Author: nell-boeschenstein

It’s that time of year when family time seems to take precedence over every other kind of time (work, play, TV, personal, drinking, etc.). If you’re the type who looks forward to such condensed family time with stars in your eyes (e.g., “I just love sitting down with my mother, father and five siblings to a three-hour game of Scrabble!”), chances are you know a thing or two about that yearning to “settle down,” as the old folks say.

If you’re in a committed relationship, that’s all well and good, but if you’re bushwhacking through the jungle of singledom, it’s time to get proactive if you hope to pop out your own little latke in time for Channukah next year. Now, I’m not really an Internet dating-type, but if I were (and time’s a wastin’, so who’s to say I won’t change my mind soon), I’d turn to JDate, the online dating site for Jewish people, to find my ideal Shlomo.

Before you protest (“But, but I’m not Jewish!”), allow me to let you in on a little secret: JDate may be advertised as a site for Jewish singles, but it is not exclusively so. If you’re looking for someone Jewish, great; if not, that works, too. Just peruse the site: To my discerning eyes, the Charlottesville prospects on JDate beat the Charlottesville prospects on Match.com. Steve, who just moved here from Boston, is cute, and according to his photo, he likes puppies (which is always a plus); “Turgid Prose” wants to meet “somewhere brightly lit so that you can pick out my flaws” (which makes me giggle); and “Jump into Harmony” eloquently calls food “yummy” (which I am inclined to agree with). So, there girls, I’ve gotten you started. And just FYI: If I were looking for real love, I’d go with Turgid Prose. Boys, you’ll have to go look for yourselves.

No one likes to spend all day at the office working…or, let’s face it, reading random websites. Sometimes we need a little interactivity. Some true bonding with the old compooter. Some hand-eye coordination to keep us limber in the cubicle. In other words, some classic, lame-graphic computer games. So if you’re looking for a good time, call Homestarr Runner, the site with games, cartoons, a unique cast of characters and even an online store to properly promote itself.

If you go for the games, be warned that the graphics are on par with video arcade games from oh, say, 1985. But I consider that just part of the all-round radness. There are 12 games to choose from, but everyone has their favorites. Me, I enjoy a little Dungeon Man 3 because it talks to me in ye Olde English (crazy spellings and everything). The cartoons that introduce you to the Homestar Runner characters are pretty effing funny, too. For example, Homestar Runner himself looks kind of like a white gumdrop in a red poncho, and he talks like a retarded baby gorilla (or how I imagine a retarded baby gorilla would talk if he could).

The ’toons, however, take the cake. How about the “Teen Girl Squad,” which includes Cheerleader, So and So, What’s Her Face, and the Ugly One. They go around “looking good” and “having a crush on EVERY BOY.” Then they all get killed in various fashions—kicked by a dragon, pieced by a thousand arrows, run over by a school bus, and everything in between. Hehehehehe! I’m giggling like a schoolgirl.

So it’s the week after Thanksgiving. Everyone knows what that means, right? ’Tis the season to blow that bank account centless! Yeeha! While it may be painful once you take stock of the damage post-New Year’s, the rush of giving and getting that rules December can result in a pretty potent high. I, personally, tend to get fairly obsessed with finding the perfect present for every special person in my life, from Mom and Dad to my boss to my dog to the guy who fixes my computer. I never know what the present is until I see it, and it may not be something that these patient people need or even want, but it has to be something that just says “Mom” or “Dad” or “Cathy” or “Crystal” or “Dude” to me because it all comes back to me, natch.

Combing the stores on foot has a certain ritual and festiveness to it that I won’t ever skip out on entirely, but sometimes the perfect present just isn’t in stock…or even on a buyer’s radar for understandable reasons. It’s then that I turn to that great store in cyberspace: eBay. If you can’t find what you’re looking for on eBay, you’re never going to find what you’re looking for, period. (Unless, we’re talking peace of mind, of course).

Just a little brainstorming and random e-browsing, and my Christmas shopping is done. Mom knows she wants 50 vintage issues of Good Housekeeping, it’s about time Dad got a new pair of lederhosen, Cathy can hit the gym in the new hot pink cat suit I’m going to bid on for her, Crystal can’t live much longer if she doesn’t have a Burberry dog coat, and a vintage “Mr. Roboto” tee is just what “Dude” didn’t even know he wanted.

