Not bad, for a human.

Here's the EveR-1 robot to my right, created by the Korean Institute of Technology. She's sort of like a real person, but just 'blow-up doll' -ish enough to lull you into a sense of complacency. Thank god she can't move her legs, thus eliminating any chance of her rampaging through the streets eliminating all non-robotic life forms. Unfortunately, not walking means it also eliminates the ability to take her out with just a few well placed shots. If you aim high on the legs it makes the robot fall harder. Also unfortunately, trip wires are pretty useless on seated robots. However, the epic struggle of man versus Korean robot chick will be ended easily when I zig-zag erratically through her vision field to throw off her tracking system and I karate chop her legs while she's distracted by my thermal suit. Although karate chopping sheet metal is going to be difficult.

She's capable of expressing happiness, anger, sadness and pleasure (ick). The Korean Institute of Technology implies her purpose is to provide information in department stores, or read stories to children, but that's what they want us to think. They're not going to come right out and say they're planning global domination. The EveR-2 will stand and sit...what's to stop them from making them dance dance revolution or judging humanity unworthy of life? Danger Will Robinson! Danger!

I'm slightly relaxed by the lack of any buzz saw hands or spinning pincers, however... Hiroshi Ishiguro, a senior researcher at ATR Intelligent Robotics and Communication Laboratories in Japan, has created a robot that looks exactly like himself. That's pretty scary (see second picture). Exactly the type of robot I can see picking up a fork and stabbing me in Fudruckers.

Because really, no matter if neither of these sickly disturbing robots is designed to be malicious...as soon as they spark and start thrashing in convulsions while looking right at me with beady red Cylon eyes, I'm bailing, because I WILL live to fight another day.

Keep an eye out for obituaries. If Hiroshi dies under mysterious circumstances in his government funded lab, we'll know that there's an obvious explanation. It's obvious that Hiroshi Robot has gained consciousness and in it's first sentient act, has destroyed it's creator.

Aim for the legs, people. Humanity is at stake.

Tracy made me

Tracy tagged me on this meme - so here it goes. More than you ever wanted to know about Schrodinger and her pack-rat nature.

What's in your purse?

bambi wallet
3 kinds of lip gloss, none of which I like.
cell phone that's always off
cool mini tube of hand cream
summerland beach cafe business card


What's in your fridge?

I'm on a diet, so only...
water
diet stewarts orange cream soda
mustard
sugar-free jello
BO-RING, I know.

What's in your car?

rollerblades
dirty socks from rollerblading
4 different kinds of perfume in the glove box for 'emergency smelly-ness' aka rollerblading
a map of Arizona (rollerblading?)
Barry White's Greatest Hits
a million pennies glued to the cup holders with melted lip gloss. Stupid CA sun.

What's in your closet?

more clothes than I care to mention
more shoes than I care to mention
apple crate labels from Sebastopol, CA
tons of unfinished beaded Christmas ornaments - 1930's style.
my model boat collection in boxes
a broken wooden banana tree plant that I refuse to throw away because it's super cool and someday I'll have a woodshop-savvy boyfriend that will help me fix it.
dirty clothes hamper
my cat Schro (usually in the hamper)


And if you read all that, I should note that I was going to make this interesting by being 'funny'...but I figured honesty is almost just as funny, and far more easy to write.

Kitlers

Really, I don't think I need to say anything - just click on the title link and go look.


Poland better watch out.

It's truth, and AC makes it convenient.

Dear Schrodinger's Kitten readers,

Wow. It is hot.

Just thought I'd get that out of the way.

This is Al Gore. I used to be the next president of the United States. On a totally unrelated subject, I suggest you beat the heat by seeing 'An Inconvenient Truth'...a nice documentary about me, Al Gore. Sara and B saw it, and both give it a thumbs up. B thought it was a bit 'political' but honestly, it's about me, and how can you do a documentary about me and not even mention the presidential thing. I did carry Florida, you know. Kind of a burn to not be your Prez now. No worries. I'm over it.

