#edit: literally just $23 plus tax

[blood-ology]

Guyssss my city does a rodeo thing (tbh it’s also just a mini carnival and a big excuse to party) every year and Orville Peck is coming this year ⁉️ AND he’s performing on the stage where you only need general admission tickets to watch *holding back a moan*

[kingdomofkitten]

Rant on Disney’s New Star Wars Blu-Rays

So, this is a touch out of the blue, I suppose. But I found enough time to sit down and write about this, so I figured I might as well get to it.

I also know the combination of Disney and Star Wars tends to cause some....friction, amongst people. Please, let’s not turn this into a brawl of Star Wars fans. This isn’t about how George Lucas felt betrayed, or Rian Johnson killing the series, or that anyone who hates the Sequel trilogy is a Trump supporter, or whatever the hell. Please don’t do that. In fact, let us join in unison. Why? Because no matter if you’re for or against Disney’s Star Wars films, if you happen to support this, there’s a decent chance you’re getting royally fucked over.

I was over at my local Target, just killing time (I had sent my dog to get cleaned up, and would need to pick her up in a few hours), and went over to the movie section. Not really looking for anything in particular, just up for browsing. And then I spotted this.

That looked a bit interesting, so I opted to look a little closely. Turns out, it seems Disney themselves (under Lucasfilm) decided to re-release all the Star Wars films they own on Blu-Ray. Presumably to hype up The Rise of Skywalker, which will be coming out in about 2 months from now. At first, I thought that sounded cool! Now all three trilogies can live under one roof! Plus, the cover design for all the films (including Rogue One and Solo, as you can see) are nice and consistent overall.

Then I decided to look at the back of one of them. Ya know, just to see what kinda cool new extras they would include.

I-wait...wait, is...is there no extras? Wha, that can’t be right, what does that sa-

.....deadass?

So, yeah. No bonus features on the Blu-Ray disc. Just on the digital copy....so, if you don’t download that copy in time, tough shit, you just get the movie.

Now, I’m sure some of you are thinking, “well, that’s probably for the Original and Prequel trilogies. They probably just couldn’t get extras ready in time.” Except I double checked.

Please pardon the crumpled up paper quality, apparently no hi-res scans of the backs are available as of now. But yeah, if you look closely, this The Last Jedi Blu-Ray has the exact same thing. No extras on the disc itself, just on the digital copy. Now, here’s the thing. I own the movie on Blu-Ray already. I know, some of you are weeping for me, I never claimed to be a role model. But let’s take a look at that back cover, shall we?

Hold on, there are extras here! A documentary, deleted scenes, commentary, even an Andy Serkis thing! And yet....none of that is in this new re-release? I’m sorry? And you can’t make the argument that Disney couldn’t have gotten the extras ready in time, they released this film already! They couldn’t have just taken the existing Blu-Ray disc, slap a new label on it, and call it a day? They could’ve done that with all four of the Disney Star Wars films so far, and yet they decided to leave them baren.

But okay, I hear some of you going, “well, that’s The Last Jedi, how about some REAL Star Wars films, like Revenge of the Sith? Surely these are all one needs, then.” Well, let’s go back to that first pic, shall we?

Firstly....not sure if you noticed, but Revenge of the Sith and The Last Jedi kinda look very similar here, so you might make a mistake there, and buy TLJ instead. Wocka wocka. :3

But secondly, notice something in the corner? Right next to The Force Awakens? Lemme zoom in for ya.

That is the Star Wars Complete Saga Blu-Ray set 20th Century Fox put out a couple of years ago. There have been a few re-releases of it over the years, sometimes with more stuff, sometimes with less, but as far as I know, it’s still in print. This contains the films from The Phantom Menace, up to Return of the Jedi. Not sure if you can read the sticker, but it has “over 40 hours of extras”. Speaking as someone who has that set, I cannot confirm it, as I haven’t dived into all of the extras, but I would not be surprised. While the movie discs themselves are relatively sparse on extras, they still HAVE some, mainly commentaries by the cast and crew. But if that’s not enough, alongside the six movies, there are THREE discs dedicated to just bonus features. One with behind the scenes material for the original trilogy, one with behind the scenes material for the prequel trilogy, and one full of documentaries and spoofs of Star Wars. Yeah, they went as far as to include PARODIES of the franchise in their big box set. The set was made to where you can dive into the saga, and also get a bunch of added goodies for the hell of it. All for a hundred bucks.

