What is with the DST Freakshow?
I have never seen a festival of idiocy like I've seen in the Indiana media about the upcoming shift to Daylight Saving Time this weekend. Today, the big news? That *bars* are upset they will lose an hour of business at between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. on Saturday night. The economic impact for this bar hour snafu across all of central Indiana? $250,000. That means, say, across 500 establishments in central Indiana, we're talking about potential loss of a whopping $500 in loss each. Of course, no one takes into account that the vast majority of establishments serving alcohol (because this data did come from an alcohol distributor's association) close at or well before 2:00 a.m.
Every doom-and-gloomer in the state is on the radio (or blogging, Doug Masson!) about the hassle, cost, and potential disaster associated with springing clocks ahead. Who doesn't know how to reset the *%*! time? Factory workers on a.m. radio yesterday lamented about mistakes from those suffering from losing that hour of sleep. (Hello? It's on a Sunday morning.) People try to figure out how to reset their Outlook. (Isn't it amazing how there's already a way to do this?) Others simply worry because no one is telling them what to do.
OK, here's what you do. Just set your clock ahead one hour when you go to bed on Saturday night. Voila! You've sprung ahead (for the springtime, get it?) Nothing earth shattering. Every other state in the country does it (practically). I know change is difficult for the average stubborn Hoosier, but try it. It's fun! (I can only imagine the pissing and moaning we're going to hear for the next month as it's dark again in the morning.)
In a normal year, news from The Final Four would be drowning out this controversy. As it is, I think the local paper has run more scare stories on the time change than this, you know, little basketball tournament we happen to be hosting. Maybe it will drown out all the negative reaction to the new IU basketball coach. Come on people, let's not all prove the world right about Hoosiers hicks by showing we're too stupid and scared to to figure out Daylight Saving Time.
My New Boyfriend is a Tow Truck Driver...
(or why being single can be a pain in the ass.)
About a month ago I had a little episode involving lost car keys, my car and a tow truck driver. I love my Ford dealership. They always say "don't worry...we'll take care of everything." If only I'd always known that all could be made right with the world by writing a big fat check. Well, I know now.
So, last night, after a meeting downtown, I went to get in my car, and couldn't get the key into the ignition lock. Literally, the key wouldn't go in. It was as if I was in a bad
Twilight Zone episode with a car that *looked* just like mine right down to the stale Starbucks cup and old art exhibit catalog in the backseat.
This morning, the solution? Why, get it to the dealership, of course. Not a problem thanks to my new boyfriend who drives the tow truck. Why, I've spent more quality time with him in the last month than the last two men I've dated. On our long, slow drives to Brownsburg, we've talked about life and shared our secrets. We haven't slept together yet, but if the towing bill gets any higher, I might be willing to discuss it.
What I want to know is why I'm suddenly having bad key-karma? Have I spent too many years thwarting the efforts of my keys to go missing? Have I alienated the key gods by using my automatic lock/unlock too much? Is it just my time of the month -- you know, *Key* MS (hahahaha). Who knows. I just know that this whole relationship with my new boyfriend the tow truck driver has to stop. I never broke up with someone before by getting a new car. Maybe it's time to try it.
On The Cusp...New Director for IMA?
At least two months ago,
iMOCA Curator Christopher West filled me in on his new arts blog --
On The Cusp -- some critical thoughts and perspective concerning the arts in Indianapolis. As a group blog, Christopher, local artist Scott Grow, and other guest bloggers can share the latest on exhibits, organizations, and general local arts happenings. It's substantive stuff. Great work, guys!
Seeing Christopher this week during the installation of the wonderfully fun
I Am Brian Presnell show and Friday at the incredibly (and wonderfully) crowded opening reminded me I was woefully late in adding his information here. So I've added On the Cusp and will continue to add arts related blogs as they turn up. I'm so happy and proud of the work iMOCA continues to bring in and it's in large part due to Christopher West. (And it sounds like several local bloggers attended the show -- cool!)
