I'm sure you've heard about the gigantic pet food recall, following the news that dogs and cats across the country have become ill or died from kidney failure. The recall was for Menu Foods, which manufacters animal food for a shocking number of brands--basically every brand of pet food you've every heard of.
When the recall was initially announced, they were only able to say the illnesses coincided with a new supplier of wheat gluten, an ingredient in animal food. (Sidebar: I had never given it much thought, but this recall, along with Miss Kitty's decline in health due to chronic kidney failure, has brought to light that most commercial animal food is filled with grain that animals can't digest. Yes, even "high quality" brands like Science Diet and Eukanaba have grain as one of the top three ingredients. Pet food sites mention often that wild dogs and cats eat no grain whatsoever, and subside solely on animal protein. The second ingredient of the brand I bought for Miss Kitty for years and years, Nutro Max Lite for Over-fed and Under-Exercised Housecats is ground rice. Now I buy Innova for Rickety Old Bags with less grain in it.)
I was doing my usual perusal of the FDA website, when I read that they discovered melamine in the wheat gluten. The word melamine tickled at my brain. I knew I have heard that word but I couldn't connect it to food. I did a google search and realized why I was not able to make the leap from melamine to anything you would feed to a living being. Melamine is a resin used to make plastic plates and freaking Formica furniture. How in the hell melamine got mixed in with wheat gluten, I can't begin to imagine.
Miss Kitty's appetite really varies, so I've tried a trick recommended on one of the many feline kidney failure sites: pour tuna water all over everything. This works really well, but I am left with all these containers of drained tuna. If I ate all the tuna for which MK drank the tuna water, I would probably die of mercury poisoning in a week. Perhaps I should go to an elementary school with a giant Tupperware on tuna melt day and beg for the dregs of their institutional food service can of tuna so I can go home and try to convince my cat to eat.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Why I Can't Appreciate Science Fiction
One of the downfalls of being a Professional Critic is that I have a real problem with suspension of disbelief. My inability to suspend disbelief has made it impossible to appreciate the entire genres of fantasy and science fiction, and many episodes of "real life" dramas such as ER wherein helicopter rotors lop off the hands of nasty surgeons and in later episodes, crush said nasty surgeons to death.
Do you remember that? In TV jargon this is called "jumping the shark." If you're a child of the 70s as I am, you will no doubt remember the Happy Days episode in which the Fonz, for reasons I don't remember and were perhaps more related to the ratings than any plot device in which sharks would normally appear (though the show was set in Milwaukee, they were somehow in California) jumped a shark on water skis (again, strange. The Fonz was known for his manly motorcycle). The recent Grey's Anatomy where Meredith falls into icy water following a ferry crash, had no oxygen to her brain for like 45 minutes and yet awoke from her ordeal unscathed save for slightly lanker than usual hair, would be a good example of jumping the shark.
My problem with shark jumping is that instead of feeling dramatic suspense, I feel impatient that the character has not yet died. Due to the ludicrous nature of the plot turn, I have immediately ceased to care. It is the same with science fiction and fantasy. I never watched Star Trek of my own volition, in any of its iterations. Though I am vaguely aware of the characters: the pale robotic guy, the husky voiced ball bustin' captain, the weird looking big violent guy wth the messed up looking face, and the dewey-eyed drip in the clingy catsuit, I think of them all as characters on the same show--an idea that strikes horror in the hearts of fans, who insist these shows are different from each other. Okay, if that makes you feel better, then sure. They're different.
Something happens to me when I hear a made up language or see a character wearing a stretchy pantsuit, shouting about their proton gun, or the Nembutal Universe. I think, this is ridiculous. Then I stop caring and wait for a violent end. Fantasy is just as bad, if not worse. Unicorns prancing through the sun dappled forest, giggling pointy-eared elves popping out from their little houses carved from the bases of gnarled old magical trees, maidens' heaving bosoms sproinging out of their corseted bodices. Where's the ornery village dragon when you need him?
I was forced to watch all eighty-seven Lord of the Rings movies with friends. You know who you are. I think you meant well. By the fourth hour of each of the movies, it was my most fervent wish that the evil sorcerer Gargamel kill all these earnest Muggles and feed them to his evil Vulcan Jabba the Hut before taking off for Tattooine in the Battlestar Galactica. Just please, let it be over already.