Along with pretty much everyone else of my generation, I often wonder what life was like before Google—that innocent time when there was no way to find out random facts about everyone from a blind date prospect to your best friend to a co-worker. The same could be said about Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia. What was life like before you could zip over to Wikipedia, type in any random person, place or thing of even remote historical significance and have a full explanation of said noun within seconds? I mean, even Coran Capshaw has his own Wikipedia entry! (“The manager of the Dave Matthews Band, O.A.R. and Trey Anastasio, among others…”)

But not all Wikipedia entries are deemed as crucial to our collective intelligence as Capshaw’s by Wikipedia’s editors. Indeed, given that just about anyone can post a Wikipedia entry, entries that either overlap with other entries, are the products of shameless self-promotion, or are simply wrong, are constantly getting deleted from the website. Many of these hapless entries disappear forever, but a lucky few are salvaged by the über-nerd who runs The Wikipedia Knowledge Dump. The blog was just started this November, but there are already a handful of former Wikipedia entries to giggle and puzzle over.

There’s the Beard Theorem, which states that a communist’s degree of radicalness can be determined by the size of his beard; there’s exophilia, which is sexual attraction to aliens; there’s Mike the Headless Chicken; there’s a list of fictional worms; there’s drunk blogging; and there’s Cynthia Cameron, some ran-dom Canadian woman who clearly thinks her star is on the rise.

True, these are not things you need to know to get along well in this world. They are, however, about as crucial to your success as AP calculus. I always told Mr. Wainwright I didn’t need to know that stuff!

Well, America, there is a god. Not that I’m partisan or anything, but those midterm elections sure felt good, eh? Three words: Sayonara Senator Macacawitz. Holla.

But let’s not just gloat. We should also learn a little about how this blessed event came to pass, methinks. For the unabashedly liberal like myself (“bleed-ing heart” has always rubbed me the wrong way), the place to go for the postgame debriefing (and all political analysis in between elections) is Daily Kos, the top politics blog on the Web, according to Technorati. Started in 2002 by Markos (hence “Daily Kos”) Moulitsas Zúniga, a former U.S. Army artillery specialist raised in El Salvador, the site now gets 20 million unique page views per month from politics junkies looking for their fix.

Posts in the past 48 hours (my current position in relation to election night) are surprisingly light. The excuse? Daily Kos’ bloggers have been busy partying and are taking some well-deserved time off to nurse postelection hangovers. Analysis (probably self-congratulatory, I’ll admit) is sure to pop up in the coming days, but at press time, the pickings were slim.
Normally, however, the posts pop up fast and furious on topics from the bloggers’ election predictions to Michael J. Fox and his tireless campaigning in favor of stem cell research to, yes, George Allen’s many exhibitions of prickdom.

Also of note for political nerds in training and political nerds with some gaps in their book learnin’ is the “dKosopedia,” the site’s political ency-clopedia awesomely modeled on Wikipedia. Confused by a government acronym or by a key point Howard Dean made during a speech in South Carolina in December 2003? Not to worry: Daily Kos is at your service.

http://www.dailykos.com/

The. Ivy. League. Don’t the mere words just conjure images of well-worn leather-bound volumes, decorous discourses on the finer points of Hume, and impeccably mannered, tweed-wearing WASPs? Well, it may have been like that in the days of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but no more. Just like the real world, the greens on which Ivy Leaguers now frolic are strewn with incriminating evidence of humanity.
    And the best place to find said evidence? IvyGate, the Ivy League blog, whose sole mission is to faithfully detail whatever new scandal or absurdity has arisen to shake up an Ivy campus like a good martini. Take the case of Harvard girl (and Ivygate patron saint) Ms. Kaavya Viswanathan, for example: Her debut novel, How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life, was hailed as a work of chick lit brilliancy until—whoops!—it was revealed to be a work of plagiaristic fluency.
    The latest Ivy-caliber idiot to fall victim to IvyGate’s acid tongue is a Yalie by the name of Aleksey Vayner. Poor, young Aleksey apparently has a sense of self-importance bordering on the delusional. The over-the-top resume and self-promotional video that he originally sent to New York’s top investment banks somehow made it onto the Web and, for the past two weeks, has made Vayner the object of endless Internet ridicule.
    Of course, I would feel bad for him if he didn’t so obviously deserve the lashing. Not only is his resume ridiculous, but it’s filled with lies. IvyGate points out that he claims to have his own investment firm, his own nonprofit, and to have written a book about the Holocaust. Um, yeah—not a word of that is true.
    When I last checked, there was also a loverly rundown of Dartmouth’s frats and sororities. For example, “Chi Gam (Athletic affiliation: Baseball, tennis, date rapists). Historically, the sleaziest house on campus. Has tried to clean up its roofies-laden reputation of late, but that hasn’t stopped the brotherhood from throwing parties specifically tailored to freshman girls. A disproportionate percentage of the house hails from Long Island and New Jersey, essentially rendering Chi Gam the Meatpacking District of frat row.” Being intimately acquainted with said locale, I can only giggle at just how accurate that is.

