Contestant No. Five: Jane Goodall

Granville calls her the Monkey Lady. I call her Beautiful.

Christian says that someone once referred to Jane Goodall as "National Geographic's pin-up girl." If that isn't enough to get her on this list, I don't know what is. Oh, unless it's her tireless efforts to make the world a better place in which to live. She was also one of the first women to go into the African wilderness for her research and to use that journey to revolutionize primatology. This, of course, affects how we understand ourselves as well. So here's to Jane Goodall, conservationist, scientist, beautiful woman.

Shoutout

It occurred to me today that I have not spent nearly enough time lauding my school chums. Which is a very strange thing because they are omnipresent in my life and my thoughts. So this is the Official Law School Friends Post, long overdue and likely very inadequate. The thing is that I believe they have absolutely no idea just how important they are to me. I could just see that conversation:

Me: Hey guys, have a seat a minute. I want to tell you something.
Granville: Okaaaay (insert witty pun)
Billy: Oh God, you're not going to tell us you love us or anything, are you?
Me: Well, yes, actually. That's exactly what I was going to do.
Justin: [Dismissive wave of the hand; probably leaves at this point]
Me: I just didn't want another day to go by without telling y'all how much you mean to me.
[Dix and Gussio roll eyes]

Etc, etc. Anna would believe me. Shawn would make fun of me. Anuj would make a really really bad joke. And it would all be perfect because this is exactly why I love these people. We share social ineptitude and a fear of Prof. Coenen (except for Billy who I think believes he has gotten Coenen all figured out). We manage to get really sick of each other and remain friends at the same time. How awesome is that?

I came to law school more or less convinced that it would be a mass of sorostitutes and frat-tastics and that I would slink around the edges of law school life unnoticed or, worse, universally despised. Lucky for me Anna noticed me wearing my Gardner Linn Fan Club t-shirt and we discovered that we have that in common (love and affection for one Gardner Linn). Soon I was in a little club with her and Chris (who I met while polluting my lungs back in my smoking days). You cannot imagine my delight. Friends! It wasn't long before Anna and I found our way to the library table of Granville, Shawn, and Justin. Chris passed his time in the Annex, a place to which Anna and I just could not bring ourselves to follow him. The library crew expanded to include Billy, Anuj, Dix, Gussio, and Ryan and we never looked back.

So this is my official thank you to all those I met in law school. When I say you were my rock, it is, quite possibly, the biggest understatement of my life. You were the reason I maintained a (tenuous) grasp on my sanity. You were the reason I managed to convince myself to come to school every day. So dismiss it if you want, but I love you all very very much. I know that there is a distinct possibility that we will sort of part company this next year or the year after. But even if that is the case, I will consider all of you friends for life and you will always be welcome to crash on my couch.

The Vamp of Savannah

Constant Reader--

I must apologize for my absence of late. I took the weekend to jet-set off to sunny (humid) Savannah to visit the fam and enjoy a change of scenery. I arrived on Friday and was introduced to the wonderful world of disc golf by the rather formidable Stephen (he won his age-division in the First "Annual" Savannah Disc Golf Competition). There was much frustration, after which I was left with the dismal score of 20 over par. Stephen says that it's okay because it was my first time out and I played with a "big lid" (golfer slang for "normal frisbee"). Still. One likes to believe that one is above average. We returned to McLaws St. and to a steaming pot of homemade Brunswick stew. Delicious with Frank's Hot Sauce and Braves baseball, both of which were in abundant supply at the dinner table. On Saturday Stephen and I went rainy-day book shopping. I convinced him to buy The Golden Compass and Lonesome Dove, both must-reads for anyone who fancies him- or herself a book-lover. After that it was lunch at The Exchange with my oldest friend Katie Roachfort (not oldest as in, she's wrinkled and incontinent, but old as in, she knew me when I was drawing hearts around boys' names on my composition books at Blessed Sacrament and when I was big-fish-small-ponding it at St. Vincent's). Nothin' like old friends, I always say. Then home for pot roast (yes I ate twice, as would you if you had ever had my mother's pot roast) and renting movies with Stephen. Stephen, Mama, and I all watched "Mean Girls" and then off to bed. You know, Lindsay Lohan looked so much better plump and with red hair. Just my two Lincolns on that topic. The next day Stephen and I slept in and then off for five hours of ultimate in Forsythe Park in the unbelievable humidity. My personal hell will definitely be that kind of humidity where you feel as if you are breathing underwater. The Salley children dominated, humidity or no. Must be the genes. After that it was off to the worst Mexican restaurant ever. Sorry that I don't remember the name (tho they are probably pretty happy about it). Worst shrimp cocktail ever. Worst margarita ever. Worst price for both. And my ass got wet in the bargain. But there was some brief entertainment after Sam lost a roche (paper, rock, scissors to the uninformed) to shoot a little bit of the cocktail remnants. In his words (after a particularly heinous showing), "I wasn't prepared for the chunks." Priceless. The next day I got up early so that my optometrist, Dr. Bradley, could tell me that I have a cyst in my right eye. Gross. Then shopping at Target with Mama followed by lunch with Renna at Brighter Day. Best white chocolate cheesecake that close to the Savannah River. I recommend the chicken salad sandwich. Then home to accidentally fall asleep, pack, and get on the road.

