it's legal in the Pegasus Galaxy

Interactive: Balance California's budget | Los Angeles Times

Turns out I tax the rich and bad habits, think people should have saved enough while working so they don't need pension funds, give benefits to legal immigrants but kick out illegal ones, believe in nursing homes over in-home care when the state is footing the bill, and do not, under any circumstances, cut health and rehabilitation programs. I can live with these facts.

A list, because I haven't been able to congeal a complex thought in weeks. Does heat work like that? It's already been 111 degrees here, which is enough to melt stone, so possibly.

Can you die from lack of sleep? | Slate
Theoretically, yes, from hypothermia (?!) or the bacteria in your gut leaking into the rest of your body because your immune system can't keep them in check, among other fates.

Does Wal-Mart make you skinny? | The Daily Beast
In a statistically significant way, apparently, by being a source of inexpensive fresh produce. Having a Wal-Mart in a community is equivalent to a 6.5 rise in annual income, which I find fascinating.

NBC saves 'Chuck' | Airlock Alpha
YESSSSS. I love that little show.

'Galactica' set to drain your checkbook | The Indianapolis Star
I really can't justify spending $250 on things I already own, but those extras sound AMAZING.

Over the Wall | The New York Times
Christoph Niemann's work is always simple, like each entry was co-written and designed by his young sons, poignant and smart.

School canteen opens as restaurant to avoid closure | The Mirror
Neat!

Banker rescues family of ducks | KOMO News
<3!

Dear JJ Abrams,

Please to be making more Star Trek movies ANY TIME, preferably very soon. Also, tell Zachary Quinto my husband is willing to share.

xoxo,
-Jules

Hubby and I finally got our curtain situation sorted (yes, we have lived in the apartment for almost a year), and on Sunday the good men from around the corner at Al Rehab (yes, Amy Winehouse does pop into my head with alarming frequency) will come by to install them.

Until then, dreamed last night that they showed up while I had to leave the house, and Brandon let them do whatever crazy thing that passes for interior design when an Indian man is trying to visualize what a Western couple would find fashionable. Needless to say, I came home and burst into tears because everything was covered in red and mint green overlaid with shimmery black lace. They even hung curtains on the living room wall that has no window.

That was probably not normal, but with this country, you can never take anything for granted.

Colbert study: Conservatives don't know he's joking | The Huffington Post

Ahahaha! But in all fairness, he's pretty high-level comedy. And the ability to appeal, whether out of ignorance or agreement, the extreme opposite ends of the political spectrum means he's doing something right.

Speaking of high-level comedy...

I really, really want a Tauntaun sleeping bag. Check out the guts printed on the inside!

Lightning + the world's tallest building = Ooooh

On this day a year ago, I got hitched in lieu of risking arrest for living in sin in Abu Dhabi. Neither one of us is rummaging for a receipt though, so I figured it's about time we made it official by posting the evidence for all the internet to see. Click the photo for an album of our tiny ceremony of close friends and family, planned in just three weeks and without looking at a single weather forecast, otherwise I wouldn't have been wearing a strapless dress. Brr!



[ETA: Icon due to LiveJournal's capricious selections, not my preference. Although, weirdly appropriate.]

Because you can't very well open a $1.4 billion hotel with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, could you?



Record for largest fireworks display? Check. Worldwide champagne shortage? Check. Lindsay Lohan and Robert de Niro in the same room? Why?

I have ennui, as they say. It's a combination of seasonal affective disorder - summer is dragging endlessly - and stress from the new weekend edition job, which we've been telling people is about two weeks from launching but will take a minor miracle to actually happen. Which we're going to have to find some minor deity to produce, because the advertisers sure expect to see it on their doorstep come Nov. 15, but until then it's Nathan and I designing pages over and over again as various editors reject them.

