I was at the Y the other day, plugging along on the elliptical, when I noticed that the woman next to me was reading the New York Times. I was blown away. I can’t read anything on the elliptical, much less try to manipulate a newspaper. Good Lord, I can’t read the Post without having some sort of table (or a couch cushion) in front of me. If I tried what that woman was doing, I would’ve wound up dead, caught up in the mechanism of the machine.
In other news, if you care to read only my thoughts on entertainment items such as movies, theater, and books–and not have to deal with my yammering on the Orioles or John Wilkes Booth (though he might come up if I see Assassins again, or read another biography)–check out my new blog. I choose to think of it as another thing I’m doing instead of any number of things I should be doing.
So obviously when I saw him tonight, it was like looking in a mirror when I tap dance.
In all seriousness, he was way more impressive than in that video. He just absolutely blew me away. What was really awesome was how his tapping cme together with McCoy Tyner and his bassist and pianist. It was just…seriously, I can’t describe it. Particularly when I got to see it from the fourth row.
I also can’t say that I’ve seen anyone sweat as much as Savion Glover did. Dang. Not that I’m surprised, but still. It was copious.
Yesterday I was thinking about my plans for the weekend when I remembered that I’m seeing Savion Glover at the Kennedy Center on Sunday, which I am really excited about (particularly since my tap class has been cancelled the past two weeks).
Then it hit me. Sunday is the Oscars. I had already been a bit bummed about having to miss the third part of Pride & Prejudice on PBD (yes, OK, I have it on DVD, WHATEVER), and I recorded Dexter last week, which is also against the Oscars (and um, Big Brother) (shut up). But clearly the Oscars trump all of those. But I am actually going to be out of the house for the beginning of the show.
I guess it’s all for the best. I can record it and fast-forward through the boring bits. But it still seems somewhat wrong. And now I’m considering driving to the Kennedy Center and paying a million dollars to park, as that would get me home WAY faster than the Metro.
There’s so much to love about spring training, up to and including the weird little pieces on the local news about it. For some reason, spring training gets more coverage in local news than baseball during the actual season does. For instance, today I was at the Y and as I was pedaling away on the exercise bike, I watched the tv of a guy across the way. It was local news coverage, and from what I could make out, it was the vital story of a player…playing Connect Four with a reporter.
Bizarre, but cute.
I tend to get obsessive about things. A lot of times it’s a tv show; at the moment, it’s Veronica Mars, but it’s been any number of things in the past (Les Mis, Jesus Christ Superstar, the recent adaptation of Jane Eyre, etc.). Anyway, last night I was having dinner with Becca, Harlan, and Amy, and the conversation turned, as it inevitably does, to the Lincoln assassination. (OK, it probably winds up there inevitably because I’m involved with the conversation. But seriously, what doesn’t relate to it?) I was all, “What? I’m past that now. It’s still interesting and all, but I’m past that!” And I was totally called out on it. My obsessions never go away. They just fade in intensity a bit.
Which was almost immediately illustrated when Harlan brought up The Office, which he described as, I believe, “emotional.” And one he mentioned “Casino Night,” all I could do was sigh and giggle and be all, “Jim!”
I cannot believe I’m 29. This isn’t normal.
(But really. Jim? Is awesome.)
It’s that most magical day, the day that so many of us have been waiting for for months. I don’t speak of Valentine’s Day, of course (Vale-what?). I speak of that happiest day for baseball fans–the day that pitchers and catchers report. Yes, it’s the arrival of spring training, finally. It’s been a crazy off-season for the O’s, what with Tejada and Bedard being traded, and the still-present threat of my boy going to Chicago. But we’ll now get a chance to see what those young’uns we got can do. Yay! And I’ll see for myself next month, when I head down for a few days. I am, not surprisingly, super excited.
Also exciting is the fact that Dave Trembley has put some of the guys on notice for sporting facial hair when they arrived. Kudos to Trembley for the enforcement.
I had a bit of a conflict tonight. I had a freelance assignment that was a rush–had to be in ASAP. We’re only talking a couple of hours to do, so not a huge problem…particularly with tap being cancelled.
On the other hand, I was down to the last two discs of Veronica Mars season 1. I’ll just watch an episode or two, then do my work, I thought to myself. Which is what I did. Well, I watched two episodes. Then realized that the last disc only has two episodes, not four, and then I realized that I could easily finish the season tonight. So I did some work. And then I couldn’t stop myself and watched the next four episodes in a row. It was so worth it.
And somehow, my hyperactivity that I tend to get after watching a good show and giggling over cute boys let me focus really intently, and I got my work done.
Which, let me tell you, wasn’t easy, seeing how all I wanted to do was find out whether Logan and Veronica are together at the end of the series. That, and watch fan videos. I haven’t been this pathetically giddy over a ship in quite some time. Seriously, it’s like I’m 12. I just watched a video montage of them kissing to figure out whether the scenes are from the first season…it gives me something to look forward to.
I need a life, people. Somebody help me.
I went to lunch yesterday with Steve and Becca. We left the restaurant, and a couple of women came up and asked whether we knew how to get to a certain other restaurant. I gave them directions, and they headed off in the wrong direction. A group of three guys saw them head the wrong way, and one of them says to us, “You gave them the wrong directions; [restaurant] is that way,” indicating the way I had told the women. We said that I had told them to go the way he had just pointed, and the guy called after the women that they were headed the wrong way–the women were like, “We know!” Which…yeah.
Anyway. So the guys and us made a few comments about the women going the wrong way, and I joked that yeah, I lied to the women. One guy goes, “Do you know where [random restaurant] is?” I’m all, “No,” and the guy walks up to me, puts one hand on my arm, the other at the base of my neck and points my head up–the restaurant was next to where were standing. He says, “I wanted to see whether you were going to lie to me, too.”
Ew ew ew. Why did this guy touch me? And like that? Dude, if you were trying to flirt, it’s best a) not to touch a woman in a way that you’re controlling her movements, and b) not to make her feel stupid. Anyway, we hightailed it out of there.