It was a wonderful trip, though it gets sadder and sadder to make the trip. Every time I go back something is new, either in the McLaws St. house or in the greater Savannah metropolitan area. I just get reminded that I don't live there anymore. It's weird. Athens isn't my home, though I've lived here for seven years. Savannah is feeling less and less like home the longer the time between real visits. Is it true, then, what they say? Can you ever go home again?

Thank you for hearing me out for neglecting you all weekend, Reader. I hope that hiatuses like this one will be few and far between.

Much Love,
Amy

Contestant No. Four: Shabana Azmi

Shabana circa 1974
With at least 118 movies to her credit since 1974, you would this this star of both Bollywood and New Indian Cinema wouldn't need much else to separate her from the crowd. It is, apparently, quite rare to conquor the art world of New Indian Cinema and the commerical world of Bollywood. But oh no, she didn't stop there. Now a member of Indian Parliament, she works fighting for the rights of minorities, slum-dwellers, and women. In addition, she has written and directed a movie which is now in pre-production.

Shabana Azmi 

Contestant No. Three: Audrey Hepburn

My Fair Lady
Audrey Hepburn. Those eyes. That neck. Those lips. All that time spent saving the world through UNICEF and her Children's Fund. Truly, they do not make them like this anymore.

Okay, by popular demand (and a need to avoid having Gardner harangue me anymore) I am composing the Official Rules to the Epic Search for the Epitome of Female Beauty (not to be confused with Gardner's Everything Idol contest, to which I am aware this little endeavor of mine bears a very striking resemblance indeed). To wit:

1) Contestants must be physically beautiful. Now, this is a very liquid and relative concept. What defines beauty, after all? Everyone has different tastes. Every age has different standards. There are hair and fashion fads to be considered. So I have no way of being more specific than, they must be physically beautiful. If you look at them and say, "Good Lord she's beautiful," then we're on to something. NB: beautiful is NOT the same thing as hot. I believe I am not alone in thinking that one can be hot w/o being beautiful and vice versa. Often the two occur together (see Angelina Jolie). So being hot is not a disqualifier. One must use one's judgment in these situaitons.

2) Contestants must have some accomplishment to their names beyond being blessed with good genes (or good plastic surgeons). To me, the epitome of female beauty would possess some extraodinary talent or philanthropic tendency or business savvy or something. It's high time the beauty of a woman includes attributes beyond the two that adorn her frontal area. So, in my ideal beautiful woman, there will reside such personal qualities as will make even the most accomplished among us absolutely green.

3) Nominations will continue until I feel like the number has gotten silly. I realize this will likely turn this blog into some nauseating celebration of women with the occasional entertaining anecdote from my ever-fascinating life. The wonderful thing is that this is my f-ing blog and I shall do what I like with it. So there.