But work stress is never new. The malaise comes mostly because my birthday kicks off my favorite time of year. I can drive with the convertible top down without getting sunstroke, and walk down the street without sweating after 20 seconds - yes, fall comes even to Florida. The weather starts getting brisk, bringing pretty scarves, gloves, sweaters and jackets into stores, which are laden with seasonal decorations for three months between Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Seasonal music is everywhere; municipalities wrap light poles and palm trees and fences and any other permanent structure in twinkling lights; the theme parks hold Halloween events. The bowl of mixed candy from Disney and leftover trick-or-treat bags that lasts into February, everything smelling faintly of pine, two months of holiday meals where all family members are obligated to be civil. Going to county fairs and driving around neighborhoods as the plastic reindeer and inflatable Santas come out.

Here, however, the calendar turned to October and no one toned down the sun (really, all this money and no one's figured out how to climate control the city yet?) The malls decorated for Valentine's Day, but Halloween is asking a bit much. There is plenty of cold weather gear making its way into stores, which is always good for a laugh but little else. A theme park, the yen for which is probably not something those who didn't grow up taking family AND school trips to Orlando can understand, is in the works but won't open for another few years. And our families, not to mention my mother's cooking, are three continents away until whenever we can wrestle some time off next year. I haven't seen a front lawn since Germany.

Surprisingly though, Christmas decorations are trickling into stores - as a matter of fact, this was the heartening sight in the international terminal of Abu Dhabi airport when we arrived last year:

( Didn't smell like pine though. )

And I was surprised to see a traditionally clothed Emirati couple with their two daughters dressed as a cat and a devil, of all things (with horns!) during dinner at Fuddrucker's on the 31st. Randomly, in front of Marina Mall a smattering of carnival rides has sprung up that we won't go near given the dubious nature of quality inspections in this region, but it's nice to drive past and see thobes billowing on the tilt-a-whirl. There's "season festival" tea at the supermarket that smells a lot like nutmeg and cinnamon. And as silly as it sounds, the holiday events in World of Warcraft (trick or treating! costumes! zombie invasion!) have helped me feel not so isolated. I think the key is to buy a little tree for home (Ikea already has ornaments), wrap my monitors in garland at work and put carols on my iPod. And Ned just gave me an idea - pie might be the answer to it all. There's got to be a can of pumpkin somewhere in this country.

My new job began this week, but I use that sentence lightly. Getting used to the new 11:30am start time has been the hardest part, as half the editors I'll be working with were either still doing their old newsroom jobs or just started in their Weekend Edition capacity, so there was no actual copy. Basically, I spent a leisurely week pretending to publish my own newspaper, editing and designing a 24-page section. There were stories about the Chinese converting 'night soil' into biogas and the French left gloating about the current financial crisis and dead mothers coming out for hurricanes. It was an entertaining but overall depressing exercise, like reading the news tends to be these days.

But mostly, any free time I've had the past month or so went into the abyss that is the Twilight series. Should anyone feel the need to find out what the teenies are going crazy for this season, ask me about it. I've read all four books, seen all the trailers and have promotional photos. Also, very complex feelings, most of them some variation of [blech]. The first book was fun, actually - if you like high school romance and vampires, but also have a high tolerance for repetition and stupidity like prismatic skin and basing relationships on the way your significant other smells - but the rest is just insufferably stupid without any emotional payoff. Also, the series enshrines codependent, abusive relationships, not to mention that Bella's only characteristic is that she loves Edward - no hobbies, no friends, no motivation other than being with him. All of which, of course, begs the question of why I'm still here: pretty icons, the promise of incestuous bloodplay fic (still searching for that), and Robert Pattinson's magical hair.

Other things I've been doing:

- Smiling randomly that Lance is on Dancing with the Stars
- Cheering on the Tampa Bay Rays, as Brandon is a St. Petersburg native. One of the photo editors, Mike, is from Tampa, so we've been exchanging gossip and shaking off losses and sharing "Whoo, World Series!" fist bumps
- Mainlining 30 Rock
- Learning keyboard shortcuts for everything
- Counterbalancing my love for Winston with the worthless brick of an iPod that Apple sent for my birthday
- Partaking of the zombie silliness in World of Warcraft. Also, discovered shamans, possibly never going back
- Drinking lots of tea because my mom handed off TWO giant tubs of biscotti to us in Europe
- Shaking my head. The barista Alison spoke with about getting a piece of pumpkin bread for our Dubai road trip two weeks ago shook her head and said, "Pumpkin season is not until January!" [dies]
- Playing Rock Band again. Short story: A dear friend, at all of 25 years old, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma back in July, and he's been getting treatment in New York. It didn't start well, but he finished chemotherapy with two fewer rounds than expected and is in total remission. His plane back to the 'Dhab landed on Thursday and by that evening we had gotten the band back together. It's so fucking good to see him again.

