Natalie Portman is quite rapidly rising to the top of my list of freaking amazing actresses. I have a hard time forgiving anyone for the Star Wars prequels, but after watching V for Vendetta and Garden State, she's redeemed herself entirely.
In other news, it looks like I'll be moving into my new apartment May 1st, which hopefully will be my last move for the next two years.
Also, I despise every variety of animal with an Olympian passion. I'm now mentally no longer classifying zoologists as biologists. I'm lumping them under chemistry. (studying long dead animals is still biological. I am now convinced all animals evolved to create spectacular fossil displays.)
27 comments:
She is amazing ... and I love that she doesn't take herself so seriously.
I have a Natalie Portman story: her last name is really Hershlag, and she went to Harvard. My cousin (who's got a different last name than me, obviously) sat next to her at convocation.
That's a great story, isn't it?
That is pretty cool. I can understand why she went with Portman though... It'd be pretty hard to market Hershlag.
Hhmm, I'm willing to class cats as plants (or even fungus!). I've already done the same with octopods, social insects, and ceteceans (dolphins, whales, etc.)
If you still consider plants as a good thing, then you have obviously not taken a paleobotony coarse.... don't get me wrong 5 different scientific names for a single plant is fun (in the same way that beating your head against a wall is fun) or my favorite the 5 or 6 different plants that were named only on their leaves until they found a single stem will all the leaves on it.... besides at lest most verts are the same (barring fish and birds... man I hate them soooooo much) unlike inverts who have that whole.... lets do nothing the same thing going on for them.
So true. Let's agree: fossil animals are biological, fossil plants aren't. Living plants: biological, living animals, not.
The ones which aren't biological were placed there by the devil to fool us innocent life sciences students.
If we're serious here, we should lump zoology in with sociology.
Hhmm, I don't know if poor zoology deserves all that... I mean, I hate animals, but to fall from biology to sociology.... ouch.
Ok enough with the zoo bashing, at least it is a real science... not like the voodoo witchdoctoring genetics, and ecology give me a break... the only good model species is a dead species; cause then they do exactly what is expected of them.
Please keep your zoologists out of my discipline. Thank you.
Good lord, man. It's been nearly three months.
Or are you busy with you girlfriend...
GASP.
You have a GF????
I never knew. =(
I'm so un-Eric-informed.
Eric ... I come to this site with the intention of wearing off my homesickness, and find that nothing changes ... no post, and I feel grounded again.
Okay ... it worked last time ...
Oh the year was 1778,
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke noooooowwwww,
A letter of marque came from the king
for the scummiest vessel I'd ever seeeeen,
God damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold
We'd fire no guns, shed no teeeeaaars ...
now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier
the last of Barrett's privateers!
Oh, well Sid Barrett cried the town
(How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now!)
for twenty brave men, all fishermen who
would make for him the Antelope's crew.
God damn them all, I was told
we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
But I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
the last of Barrett's Privateers!
The Antelope sloop was a sickening site
(How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now)
She'd list to the port and her sails in rags
And the cook in the scuppers with the staggers and jags
God damn them all, I was told
we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
the last of Barrett's Privateers!
He's got to notice the comments piling up eventually...
On the King's birthday we put to sea.
(How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now!)
We were ninety-one days to Montego Bay,
pumping like madmen all the way.
God damn them all, I was told
we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
But I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
the last of Barret's Privateers!
That's what I was hoping, anyhow
On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again
How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now
When a great big Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight
God damn them all
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold
We'd fire no guns, shed no teeeeaaars ...
now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier
the last of Barrett's privateers!
Oh, God, a wee little sloop with only 4-pounders ... I can see why this guy's so angry.
Oh, the Yankee lay low down with gold
(How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now!)
She was broad and fat and lose in stays,
but to catch her took the Antelope two whole days.
God damn them all, I was told
we'd cruise the seas for American gold.
We'd fire no guns, shed no tears.
But I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier,
the last of Barrett's Privateers!
Well, I've at least pointed out to him that this is happening, so it's just a matter of how much Stan Rogers he can take...
Who really knows just what it is she does
It can't be hard for her
To get a buzz
The rapture of vertigo
And letting go
Me myself i was never sure
Was it the liquor
Or was it my soul?
That's how it goes, right? ;p
Well it's gonna be different now that I'm gone
To shoot some aliens for kingdom and glory
For welfare and for life itself
Cait, you crack head.
But as long as we're digressing ...
Once there was a waitress at the Prince George Hotel
Whose mistress was a lady and whose master was a swell
They knew she was a simple girl just lately from the farm
So they did their very best just to keep her from all harm
Singing bell bottom trousers, coats of navy blue
Let him climb the rigging like his daddy used to do
And from there, it gets filthy.
Like ... really filthy.
And believe me, I know alot of filthy sailor songs.
"alot" isn't a fucking WORD! AGH!
right, sorry...just one of those things...anyhow:
You're living on the guest list, up against the big rack
Head back, hand highs, it's getting loud in here
Think you're going to have to shout
And she's tearing off her clothes
He's stirring all his drinks, oh yeah
Streets divide them
It's an empire of signs
Honey say she can read
And it looks like trouble
Bring back Stan Rogers, dammit!
Ah, for just one time
I would take the Northwest Passage,
to find the hand of Franklin
Reaching for the Beaufort Sea.
Tracing one warm line
through a land so wide and savage,
and make a Northwest Passage to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Straight,
'tis there t'was said to lie
the sea-route to the Orient
for which so many died.
Seeking gold and glory,
leaving weathered, broken bones,
and a long-forgotten, lonely cairn of stones.
I'm trying to spur him into action ... clearly Stan Rogers isn't doing the trick.
The forty-second Fusiliers came marching into town
And with them came a company of rapists of renown
They busted every maidenhead that fell beneath their spell
But they never made the waitress from the Prince George Hotel
And then there came a company of Prince of Wales Hussars
They piled into the whorehouses and packed into the bars
Many a maid and mistress, even wife before them fell
But they never made the waitress from the Prince George Hotel
Eric! I tag you! you must eat some cheese.
See my blog.
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