And that concludes the Offical Rules. Feel free to make suggestions which meet the requirements set forth in Rule 1 and Rule 2. This is fun. We can live vicariously through the beautiful and talented and thank God that we are not as exhausted as they most likely are/were.

Contestant No. Two: Elyse Sewell

Elyse in a Modern Art Moment
Would it be possible for me to have a contest for Epitome of Female Beauty without including my one true girl love? To add to her list of accomplishments (please see the previous post about her for others): she deferred medical school to model, she takes the most amazing self-portraits I have ever seen, and she can swear like a Mexican sailor. Did I mention her devestating wit and love of inappropriately-named foreign foodstuffs?

You know, if she ever sees this blog, I am going to have some 'splainin' to do to keep myself out of stalker prison.

Contestant No. One: Mukhtaran Bibi

The first contestant in the contest of Epitome of Female Beauty. Not your typical beauty pageant fare, but this amazing woman has practially no equal in strength of conviction and using a horrible situation to achieve some good. For more on Mukhtaran Bibi, please see the NY Times editorial on her in today's issue. The initial article about her from last year can be found here.

Conversations Over Miller Lite Pitchers

In no particular order:

Michael Jackson's Skull: Millenia from now, when archaeologists uncover the skull of Michael Jackson, will they think that he was an alien? Or will the Prince of Pop opt for freezing his head a la Walt Disney?

To Queen: "Queen" as verb, as in, "Did you see that guy? He totally just queened me!" To be used when men of the homosexual persuasion posture to make sure there's no mistake about it. Can be modified with "double" or even "cube," as in "He double queened my ass!" Warning: using this word means you have automatically queened as well.

The Epitome of Female Beauty: Chris's pick--Elizabeth Taylor in the good days; George's pick--Christy Turlington; Patrick's pick--Angelina Jolie; Amy's pick--Jennifer Connelly; of course we all realize that there are more beautiful women than can be covered in one trip to Room 13. Where is Audrey Hepburn, Lana Turner? Where are all the non-whites? I think I will endeavor for my next post to put together a comprehensive list of the most beautiful women ever. Wish me luck.

Jewish Tattooed Gay Folksinger: Apparently a real person, possibly the most disenfranchised person on the planet. But I am open to suggestions as to who could have it worse. Maybe if he was black and a woman too.

Hasidic Rapper: A natural progression from the previous topic. I suggest that he name an album, "Acidic." See? Funny? It has an edge and he's Hasidic. Ha.

Katie Holmes: Will she or won't she convert to scientology now that she will allegedly become Mrs. Tom Cruise (No. 3)?

Finding Nemo--Good or Bad?: There was a split at our table concerning whether Finding Nemo really deserved all the hype levelled at it from various critics and the moviegoing masses. I'm on the "yes" side: beautiful images, touching story, witty dialogue, ridiculously talented cast, etc, ad nauseum. On the "No" side were the arguments that it is smarmy (sp?) and manipulative. Opinions?

"I'm Not Gay as in Happy, I'm Queer as in Fuck You" (excuse my language, Mom and Dad): My friend Chris is trying to convince me to march in the Gay Pride Parade next weekend in Atlanta. He doesn't seem to think it's a big deal that I am not gay. And that leaves me to wonder: is gay pride only for the queer? The quote which names this topic is the slogan that will be found on the T-shirt I am to wear as I pretend to be gay in front of Atlanta's prideful multitudes.

Internet Relationships: I met my first internet relationship last night. One half contacted the other half after being intrigued by the latter's pictures and comments on his MySpace page. I indicated my confusion over whether or not it is considered good etiquette to contact someone you don't know b/c you think there is a possibility that you have things in common. Of course, how is that any different from looking up someone in the phone book once upon a time? The question, I suppose, is where does hedging your bets end and stalking begin? For what it's worth, the contactee in the relationship at issue was a bit freaked out to be contacted in such a manner. But he seems to have gotten over it admirably.

What Does France Smell Like Anyway?: George was wearing a new shirt last night and upon smelling it we all agreed that it smelled like France. The scent was somewhere between lemon and jasmine and new car. I don't know why this smell should be so reminiscent of France, but we were unanimous. When you think France, what do you smell?

