The Round up

This webby week:

to check out: I have found a new You Tube swoon and he/she/it is named Thorn2200. Thorn has combined my love of the British comedian Eddie Izzard with my nostalgic want for playmobile. The result? Little plastic people with English accents, or, hilariousness.

Let's see there's Death Star Canteen:


James Bond:


And loads more. Thorn also has boat-fulls of other videos that appear to have humans in them, but I can't vouch for those pups since I only watch musicals or inanimate objects being animate.
If you're not familiar with Eddie Izzard, well, that's lame and get on it already.

In other video news: someone clever made something awesome:



Flight patterns - Long exposures of bugs under a street light by Charlie McCarthy. Via Monoscope. Man, Vimeo is pretty, right?

to read: Young, female Newsweek writers get down to business and take a good hard look at gender equality in their workplace. This editorial honors a 40-year-old gender-discrimination case started by Newsweek employees back in the day. This is personal-meets-historic journalism and thoughtful to boot. Yes, depressing, since there is (shocker) still inequality among working men and women. Though I'll take some lower-pay, inequality and hey, even a little sexism, if I could just get a workplace. THEN I'll show 'em what I've got (in passive aggressive venting ways).

Speaking of ladies, this kid-o is cra-azy: rowing her way across the ocean in little more than a glorified banana peel A-LONE?! Kids these days are full of extremes. On the one hand they're obese, sleep-deprived computer addicts with only virtual friends. On the other they are young, ridiculously adventuresome death seekers. What gives? No, I couldn't paddle my way around the world when I was 22, I was too busy working out my tooth enamel resistance to jugs of carlo rassi.

to procrastinate: web design ledger is always good for losing chunks of time, but their recent post of 30 laugh out loud ads was the clincher.
This Olympus ad for a zoom lens definitely followed through on the headline's promise:



and to cuddle:

this cuddletastic brought to you by daily puppy.



Get in my lap.

xoxoL

Future thousand-aire

Today during my usual scavenger hunt of web site searching I was bombarded my a pop-up ad.

Shocking, I know.

It read something like: “WIN $1,500 by just filling out this itty bitty survey.”

But then I blinked and saw: "LAUREN YOU COULD WIN SOME CASH!!! come on and play!"

The survey was for the New Scientist web site, being that I had clicked onto one of its articles. Figuring that whoever made this survey was clearly a trusting doctor of some kind, I clicked on the window and spiraled into a dark whole of a Mensa moment that strikes only the desperate, unemployed.

But then again, a mere seven minutes later, with ego-checking questions answered (Q: what is your estimated yearly income? Can I factor in the potential $1,500?) and survey complete, I felt pretty damn nearly sure that I could maybe possibly be the triumphant winner of that bag o cash.

Still gloating with my potential win I Googled “cash giveaways” and filled out a few more "harmless," though progressively more time-consuming surveys. Sure, this lunch break of (in)activity may not be worth my time in the spam I’m sure to recieve, but just think of all the goodies I could get…

And by goodies, of course, I mean groceries.

And maybe some spring shoes.

On a side note, I totally dig New Scientist's culture lab blog. Check it out.

xoxoL

The Round up

Ohhhh good things are happening in the interweb this week.

Dear design: Mother Nature may be hinting at spring here on the East coast but that doesn't mean that winter isn't lurking around the corner, in cold closets or under the sheets of the strangely unheated bedroom.

Enter: Happiness in bed's sleeved blanket. I know what you're thinking, didn't this come out years ago in Cookie-monster blue alongside a ridiculous marketing campaign? Well, yes. But THIS guy is new and has gloves! It comes in hipster white to match your squatter-chic decor.



to procrastinate: thanks to flavorwire, I can waste whole hours, if not entire days, on things like Best Dance Sequences. How can it be bad when it feels so good?

West Side Story sweeps, obviously, taking three out of the 35 spots.



Man, ballet has never felt so...inTIMidating. I'm going to keep those moves in mind for when I next find myself defenseless in a dark alley. You want to try me? I'll ballet-kick your ass buds.

There are so many classics and so many goodies that it's really hard to pick. Annie, Dirty Dancy, (ah hem) Save the Last Dance? I have to admit that though I really hated Ms. Stiles/snaggletooth this ballet breakdown is pretty kickin. Is it possible that she's a tamer, earlier version of So You Think You Can Dance?

to long for: I've never let go of my desperate want of cute specs. A few years a go, not being able to resist, I bought a floral-printed pair of glasses that just happened to have prescription in them. The motivation being that IF I wore them SUREly my eyesight would meet the damaged requirements of said prescrip. Sadly, 20/20 prevailed. It's probably for the best, many I'm sure would argue, as this accessory comes with a hefty price.