In the meantime, On the Cusp is reporting the rumor that consultant and
former Whitney director Maxwell Anderson will be the new executive director of the IMA. It's been a long search and considering how many large museums in the US have top positions open right now, apparently a fruitful one. iMOCA is also looking for an executive director also and hoping for as productive a result.
Update: And it's official. WFYI reported it this morning that Anderson is the new IMA director.
Those Damn Brits and their Hauntings
My latest guilty pleasure involves the Travel Channel, my couch, and half of Britain's resident ghosts. Thanks to mediums like Derek Acorah, I'm officially obsessed with the latest British exports --
Most Haunted and Derek Acorah's Ghost Town. Those wacky British are exporting some of the best stuff since Colin Firth took off his shirt and dove into the lake naked.
This little ghost problem started last Halloween when a British team of mediums broadcast a live show where they spent the darkest part of night tramping around London's East End looking for historical haunts and spirits. Due to the time change, it was on live here earlier in the evening and after watching mediums "contact" spirits, move tables, see orbs and hear odd noises, I was hooked. Each week on Most Haunted, a team spends 24 hours in a supposedly haunted locale (usually a castle or an inn) and with a historian and mediums listening to bumps in the night. Creepy!!!
In Ghost Town, the Ghost Truck (a large production truck) and team, lead by medium Derek Acorah, arrives in a different British city and townsfolk submit their hauntings while the team roams around town and tries to shed some light on heavy footsteps, odd smells, cold spots, and other paranormal activity. Derek usually gets possessed and spends a lot of time talking to his spirit guide "Sam". Shows are on Friday nights at 8:00 p.m. and in a more practical way, Saturday mornings at 10:00. (I haven't had this much fun with guilty pleasure Saturday morning TV since Nash Bridges went of the air.)
Nick Hornby at Butler
If you missed author Nick Hornby reading last night at Butler's Atherton Union, you missed a treat. Hearing one of his best short stories, Nipple Jesus, read out loud in that great accent with the tones and inflections just as they were meant to be was wonderful. He answered questions for neatly an hour after reading addressing everything from his writing process to movie adaptations of his work. My favorite Hornby? Fever Pitch. His new book is out now -- A Long Way Down.
So, What's Been Going On Around Here?
I know I haven't exactly given you guys a lot of comment fodder. The last post I made was something guy talking about his girl's middle of the line boob job. So here are a few things I can tell you about the past month.
Jumping the Shark: My blog slide started when Cheney shot the guy hunting. The Bush administration has jumped the shark. Fonzie is old, Chachi should be out of the house already, and Richie is eager to start his moving directing career.
Fires in the Panhandle: The fires in the Texas Panhandle have been truly horrific. Thousands of head of cattle trapped in fenced pastures when cowboys couldn't cut wire to let them move. Worse, millions of acres of grassland burned at a time in the spring when the grazing grass is most needed. In a part of the country that gets 15-18 inches of rain a year, no rain has been a very big problem. Mix that with the huge winds that blow constantly in that part of the world, and it's problem. The picture aren't that dramatic -- no 50 foot walls of flame, but a sad part of prairie living to be sure.
Lafayette, Indiana; Chicago, Illinois; and New York, New York: Business calls and I pack a briefcase. The report? Lafayette (nondescript), Chicago (cold), and New York (busy with pointy toed shoes.)
Number of comments overheard about boob jobs? None, sadly.
Back from Hiatus!
Am back from my hiatus. I have no explanation for my absence other than the fact that sometimes one has to take a break from blogging to figure out things like:
1) Why can't you open a garbage back with one hand (while the other hand is full of disintegrating veggies from the fridge.)
2) Why does the Wall Street Journal small like a wet dog?
3) How does a Szechuan peppercorn make your tongue go numb?
But it's the first day of spring! I'm climbing out of this funky funk caused soley by the weather and this time of year. Life is good!