Do you remember that? In TV jargon this is called "jumping the shark." If you're a child of the 70s as I am, you will no doubt remember the Happy Days episode in which the Fonz, for reasons I don't remember and were perhaps more related to the ratings than any plot device in which sharks would normally appear (though the show was set in Milwaukee, they were somehow in California) jumped a shark on water skis (again, strange. The Fonz was known for his manly motorcycle). The recent Grey's Anatomy where Meredith falls into icy water following a ferry crash, had no oxygen to her brain for like 45 minutes and yet awoke from her ordeal unscathed save for slightly lanker than usual hair, would be a good example of jumping the shark.
My problem with shark jumping is that instead of feeling dramatic suspense, I feel impatient that the character has not yet died. Due to the ludicrous nature of the plot turn, I have immediately ceased to care. It is the same with science fiction and fantasy. I never watched Star Trek of my own volition, in any of its iterations. Though I am vaguely aware of the characters: the pale robotic guy, the husky voiced ball bustin' captain, the weird looking big violent guy wth the messed up looking face, and the dewey-eyed drip in the clingy catsuit, I think of them all as characters on the same show--an idea that strikes horror in the hearts of fans, who insist these shows are different from each other. Okay, if that makes you feel better, then sure. They're different.
Something happens to me when I hear a made up language or see a character wearing a stretchy pantsuit, shouting about their proton gun, or the Nembutal Universe. I think, this is ridiculous. Then I stop caring and wait for a violent end. Fantasy is just as bad, if not worse. Unicorns prancing through the sun dappled forest, giggling pointy-eared elves popping out from their little houses carved from the bases of gnarled old magical trees, maidens' heaving bosoms sproinging out of their corseted bodices. Where's the ornery village dragon when you need him?
I was forced to watch all eighty-seven Lord of the Rings movies with friends. You know who you are. I think you meant well. By the fourth hour of each of the movies, it was my most fervent wish that the evil sorcerer Gargamel kill all these earnest Muggles and feed them to his evil Vulcan Jabba the Hut before taking off for Tattooine in the Battlestar Galactica. Just please, let it be over already.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Now What?!
The odometer on my 1994 Honda Accord has stopped working. Add this to the list of broken things that seem pointless to fix in a car of this age: antenna, change holder, radio that works intermittently, not to mention a pretty busted-ass rear end. I planned to drive it until it gave up the ghost at or around 200K, when hopefully the price of hybrids had come down a bit, but everything has ground to a halt at 106,999. It occurs to me that missing an accurate odometer reading may somehow be illegal. Here's what the CA DMV website says:
Operation With Nonfunctional Odometer Prohibited
28050.5. It is unlawful for any person with the intent to defraud to operate a motor vehicle on any street or highway knowing that the odometer of such vehicle is disconnected or nonfunctional.
Added Ch. 1210, Stats. 1967. Effective November 8, 1967.
This is sort of vague. The title of this code indicates that it is indeed illegal to drive my car in its current condition, but the body of this code makes me think it is okay, as I have no intent to defraud anyone. I would rather spend my money on maintenance related to the car's ability to get me to work safely or perhaps our next visit to Dr. Reaper. Or really on anything else, if you must know the truth.
I did find a DIY website that lays out the steps to fix it yourself. But since my mechanical abilities are limited to replenishing the wiper fluid, I think this might be a bit beyond me.
Operation With Nonfunctional Odometer Prohibited
28050.5. It is unlawful for any person with the intent to defraud to operate a motor vehicle on any street or highway knowing that the odometer of such vehicle is disconnected or nonfunctional.
Added Ch. 1210, Stats. 1967. Effective November 8, 1967.
This is sort of vague. The title of this code indicates that it is indeed illegal to drive my car in its current condition, but the body of this code makes me think it is okay, as I have no intent to defraud anyone. I would rather spend my money on maintenance related to the car's ability to get me to work safely or perhaps our next visit to Dr. Reaper. Or really on anything else, if you must know the truth.
