Archive for July, 2006
(* With all due respect to the wonderful folks at the Lemelson-MIT Program and their annual Invention Index.)
If you’re reading my blog, it’s probably because you check in with stalkerish dedication each day, eager to partake in my wisdom on, well, everything. Or you’re my mom. (Hi, Mom!) Lucky for you, bsk fan(s), today I’ll share with you my opinions on the world’s greatest inventions. (My blog does not count as an invention, but how sweet of you to suggest it.) After an extensive survey of myself, I present to you my useful findings in the form of this, the antithesis of my earlier Useless Blog.
Floss Sticks – There are few positions in life more awkward than the one millions of people find themselves in each morning when they stumble to the bathroom, still groggy and bleary-eyed, proceeding to force their jaws into ungainly angles, haplessly struggling to maneuver a slippery strand of string in between teeth they could have sworn weren’t there the previous morning. With floss sticks you can easily eliminate this dental dilemma while absentmindedly checking your e-mail — so you have no excuse for icky teeth! However, this means I must now find something else to blame my utter unkissableness on.
Keys – If we didn’t have these, robbers would have it way too easy. And then keeping them locked up in jail thereafter would prove to be quite the challenge.
Shoelaces – Oh sure, you dismiss this as just another one of my quirky idiosyncrasies. But envision with me, if you will, a world without shoelaces. Floppy sneakers that soar off your feet and decapitate the poor running enthusiast on the neighboring treadmill. Gladiators so preoccupied with how to fasten their sandals around their calves that they forget to not be eaten by lions. Baseball players still rounding third base when their shoes sail home. Pole-vaulters’ sneakers going airborne well before they themselves do. Bowling shoes racing down lanes in hot pursuit of the bowling balls. If all you’re thinking right now is What about Velcro or loafers, you tool, then go find another blog. And an imagination, while you’re at it.
[Manhattan, as seen poorly photographed from my helicopter ride]
Quoting Sex and the City is the easy way to pretend you’re profound yet hip. Pensive but worldly. A complexly sexy intellectual; a modern woman deeply attuned to the rhetoric of our times. I’m generally of the opinion that writers who wish to be taken seriously on the basis of their own merit should avoid making a habit of quoting Sex and the City. But to hell with the rules. Sometimes that show is just so on point.
“If you only get one great love, then New York may just be mine… and I can’t have nobody talkin’ sh*t about my boyfriend.”
My love affair with New York began back in college, with a road trip to the city to protest the impending war in Iraq. I slept on the floor of a cramped NYU dorm, the weather never rose above a not-so-toasty 15 degrees, we walked about 350 miles, my nose ran for the entire duration, and I subsisted on a diet of bagels and hot chocolate. I was cold, miserable, and dressed like a scrub for three days straight – and somewhere along the way, I fell wildly in love. Given my somewhat unsavory appearance that weekend, I suppose it’s no huge surprise that the Big Apple took so long to reciprocate.