Now, I’m sure some will argue, “well, that’s a premium set kind of thing! This is more budget releases, meant for those who can’t afford that kinda set.” Well, let’s put that to the test. How much are each movie going fo-

JEEZUS

The fuck kinda budget release is that?! For just a movie, I’d expect...I dunno, $5? But okay, fine. That’s the price they want to go with, that’s okay. Now, like I said, that big box set, with the original 6 films is about $100, not including tax. So, let’s just put the prices for those six in. We’ll just round the price to $23, to be fair.

So, the price of those six barebones movies in total, not including tax?

$138.

Again, not including tax. You are quite literally paying more for less here!

My advice, if you want the whole series, get the Complete Saga set, and see if you can find the regular releases of the Disney films. As far as I know, all of those are still in print, and if you know where to look, you can get great deals on them. The big kicker about that? The Complete Saga set was made by 20th Century Fox...who, if you remember, Disney owns now. So if you buy that set, you’re giving them money, AND getting bang for your buck! It’s a win-win scenario, and I don’t understand why Disney didn’t get that!

I don’t speak as a major Star Wars fan. I mostly acquired the movies from my family. But I speak as an average consumer. Disney, I don’t give a shit what you’re doing to that world in a galaxy far, far away. But when you start bordering on scamming people, THAT is where I draw the line. People, no matter where you stand on these films, if you decide to buy one of these things...you’re probably being ripped off. Even for a company as stereotypically evil like the Magic Kingdom itself, this is just fucking gross.

P.S. I am aware there is a possibility that the original trilogy ones may have the original Theatrical versions, as opposed to the Special Edition versions with Greedo shooting first, and all that CGI, that’s on the Complete Saga set. If that’s the case, then to die-hards, MAYBE I can see a reason to buy these, but....again, to an average consumer, does that really add much? I don’t really think so.

[bookishbrigitta]

Short People Ergonomics: I found a desk!!!

Hello, my short friends! I was having some shoulder pain, and after some searching, I discovered that my desk/chair set up was way the wrong size for my body. Well, I got a new desk, and it arrived today, and holy cannoli, is this how desks are supposed to work?!?! I figured I needed to put this info out there for the sake of my fellow shorties.

Using this site to do the calculations, I found out I should be at a desk about 25in from the ground. They are very hard to find. But...Ikea has table legs that are adjustable and go from 23 to 35 inches. With an Ikea tabletop, that got me to 25 inches with no extra wood piece! 

EDIT (5/10/21) I thought it seemed more than 5 inches shorter than my original desk, so I measured. Turns out, the way the legs and top go together actually made in 24 in. The desk can adjust fully from 24 inches (2 feet) to 35 inches (almost 3 feet). There aren’t any “notches,” so you can literally put it at any height between 24 and 35 inches.

These are the legs (Olov).  This is the tabletop (Linnmon). They also sell a desk that is just those legs + that tabletop and the exact same price, but it was out of stock when I needed it. The whole unit cost me $70 plus tax. Assembly took about 30 min, but I did have one other person helping me. Well worth it. My feet and my elbows can rest at a 90-degree angle. There’s just enough clearance to cross my legs beneath. You could probably fit a few of these mix-and-match Sterilte stacking drawers under it for storage.

So, if y’all need a desk, craft table, or, heck, even a dining table, this is it. It would also work well as a kid’s desk. Pics under the cut.

The desk set up in whole. It’s not the most attractive desk, but it’s a lot more comfortable. Please excuse previous owner’s poor choice of carpet color.

Arm at 90 degree angle when resting on desk/at keyboard.

Knees at 90 degrees plus some extra clearance above.

Knees at 90 degrees AND feet flat on floor. A miracle, I tell you.

[iedrajotte]

Assignment example

Slug: CASAMANCE Story Summary: *2 Day Rates* Casamance area of Senegal :  villages, river, etc. Desk: TRA

When: Friday 01/23/2015 08:01 AM    Can time be changed? No

Where: various, see below Casamance, Casamance, Senegal

Contact: Contact phone: Contact e-mail:

Instructions: PLEASE FILE IMAGES BY JANUARY 27TH!!!!!!!!