Superego

Hensley, when asked what I should blog, replied, "How sexy I am?" Be careful what you wish for. Please enjoy the pictures of Mr. Hensley Sejour, chemical engineering graduate student and ultimate frisbee god. He's single, ladies!

Hot or Not?

Hensley's game face 

This has nothing to do with Michael Jackson

I feel the need to buck the trend today and not to say anything at all about a certain one-gloved wonder who may or may not have molested children at his bizarre carnivalhouse. Instead I will blog the first thing that comes into my head at this moment: grass! I love grass! Grass grows, it's green, and according to my brother it tastes like salad. He was promised a dollar to eat some grass at the Sweetwater tournament and he is without that part of the brain that allows a person of ordinary intelligence and social savvy to say no when money is offered for inane undertakings. If you ever meet him, you should ask him about the cup of feta dressing and tartar sauce. If you have a strong stomach.

In other news, Moxie is feeling poorly today. She was pissed as hell at me for boarding her while I traipsed off to Ohio to get my fill of ultimate and chicken. She likes both those things and doesn't understand that sometimes Mommy needs a little me time. So she's staging a protest in the form of hunger strike. That girl, I tell ya. A chip off the old block. Not that I would ever have the wherewithall to actually make myself not eat. Nope. Not me. BIG fan of eating. Big. Hensley says that the only protests dogs make is having to relieve themselves outside by doing so in your shoes and on your rug. But my dog is special and different and classy and has social issues to protest. Like putting dogs in kennels. Well, I hate to tell her this, but like most protests, it has fallen on deaf ears. I predict the Moxster will be put in a kennel yet again. I'm like Mommy Dearest over here. Who knew?

Peep Show--Keep on Peepin' On

Peepin' it Real
This is the official shout-out to the Savannah kids who let me crash their Peep Show party this weekend at the Poultry Days ultimate tournament. Two days of fun but soggy ultimate, the best rotisserie chicken I have ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth, ghetto-fabulous cosmopolitans, and the discovery that people are remarkably receptive to being "Peeped" (an activity which calls for an invasion of the opposition's huddle and bombing them with Peeps). I consumed my first Peep over the weekend. I found it slimy but pleasantly sugary. I don't know if I will make a habit of eating them, but they are not as vile as I initially imagined. The Peep theme came from the fact that all the teams had poultry-related team names. We chose that scion of chicken-shaped preservatives, the Peep. Peep Show went 3-3 this weekend, with an unfortunate loss to a really aggressively annoying team out of Indiana (Hoosierchicken). But a good time was had by all and I am infinitely grateful that I was allowed to crash the party.

The road trips involved in this tournament process were also a pretty good time. I rode up with Wooten and Jam and on the way back we added Gwinner. Turns out that Gwinner and I were in Belize together way back in '96. Small world. On the trip home we all stopped and ate at Rio the Santa Fe Grill where you can apparently purchase such delicacies as a fried chunk of pork and umm umm delicious onions, according to the menu, but you cannot make the waiter bring you coffee. Ah well. I had servicable ceviche on tortillas that made me angry. Along the way I took pictures of a Mini tricked out with airplane wings and a tail and this enormous stone Jesus outside of the Solid Rock Church. But I can't figure out the internet so they will not be posted. But take it from me, had you seen the pictures, your life would not have been the same.

So that's my weekend in a nutshell. Frisbee, chicken, road trip. Can you think of a more powerful triumvirate?

The Newest Addition to Our Family

My Daddy Made Me Do It
Dad believes that since I blogged my brother, it's only fair to blog his car too. We are taking suggestions on the naming of the thing. My input is "Thelma." Now you.

The Dynasty

Stephen Flying (he's the one in white)
My brother told me that I have to blog him. It's not really surprising that he wants a piece of the action. It's a fast-paced world of fun and excitement after all. My brother spends the majority of his time learning America's youth important life skills such as how to make a battery and how to identify the layers of the earth (apparently preparing them for their lives as MacGuyver). When Stephen is not shaping the young minds of tomorrow, he can usually be found punishing his body mercilessly on the ultimate field. This would be him doing just that. What he doesn't want you to know is that he did not get this D. But he looks great sucking, don't he? (Disclaimer: I do not now believe, nor have I ever believed, that my my brother sucks; please note, however, that while I might throw around the insults like so much confetti, if I ever hear even one of you say anything remotely negative about him, you will have to deal with me and my small, ineffectual fists.)

