name: Whiny McWhinerson's Blog, Crankygirl, BooHooBlog, ThePissedBlogger, Wanker's Corner, MyPoutyBlog, LifeSux, Bitchyblogspot.(Note: I'm just riffing. If there are, in fact, actual sites with these names, no relation to said actual blogs is either expressed or intended.) So what's with all the Debbie Downers out there?

I find this blog niche bizarre and sad, really, because the thing I love about the Internet is how much amazing stuff is out there and how much I learn. Do you know how many talented people there are in the world? Like, more than 15. Sure, it makes me feel a tad insecure when I realize, wow, I'm not that witty, articulate, or technically gifted. I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm not ever gonna be the best blogger, the best animated video editor, or the best photographer. Hell, I'm not even ever going to be at the bottom of Favrd. I won't ever even make it to the appendices dude. But I'm awed and inspired by what I see every single day online.

You'll be inundated with talent on the Internet if you choose to look. The sheer number of people out there who are doing unique and beautiful things is mind-boggling and I could spend all day, every day, just stumbling new coolness and wanting to share it with my friends and the world at large. I really have no desire to spend my energy or waste your time writing up a bunch of whiny posts. I know, technically, this is a whiny post but if I'm bitching about bitching, then that double negative should get me out of any hypothetical philosophical jam.

Another thing, and this makes me kind of sad and embarrassed at the same time, is the fact that a lot of these sites are written by women bloggers. I don't know what the deal is, I don't know if men just aren't as whiny because they're busy masturbating and playing WoW, or masturbating while playing WoW, or if women are just more naturally critical. Maybe women are using the anonymity of the Internet to unleash all of their pent-up hostility that they feel is unladylike to express in real life? Blog after blog full of vitriolic pablum. No one is safe, and this crap can be directed at:

• the world
• men
• women
• their parents
• their children
• their dry-cleaner
• their boss
• the President
• the Presidential candidates
• the media
• the government
• probably me in about 3 .... 2.... 1
  

I pledge to you now, you will never see that kind of blathering on here at This Is Mayjah. Barring an unforeseen hormonal surprise attack, replete with luminous intestines, like Mark from Neonbubble was talking about, I will not be blogging about how the salon didn't do my hair right or how mean my mother-in-law was at brunch. I mean, she ordered before I even had a chance to look at the menu, can you believe the fucking nerve?

Please folks, get a LIFE, for everyone's sake. We get it, you're not happy, we un.der.stand already. You could have summed that up nicely in like, 1 or 2 posts. There is no need to indulge yourselves like that.

But don't begin to feel sorry for these bloggers. These sites aren't small, they are getting a lot of traffic and the comments threads are full of people commiserating with them about how terrible X is, and how lame X is, and how stupid X is. It seems that old cliche about misery loving company, it's spot fucking on. But remember, it's a razor-thin line between Andy Rooney and me wanting to slit my throat while reading your blog.

Life is beautiful and people are fabulous and I love everything. I mean I don't love puppy mills and whaling expeditions (or negablogs) but for the most part, I love almost mostly everything. Life's too short to spend it bitching about the stuff you don't love. I might make some jokes, wag my finger here and there. I'll poke fun at things because fun is for poking. And poking is fun. But I will not be getting negative.

Just a heads up to people that write these kinds of blogs. If I met you on the street and you were like that in real life, and you bitched about everything that happened to you, every single day, and that is all you had to contribute to the conversation, complaining, I would run SO FAST. I would not answer your emails, I would not take your calls, and I would be filled with dread at the mere sight of you.

So what makes you think that being on the Internet makes that any different? I feel the same way online. I click on a link that I think looks promising and then I get a load of ugliness. And I think, wow, that was just stupid. She needs a glass of wine, some nice dark chocolate, and a good fucking and maybe then she'll say something interesting.

Son of God Streaming Live on UstreamTV NOW

Now is your chance to talk to the real Jesus Christ, not one of those false idols you keep yammering on about. Mark your calendars because this is a one-time only event, kids! All those things you've always wanted to know? Now's your chance. Ask the Lamb of God anything you want:

• Is it holy ghost or holy spirit? I've got $5 riding on spirit.
• Why do we worship on Sunday? That's my fun day.
• Do chicks dig the hemp tunic and the macrame sandals or what? You're a playa aren't you?
  