I did find a DIY website that lays out the steps to fix it yourself. But since my mechanical abilities are limited to replenishing the wiper fluid, I think this might be a bit beyond me.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Planetary Problems
I can think of no other explanation for the proverbial shit hitting the fan in so many of my friend's lives this past week. I'm including myself here in this, but trust me when I tell you that my stuff seems mild in comparison. I'll tell you more in a minute, but what causes this convergence of badness? I don't know enough about woo-woo California things like energy fields and planetary alignment but weeks like these make me think there may be something to this.
The love of my life Miss Kitty has been diagnosed with chronic kidney failure, which as far as I can tell is what most cats seem to die of. But it may have been caught soon enough that she can be okay enough with daily fluids and a slightly modified diet. We're going back to the vet Wednesday to see how she's done with ten days of those changes. She has definitely slowed down, and her appetite diminished. In an effort to tempt her into eating I have made her salmon and turkey, which she is definitely interested in, but not with the gusto that she once attacked such foods. In fact when the vet told me this news I was shocked, as just earlier that day she nearly mauled me to get at a crab cake I was eating for lunch. But this is a kitty who has survived multiple strokes and days after her vet, who I'll refer to as "Dr. Reaper," gave me the 'quality of life' speech, she was jumping up on the bed. I'm just kissing her as much as I can. Any concerns I ever had about spoiling her, which honestly were next to non-existent, are truly out the window.
Last weekend, Lizh, Buddha Levine and I needed some levity, badly, and went to see Music and Lyrics with Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant. What a perfect romantic comedy with a great soundtrack, too. Check out the duet Way Back into Love sung by Drew and Hugh. Catchy, no?
Let me end by saying that I love Salon, but no matter how many ads you force me to watch, I am never ever going to buy a Porsche Cayenne. However, I will probably check the new Anne Lamott book out of the library.
The love of my life Miss Kitty has been diagnosed with chronic kidney failure, which as far as I can tell is what most cats seem to die of. But it may have been caught soon enough that she can be okay enough with daily fluids and a slightly modified diet. We're going back to the vet Wednesday to see how she's done with ten days of those changes. She has definitely slowed down, and her appetite diminished. In an effort to tempt her into eating I have made her salmon and turkey, which she is definitely interested in, but not with the gusto that she once attacked such foods. In fact when the vet told me this news I was shocked, as just earlier that day she nearly mauled me to get at a crab cake I was eating for lunch. But this is a kitty who has survived multiple strokes and days after her vet, who I'll refer to as "Dr. Reaper," gave me the 'quality of life' speech, she was jumping up on the bed. I'm just kissing her as much as I can. Any concerns I ever had about spoiling her, which honestly were next to non-existent, are truly out the window.
Last weekend, Lizh, Buddha Levine and I needed some levity, badly, and went to see Music and Lyrics with Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant. What a perfect romantic comedy with a great soundtrack, too. Check out the duet Way Back into Love sung by Drew and Hugh. Catchy, no?
Let me end by saying that I love Salon, but no matter how many ads you force me to watch, I am never ever going to buy a Porsche Cayenne. However, I will probably check the new Anne Lamott book out of the library.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
I Watch a Bunch of Television
I am definitely getting my money's worth from Netflix. I am chewing through TV shows like there's no tomorrow. I'm of course waiting semi patiently for Season 4 of The Wire, which still has no release date. Annoying. But I just watched the 3rd season of Entourage. I adore the character of Ari. He does some of the most awful things to his family if he thinks it will help his career (dissing his daughter's Grandpa at her Bat Mitzvah to allow his client to cut the challah with her instead was classic Ari) but it is his scenes that are the most riveting by far. The writers do a great job of imbuing Ari with enough tidbits of humanity that he cannot become a two dimensional bastard but not so much that we lose track of his essential sliminess. Definitely looking forward to the rest of that.
Season 3 of Nip/Tuck was beyond stupid. Though the Carver sub-plot was interesting and actually terrifying at first, to the point where I was watching with my hands over my eyes, it became more and more far-fetched and culminated in the most ridiculous plot twist I have ever seen. I won't go into detail in case you plan to watch, but suffice it to say by the end I didn't care if the entire cast were sliced into ribbons. Still, I haven't given up, since the first two seasons had some delicious writing and character development, particularly in the case of Julian. Like Ari, he is the villain/hero, the one we're supposed to hate but really like a lot more than the morally upstanding, stable characters like Sean who are mostly a snoozefest.