*CAPTIONS: Please make sure to write detailed, AP Style captions: http://themediajungle.wordpress.com/2014/01/16/ap-style-tips-on-photo-captions/ *

PHOTOS: - Casamance River + motorboats + dolphins + mangroves - Ptit Cassa Diola -  Yves's phone number is 77 545 12 14.  Ptit Cassa but clearly goes by other names. http://www.casamance-tourisme.sn/?Gite-Eringa-a-Haere - Villagers + daily life + sacred drums + religious shrines - Club Med in Cap Skerring - Vines in the ruins of a French depot in Karabane. - Empty beaches in the region such as: Djembering, but any will do - FOOD - Interesting details you see along the way. +++ As always, a variety of scale is needed for stories like this.  Wide landscapes, intimate moments with locals/visitors/businesses.

** SOCIAL MEDIA PHOTOS! Would be great if you can take a few just for Instagram, so please think square format on a small screen. File these (hi-res) with the rest of your edit and let me know your Instagram handle so you can be credited in the caption. DO NOT post these on your own account before the story runs**

Caption Information: ____________________________________________________________ Photographer Assigned: Rajotte,James

Reporter: TBA Will be there? No

Requested by: Blatt,Lindsay email: lindsay.blatt@nytimes.com  

Editor: Blatt,Lindsay email: lindsay.blatt@nytimes.com   Deadline Date: ________________________________________________________________ Directions: As the low-slung motorboat hummed along the tiny Casamance River in remote Senegal, the promise of a tropical paradise that lay ahead was evident in the dolphins that accompanied us on our journey. I had first spotted them on the overnight ferry from Dakar to Ziguinchor. But here they were within reach, companions who swam alongside the boat, nudging their noses toward an eager crowd of passengers who touched them.

This wasn’t SeaWorld, but my 8-year-old son, my friend Catherine and her 5- and 7-year-olds, and I were all whooping with delight. And we weren’t even close to our final destination, a ramshackle place called Ptit Cassa in Casamance, where Violet Turacos, bright blue plantain-eating birds, could be easily spotted, according to a birder I knew.

Casamance is literally and metaphorically a country away from busy, worldly Dakar. The north is dry; the south is lush. The north is a major African hub; the south is rural African backwater. In between them lies The Gambia. We fell asleep in a big modern city fighting off the encroachments of the desert and woke up in a mangrove-lined river so rich with life that fish flopped out of the boat’s wake as if in some Biblical parable. The dolphins had followed them.

Casamance was at the forefront of the ecotourism movement from the beginning — French tourists paid to help out in villages there from the early 1970s right up until a separatist movement began in 1982. There were luxurious accommodations — travel resorts in Cap Skerring on the coast, and quality hotels in Zinguinchor.

The spectacular richness of Casamance has come at a price. Senegal is a beacon in West Africa—a model of peace and prosperity since its independence—but the civil conflict in Casamance, though slowburning, has taken between three and five thousand lives in the past 30 years. The Diola, who live along the river, are famous resisters, first of Islam, then of the slave trade, then of the French colonists. The Diola Queen Aline Sitoe Diatta who refused to accept the French rice tax was exiled to Mali in the 1940s; they could ship off her body but her spirit remained. Schools, ferries, hospitals, stadiums—all bear her name. The separatist movement is little more than a continuation of a history that has been ongoing for a millennium, the history of the Diola saying no to the power of outside forces.

Traveling through the area today is a full of grim reminders of an earlier golden age that the movement disrupted. Glamorous hotels, now abandoned, have grown over with vines beside tiny villages along stretches of mangroves. Abandoned airstrips now field barbets and red-cheeked cordon-bleus. It was the sort of setting that would change the minds of idealists who bemoan tourism and the development it brings. Locals stopped us regularly, saying “Tell everybody it’s safe to come.”

Some have bought that message. There has been a small resurgence in recent years, people drawn by miles of spectacular, empty beaches on the southern coast. The Club Med in Cap Skerring reopened in 2010. Still, whole hotel complexes held single groups of French sportsfishermen, who would happily share their enormous and hugely varied catches with us for dinner. They couldn’t eat it all.