Oh Brother

Stephen's sad face.

Girl Crush

See? Gorgeous. Elyse during her ANTM days.
Please allow me to take this opportunity to blog my new profound crush on Elyse Sewell. Never have I encountered such a thing of beauty as this girl. And I'm not even gay. All people should read her blog and revel in it. How many things does this girl have to brag about? She's gorgeous, she's brilliant, she's unabashedly pretentious, she came in third on the first season of America's Next Top Model (which, I have on good authority, is about to be re-aired on UPN), she dates Marty of The Shins, she goes to Buenos Aires and has conversations in the street with The White Stripes. Need I go on? Gardner has threatened to arm wrestle me for her love but I think it would be more appropriate to have a karaoke-off. He thinks he's got it in the bag since I chickened out last week. Little does he know that I'm really hustling him. He'll let down his guard and then I'll let him have it!! Ha ha!!

The Title Character

Moxielicious!
I felt I should give a shout out to my girl Moxie since she very obligingly let me use her name to foist my opinions on the unsuspecting masses. She asked me to tell everyone that the opinions expressed in this blog do not necessarily reflect those held by her or any other canines-wise-beyond-their-species.

What Would Faulkner Do?

WWFD?
Oprah has announced that her Summer 2005 Book Club will comprise Faulkner's difficult yet beautiful books The Sound and the Fury, As I Lay Dying, and Light in August. Lucky for the multitudes, Oprah has chosen not to begin the assignment with The Sound and the Fury but with As I Lay Dying, a choice that, entertainingly, mimics the order in which I read Faulkner, beginning when I was fourteen. I am reminded of the many heated debates Christian and I engaged in during our long drives in the West regarding the importance of Faulkner (or lack thereof from one perspective). Will this truly mean a renaissance of Faulkner's popularity outside of Southern Literature classes? What will the average Oprah Book Club reader get out of The Sound and the Fury? Does this "average Oprah Book Club reader" actually exist? And what went into Ms. Winfrey's decision to revisit Yoknapatawpha County? I am just endlessly intrigued by this. I don't know why I should be. Oprah has not ever really shied away from chosing difficult books. She has variously chosen Anna Karenina, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and She's Come Undone (an intense read, if not exactly Tolstoy). So I'm not sure why the choice of Faulkner merited blogging, except to express my hope/fear that this could mean the emergence of an unlikely subculture of Faulkner enthusiasts.

This is Where We Hip Hip for Renna

The Bastion of All Things Historic

Today I am celebrating the success of my friend Renna who has put one more notch on the bedpost of her career by getting an internship at the Georgia Historical Society!! Daily she will be put through the paces of archiving things and filing things and making sure that the important bits of information go down, properly indexed, into the annals of history. So let's hear it for Ren. Hip hip! Hip hip!

In related news, if you squint and tilt your head, you can see the law firm that rejected me just outside of the picture to the right. One day I will work for Renna and we will conveniently leave out any information regarding this law firm (which will remain nameless) from the aforementioned annals. Ha ha!

Vanity, Thy Name is Motorola

Today I have purchased the next in a long line of gadgets that far exceed any sane need I experience on any kind of regular basis. The Motorola V710. Judge me if you must. All I know is I can now take surreptitious pictures of my friends in compromising positions and sell sell sell. Awesome. I can fully engage with Shawn in a battle of the embarassing pictures. It's great to be a contender. Of course, the acquisition of this particular piece of equipment brings some liberal guilt with it. In my happy place, my personal ethos doesn't mold itself well around decadent consumption and conspicuous status symbols. So I feel kind of hypocritical. This is, by far, the flashiest thing that I have ever purchased for myself. But, I rationalize in the following way: it gets way more than 20 miles to the gallon.