The premier of October Road is on right now. Not only is it boring, the main character's range of expression seems to be slight variations of puppy dog sad. I stopped caring about him ninety seconds in.
The Comeback, the post-Friends Lisa Kudrow vehicle, was on HBO for one season and then canceled. I've watched half the episodes so far--it's fantastic! I highly recommend it. Very funny, great commentary on the never-ending invasion of reality television. Plus, it also stars Laura Silverman. I didn't know who she was either, but I recognized her voice--she was the receptionist Laura on "Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist." And, as I was looking this up online, I also discovered that she's Sarah Silverman's sister. Isn't blogging educational?
Season 3 of Nip/Tuck was beyond stupid. Though the Carver sub-plot was interesting and actually terrifying at first, to the point where I was watching with my hands over my eyes, it became more and more far-fetched and culminated in the most ridiculous plot twist I have ever seen. I won't go into detail in case you plan to watch, but suffice it to say by the end I didn't care if the entire cast were sliced into ribbons. Still, I haven't given up, since the first two seasons had some delicious writing and character development, particularly in the case of Julian. Like Ari, he is the villain/hero, the one we're supposed to hate but really like a lot more than the morally upstanding, stable characters like Sean who are mostly a snoozefest.
The premier of October Road is on right now. Not only is it boring, the main character's range of expression seems to be slight variations of puppy dog sad. I stopped caring about him ninety seconds in.
The Comeback, the post-Friends Lisa Kudrow vehicle, was on HBO for one season and then canceled. I've watched half the episodes so far--it's fantastic! I highly recommend it. Very funny, great commentary on the never-ending invasion of reality television. Plus, it also stars Laura Silverman. I didn't know who she was either, but I recognized her voice--she was the receptionist Laura on "Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist." And, as I was looking this up online, I also discovered that she's Sarah Silverman's sister. Isn't blogging educational?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
What's New, Pussycat?
Until today, I had never heard the name Brad Delp. But I did know the Boston song More Than a Feeling. Do you know that one? 70s anthem? I see my Marianne walkin' awaaaayyyyheeeeeyyy (morphs into soaring guitar solo). That's Brad Delp, lead singer of Boston who died today of unknown causes at age 55.
I had to watch at least one episode of Pussycat Dolls Presents: The Search for the Next Doll. I picked a good one to watch, as this episode saw half the wannabe Dolls felled by a nasty stomach virus the day before the elimination audition. What a spectacle: half dressed girls moaning and clutching their stomachs, lamenting the bad luck of becoming ill on the cusp of achieving their lifelong dream of becoming a Pussycat Doll. Have the Pussycat Dolls been around long enough to inspire anyone's lifelong dream? I guess I have established my own hierarchy of stupid reality shows. I can accept America's Next Top Model, but not Doll. Oh well.
However, in this month's issue of Vanity Fair, I was disturbed to see a letter to the editor from the Writer's Guild of America, commenting on last month's highly complimentary article about Tyra. Apparently, when writers for ANTM (I know, who knew there were writers? But someone had to come up with the classic line, "I have five beautiful girls standing before me. But I only have four pictures.") tried to join the Guild for pay equity and health insurance, they were fired. I scoured the web for any comments Trya may have made abot the incident, but came up with nothing. Producer Ken Mok said they planned to go ahead with the show without writers, which doesn't seem like such a bad idea, but still. Do we need to add "union buster" to "supermodel" and "mogul" to Tyra's list of achievements?
I had to watch at least one episode of Pussycat Dolls Presents: The Search for the Next Doll. I picked a good one to watch, as this episode saw half the wannabe Dolls felled by a nasty stomach virus the day before the elimination audition. What a spectacle: half dressed girls moaning and clutching their stomachs, lamenting the bad luck of becoming ill on the cusp of achieving their lifelong dream of becoming a Pussycat Doll. Have the Pussycat Dolls been around long enough to inspire anyone's lifelong dream? I guess I have established my own hierarchy of stupid reality shows. I can accept America's Next Top Model, but not Doll. Oh well.