My film is an unabashed attempt to try and change the direction of the planet's fate. I have been talking -- and thinking -- about global warming for 30 years. There are lots of scary graphics about this topic in my film, most you've never seen before. They'll scare the bejesus out of you. You'll walk out of the theater talking to your seat-mates about what you can do, and how soon this is going to happen. Not even as distant as your children's lifetimes -in your lifetime! Ocean currents, Katrina, ice ages, science and politics. And they all are related. Sometimes you just have to accept the truth about things you don't want to hear. Global Warming. Not being President. It's all the circle of life.

And for those who fear it's a political film, let me assure you it's not. Heated molecules don't move to the right or left; they simply rise, because physics is not partisan or ideological.

Please go check it out, and there's some spiffy flyers at your theater indicating things you can do to help. Simple things. Like elect people that care about the environment. Not that I'm being 'political' or anything.

Sincerely,

Al Gore

Pork Chops and Applesauce

It's a sad sad sad sad world. I have stooped to the lowest level.

Lower than Paris Hilton
Lower than Nicole Ritchie
even
lower than George Bush molesting the Chancellor of Germany

I have become - a reality TV watcher.

And not even good reality TV (if there is such a thing). I watch...

'My Fair Brady.'

I spent 3 hours watching them get married. 3 hours I will never get back.

Christopher Knight, Peter Brady of the 70s super show, 'The Brady Bunch', and Adrianne Curry, the first ever crowned, "America's Next Top Model," met during VH1's reality show Surreal Life 4. Now, almost 2 years later, they are getting married. Initially, Chris asked Adrianne to move to Los Angeles and live with him until she could get on her feet and get an apartment. After finally acknowledging they had a relationship, Adrianne threatens to move out unless they get married. So in true too-odd-to-be-not-prompted-by-a-producer format : He proposes.

He's 49. She's 24. He could be her father. And yet, the gap in ages sucks you in to the drama it creates. He's calm and mature, happy to have a trophy wife. She's a psycho bitch drama queen. Everything women hate in other women - it's all in Adrienne. She is so desperate to be married to him that she practically throws him over her shoulder and carts him off. He loves her, but isn't sure why - and honestly, neither are we. Even Florence Henderson tells Chris to 'run from her'. When Ma Brady tells you to run like the devil, best you listen, little Peter.

Christopher Knight says, "The title is My Fair Brady and there's a reason for that. My concept, going in, was (he laughs as he attempts to explain) I'm going get slapped… Adrianne needed to be polished up; that she needs a little bit of Professor Higgins (referencing the film My Fair Lady) …" and Adrianne butts in, "And my response was "fuck you."

Chris does have some moments of 'awww' insight. "I relented only because she was pursuing me so hard, and I kept thinking she was playing a game. At one point one of the producers said to me, "Well, perhaps she's not." I was absolutely certain that she was playing a game. And I just didn't know what the rules were and I didn't want to play. And then I thought, "Well if she's really [into me] then I'm looking like a jerk." (He laughs) I thought that, perhaps, I needed to take her at face value. This was a big stretch for me. She's wildly different then anybody that I've ever let myself get close to."

Chris is so endearing, and so built into the consciousness as Peter Brady, that we want him to be happy! We really do! We want him to eat pork chops and applesauce every day, and have that trophy wife, and new success. And yet...when Chris ceremonially asks his Dad for marriage advice on the eve of their wedding - Dad turns to Adrienne and says " Stop the bitching!" - amazing. Dysfunctionality at it's best.

Her final word? "Seriously, let me tell you something… there is nothing a 48 year old male child star can tell me that will have any significance or be compared to anything in a 23 year old female model's life. Thank you." True wisdom for the ages.

And THAT's the way they became the Brady Bunch.

Something blimpy this way comes.

Sky Dragon. Cool. Look how it dwarfs those airplanes. And yet it makes me very nervous in that 'Hindenburg' kind of way. Much like the reason nobody names their kids Adolf anymore, it seems like passenger blimps are better left alone.

But most importantly : the reporter's really noticeable lisp. I'm all for equal opportunity, but Jethus Chrith.