• How do I know if something is a sin? Is alcohol a sin? Homosexuality? Can I drink as long as I'm straight?
• Where's hell, is there a hell, or is that story just a lot of hot air?
• Did you and Mary Magdalene make baby Jesuses? Or would it be Jesi? Jeslings?
• Can people look down on us from heaven and, if so, can they see everything? If so, sorry Grandma. I can't help it if I'm a freak.
  
• Adoption? Like, say my kid whines a lot and I give her away, is that okay? Charitable even?
• Where the hell were you for those 3 days? You had everyone worried sick!
• Why weren't there any dinosaurs in the Bible? I think a leviathasaurus rex would have kicked ass.
• That time I was doing that really bad thing and a voice in my head was telling me to put down the hacksaw and untie the people, was that you?
• Obama or McCain?

I'm sure you'll think of so many more questions for the Son of God. Feel free to post them in the comments section.

Note: This was by far the strangest piece of mail I've received in a long time. I don't want to call it 'junk mail' even though it was, since I didn't specifically request it, so technically it is junk mail, but it's Jesus for Christ's sake!

Caption This - Cooler Than You

I don't know what it is about these 2 but they just have me mesmerized by their fabulousness. They're so sparkly and dressed fancy but she's wearing bizarre makeup and she doesn't even give a shit what you think! I bet his '70s style glasses are vintage. You know they worked hard on making their hair look like that. They even have their own custom '80s border they carry around with them. Who do you know that has that going for them? Dammit.

Anyway, help me tell this couple's story, I need to know more about them. The winner will get the cold comfort of knowing that they are, in fact, cooler than me, because I'm speechless over here. Yes last week's caption was hard but guess what punk asses, I'm making it even tougher this week. I rock it like Ninja Warrior over here.

UPDATE: This is terrible, Carnival of Capshuns is going on hiatus (temporarily, I'm sure) so you'd better caption while you can. Pretty soon it'll be rarer than Polaroids and cassette tapes.

Really updated update: And the winner is: Ayako Miyake, 3-time girl champion of Ninja Warrior! Congratulations Ayako, you must be thrilled.

Jesus Doesn't Want You To Read This Post

So I was up in the mountains for the 4th of July holiday and just had to capture all of the excitement and grandeur. Okay, basically I just sat around and watched my baby put tennis balls in and out of a tennis ball container about 400 times and drank rum and Coke. But while I did this, I spent some time pondering America and the American idiom. Because I'm an American and we like to multitask.

So I present to you an American tutorial. Being an American means many things to many people:

It means you can build monuments to really important things, like Doritos. Screw Indiana Jones and his fancy-ass temples, what we've got right here is the Arc de' Spicy Nacho. Its patriotic! And sparkly! And Zesty! Yes Virginia, there is indeed a Doritos Wiki page too, in case you need to brush up on your Doritos factoids. Probably written by an American.

Americans also can't spell for shit. Beanie BaBYS??? Here's a little advice: If you are going to go to all the trouble of getting a tacky Knott's Berry Farm wood-burnt sign made, for Christ's sake double-check your spelling.

Americans like booze and we like old things. We really, really like old booze. It makes us feel all historical and shit. So you can only imagine how excited I was when I found this vintage Lucky's vodka bottle tucked up in the liquor cabinet. Lucky isn't even a store anymore. Do you think I can get big bucks for this on eBay? (On further wiki research, I discover that Lucky's apparently is coming back. But this is an original Lucky's vodka bottle so that makes it rare-rare, EHTF! That's my story and I'm sticking with it.)



Here in America we like plastic replicas of dead animals that we can hang on our walls, preferably ones that sing songs and tell jokes. It's in the Constitution or the Bill of Rights or something. The right to bear arms, freedom of speech and singing decapitated heads. Go look it up for yourself!



But this .... this I am probably going to burn in hell for posting. The look of abject horror on my husband's face as I whipped out my phone to take a picture of this poster. "You're not going to put that on your BLOG are you?" Relax, Jesus doesn't have time to add me to his Google Reader babe.

But wait, things got spooky when I came home and started uploading pictures from all my various cameras and phones. I tried to upload this flier picture FIVE TIMES before I was successful. User error or some guardian angel's desperate attempts to save me from eternal damnation? You be the judge.

