comparatives & superlatives.

good: moving into a yuppie apartment complex with a "business center" and related amenities.

better: living in what is essentially a gated community with security guards patrolling the premises at night.

best: watching said security guard thoroughly patrolling the internet in the clearly crime-prone business center.

i'm mildly appalled.

on several levels, actually:

• on my way home from my first baby shower (someone else's kid btw), i discovered that if i drove 2 minutes in the opposite direction on the road to the airport, i would arrive at a tiny (but operational) outlet mall. i can't believe my jersey radar didn't pick this up sooner. i'm disappointed in myself.
• didn't someone spread a vicious rumor (to the world) that mbas are supposed to be analytical or some such? the stat exams i've graded thus far seem to be proving otherwise. choice bits include:

...If I built a small video store on a deserted desert island with no DVD or VHS stock available, what would my sales be? All the other models had positive Intercept values, implying that, somehow, people would come from far away (outside my “neighborhood”) to my deserted island and give me money...

...However, the DVD and VHS library has a very high correlation, which means that they are very correlated...

...I an not mathematision enough (any more) to judge...

...So we should leave it out to obtain a presize [ed note: as in, vs. accurate] model...

in their defense, those were from four distinct papers. i'm not sure if that revelation makes it better or worse.

anyway, in the words of the illustrious tim gunn, that is all. carry on. make it work!

(sometimes i fiend for bravo like pete doherty craves meth)

the long overdue return of pop-up video.

(brought to you by the good people at best week ever)

plus the best burn i've read re: higher (and now you've caught me admitting to actually reading up on it):

The vocals would not sound more computerized if they were done by Stephen Hawking. And his dancing ability would be about the same too.

reality show marathons are dangerous.

yesterday, i got sucked into my big redneck wedding. m and i then spent the rest of valentine's day embroiled in a lengthy debate as to whether the couples featured are fo realz. despite the fact that i believe jerry springer guests and the fortunate folks on cheaters are all legit, i just can't wrap my mind around the people on this show. one bride mud wrestled in an inflatable kiddie pool adjacent to the reception in her wedding dress. and then got hosed down. and then soldiered on for the remainder of the celebration.

i also never realized that camo is the next wedding craze sweeping the nation. seriously, it was prominently featured throughout the epis i watched last night, back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

and my favorite quote thus far? it's gotta be the groom who wrapped up his wedding day with something along the lines of "well, i guess it's time to go constipate our marriage."

the international sign for meredith vieira.

i'm pretty sure this means that conan should solely interview via charades from now on, laryngitis or not.

stuff white people like.

if you get me at all, you will ♥ this as much i do. props in particular for the top ten hip hop song list and having a legitimate reason to namedrop paul kariya's dad in #11.

(you're welcome)

love is a mix tape.

...not to be confused with life, which is a highway, at least according to tom cochrane.

this reminded me that m's first gift to me ever was a mix tape.

of hardcore songs.

that he listened to while riding bmx around west philly.

while sporting a small hoop earring.

seriously.

ah, the good ole days.