However, in this month's issue of Vanity Fair, I was disturbed to see a letter to the editor from the Writer's Guild of America, commenting on last month's highly complimentary article about Tyra. Apparently, when writers for ANTM (I know, who knew there were writers? But someone had to come up with the classic line, "I have five beautiful girls standing before me. But I only have four pictures.") tried to join the Guild for pay equity and health insurance, they were fired. I scoured the web for any comments Trya may have made abot the incident, but came up with nothing. Producer Ken Mok said they planned to go ahead with the show without writers, which doesn't seem like such a bad idea, but still. Do we need to add "union buster" to "supermodel" and "mogul" to Tyra's list of achievements?
Friday, March 09, 2007
Really, Salma?
The stunning Salma Hayek, one of my most favorite people to look at, is with child. I had no idea she was even dating anyone. Doesn't she always attend Hollywood events with Penelope Cruz as her date? But apparently she is engaged to some megabucks geriatric. Okay, I must check myself. He is 44 and she is 40. But Perez had a pic on his site in which he looks 70. I did find a better picture of him. Cute, but really not in the league of Salma. But few are, no?
Certainly none of the ladies on this cycle of America's Next Top Model. Despite this cycle of girls being somewhat lackluster, this show has its hooks in me. I am fascinated by the transformation into these insane high couture peacocks, virtually unrecognizable as the mousy girls they were before. I love J Alexander, who has got to be the biggest freak on network television. Last week J, dressed in pigtails and a Catholic schoolgirl plaid skirt, taught the girls how to runway walk on an outdoor track, in stilettos. The girls were falling all over themselves but J strutted like the queen she is. Classic stuff. Even though Tyra's ego just gets bigger and bigger each cycle, nearly threatening to eclipse the entire show, I can forgive it. We're living in a time where it is acceptable for female media moguls like Oprah, Martha and Rachael Ray to put themselves on the cover of their magazines every single month. I guess it must be equally acceptable for Tyra to decorate every available wall of her models' shared home with pictures of ... Tyra.
I'll end by saying that I'm quite pleased with myself tonight. First, I successfully avoided a ticket for not coming to a full stop at a stop sign, though the cranky motorcycle cop was well within his rights to issue that citation, as I was in lala land eating baby carrots as I rolled through the stop sign and didn't even see him until his face was practically plastered against my window. Two, I parked at a meter today that had 53 minutes left, thus avoiding the need to deplete my precious stash of quarters, needed for dust mite control laundry. And three:
Unfinished wood cigar box from Michael's: $3.99
Can of stain, can of polyurethane, sandpaper: Already sitting in my closet, who remembers how much it was?
Two foam brushes: $1.69
One piece of black self-adhesive felt: $1.29
Having a place to store jewelry that is not a pink plastic party favor from some girl's Bat Mitzvah in 1984: Priceless
Certainly none of the ladies on this cycle of America's Next Top Model. Despite this cycle of girls being somewhat lackluster, this show has its hooks in me. I am fascinated by the transformation into these insane high couture peacocks, virtually unrecognizable as the mousy girls they were before. I love J Alexander, who has got to be the biggest freak on network television. Last week J, dressed in pigtails and a Catholic schoolgirl plaid skirt, taught the girls how to runway walk on an outdoor track, in stilettos. The girls were falling all over themselves but J strutted like the queen she is. Classic stuff. Even though Tyra's ego just gets bigger and bigger each cycle, nearly threatening to eclipse the entire show, I can forgive it. We're living in a time where it is acceptable for female media moguls like Oprah, Martha and Rachael Ray to put themselves on the cover of their magazines every single month. I guess it must be equally acceptable for Tyra to decorate every available wall of her models' shared home with pictures of ... Tyra.
I'll end by saying that I'm quite pleased with myself tonight. First, I successfully avoided a ticket for not coming to a full stop at a stop sign, though the cranky motorcycle cop was well within his rights to issue that citation, as I was in lala land eating baby carrots as I rolled through the stop sign and didn't even see him until his face was practically plastered against my window. Two, I parked at a meter today that had 53 minutes left, thus avoiding the need to deplete my precious stash of quarters, needed for dust mite control laundry. And three:
Unfinished wood cigar box from Michael's: $3.99
Can of stain, can of polyurethane, sandpaper: Already sitting in my closet, who remembers how much it was?
Two foam brushes: $1.69
One piece of black self-adhesive felt: $1.29
Having a place to store jewelry that is not a pink plastic party favor from some girl's Bat Mitzvah in 1984: Priceless
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