( You don't want me to do the controversial meme. ) Obama's got a lot to fix, but I've got more confidence in him than a warmongering coffindodger and his ignorant pandering sidekick.

Occasionally, living in the richest city in the world is awesome, because party planners usually make it worth the while of whatever American musical act is currently touring to come play on their lawn for an evening.

Do I need to warn for caps and photos? Am drunk on open bar and high on 80s rock, so consider that your fair warning.

( God, I've missed live music. )

Alison had me over for dinner, and afterward we watched Ally McBeal while playing Bitch and balancing carrot cake in our laps. They were two deeply depressing episodes - her client was being sued for fraud because she married a man not for love, but because she thought he would be a good, financially stable father. Of course, this forced the court to debate what makes a marriage legitimate, and Ally kept insisting that it was about finding your other half, about all-consuming passion and not compromising.

Sometime during a lull in the A plot, Alison asked how I knew Brandon was the one. I thought about it through two turns and a reminding prod from her, but only because there isn't an impressive answer. We didn't look at each other and fall in love - neither of us are exactly what the other considers their physical type. There were no choirs of angels, he didn't stand outside my window with a boombox - actually, that probably would've been a bad idea, as we tend to disagree on music a lot. But we can be in the same room together doing nothing in particular and be completely happy just for each others' presence. He remembers to bring me coffee if he gets some for himself; if I stop at a gas station, I always find something trivial for him, even if it's just a bottle of Coke (we try not to keep any in the house generally). We both like to stay up late, we laugh at the same jokes on The Daily Show, we have the same general world view. We listen when the other has a concern and feel free to talk about our own problems, and neither of us likes to yell. We split the chores. I love that he brings home strange musical instruments like they were stray puppies, and he's delighted by the fact that I'm a good audience for his ridiculous pun-based humor. Being with him is quiet and warm, and we can both be just a little less responsible because the other is there to pick up the occasional slack. Life is better and easier with him, and isn't that the point?

But none of that is particularly grand or even all that special, really, not like the fireworks and intensity that some people characterize love as. And sometimes I wonder if it should be, but then I see him and think, "I'm so happy he's mine."

The United Arab Emirates got together and pitched in for a gift upon my return to the desert: unblocking LJ's f'list function. Previously, I could access my journal and read other individual LJs, but that was it, and being caught up in constant housing drama, work, having a social life again and World of Warcraft since moving here meant I recognized maybe only every fifth costume at Dragon*Con, which just won't do at all. But I'm back, and in celebration caught up with as much as LJ would let me:

• the final episode of SGA began principal production on Monday. [sigh] I knew this one before Dragon*Con, and have mixed feelings about it. Maybe because I always thought fandom did it better, but having new canon made that possible
• apparently, the Jonas Brothers are just that big a deal [ETA: OMG Joe Jonas claims the first CD he ever bought was Britney]
• there will not be a Harry Potter Lexicon book (or a movie until July, WTF)
• good for Lindsay Lohan
• can't tell you how happy I was to see these photos
• one can only hope Ghostbusters III, should it materialize, is better than the new Indiana Jones flick. Bah!
• Lance Armstrong will ride the 2009 Tour de France. Get back to me on this one. Obviously, awesome that he feels up to it, but Contador deserves his chance, as do the other men of the Tour
• the less spandex-covered (surprisingly) Lance will be on the new season of Dancing with the Stars. If you had told me that at any point before the official press release came out, I would've laughed in your face
• really trying not to read the spoilers from those lucky enough to have seen a test screening of Half-Blood Prince. Which is silly because it's not like I don't know how it ends, right? And no use fuming about something I won't get to judge for myself until next July? Right?
• another Baz Luhrmann musical!
• new Oasis album next month!
• yay, Roger!
• The Dark Knight has been in the top five movies in terms of box office sales since its release two months ago. I've done my part (even if Eddie Olmos insists I haven't seen it until I've seen it in Imax)

Whoo, good to be back. Tomorrow it's mall skiing in Dubai and an encore viewing of Iron Man. Hopefully, the hubby won't take my swooning over Robert Downey Jr. personally.