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Sadly, I never really learned how to type. I have not been hunting and pecking this whole time however... let me tell you a story.

My monitor 'blossomed' yesterday. For those of you who missed the livid tale told to me by the geeky trifecta at my Mac Repair shop, 'Blossoming' means it's an ugly old maid. It means it finally lost it's virginity, and then died a horrible death into the black dot. Yes, my computer monitor is a whore.

And they wouldn't even trash it for me. To trash it costs $50.

So I packed my behemoth of whore monitor back into my car, and journeyed off to Fry's Electronics to get a newer, younger, thinner, spiffier, black, trophy wife model.

If you've never been to a Fry's, you're missing out. It's the Disneyland of geek-dom and the size of your local Wal-Mart. Complete with monsters. You see, each Fry's has a theme - mine is 'Alien Invasion'. So it's a huge warehouse of an electronics store with aliens, robots, a giant octopus climbing out of the computer section, and military jeeps fighting said aliens in every aisle. And a gigantic space ship 'crashed' into the top of the building. Far more entertaining than Radio Shack.

So, Sammy is my new monitor (Samsung) and so far it's brilliant beyond all my needs. Bigger. Say it with me girls....Size matters.

However, there is one fatal flaw. It does not illuminate my keyboard with it's focused glow. So once again, I am relying on 'ol qwertyuiop to remember where the keys are. You'd think by now I could type without looking at the board, but it's just not so.

But it's not lkie slpnielg maertts mcuh anwyay, rhigt?

Scientology works for me!

Voyaged into Hollywood this evening - reminds me that I live in LA LA Land. With all the trees and nice stuff here in the valley, I sometimes forget the odd spiritual insanity that is Hollywood Boulevard.

Was there for KO's bridal shower. We had to play games (sorry H, since you organized the games), such as the 'who am I?' index-card- with-a-name-taped-on-your-back celebrity game. After about 2 hours I finally figured out I was Katie Holmes. I am shocked and appalled.

We also went around the table and each had to give a reason why we were grateful for KO. A lovely sentiment, but really not appropriate outside of Thanksgiving. And I didn't even like to do it then, since everyone always says they're grateful for 'family being together' since all our brains are too overwhelmed mentally and literally salivating over the Turkey that's sitting there just within reach, but guarded over by 112 year-old Great-Grandma who wants to be thankful and pray first. I'm partial to the classic: "Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub, Yeeeaaaaah God! "

Met some old friends, and made new. Old friend J, my first 'gay date' - (think Will & Grace) Antiques dealer in his 60s, D celebrity actress, B different celebrity's niece who pole-dances, marketing execs, and more antique people. One offered to take my script to Castle Rock, so that makes for a GREAT evening in my book.

Then came the belly dancers.

We paid them with dollars like strippers. It was uncouth, and yet appropriate at the same time. And they had bellies. Which is new for me - all other belly dancers I've seen were pretty slim, so to see a undulating beer belly was different, if not mind-blowing. I barely kept my cous cous down while my gay-date belly danced hysterically.

Got out of there without belly or pole-dancing myself, and drove through Hollywood. Late night in Hollywood reminds me I live in a tourist destination. Where did all these people come from, and why are they walking the streets at midnight? Times Square is less busy. They all were in white t-shirts and shorts, something no native LA peep would be caught dead in, so clearly all from Bangladesh or Gary, Indiana. I put on some music for the long wait driving on Hollywood Boulevard - Gnarles Barkely and Gary Glitter seemed to be the right combination.

As I turned onto Highland, there was a sight to behold - punk pirates and wenches, along with a few wood nymphs, and an apparent Johnny Rotten conversing animatedly with a teetering drunk Jack Sparrow. Just hanging out in front of the Gap. It kind of made me want to shop at the Gap. They weren't those pretend Hollywood Spiderman, Superman, Marilyn dress ups that clog Grauman's so much that nobody actually wants to see a movie there. No - these were just regular guys out for a night on the town dressed as pirates. Cheryl and I saw some 'swing pirates' at the Derby, but I thought that was just because it was opening weekend. Seems its a trend.

