catheroominations

I didn’t play Suff Portrait Friday this week. I was too busy playing on the Internets and catching up on my reading. In lieu of SPF photos, I give you some of the juicy nuggets I found:

Here’s something I don’t need, unless I can put 911 Turbo on my Accord (from Popgadget).

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Time and CNN compiled the list of the Top 100 Albums of All Time. ALL TIME, people. That means it goes as far back as the 50s! Wow.

After reviewing the list, I realize that I don’t like good music. Because out of 100 albums considered THE BEST OF ALL TIME, I own or have owned a mere seven.

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George Clooney is this year’s Sexiest Man Alive, according to People. That’s fine, but a bit obvious, don’t you think? I’m all about Peter Dinklage these days. Really. I am. The man has serious acting chops and that? Is sexy.

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Oprah Winfrey is reportedly not invited to Tom Cruise’s wedding. And after he pounced all over the talk show diva’s divan professing his love for Katie? It’s okay Opes, you can come to my nuptials. And I won’t set one foot on your couch.

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This is a very sweet animated short. It made cry a little bit (from EW’s Popwatch).

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I think this might be the most creative and clever Flickr set I’ve ever seen (from Boing Boing).

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That’s it for now. Happy Friday, everybody!

Yesterday Matte and I trekked up to Berkeley to see Eddie From Ohio play two shows at the Freight & Salvage Coffehouse. Eddie From Ohio is actually from Virginia, not Ohio. But the drummer (who’s name happens to be Eddie!) is originally from Ohio, hence the name. The show was awesome and they rocked the house like no one I’ve ever seen at the Freight.
keep reading The Freight & Salvage*

It’s harder than you might think!

Guess the logo

That’s all you get for today. I’m too tired to think. Like balling-my-hands-into-fists-and -rubbing-my-nose-and-eyeballs tired.

But at least I posted something for NaBloPoMo. Whew!

Yesterday on the way to meet with a wedding photographer in Pleasanton, Matte and I saw a heard of goats standing right next to the highway. Next to, as in three feet away from asphalt. These goats were not spread out across a vast field, they stood packed onto a small incline, in a place they seemed they did not belong. The only thing separating the goats from the speeding cars was a flimsy-looking fence. A low, flimsy-looking fence. Any goat with a death wish could have hurdled the fence, and been immediately thrown into a terrifying real-life game of Frogger.

But these goats weren’t bothered by the noise or peril of passing traffic, nor did they act displaced. In fact, they were oblivious to it all, intently eating the golden weeds and grass on the hill. The sight caught me off-guard. One doesn’t expect to encounter such a thing, at such a place. It was like seeing Nicole Richie scarfing a dozen donuts at Krispy Kreme.*

On the way home, I kept my eyes peeled for the goats. I needed to make sure Matte and I hadn’t been hallucinating. Sure enough, there they were, still dining on the fine vegetation off Highway 680. But this time, I noticed something else. A sign on the hill that read “Goats R Us.” What the hell is Goats R Us?

Being the investigative type I am, I consulted Google to find the answer. Goats R Us is a family-owned business that “rents out” goats to aid in weed eradication and brush reduction. Too lazy to whack your own weeds? Sure, you could hire a gardener to help, but why do that when you can get your goat(s) for just $700 an acre. Just look how cute they are! (Images from Goats R Us.)

Doesn’t sound like such a baaaa-d idea to me!

*Matte came up with that analogy. The best I could compare it to was seeing Tom Cruise presenting at a Psychiatrist’s convention.

As I type, I am enjoying my first gingerbread latte of the season. This is the one holiday-related item I don’t mind arriving too early in the year, unlike the Christmas carols I heard last week in the Hallmark store. Can we at least wait until after Halloween for that? But the gingerbread latte? It can’t come soon enough. It’s like a gingerbread cookie with less guilt. Plus it has the added bonus of caffeine! What more could you ask for?

And by the way, as this gingerbread-y goodness signals the beginning of Yuletide, I feel it is my duty to alert you that there are only 50 days until Christmas.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My sister wants me to go with her to New Wave City on Saturday for her birthday. She tells me that at midnight they’ll probably do a block of Duran Duran songs, maybe lasting a whole hour! I hope I can stay awake that late. Now where’d I put that fedora?

That’s a costume I wore to work a few years ago. This year, I’m not wearing anything. Er…I mean, I don’t have a costume. Anyway, you may notice from the photo that I go a little overboard with themes. Those posters? Dug them out of my sister’s keepsakes as mine had been thrown out years ago. My entire cube was filled with posters of Simon, Nick, John, Roger, and Andy. That’s Duran Duran for you non Durannies. And that weird electronic item with the rectangular box next to it? That’s called a record player, kids. In my day, we put large, flat, round things called records (or LPs) on it and a needle glided through the grooves in the vinyl to make high quality sounds. It was awesome.

Speaking of totally tubular music, please give me some music recommendations in the comments. My iPod has been boring me of late, and I’m dangerously close to digging out my Scritti Politti 12-inch singles.