The actual business of travel — getting from one place to the next and finding food and lodging there—is a bit of a gamble, especially with children. Still, from Le Perroquet, our hotel in Ziguinchor, Cath and I could organize whatever boats we needed to move us around the river. Bad infrastructure can make for interesting travel. The ruins of a French depot in Karabane had overgrown with vines: the perfect jungle gym. In the marketplace at Elinkine, we rented a sept-place vehicle, so called because it has seven places to sit. One of the women in the market did the math: two adults plus three kids plus one driver equals one vacant spot. She asked if we would mind if she rode with us to the next village. Sure, why not? Only then did she bring out the four large baskets of fish she was carrying with her. Strapped to the roof—I would later see a live pig strapped to the roof of a sept-place���the fish did well enough until we hit a bumpy stretch of road, when they started tumbling off, fish juices dribbling through the window. The kids found this hilarious. We all trundled down the road singing “It’s raining fish” to the tune of “it’s raining men.”

For all the natural riches that the region was once known for, its biggest asset is likely the villages themselves. The Casamance region is almost entirely animist. Each village has a set of sacred drums with which they communicate with the other villages. The religious shrines are collections of objects which nobody will explain, no matter how you ask, because their power is bound up with their secrecy.

The kids found ways of amusing themselves, too. Boys and girls coming back from school provided instant community. The Canadian and the Senegalese children were both in French immersion—for different historical reasons—so they chatted about what children chat about: television and who can run fastest. The girls skipped rope. The boys wrestled in the dirt. The adults moved through a landscape of differences, the children through a landscape of similarities.

Nowhere was that dichotomy more obvious than when we reached Ptit Cassa. After the boat took us North for an hour, we arrived at a tiny village tucked deep in the mangroves, and headed off into the jungle. Almost immediately, we stumbled into a clearing, where 10 men sat around preparing and imbibing palm wine—the soft delicious liquor used in several sacred rites. It’s fair to say they hadn’t expected a bunch of white children and their parents to disturb them. Nonetheless, they were extremely generous to us. We all tasted the wine, which they had just harvested. They offered my son one of their many dogs. They offered Cath’s daughter a baby Senegal Parrot just taken from a nest. It took a lot of effort on our part to explain why the kids couldn’t keep them.

At the end of our hike around Ptit Cassa, what we found was, in some ways, more unexpected than the villagers: a kind of restaurant run by a self-described “hippie” names Yves Lanneau. He had moved to Casamance 10 years earlier, and married a local woman, Josephine. He prepared for us the best salad I have ever consumed—French mustard with a local basil-like herb that was intoxicatingly savoury.

And then all of us sat there chatting, for the whole day, about politics, about what makes a really good vinaigrette, about how life zigs and zags. One of the reasons I had brought my son to Senegal was to show him that life isn’t one big air-conditioned Toys’r’us. I ended up showing him the commonness rather than the difference. The children played with the parrot—our compromise had been that they could have the bird as a pet until we left.

I never did see the Violet Turaco.

As we left Djembering the next day, we were stopped by soldiers. They didn’t look much like soldiers, but that’s probably because they were swimming naked in the river. The guide manning our pirogue hastily tossed us the regulation lifejackets and told us to find our passports, as the two young men stopped their frolicking and swam over to inspect us. They quickly decided that we were probably not separatist rebels, and waved us past.

Cath and I started laughing: it was the strangest military checkpoint either of us had ever passed. The children overheard the word “military” and joined in: “That was the army?” The children had found the presence of the military mostly hilarious, although the jeeps on patrols with their huge 50-caliber machine guns were impressive enough.

We were all laughing but the guide was not. He relaxed only when we had passed out of the swimmers’ view.

[kizardofkoz]

I’m giving up Zillow for Lent. And other thoughts on bravery.

I felt a nag. The thought seeped into the back of my mind like sunlight slowly stretching in the narrow cracks of a pulled shade in the early morning.

 Haunting me. Taunting me. It’s been on my heart for weeks. And It’s time I face the reality.

I feel like I am supposed to give up Zillow for lent.

Please God, anything but Zillow. This is possibly the biggest sacrifice I could possibly make.

Sure, my actual realtor will send me notifications of a home that fits the exact credentials that I need as a mother of three growing boys who teaches piano lessons out of our home and would love a great backyard, four bedrooms, two full baths, and if that puppy had a circle drive, then sweet baby Jesus, I have been gifted my real estate unicorn.