Does anyone else love that Animal Planet show “Animal Precinct”? It’s the one in which pets are rescued from a myriad of abusive homes and taken to the local Humane Society to recover, and then find a “forever home.” During the course of an hour, each animal’s horror story—along with his helplessness and winning personality—is so effectively narrated that, in my opinion, it’s a perfectly reasonable reaction to want to get up off the couch right then and there and go adopt yourself an abused animal. At least that’s the effect the show has on me. Hence, Crystal (my little pit bull lovebug).
    Call me a softy, but Pet Finder—the Internet’s answer to “Animal Precinct”—has the exact same effect on me. It’s a website on which animal shelters across the country post their available pets, complete with photos, and descriptions of each animal’s personality, trials and tribulations. Just type in your zip code, and the kind of animal you’re looking for—along with hundreds of hopeful faces—will pop up on your screen.
    Take Annabelle, for example. She’s an elderly hound mix at the SPCA. According to her little bio, “I was found lying in the road just too tired to go on. I know I still look worn out, but I’m just an older girl looking for a nice quiet place to lay my head. I’m getting plenty of rest here, but I’m no spring chicken. I’m very easy-going, as most hounds are…and very loving. Hounds are very loyal and we look great on any front porch. Occasionaly [sic] I will surprise you when I play with that pesky squeaky toy!”
    Me, I have a soft spot for the pit bulls. There are so many of them that have had such hard times, and yet their expressions still somehow remain happy and eager to please. Each one could be one of my Crystal’s siblings and, oy, I get teary just wishing I could take them all home with me. My landlord, unfortunately, might raise some objections.
    Instead, I offer this advice: If you don’t have the time to visit these tykes in person, do so on the Internet. One might just catch your eye and (I’m a total cheeseball, I know) change your life.

Everyone’s got their favorite time of year. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that one’s favorite season is as defining a characteristic as, say, one’s astrological sign, favorite color, or whether one prefers dogs or cats. Me, I live for fall: the crisp air, the colorful leaves, Thanksgiving, and, sartorially speaking, getting to finally cover up all those physical imperfections that get showcased throughout the summer, (no) thanks to tank tops and swimsuits.
    And while fall in the west is fine, and fall in the Northeast is lovely, fall in Virginia, to me, is heaven. So excuse me while I cheese out for a moment and point you in the direction of a blatantly promotional website, the aptly named Fall in Virginia.
    Keeping in mind that this site is a product of the Virginia Tourism Corporation—so don’t expect brilliant writing or the very latest in upper-case Cool. However, for finding out how to make the most out of those October and November weekends, this site does the trick. Looking for a festival to go to? A 48-hour getaway? The best places in the state for leaf peeping? Well, look no further. Fall in Virginia has a comprehensive list of all the Oktoberfests, weekend jaunts and state parks your little autumnal heart desires.
    Being a nerd, my favorite feature is the “Foliage Facts.” For example, did you know that trees in shade turn yellow, while trees in sun turn red? Or that 62.5 percent of Virginia is forested? That’s 15.8 million acres!
    So folks, get out there and get to know Nature this weekend. She’s glowing, and her dance card is open.

Every now and then I like to take a step back from the HTS syllabus and make sure that my readers have a good background in the classics. I’m constantly depressed about the fact that I went all the way through high school and college—majoring in English, no less—without ever cracking open Moby Dick. Thus, I want to make sure that, as a Professor of Websites, I never fail my students in the unique way that my (otherwise exemplary) tutors failed me.
    So, for those not in the know, allow me to introduce you to BoingBoing: A Directory of Wonderful Things. The site gets around 2 million page views a day, and is the most-linked-to site on the Internet, according to Technorati. And, if you’re an Internet obsessive who knows there’s endless amounts of useless knowledge out there just waiting to be absorbed, but don’t have the time to surf your life away, BoingBoing is the answer to your prayers.
    The brainchild of a few California-based tech nerds who got to know each other through their various affiliations with Wired Magazine, BoingBoing scours the Web each day. Its webmasters then post the very best of the strange, the beautiful, the thought-provoking, the silly, the clever, the important and the genius from blogs and websites the world over.
    For example, a recent visit to BoingBoing alerted me to the existence of a Flickr page of vintage children’s product packaging, a San Francisco art event in which people could have their art silk-screened onto tortillas in edible ink, a pending bill in Zimbabwe which would allow every government minister and his brother access to citizens’ private e-mails, and a fake half-suit you can buy if you like to teleconference, but can’t afford those darned expensive pants.
    But what I really love about BoingBoing—aside from the fact that it does my work for me—is that it is evidence of a mind at work. It’s a lively mind, an engaged mind, a mind that’s constantly learning, a mind to which I aspire.