In other news, Gardner has come and gone, leaving a wide and turbulent wake of despair and anguish. I feel a bit perturbed by at least one incident from Gardner's stay. From the Flagpole:

"INDIE ROCK KARAOKE" (Go Bar) If you're sick of "Baby Got Back," wear your Chucks and come on by. Every Thursday, 10 p.m.

Now, I consider myself something of a party gal. I like to have fun, cut loose, or, as my friend Adam says entirely too often, "Hop on the good foot and do the bad thing" or something along those lines. So the idea of karaoke, per se, does not bother me. So imagine my chagrin (and the crushing blow to my vanity) when I realized that I had stage fright and would not be able to convince myself to sing (I was planning on a stirring rendition of "Fight Test" by the ever-inventive Flaming Lips). Oh! The ineffable desperation that I felt! Gardner had traveled all the way from the Left Coast to visit his peeps in Athens and what do I do when the moment of truth arrives? Chicken out. No bones about it. Need I point out the irony of my song choice?

Gardner, on the other hand, did his part to keep the party going. His delivery of "Debaser" by The Pixies was really quite stirring.

Rumination on a Theme

Yeah he's The One. The HOT One!

Things I thought of while I was watching Kung Fu Hustle last night in the delightful company of Cathy Lee, Shanye, K Woo, Julie, Ricky Tse, and Tater:

1. I really really hate it when they don't reveal to the moviegoers that the guy they've been watching and ridiculing the whole movie is actually remarkably good looking. I didn't get a quality "Hubba Hubba" in until the last 10 minutes of the movie which makes for a very very cranky Amy.

2. I have no idea why the Georgia Theater insists on selling cans of PBR for a shocking $3.50. Think of this: you can buy a whole 12 pack of PBR bottles at the fabulous Mr. Lee's Package for approximately $9.00. If the jokers who run Georgia Theater ran the world I would be paying $42 for a 12 pack of cans. Because of this, here begins my official boycott of buying cans of PBR from the Georgia Theater. Join me in this crusade! We will show them they should sell their cans for $1.33! And when they do--when they finally bow to the pressure of the consuming masses--well, then, we'll buy their beer again! Ha ha!

3. On a lighter note, Kung Fu Hustle easily one of the best movies I've seen this year. I mean, Sahara isn't even in the same stratosphere (NB: that was sarcasm--in no way do I now or will I ever actually endorse watching that film). It had everything: love, fighting, humor, villains, heroes, lollipops. Truly marvelous. Drop what you are doing and watch it. Now.

4. What makes your ass fall asleep? Am I the only person this happens to?

And the third contestant in the lookalike battle: Ethan Suplee! 

For Comparison's Sake

Granville, probably laughing at Strong Bad doing something. Or maybe this was the day we all laughed uproariously at the sheep beating it's head on a wooden crossbeam.

I need to know if anyone else in the world thinks Granville looks like Gardner. Let the voting commence.

I stole this picture from the GLFC. This is Gardner in his adopted hometown of LA. 

Cathy is the hot one, top row, on the right with the pigtails. 

Drink a Cup of Kindness

I am spending my week seeing people whom I have neglected for far too long in my busy-but-not-that-busy life. The first person to reap the benefits of my newfound dedication to strengthening the ties that bind is Cathy Lee (see picture above). I think, though, and she might agree with me, that since the catching up could only occur if she came all the way to Athens from Boulder it's a bittersweet victory at best. Still, last night was spent in the company of friends w/ a few rounds of Maker's Mark and Blenheim's (best drink ever). I love seeing old friends. I go around all the time thinking I want to meet new people when I know that nothing compares to sitting around with people who know me better than I know myself and having them give me a great big ole dose of Get Over Yourself.

The second person to be caught up with this week will be Gardner (again, see above). Though, I must say, this victory too is bittersweet since he had to come all the way from Los Angeles to hang out at my house with Moxie 'n me. So I won't be winning any awards for Friend of the Year, but I can say that I'm glad I'm making an effort when the situation presents itself because you just never know when you'll get the chance again. Am I right? Am I right?