I have to say, apart from all the insanity that the Icelandic volcano is causing for people wanting to get to and around Europe, I’m pretty excited that there’s a volcano in the news. I like volcanoes. They’re exciting and unpredictable and change landscapes and are slightly less common than earthquakes. I also just really enjoyed making model volcanoes with baking soda and vinegar for science class as a kid.
This is all to say, watch this video all the way through. It’s mezmerizing and fascinating, and there’s some really cool stuff at the end.
Here’s a fun little article for you guys. A little more real-world than we usually post, but when you read the headline, you’ll immediately love it. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy the idea of a study where women are given a bunch of doctored photos of the same dude and asked to rate them?
It also explains why you can walk around Paris and play the “gay or just French” game. France has the (officially) best health care system in the world, DUH.
I can’t take credit for this one – my boyfriend found this article on the Guardian website and has dubbed the dog Scooby Doo. What else would you name a 7 foot 3 Great Dane? Argos? Thor? Gargantuan, calling him Gar for short? I’m out of ideas.
Guys, it’s no secret. I adore Paul Krugman. I have the biggest crush on him. Every time I’m on the fence or unclear about some major US issue (generally economic, of course), I then see that Paul Krugman has written his weekly NYTimes op-ed about it, and suddenly everything makes perfect sense to me. If I’d gone to Princeton (like one of our other esteemed Taste Testers), I would have sacrificed my beloved English degree for an Economics one just to spend more time with Mr. Krugman. I feel lost and forlorn when he takes a week off and doesn’t write his NYTimes op-ed (okay, I really just read Gail Collins’ twice).
Today, The New Yorker brought sunshine to my email inbox and my gray Parisian life when it made this week’s feature article all about Paul Krugman. I thought I could die happy. And then I read the article and discovered that someone else out there loves the articulate economist as much as I do, possibly even more. After all, he wrote a song about our hero, and I’m just writing a blog post… (video after the cut)
After spending an inordinate amount of time lately with people who care deeply about this sort of thing, I’m slowly coming to understand the culture surrounding British Premier League Football (soccer!), if not appreciate it. But this came as quite a shock to me. I had no idea that Premier League Christmas parties had such a long, colorful, and controversial history. So much for the stiff upper lip.
At least for a bit. First, my heartfelt apologies to our dear readers, not least for lying through our teeth. Because while Kaks and I may be under-employed, we are not, technically (or even untechnically) speaking un-employed. So I have been on a two week hiatus. The first week was spent at the DNC, the second sleeping off the DNC – interrupted only on a nightly basis to wake up at prime time and shake my fist at the television.
But now I’m off politics. Actually, I’m lying again. I’m totally on politics. But this blog ain’t the place for them, so I will sign off politicking here because all is just a-okay, since there’s obviously nothing about this that makes me nervous.