First I’d like to say: Sorry.

But.

I am just so incredibly glad I was forced to take Introduction to Typing the summer before my freshman year of high school. I cannot imagine having to look down at my fingers in the middle of every word, even though during the actual course, I remember thinking “This is too hard, why don’t I just fake it and then continue to have to look down at my fingers in the middle of every word? It can’t take that long. It won’t be that much of a hindrance in the long run. Meanwhile, I can continue scoping out all these losers in my class who already think they’re cooler than me, even though they have no idea, and by the way one of those girls is wearing Keds.”

No, it definitely would have taken that long. SO LONG. Get this: I am such a fast typist! I just typed that entire paragraph without even a thought! I am writing without thinking! What could be better?! (Anything.)

Honestly, have you ever really considered the connection, if there is one, between knowing how to type very well and actually… writing? Very well, or even writing at all? If I couldn’t type, could I really write? Would everything come out the same? Would it come out better, since I’d have more time to stare at it and then decide that it sucked, and then delete it quickly before hitting… PUBLISH?

SERIOUSLY I SOMETIMES CANNOT BELIEVE THAT I K-N-O-W H-O-W TO DO THIS!

I don’t care what you say. Typing is seriously impressive. It’s become instinctive, expected, taken for granted. People don’t realize how talented they are. Do you realize that if an extra-terrestrial, or a child, or a person from the 1800s sidled up to you while you were typing, you would blow their minds? They’d think you were awesome. And you are awesome. Let’s all give ourselves a pat on the back for knowing how to type.

Clearly I’m a little drunk. Hello, family vacation! “Fresh margs?”

P.S. What is with that photo? All I did was image-search “keyboard.” At first I was going to put up a pic of a piano-style board, just to be a little cryptic and also insinuate that typing/writing was not all that different than playing the keyboard — you know, creating music, man — but then I came across this gross board with weeds, or maybe weed, growing out of it, so I obviously had to use that. Thanks, other people’s images.

This is our next-door neighbor Rose’s holiday window display:

This is ours:

We’re really giving her a run for her money.

Our second window looks the same but without the snowman. Who, by the way, is at such a perfect tilt. There’s a real art to positioning a plastic window decoration. You want to make it look really chill, really cazh (yes cazh), and not like you peeled it back off seven different times because you didn’t think the snowman looked friendly enough.

Aw, look at him. He’s like, “Hi!”

You’re like, “Hey.”

Great post.

Just went to the Tower Records at Lincoln Center and bought the biggest crack pile of CDs to ever exist. This is quite unlike me, as I download most of my music or get it in “zip”-like packets from my roommate over the IM. I used to own lots of CDs, but I dumped them all into my computer and that was that. They’re all stowed away in my childhood room in Illinois, probably under the bed, next to the terrifying Ouija Board I refused to remove when I was 11 because that would mean I’d be acknowledging it, and I couldn’t bring myself to even do that.

Plus, this way, no one has to see Even More Dazed and Confused or every single Jock Jams compilation of the late ’90s on my bookshelves. They’d need to scan through my iPod to find gems like those. And some do.

After thumbing through my friend TG’s even bigger pile of garbage from Tower (which is going out of business in four days) the other night, I suddenly ached for the return of useless but incredibly amusing compilation CDs to my “collection” and made the big trek uptown to the store. Keep in mind there are ZERO good CDs with more than one song by the same artist left at Tower. (Fine, there probably are, but I had like 20 minutes. I made it to the mid-Cs and had to give up.)

But the compilations aisle? Totally different story. If you can manage to ignore the jutting greasy-jacketed elbows of guys who cannot thumb through row upon row of, alternatingly, Punk-Rock of ‘94 and The Emo Diaries: Chapters 4 and 7 fast enough (at one point I feigned interest in Freestyle Hits 1 just to dangle my hair in one guy’s line of sight, thereby completely annihilating his flow), I highly recommend it.

Among the gems I picked out:

SMOKIN BEATS: 40 Phat Joints and Smooth Rolling Beats (pictured, above). Subtitle? “A funky mix of laid-back grooves.” But what are they trying to say? What should I do while I listen to this music?

Spirit of Ecstasy: 20 Pumpin’ Club Hits. What?! Who am I and what have I done with Annie?

Fresh Dance 93: 18 of the most juicy hand picked hits. Another essential collection. Way to copy edit that title, too! Turns out they were indeed referring to the year 1993, which in no way explains the inclusion of “Long Train Runnin’” by the Doobie Brothers.