But in reality, Zillow has actually probably robbed me hours of my life, and there is a direct correlation between the accumulating time I have spent searching the same two zip codes over and over, and the pulsating anxiety that grows over finding the perfect home (Spoiler alert: doesn’t exist). Anxiety over lusting over homes both in and out of our budget (what would $50,000 more look like? Spoiler alert: Bitterness over not being able afford homes in that price range ). And anxiety over calculating and re-calculating the mortgage calculator as if starving children in Africa would be fed if I could only find the perfect balance of listing price, down payment percentage, and monthly payment.

I need released from my Zillow prison.

My big house, big house.

Shit.

SO!!!

Let’s Re-cap!

I’ve been busy!!

It is amazing what I like to think about and do when I’m not pregnant and new-babying! In January I decided I was really going to go after some dreams. 

Business Concept A.), which I found a partner for at a funeral. Where all of the best business partnerships are formed. 

B.) A Podcast, which basically feels like a funeral right now as it is taking a back seat to taxes and Business concept A. 

And C.) I signed to an agency a few days before Christmas last year and have been working on getting some print and commercial work. “Commercial Modeling” is different from “Runway Modeling” because the commercial world is composed of women under 5’8” who can still love and eat pizza. Which is perfect because those are two of my most qualifying credentials.

But I have been very intentional recently with what I am seeking, putting my energy toward, and I have not ceased to be floored at the opportunities that have been opened up because I quit thinking “Maybe someday?” and I started asking “If not now then when?”. Literally. It’s a mantra.

It’s even applicable when I’m in the parking lot of a place and I just can’t bring myself to go inside and run another stupid errand. The number of times I’m literally in the parking lot of any store and the idea of going inside seems about as hard as running 5 miles, or emptying the dishwasher. But dammit! Probiotics, razors and pancake mix aren’t just going to go buy themselves! I’m a trailblazer. For myself. Doing crappy things that I don’t want to do.

And awesome things that I do want to do…

I was randomly sitting eating my lunch this week at a local restaurant and decided to eat in their lower level as I know it’s less crowded and I wouldn’t be taking up a full table by myself, because I am an insanely selfless patron.

The owner was downstairs having a meeting with two other women about an event they are putting together. I was very focused on my work - I had a 10:00am appointment with my C.P.A. the following day to go over my 2018 taxes. The 72 hours leading up to my CPA executions appointments, are a very weird time where I am in this dreamlike oblivion where I don’t know if we are going to feel the sweet and exotic relief of a tax refund, or the more familiar dread of needing to scrounge up a lotta coinage to begrudgingly give to Ceasar on the 15th of April, this Christian Calendar year. I am in a self-employment purgatory, warded by an all-powerful tariff sheriff. Basically I’m picturing Jafar as the evil genie at the end of Aladdin demanding my quarterly payments, receipts, write-offs and then laughing as he says I owe 10% more as if *I* was the crazy one even though he’s the one who chose to be a serpent. Dumbass.

Anyways.

So I was sitting, eating my lunch, refiguring for the 57th time what my income was last year (where did it go?! Tar-get…) and these lovely ladies were talking about their event. The theme, intention, needs, location, keynote speakers, ideas, *record scratch*, heart race, look up, “What kind of keynote speakers are you looking for?” Sometimes, before Head-Kiley even has a chance to filter the way a normal person would, Heart-Kiley is already on the fearless train. Bags packed. Talking to strangers. 

After a brief exchange of information, niceties, and the 3 seconds of courage that any scary situation requires, I offered myself up as a keynote speaker.

WHAT?! 

HAHAHHAHAHHAHHAahhahahahhaaHAHAHAHAHA

But.

It’s something I always wanted to do. Ever since church camp when I was younger, I always pictured myself some day speaking in front of a crowd. Sharing personal stories. Combining some of my favorite things: vulnerability, authentic real talk, inviting people to laugh at the hilarity of life, and being the center of attention. 

:)

In my mind, if I ever became a keynote speaker, it would eventually come from writing in my semi-annual blog (eat that Victoria Secret Sale), or from growing my other entrepreneurial endeavors, or maybe even a really bitchin viral video of me breathing fire (Yes. Yes I can.) while folding a fitted sheet. 

Just kidding, no one knows how to fold a fitted sheet.

