Procrastinet

Obama - my pitch

filed under: Hey, What's The Big Idea

Okay. Here's my pitch.

I'm like Fox Mulder - I want to believe.

Not like the banner above asks, in "my" ability to change Washington. Whatever.

I listen to Barack Obama's political speeches (vis: Democratic National Convention '04, South Carolina Victory Speech last week) and I want to believe in the kind of politics that he's talking about.

I don't want to hyperanalyze the platform and policy differences between him and Hillary. I don't want to try to guess who can beat McCain (or Romney or whoever). I don't want to be calculating or cynical at all.

I want to believe that the feeling I get listening to him talk about politics is solid, and legitimate, and real, and transformative.

And the only way - THE ONLY way - that can be true, is if he wins. If he loses, the whole thing unravels. And that would make me very, very sad, because it would mean that our country's politics are no longer reachable by that message.

If you're still wondering who to support in the Democratic primary, do me this one favor. Go to the Obama site and watch the South Carolina speech. If it makes you feel good, double down on that feeling with a vote for Obama.

In Your Facebook

filed under: Idle Chatter

I joined the Friendster bandwagon late, and after one weekend stopped paying any attention to it at all. Then when MySpace and FaceBook came around, I decided that there was finally an online somethingorother that I was too old and out of touch for, so I let them pass me by.

Then last night I decided to look somebody up, and suspected they'd be on FaceBook. To search it, you have to join. So I joined.

And I was magically transported into the middle of a big party where EVERYONE I'VE EVER KNOWN EVER was already having a high old time.

The thing is made of magic. It sent Friend requests to people I barely knew I knew. My best friend from High School, who I've annually googled in vain? There. My friend from Nerd Camp who I keep drifting in and out of touch with? There.

Amazingly - I didn't even go looking for these people! It scoured my gmail address book and automagically put me in touch with them.

Crazy. And addictive. Now we'll see if the addiction lasts longer than the 48 hours that Friendster got...

If you're on Facebook and somehow NOT one of the scores of people I already found, look me up. And if you're not on Facebook... let me go ahead and dangle the carrot in front of you. I didn't think I wanted it either.

My profile page.

I Touch Myself

filed under: Stuff you never, ever needed to know

The only reason for this post is to be posting from my iPod touch. Thumb typing on the touchscreen and everything!

I am so fancy.

That is all.

Park Slope Hearts Netflix

filed under: Idle Chatter

Last Monday, I was taking our Netflix movie (Spirited Away, a new Top 10 Of All Time for me...) to the mailbox on Seventh Avenue.

As I approached, I saw that a fellow of my approximate demographic - thirtysomething, vaguely gruppy - was standing at the mailbox, staring at it. Clutched in his hand was a red Netflix envelope.

I stood behind him and waited my turn. He looked at me despairingly.

"It's full," he said.

"Ah," I said.

"It's full of Netflix." He shook his head and wandered off, still clutching his rumpled red envelope.

I pulled the mailbox open, and sure enough, its gaping blue maw was crammed with dozens of red envelopes. They were jammed at the back of the chute and it wouldn't open all the way.

Undaunted, I squeezed mine into a crack and chewed on it with the door a couple of times, then left it to its fate.

There were enough DVD's being returned to choke a mailbox. That, my friends, is a truly massive volume of Netflix.

Today I checked the Top 25 for 11215 - a list of movies that my zip code rents more frequently than average. I'm glad to see my nabe living up to its reputation - out of 25, there was a Godard, two Bunuels, a Bergman, an Antonioni, two Wong Kar Wais, a Truffaut and a Werner Herzog.

And, oddly, Videodrome.

Well I'll be Bugaboo'd

filed under: The Weekly WANT IT

As many, many folks can attest, I am a Bugaboo counter-snob. The advent of the Bugaboo Frog, with a basic price of $800 and a package price (with cribby thingy, covers, parasol, etc.) of $1100+ forever skewed the psyche of my generation of parents. Suddenly, spending $300 on a stroller made you look and feel like a heartless cheapskate who doesn't love your kid.

Add to that the impracticality of the Bugaboo non-folding design (okay, yes, it folds, but you have to TAKE IT APART to do so) for those with an urban, apartment-based lifestyle. Then try standing on a crowded subway with one, or being between one and the subway door. And if you don't live in an urban environment, you're transporting your kid by car 90% of the time and a stroller is more or less irrelevent - especially one that costs a thousand bones and eats your whole trunk.

So: I hate Bugaboos. Hate them hate them. Loudly and volubly. And rudely, to the several of our close friends who own them.

Understand, then, the pain that it gives me to announce that on Saturday we registered for one.

Now, and this distinction is critical here, we registered for the Bugaboo Bee, which is the (much) smaller, (much) lighter, (much) more practical version. That said, the fracking thing still costs *mumble mumble* dollars and is a muggerthugging Bugaboo.

Here's what happened: we went to Buy Buy Baby to register for the baby stuff we need for Baby Vou. I did a circuit of the entire stroller area. I had fallen in love with the MicraLite Toro which, while $599 its own damn self, had the vast advantage of not being a Bugaboo.

It also had the questionable design choice of having two large inflatable rear wheels aligned PRECISELY with the plane on which your feet travel when you step forward. Meaning I kicked it in the back wheels EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I TOOK. A STEP.

So: no.

I tried every other decent looking stroller in the place (with the exception of the Maclarens - after the woeful performance of the wheels/tires on our Maclaren Quest, Lisa has declared a flat and absolute ban on Maclarens), folding them down and setting them up, locking the wheels, reclining the seat. Then I grudgingly stepped over to the Bee to check it out.

It pushes smoothly and steers well. Fine. It's nice and compact, at 20" wide. Great. So, I thought, let's see how it folds - hmm, you fiddle these two little white tabs and WHOA.

The thing collapsed to the floor in a compact bundle. I set it back up again. Okay, thinks I, let's see how the seat WHOA! The release was right where it should be, the seat reclined smoothly all the way down to an infant-friendly horizontal.

Yes, I think, but the handlebar is way too low... hang about, what are these little OH MY - the handle extends effortlessly from midget low to Masai tall.

The sun shade comes down far enough to actually shade your baby from the sun (are you LISTENING, Maclaren?!) The seat is reversible so you can stare at your precious bundle. The under-seat basket is easily accessible and roomy for a stroller of this size.

Did I mention it folds up REALLY, REALLY SMALL?

Quite simply, the Bee is demonstrably better at what a stroller is supposed to do than any of the competition. It costs easily twice as much as it has any reason to cost, and I don't care. It's good looking in the details and ugly as hell in the aggregate. Don't care. Nobody is likely to scoop it up off our registry, meaning we'll be buying it for ourselves. Don't care.

So let the mocking begin. I am trading in my contrarian credentials on this one, and joinging the BugaLegions. I can't wait.