A Nebraska judge banned a couple words from a rape trial recently, specifically the words rape, sexual assault, victim, assailant, and sexual assault kit. Makes you wonder what's left. Perhaps the complainant can describe how she and the defendant made sweet, sweet love.
Balancing out this insanity, the case of the $54 million pants was tossed out of court by a judge today.
On a rather exciting note, Elizabeth Edwards, wife of presidential candidate John Edwards (not to be mistaken for my dear cousin Dirk's soon-to-be bride, an entirely different Elizabeth Edwards) came out (so to speak) in favor of gay marriage yesterday. She is quoted as saying, "I don't know why someone else's marriage has anything to do with me. I'm completely comfortable with gay marriage." Amen to that, sister.
I've seen a couple of really good movies lately. Intimate Strangers (in French, no less, with subtitles--you know it must be good if I'm willing to put down my knitting needles and instead squint at damned subtitles!), about a tax attorney mistaken for a therapist and the quirky, touching relationship that ensues; and Half Nelson, a depressing as hell yet strangely moving story of a crack-addled teacher and an amazing student. Both very odd, yet highly recommended.
Speaking of which, I was having a rather rough time yesterday afternoon, giving into overwhelming loneliness and feelings of abandonment by a certain man now happily involved with another woman, so I decided to partake in what any proper woman armed to the teeth with a pair of knitting needles would do. I ordered some Blue Heron yarn in eggplant, and also some stitch markers because I am totally and completely incapable of keeping my place in anything more advanced than knit two, purl two. Oh, the decadence and self-indulgence of it all was unbelievable. Softened, slightly, by a 10%-discount as a result of the last time I ordered from Seaport Yarns. Also speaking of which, Nathan gave me the sweetest birthday gift last Thursday, a $75 gift certificate to Yarntopia, on the corner of 108th & Amsterdam. This is neither here nor there, but does anyone else find themselves flabbergasted by the stupid names of some yarn stores? I mean, Yarntopia? Knitty City?? Ana-Cross-Stitch?!? Great stores, ridiculous names, I say. My favorite name is The Yarn Company. But The Yarn Company is an obnoxious, pretentious store, in my, as always, humble opinion.
"Art is the enemy of the routine, the mechanical and the humdrum. It stops us in our tracks with a high voltage jolt of disturbance; it reminds us of what humanity can do beyond the daily grind. It takes us places we had never dreamed of going; it makes us look again at what we had taken for granted." - Simon Schama, art historian extraordinaire
Balancing out this insanity, the case of the $54 million pants was tossed out of court by a judge today.
On a rather exciting note, Elizabeth Edwards, wife of presidential candidate John Edwards (not to be mistaken for my dear cousin Dirk's soon-to-be bride, an entirely different Elizabeth Edwards) came out (so to speak) in favor of gay marriage yesterday. She is quoted as saying, "I don't know why someone else's marriage has anything to do with me. I'm completely comfortable with gay marriage." Amen to that, sister.
I've seen a couple of really good movies lately. Intimate Strangers (in French, no less, with subtitles--you know it must be good if I'm willing to put down my knitting needles and instead squint at damned subtitles!), about a tax attorney mistaken for a therapist and the quirky, touching relationship that ensues; and Half Nelson, a depressing as hell yet strangely moving story of a crack-addled teacher and an amazing student. Both very odd, yet highly recommended.
Speaking of which, I was having a rather rough time yesterday afternoon, giving into overwhelming loneliness and feelings of abandonment by a certain man now happily involved with another woman, so I decided to partake in what any proper woman armed to the teeth with a pair of knitting needles would do. I ordered some Blue Heron yarn in eggplant, and also some stitch markers because I am totally and completely incapable of keeping my place in anything more advanced than knit two, purl two. Oh, the decadence and self-indulgence of it all was unbelievable. Softened, slightly, by a 10%-discount as a result of the last time I ordered from Seaport Yarns. Also speaking of which, Nathan gave me the sweetest birthday gift last Thursday, a $75 gift certificate to Yarntopia, on the corner of 108th & Amsterdam. This is neither here nor there, but does anyone else find themselves flabbergasted by the stupid names of some yarn stores? I mean, Yarntopia? Knitty City?? Ana-Cross-Stitch?!? Great stores, ridiculous names, I say. My favorite name is The Yarn Company. But The Yarn Company is an obnoxious, pretentious store, in my, as always, humble opinion.
"Art is the enemy of the routine, the mechanical and the humdrum. It stops us in our tracks with a high voltage jolt of disturbance; it reminds us of what humanity can do beyond the daily grind. It takes us places we had never dreamed of going; it makes us look again at what we had taken for granted." - Simon Schama, art historian extraordinaire
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