That was, until, Warby Parker came out with cute AND affordable glasses. Brought to me via New York Magazine.



At $95 I feel like I owe it to SOMEbody to get a pair. But which to choose?! It's so hard. The Huxley with the clear bottoms? Or maybe the Roosevelt with the bold top frame (in blue? Don't mind if I do).

to read: this little bit in the New Yorker is a quick, hilarious treat. Mannahatta, by Yoni Brenner re-imagines the sale of Manhattan by Native Americans to the Dutch in the 1600s ripe with contemporary, classic New York City gripes. Set in a screenplay, this piece is comic genius.

A taste:

LAPOWINSA: (pensive) You know, it amazing how warrior can live among so many kinsmen and yet feel so alone

to check out: This past Saturday was International Night at R's school. Unfortunately, I missed the babies dressed in saris but I did arrive in time to watch a Canadian represent for his/our country. This Molson commercial said it best:



And don't ask, just watch (courtesy Chris Bean - who clearly has a You Tube searching gift)



And, just in case you haven't had enough movie buzz, here are eight famous movie quotes translated into graphics, from the American Film Institute, via The High Definite. This one made me laugh out loud:



to cuddle: Finally, get pumped party people because its Easter time which means...

BUNNIES



and

CHICKs



xoxoL

Let's play pretend

This weekend brought us Arthur, whom I prefer to call Russel.

Russel is an English Setter, 6ish years old, and our charge for the weekend while friends ventured down to D.C.

Now, I should preface this by saying that I was *this* close to securing future puppydom with R. I've been making hang-dates with friends who have puppies, sending cute finds direct to R via e-mail and even starting a (ah-hem) puppy wall. best. thing. ever.

Since Russel is well into his middle age I figured this would sinch the 'Let's get a pup' campaign. Sure, he was recovering from a recent brush with death, death in the form of a small branch that he sucked right up his nose. It was an $800 accident for the puppy parents and a fact that I generally smooth over whenever it is brought up by R (but OUR dog won't inhale small trees). It was working for a while.

We were to stay at their place, which gave us further opportunity to try out home ownership. And if the dog and the home didn't work out, it was like a mini break away from our apartment. A free bed and breakfast. delight.

Friday, evening. I'm still at work until six and R is attempting to write his thesis. After carefully reading the Arthur the dog memo I realized that Russel needs be walked by 530. The vote goes out and I opt to skiddadle out of the office, back to our apt to pick up the key and then over to our pied-a-terre.

The blatter-filled pup was jonesing for a walk so we took a brisk one around the block. This kid has really got an eye twigs of all sizes. He chews, eats, knaws, claws and, yes, snorts them all in and around his snout. Dear God it was the shortest walk to an anxiety attack I've ever had.

With R still back at school Russel and I got down to the business of hanging. Only Russel isn't so big on hanging, or cuddling, or spreading any sort of nuzzle love. What he IS into is starring.

No, it's more than a stare. It's like a window into the darkest part of my soul that obviously ate his parents.

This face, and this doesn't even capture it, is clearly plotting my early, slow and torturous death.


Luckily I distracted him with treats (like a lot), long walks along the sun drenched sidewalks and maybe even a few (small) twigs.

He even made a (twin) friend.




Honestly, all was going well. R was into it, we ordered in, watched some cable. Delight.

Then Sunday morning rolled around and R and I were trying to sleep through the parade of babies pounding across the floor above us. The Arthur the dog memo said that Russel can sleep in until 9 on weekends (woo hoo!) and that if he had to go out he would whine loud and clear. End of story: it was 10, there was no whine, but there was two poops and a splatter of pee.

Unfortunately, R saw it first.

"Is this was dogs do?" he asked.

Does, not OUR dog work for that?

"It's only 10," he continued, "what, we can't sleep in with the dog? He can't wait?!"

Yeah, well there's only so much soothing our imaginary dog can do.

Russel went for his official morning walk while i cleaned up the little mess and we said good bye to our mini break pied and the hope of getting a pup any time soon.

{sign}

And thus began the 'Let's get a puppy campaign TWO.'

xoxoL