Tag Archive: the west wing


If you haven’t seen The American President we can’t be friends.

I love it.

Maybe too much.

Drew is home this evening so we get to watch it together. Be still, my heart.

Something about watching this movie with Drew just makes it so much better.  We can basically recite this movie in its entirety and it’s more fun to do it with him than by myself.

I keep remembering how often lines from this movie pop into my head on an everyday basis.

Let me explain:

1.)    One year in school I remember that effigy was a vocab word we were tested on.  We needed to know the definition and how to use it.  Luckily, the America President was created before I took that vocab quiz.  I totally knew what effigy meant because this movie helped me understand its use.

Sydney, seldom does a day go by when I am not burned in effigy.

2.)    Every time I drive by a Volvo dealership (like I did today) or any time I see a Volvo, all I can hear is Annette Benning’s voice lobbying her butt off for the GDC as Sydney Ellen Wade.

Katie, ten years from now any cars with an internal combustion engine is gonna be considered a collector’s item.  Come on board, we’ll make your Volvo a classic.

3.)    Any time I interact with or find myself frustrated with someone who is less than coherent or someone I deem an idiot, I frequently pawn this gem off as my own when talking about this person behind his or her back (because I’m a bitch like that).

Lewis, we’ve had presidents who were beloved and couldn’t find a coherent sentence with two hands and a flashlight.  People don’t drink the sand ‘cause they’re thirsty, Lewis. They drink the sand because they don’t know the difference.

Note: I usually embellish this phrase. For example, blah blah blah can’t find *something* with a compass, a map and a flashlight.

4.)    Generally, at the start of every week, I can hear Michael Douglas’ voice telling me it’s Monday morning.  Sometimes Drew and I even text each other the line from the movie just to share in the moment and reference what I can easily say is our favorite movie. The delivery is so perfect.

Lewis: You skipped a whole paragraph!
President Shepherd: And Monday morning it is.

5.)    The best speech in this whole movie is something I actually quoted in an academic paper in college, well, part of it at least. In fact, I used it in a paper I wrote to proclaim my love of Hillary Clinton actually. I so would.

Everybody knows America isn’t easy.  America is advanced citizenship.  You gotta want it bad, ‘cause it’s gonna put up a fight.  It’s gonna say “you want free speech? Let’s see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who’s standing center stage and avocating, at the top of his lungs, that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours.  You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can’t just be a flag; the symbol has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest.” Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free.

6.)    The events in Lybia actually made me wonder if President Obama has seen this movie.  Talk about Life imitating Art.  Dude.  Just watch it and you’ll totally know what I’m talking about.  In my head, I imagine that Obama took a move out of the Andrew Shepherd playbook.

Sweet baby Jesus, this is such a great movie.

Like I said, if you haven’t seen it, we can’t be friends until you do.  And once you watch this (and love it, obviously) you need to then become obsessed with The West Wing and watch the entire series on DVD because it’s basically a giant continuation of the awesomeness that is The American President.

That is all.

Oh, no, wait. One more thing. I’m also obsessed with this.

Okay. For real this time.

That is all.

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I read somewhere that the average four-year-old asks, like, 400-something questions a day.

That’s amazing.

I’m not saying that I’m a four-year-old, but I think I ask something close to that.

I just wonder a lot of things.

For instance, I had lunch with my mother today, and I had at least ten questions just about our lunch.

Before you get all “you’ve said that before!” on me, I just want to let you know I don’t really care if I repeat myself. It’s my blog, I can do what I want. And if that means tell you something repeatedly, then so be it! Anyway, let me please reiterate that my mom has this thing about having her ipod headphones in her ears at all times. Usually, she has one of her stupid audiobooks playing at the same time, but you can bet your bottom dollar there’s no way she’s actually listening to her book the entire time her headphones are in. I tried audiobooks. It’s hard to pay close attention. It’s like someone is constantly talking to you and you can’t zone out ever because you’ll miss part of the story and have to just nod and pretend you know what’s going on. Okay, so it’s really no different than sitting in class in college and listening to lecture, or having to listen to some bullshit story from someone you don’t really care about, or someone who just rambles about nothing and expects you to pay attention. Hey, that’s you. Start paying attention again. I’m actually going to get back on track again.

Ugh. ADD. Anyway!

She had her headphones in while she was making lunch and not listening to me talk about how I had just finished the very last episode ever of The West Wing on DVD. Because she wasn’t listening to me, I decided I’d snuggle up to Chiefy on the floor and tell him about it. Sometimes when I do this, she will actually be listening to what I say to the pets- like that time I sat in one of the teal recliners in the living room with Stella in my lap and I sang to her for five minutes, nothing you’d know because it was one I made up as I went. Or like that time I told Tag to get a job one day. Or when I busted my ass on the kitchen floor and bruised the whole right side of my body because I dared Tag that I would be able to jump straight onto a stepstool on the hardwood floor (I’m dumb.) and it clearly didn’t turn out right because I knocked the wind out of myself when I missed the stepstool and fell.

When we finally sat down to lunch, I had already been yammering up a storm, and every time I paused where she was supposed to respond, she always looked lost in our conversation. It’s really irritating to have to battle that in every single conversation, so I requested that she remove her headphones because I had some serious business to talk about.

