The Friendly Pedant by Mrs. Odie

My blog friend Michael can always be counted on:

“I know you’re down and on a certain level I can relate. Just ask my wife. But let’s switch gears for a moment: Tell us your favorite: band, movie, actor, actress, book and/or author (you’ve probably mentioned that), TV show past or present color, food, drink, dream job, animal (dog and cat are off limits. So is armadillo) favorite planet (Mercury has a lot going for it) and I guess your favorite disease (I dig mumps) and whether you use an 8 inch or 10 inch pan for omelettes, and why. Just for the hell of it. And tell us whether you would’ve used semi colons instead of commas for this comment.”

I am very down today. We’re broke. Odie’s car was impounded from in front of a relative’s house, so we didn’t know about it for twelve days. Twelve. If you’ve ever had a car impounded, then you just went, “Oh, daaaaaaaaaamn.”

I don’t mean, “Can’t buy my usual egg nog latte” broke. I mean checks bouncing, digging through old diaper bags for diapers and looking up recipes for celery soup broke.

The levity, therefore, is much-needed and appreciated.

I don’t listen to music intentionally. When I was in high school, I deliberately chose some bands to follow, because I saw that’s what normal people do. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t bother. When people post on The Facebook about going to concerts, I think, “WHY would anyone want to do that?”

If I hear a song that I like, I will buy it and download it to my MP3 player, but I usually listen to the news or NPR while I’m driving alone and “Snacktime” by The Barenaked Ladies when the kids are with me.

My MP3 player has “Without Me” by Eminem, but I don’t like most of his stuff. Too much of the same, no catchy beats. “Freedom” by George Michael is on there, and I can always giggle and tap my toes to “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. Still, I don’t follow any bands. Sidenote, I asked my students yesterday if they knew who Bruce Springsteen is, and they don’t.

I shouldn’t judge. I thought it was “Springstein.”

And honestly, when I think Springsteen, I think of Jimmy Fallon singing “Born to Run” at the Emmys a few years ago.

It’s hard to name favorite movies, actors, books, or authors. It’s like naming a favorite child! (It’s Pringles)

I think Daniel Day-Lewis is a great actor. I show The Crucible in class every year and never get tired of his performance. He moves me to tears every time. WHAT is Winona Ryder doing in that movie?! Girl has five different accents and she only has five scenes. Makes me nuts, because otherwise the movie is fantastic.

I am likely to want to see a movie if it stars Matt Damon, Colin Firth, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Affleck (Daredevil and Pearl Harbor aside), Paul Rudd, or Don Cheadle, but I’m really a TV girl.

Peter Krause and Six Feet Under, The men of The Goodwife (the ladies too, but mostly the men), Andrew Lincoln and Norman Reedus and The Walking Dead, Homeland and Masters of Sex on Showtime. Like most people, I loved Breaking Bad. Bryan Cranston may be the actor of his generation (which is roughly ten years older than I).

Actresses are a bit harder. I can’t help but like Jennifer Lawrence, even though I want to garrote her for being so young and talented with that sexy, throaty laugh of hers. There are more complicated emotions mixed in with female fandom. I love Jennifer Garner because of Alias and Thirteen Going on Thirty, but I haven’t liked her in anything else. I admire her in real life. Laura Linney is the actress I’m most often told I resemble, especially when she goes brunette for a role. My narcissism therefore forces me to admire her. Meryl Streep is an obvious answer. I also love Tina Fey, Julianne Moore, Joan Allen, Annette Bening, Gillian Anderson, Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson, Clare Danes and Julianna Marguiles.

I admit to watching Reality TV, particularly Survivor, Top Chef, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and its spin-off Vanderpump Rules.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been reading Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake trilogy. I’m on the second book The Year of the Flood. I heard an interview with Atwood on NPR a couple of months ago and was captivated listening to her talk about her book. I recalled that The Handmaid’s Tale was one of the best books I’ve ever read, so I decided to give these books a look. I cannot recommend them highly enough, although I’m not sure why our culture is obsessed with apocalypse scenarios. Atwood is responsible for one of my most treasured sayings, “Illegitimi non carborundum.” Dorothy Parker gets attribution for the second, “You can lead a horticulture, but you can’t make her think.”

I’ll read anything by Dennis Lehane, John Irving, or David Sedaris, and I wish John Kennedy Toole had found the right antidepressant.

For junkfood reading, I like the Phillipa Gregory, Diana Gabaldon, and Charlene Harris series. I got to do tons of reading when I was nursing my babies and taking a year off of work. Those were wonderful times. We had money in the bank back then. We both agreed that me being home with babies was worth the sacrifice. I wonder what we would have decided if we could have looked into a crystal ball and seen the past two days.

Wow, each of these could be its own post. At least I’m getting my mind off my troubles and taking a little breather from grading papers (I’m sick and have been at it for eight hours with a lunch/American Horror Story: Coven break).

Orange.

Cheese enchiladas with onions and a side of sour cream.

A tie: Diet Coke, red wine, Ketel One Martini, up with a twist.

Emmy and Pulitzer Award winning writer.

Alpaca.

Jupiter.

Bulimia.

10-inch, because that’s what my mom bought me when I moved out twenty years ago.

Commas; semi-colons are horseshit.