Americans LOVE Jesus. They don't just kinda tolerate him. They want their kids to take 'A Thrilling Ride with Jesus'. That about sums up every day of my life already so what do I need SonWorld for? Then I realized that maybe they are on to something. There is a huge gaping niche in the amusement park market by leaving God out of it. The log ride could be called Red Sea Rapids, the scary roller-coaster could be called Fall From Grace. That game where you try to hook the fishies swimming around. Fishes? Jesus? At at the end of the day you'd get to buy a snow globe with a picture of you and Jesus on it with little angels instead of snowflakes. Think of the marketing potential? "I Survived a Fall From Grace" t-shirts and the like? This is fucking EPIC! I would give it a better name though, like Halo Mountain or something. Suddenly I have a burning desire to go to SonWorld and eat funnel cakes and sing Kumbaya. But that's just me, living the American dream.

Note: No I am not getting AdSense revenue from the American League or trying to break the world's record for number of times someone used "American" in one post, it just magically happened. You might even say it was ... miraculous.

UPDATE: Hats off to Mark for uncovering this SonWorld trailer, in case you're on the fence about going. Will SonWorld really make you a believer? Find out here: Son World video trailer

Can Identi.ca Do It? Yes It Ca!

Okay, hopefully that title sounded as funny to you as it did to me.

What's that you say? You were hoping for one more social networking site to subscribe to that will insidiously begin to leech minutes, then hours, out of your day until you wake up neck deep in dirty laundry and overflowing trash cans. Believe me, your boss isn't going to give a crap that you have 100 new followers when he is asking for the TPS report. Can you handle one more distraction?

If you think you're up for the challenge, identi.ca is a brand-spankin new microblogging service that has a very similar look to Twitter (unlike Plurk, which just reminds me of a creepy old stinky BBS chat room) and is full of hip, swingin' early adopters, probably the smarmiest descriptive term ever. I'd rather be called a space monkey. You can hop on the public timeline and actually, like, engage in a conversation, kinda. It is like Neil Armstrong new. People snapping up tiny 1-letter names left and right new.

I like this newness because I feel much more comfortable following and replying to total strangers when there are just a few of them. Following strangers is something I'd never do on the street, well almost never. I only stumbled upon Twitter through reading dooce (don't laugh! I love her) and by the time I arrived it was already a metropolis. So landing on this page with a handful of other space monkeys feels like hiding in the mall after it closes and running through the stores like a lunatic. That analogy probably only worked for you if you're a girl, and a girly-girl at that.

Here are the top 3 references I keep noticing over there, so if you want to seem cool, DON'T use these one-liners, it's been done before:

• Canada jokes, .ca. Get it?
  
• Better/worse/same as Twitter.
• Saying 'Hello world' (on second thought, maybe the site just posts that when you create an account? I saw scads of those and thought it odd.)

I was guilty of 2 of those 3 so I speak as an authority on this subject. I'll be doing a tour of colleges later in the year ...

What identi.ca doesn't have though, is the gorgeous iconography of Twitter, the holy trinity that is:

1. Twitter bird
2. Fail Whale
3. 'Tweets'

And people know it. The hot topic of discussion at identi.ca is 'what will our Fail Whale be? What will an update be called? We can't call it a fucking tweet!' Twitter has seeped into the collective unconscious (at least for geeks) in a way that most other social network sites haven't. Myspace? Facebook? Friendfeed? None have the lovable, almost cartoon-like, cast of characters that Twitter has. I hate to admit that if Twitter had a theme park I would probably want to go ride the teacups and buy an embossed whale hat. Whereas I wouldn't want to ride shit with Myspace Tom.

Identi.ca's big gun is that it is an Open Network Service and a whole bunch of other technical stuff that made my eyes glaze over. Read more here: http://identi.ca/doc/faq if you are into potato-clocks and Star Trek and that sort of thing. I keed, I keed! I just poke fun at that which flies right over my head, I see it whizzing by, I know it's there.

I think it's biggest problem is going to be the name: identi.ca. It has no flow, no mojo. Who in the hell thought that was a good idea? I mean really. Run these things by a test audience first kids, you'll work out so many issues that way.

But the actual application, I like, so I give it a tentative thumbs up. Like 1 1/4 thumbs.

Now I Can Get Rid of That Pesky Scurvy

Finally, a grocery store that really cares. My local Ralph's has come through and has purged its shelves of all that crappy junk food broccoli. That shit was making me fat and almost gave me diabetes! Are you listening Albertson's, Gelson's and Von's?