When you eat tomato soup, does it feel like you are just eating hot ketchup?

Is tomato soup really made of just tomatoes?

How come I like ketchup but hate real tomatoes?

Who invented grilled cheese sandwiches?

Who invented putting grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup?

When you wear your fur coat, do you think about how you could be offending people around you?

Are you supposed to eat crackers with tomato soup?

Are you going to eat these crackers?

Why did you get them out?

Why do I hate Ritz crackers? The Townhouse crackers I do like are pretty similar to Ritz crackers, so don’t you think that’s weird?

Danielle brought animal crackers to work yesterday. Have you had animal crackers recently?

I eat the heads and legs off first. Is that how you eat them?

Did you know that the average four-year-old asks something like 400 questions per day?

Apparently, that last one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Granted, she did make a joke about me being a four-year-old since I had literally just spent the entire time we were sitting and eating asking her completely superfluous questions. Even so, she finished her grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, put her headphones back in, told me to finish up, and then took a nap as she waited for the dishwasher-repair man to come to our house.

I bet I have those four-year-olds beat. I ask a shit-ton of questions every day. That’s not even including all the questions I have to ask at work because it’s a function of my job.

I generally disagree with people dressing their pets like they are little children or dolls.

I just think it’s unnecessary. And it’s not very nice, because, you know, the animals probably hate it.

I mean, tried to put socks on my dog one time. As much as I loved how hilarious it was to watch him try to walk, he hated it.

And another time I put a shirt on him.He peed on the shirt.

But this was the truth: each time I tried to dress him like a little person, he was not amused.

Except when I did this:

Okay, so he didn't really mind the dress.... But he totally slobered allllll over that soccer ball.

And there’s this:

This pic is adorbzzzz

Seriously,he’s not even the tiniest bit bothered by that life-jacket! In fact, he looks goooood.

My point is, generally, when I see animals wearing clothes, I feel sad for them. They have no control over it. Their owner wills for them to wear clothes and it just has to happen. Sad Face. I always just want to be like, No no no! Take that biker jacket off your cat! Take that sweater off your West Highland Terrier!

But then I saw this. I stumbled upon it when I was bored on my computer and multi-tasking (read: watching The West Wing).

All KINDS of amazing

You must visit this site to understand how spectacular this truly is.

Watch the video. I’m telling you. It’s worth it.

That is all.

In preparing for my trip to Philadelphia (alone, because my travel buddy bailed and had to stay home to work all weekend 😦 sad face for me) I had to do laundry.

I read, you know? I read other blogs. And I read books. And it’s all, like, girly stuff. Stuff about relationships and being a mom and cooking and shiz. You know, all stuff that doesn’t apply to me since I’m not in a relationship, I’m not a mom, I have no domestic skills and consider getting a box of triscuits out of the pantry cooking.  But don’t judge. It’s my life. I can read what I want. You’re not the boss of me.

Anyway.  Laundry. Even though I know that laundry is a universal thing, you know, something everyone has to contend with, a lot of what I read about laundry is women (usually older than me) bitching about it.

I’m not mad about it. Go ahead and bitch. More bitching I say.

In fact, if I had to do laundry that didn’t belong to me, I’d probably bitch about it too.

fancy, fancy machines! I love the buttons! They make little noises!

And if I had little mess-makers who are noisy and get dirty, like really dirty, I’d probably hate laundry too.

If I had to fold tiny things that are hard to fold, like tiny pants and onesies and bibs and stuff, like Nikki does or like other moms on the internet, I’d be irritated.

If I had a husband who was clumsy and spilled shit all over his shirt or if I had a significant other (whose laundry I was responsible for doing) who changed outfits four times a day (like I do sometimes), I would be irritated.

If that was the case, I would bitch about laundry. I would be annoyed with how it never ends.  I’d be irritated that things don’t fold easily and look nice when it’s all said and done. I would probably be overwhelmed by how often I move items between the washer and the dryer. I’d probably hate the makers of all of this laundry as I sorted it into different piles.

But, alas, it’s just me.

Just my laundry.

So when it comes time for me to do laundry (read: when I run out of underwear- and trust me, I have a lottttt so it takes a looong time before I muster up the courage to partake in a domestic skill), I don’t really have anyone to blame but myself.

And I really enjoy sorting my clothes into color piles. I can examine how big each of the piles are and be like Damn, how do I have that much clothing?!

And then I enjoy pushing the buttons on the washing machine. And measuring out the soapy stuff and sniffing the fabric softener.

I enjoy dedicating hours to laundry. Because while my clothes are being washed and dried, I can chill out and watch The West Wing or Grey’s Anatomy under the guise that I’m doing laundry, or I’m waiting for my clothes to dry. That I couldn’t possibly leave or run errands or something because God forbid my clothes would wrinkle. And you would be correct in assuming I don’t know how to operate an iron.

The best part, though, is folding. I really, really love folding my laundry. There’s something about seeing a perfectly folded shirt or matching up my socks. I love it.

I guess we can add laundry to the list of reasons why I’d make an excellent wife someday. (lolz) Sure, it may be the only thing right now on that list but that’s fine since I have no marriage proposals on the horizon. Also, I’m not really interested in being a domestic goddess. Carrie Bradshaw did just fine in life and she kept sweaters in her oven.