But there was an opportunity. And I saw it and I spoke up. 

Because this is the year.

I’m almost 35, and “If not now, then when?”.

This component of my personality completely baffles and frustrates my husband. The Emperor of Excel, planning, editing, and thinking things through until he talks himself out of any given action, he is completely mystified, and even annoyed, that I can sashay into any situation, and operate with the most potent and confusing cocktail of unabashed unselfconsciousness, unnecessary confidence that is pretty much entirely fueled by complete obliviousness to how society typically operates. 

I think of it more as this very real and visceral feeling that on a daily basis, I subconsciously keep a baseline awareness that this is the one chance I have at life, and I don’t really care too much about taking risks and failing.

 It’s not that things work out for me because I have a weird magic, good luck, and opportunities that others don’t, it’s that when I see a possible opportunity for good luck, my only weird magic is that I could kind of give two shits if I fail.

The worst case scenario in any situation is that I don’t try. If I don’t succeed, I end up in the exact same place as I would if I didn’t try in the first place, only with the core-cleansing content exhale that I was true to myself. I took a risk. And at the very least, I probably have a really funny story that came from all of it.

I don’t know if anything will come from my weird self-proposing-speech giving. Honestly, I don’t even care (a ton) because I’m really just proud of myself for speaking up for something that I’ve always wanted, when the opportunity presented itself. How lame would it be to write about when I wanted to do something and I didn’t. Instead, I get to do stuff and laugh at how ridiculous it is. And it gets remarkably easier the more I do it.  Heart-Kiley: 1

A practice of tenacity, spunk and fearlessness.

To me, that’s kind of what life is. A chance to practice being our most fearless, spunky, wild selves. And day after day, we have chances big and small to practice ceasing opportunities, and making choices. From the breakfast we eat (I actually choose the same one every morning - sautéed greens, two fried eggs with a slice of melted American cheese on top and black coffee. It makes me so happy. Ambrosia.). To even being fearless in choosing what we will wear. Plaid? Florals? Sequins? Only if it’s all together! 

And bigger choices of fearlessness, like choosing (or not choosing) our partner. Choosing the number of children to have (and may I recommend all boys?). Or choosing whether to buy the $6.99 bottle of champagne because it’s on sale from $9.99, or do we buy the $9.99 bottle because it’s on sale from $17.99? Spoiler alert: They are both going to do the job so just pick the cheaper bottle because this year we are also focusing on our finances and the extra $3 bottle isn’t going to change your life.

It’s not like when you are sitting eating your lunch and doing your taxes and eaves-dropping and then insert yourself into a meeting and suggest that you are what the people are looking for.

But I do think champagne would be very helpful in that scenario as well.

Maybe to celebrate.;)

And if that opportunity doesn’t pan out, another one will. 

And it will still require courage. 

Spunk. 

Tenacity. 

Either the courage to speak up for yourself and say “Yes. I should be the person for this opportunity.” Or perhaps, the even braver courage to say “No, Zillow. I know I’ve had two glasses of wine and at this point you are whispering sweet nothings like “Fireplaces”, “Finished basement”, and “padded kids playroom you can lock from the outside” but I see through you and I am not giving you an undeserving 23 minutes of my life and then 6 more during the next commercial break, because you will leave me feeling both indulgent, deprived, and with an unscratchable itch to try out a new down payment percentage whilst simultaneously looking up mid-century color pallets on Pinterest, because ‘It’s good to be prepared.’ BUT NOT ANY MORE!!!!” (Or respectively, March 6th-April 18th, Happy Early-Lent, everybody.)

Plus, I’ve got keynote speeches to not give.

And Jafar-Ceasars to revolt against.

Nor will that $6.99 bottle of champagne drink itself.

Now.

Time to get back to Business Prop. A.

Because If not now, then when?

Taxes

This is just a great photo of Blair in his chameleon costume climbing off of the couch.

Did you know when you apply at a modeling agency, you have to have photos of you with no make-up and natural hair? Yeah, neither did I and thank God my endlessly talented and selfless friend Heidi Drexler met me in my driveway and took pictures of me while I wore a black tank top that I bought and returned to Target the same day. Because when you see an opportunity, sometimes you ask favors and hope the people along the way know how endlessly grateful you are. 

And you BRING IT.

LATER!