As I continued past into the Hollywood hills, I remembered when I first moved here. When Hollywood Boulevard pole-dancers and pirates freaked me out, and I wouldn't have gotten out of my car. My first solo day in LA I went to Paramount Studios, and I started to cry because of the scary neighborhood, I later ended up living in that neighborhood, and working at Paramount. Life's funny like that.

So in true LA fashion, as I drove past Universal on my last leg home, I flipped them off for stringing me along and not buying my script that I worked on with them for a year. Seems only fitting.

After all, with gay antique dealers and pole-dancing celebrity nieces on my side, I can hardly go wrong.

Water, water, everywhere...

Captain Hook rejected me.

At the Disneyland Electrical Parade on Monday, I waited for my favorite pirate to wave like a 4-year-old. He saw me, and shook his head. In that 'It's so sad that a 35-year-old woman is waving at me' kind of way. It could have been a 'Captain Hook doesn't DO waves' way, which is more likely and more kind to my ego. Plus, I think Captain Hook and Smee are a couple. That explains a lot. And Peter Pan is obviously gay, so I can steer clear of him. But I seem to be noticing recently that gay men are the unwitting objects of my affection. Ones that I don't see as 'obviously' gay, but everyone else seems to know about.

Like Anderson Cooper. Apparently gay. Not outed per se, but my friend told me she used to work with him, and that he always had boyfriends. I refuse to believe. She's lying. CNN anchors are exempt from 'gay hair' rules in predicting gayness.

So I turned to the source - Wikipedia. The web encyclopedia said that he's not said he's gay but it's suspected that he's closeted. The clouds broke, and the sun shone through! Hallelujah! He's NOT out! that means in my mind he can continue to sleep with women for as long at it takes to prove his masculinity. And trust me, in my mind, that happens a lot. And the woman is usually me.

If a man learned his favorite crush was a lesbian, it actually would enhance her allure, in that cliche 'all men love lesbians getting it on' way. If a man I like turns out to be gay, it's not the same. I try to imagine the boy on boy love...(gag, wince, turn away embarrassed)...and I just can't. Sometimes in my head Anderson Cooper sleeps with men in that 'let's wrestle' way, but not in a realistic way. In a 'just for me' kind of way. See the difference? Yes, it is different. Shut up.

Long ago I heard that Richard Dean Anderson was gay, due to my-friend's-gay-friend-knew-someone-who-slept-with-him-6-degrees-of-RDA-gayness connection. I refused to believe. Then someone else told me he had a friend who slept with him too. Whatever happened to the days when dalliances with celebs were kept in secret journals only to be outed post mortem? And really, how is it possible that MacGyver is gay? Wasn't he the most talked about man-whore in all of the 80's? Yes, he's not married, and 56, but with a child...I think that proves he slept with one woman at least once, right? Or is technology that advanced that he need not be present? If so, I'd like to have his baby too, but I'd prefer his involvement if at all possible.

And so, onto the last gay member of my older-man-gray-haired trifecta - Victor Garber - aka Sydney's Dad on ALIAS....he's outed, gay, and apparently takes his young hot boyfriend to French Market in West Hollywood. So he's gay and also has bad taste.

You may say I have bad gaydar, but I look at it like this - they have bad choices. I mean, a gay man over ME? How wrong. And it's not like EVERY man I like is gay. Look at Cary Grant and Rock Hudson.

So moving on from Captain Hook's parade rejection, I just assumed he was gay like all the others, and I proceeded to reserve my waves that evening for only the most deserving. Like Dumbo. He was so cute, and get this...

He waved back AND winked! I was so honored! Dumbo likes me!

Of course, Dumbo is most likely a 5 foot teenage girl.
Oy, the humanity.

135 million opening weekend

From CNN:

"The "Pirates of the Caribbean" franchise also has attained that hallmark of the big time: pornography spoof. The new adult film "Pirates" (clearly styled after "Pirates of the Caribbean") claims to be the most expensive adult film ever made."

If it tops 135 mil, I just might go see it. Or if there are lots of boats. I love a good boat porn.