The DubaiOne channel is running a mashup preview of its movies for this month set to Rihanna's Shut Up and Drive, featuring clips from Gone With the Wind, Scooby Doo 2 and Monster's Ball. It's like the most perverse fanvid ever conceived.

The thing about Ramadan, which restricts eating and drinking in public (along with swearing, chewing gum, clothing that exposes the knees or shoulders, and displays of affection), is that it perversely leaves you constantly hungry and thirsty for everything. Being technically a government office, we are expected to toe the party line, but there is a curtained back room for the 95 percent of the newsroom who are not Muslim where we can, you know, replenish that 20 percent of our body weight lost through sweat on the walk to work in 110-degree heat. Seriously, not drinking in this country before everyone owned an Escalade had to be dangerous.

Your brother committed suicide? No insurance for you! | The Consumerist

This story is horrific. Basically, the man's brother killed himself when he was young, and he went to a few (sadly enough probably the number, usually six annually, allowed on his parents' insurance) psychiatric sessions afterward. Once he aged out of that coverage, however, he couldn't get his own policy because of those sessions, nor a job that offered coverage. Now he's $1.2 million in debt after an accident involving his truck. When I moved away to college, my mother warned me that if I ever need to see a psychiatrist to pay out of pocket because I'll have trouble getting insurance again. I thought she was just being paranoid.

( This reminds me to mention the healthcare system here. )

Meanwhile, Americans are getting married and divorcing for insurance coverage.

Slate makes the suggestion that more people would keep doctor's appointments, not to mention be healthier, if they could be seen on the day they call. You mean people asking to see their physician on a day they have the time and transportation to make it to their office, with no foreseeable emergencies or hideous weather (yes, it gets that bad in Florida even when a hurricane isn't overhead) would be more likely to get there, perhaps even on time? Not exactly a revolutionary idea, but I'm glad someone put it out there.

Heart patients in Sacramento log fewer emergency room visits because of home monitoring systems. Some smart cookie finally recognized how piss-poor people are at assessing their own health, especially with chronic conditions.

On a more specific health care note, but one I heard complaints about again and again as a cops reporter: The story of Hiu Lui Ng is the latest in a heartbreaking New York Times series about immigrants dying while in US custody. Feel whatever you want about the immigration situation in the US, but denying inmates medication for chronic conditions, confiscating wheelchairs, ignoring symptoms is wrong. The government provides cable television, three meals a day, showers, libraries and computers, but ironically, the one thing inmates could get more easily on the outside is often denied because of bad rules and uncaring staff.

Here in Abu Dhabi, we send each other off on our two-week vacations home with this: "Hope you get some rain."

I always assumed South Park's Casa Bonita, in which Cartman stages the apocalypse so Kyle will invite him to a birthday dinner at the eponymous restaurant, was really Disney's Mexico in the World Showcase. Today, I found out it's a REAL PLACE.

Casa Bonita ("the funnest AND tastiest place to eat in Denver for nearly thirty years")

They have cliff divers (who juggle flaming torches!) A Black Bart attraction! Winding caverns! Sopapillas with every order! And, randomly, a show involving a man in a gorilla costume. I would fake a meteor/zombies scenario to go there, too.

The thing about offices with open floorplans and wall-less cubicles is that you hear everything even from across the room. Today, some sick person who wants for the suffering of all within earshot has changed their ringtone Right Here Waiting. It's rung twice in the hour and a half I've been here, and the urge to throw it against the wall is already mounting. How have we wronged you?