Fresh Hits Volume 1. That’s it. That’s the whole title. It could honestly be anything. That’s the thing with this aisle — you really need to give everything a flip and check it out. This is a 2-CD (most of them are!) collection of songs in the late ’90s by people like O.D.B., Pink, Christina Aguilera, and S Club 7, i.e. songs I should be cynically aware of now that I work at an entertainment magazine, but was too far submerged in a quicksand-like Electric Light Orchestra obsession to even register. There’s also a Moloko song on there, which is weird, but that’s 50% of why I bought it.

The Sound of Europe. They got it all onto one CD. Amazing!

The 70s: Hits From the Underground. I have no idea why. I’m sorry. It has Jefferson Airplane and something called “Captain Beefheart And His Magic Band.” I had to.

Anyway, seriously, if you have a deep-rooted affinity for compilation CDs that absolutely never needed to be produced but were, check out Tower Records in the next few days. Even if it’s labeled $34.99, it’s probably $3.

Big Decision Alert!

Liz Lemon is the greatest TV character ever.

I’m probably only saying that because she’s a lot like me and I’m all I ever think about. Whatever. Liz Lemon of 30 Rock (Tina Fey) is my hero for plenty of reasons, the most obvious of which is her unabashed obsession with junk food. Observe:

Liz gets a cookie after donating blood. Would you look at that SMIRK? This might be the best photo I’ve ever taken of my own television, and if you don’t know me that well, that is saying so much more than you think. Observe:

Liz is in the middle of an important, entire-episode-consuming office crisis, yet she hesitates when a catering cart wheels by. She actually CHANGES DIRECTION. I believe a pivot was involved, just like in high school girls basketball. (Me!) Again, note the fierce longing in her face. I just don’t understand how this could get any better. Observe:

Liz falls asleep after the same long day at work, but manages to keep a firm grip on a cheeseburger so weak and floppy it is obviously from McDonald’s, despite a lack of visible wrapper logos. Don’t you just want to eat her up? The burger.

Those pics were from last Thursday’s episode. Last night, Liz Lemon admitted the only times she remotely enjoyed her vile boyfriend’s company was when his actions involved food — first doughnuts, then chili, then cheesesteaks. I am seriously confounded at the brilliance of these snack selections. A few weeks ago, the reason I got going on this in the first place was Liz’s insistence that there’s nothing wrong with eating a turkey sub for lunch, and that she likes going to the “crappy” midtown deli because it’s dependable and you know what you’re getting. I couldn’t have said it better myself — god knows I’ve tried, but I’m not good at scripting myself in catchy, succinct TV sentences. When I get to talking about area delis, I can last for whole minutes. I try really hard to convince whomever I’m arguing with (who was never arguing with me, and who doesn’t care) that turkey subs go best when mouth-swished with regular cola, and don’t forget the mayo. The point is: I love Tina Fey.

And on top of all of that… She’s a lefty!

By the way, I’d like to start a Justin Timberlake-esque campaign to bring the spelling “doughnuts” back. Krispy Kreme spells the word that way, but the more pervasive Dunkin’ Donuts, and most people, do not. Are we that busy and low-class that we need to snub those two arguably negligible letters? I’m bringin’ DoughnutsBack. Owww! Sing it with me:

I’m bringin’ “doughnuts” back
Them other peeps they don’t know how to spell
I think it’s special… what’s it filled with, yo
So put it down and I’ll suck out the jelly

Since I’m 26 today, I thought I’d revert back to a seven year-old’s mindset.

That’s the official Willy Wonka font! You can also download fonts called Nintendo, Star Trek, and The Blair Witch Project. (WHY?) Yes, those are Fritos in the mac and cheese.

Too much? With the rainbows, probably. I know.

DR is obviously under construction. I’m in the process of switching over to Wordpress so I don’t have to keep doing every single thing on the site manually, like a total idiot.

It will look somewhat normal soon.

Haven’t covered ANTM since my cycle 6 recaps, but here’s the interview I did with Cycle 7 winner CariDee the night she won. What a totally literate sentence. Oh well. It is Top Model.

My fave part is when she blows me off to “have [her] picture taken for the first time!” No really. It was adorable. We also had a long gabfest about being really tall, none of which was usable because it went something like this.

Annie: Being tall is COOL!

CariDee: Oh I KNOW!

Annie: Haters stop hatin’!

CariDee: Honey please. WhatEVER!

Annie: I know!

The former A.C. Slater (Mario Lopez) might get a series on, appropriately, The CW. On PopWatch, I suggest four possible vehicles for his comeback, including Saved by the Smell and my personal favorite, Would You Just Look At How Handsome He Is? — inspired by women my mom observed in a hair salon. There’s also one where the entire premise is Mario having an STD. I don’t know how I’m not a famous TV writer. There is time.

He totally shaved his legs for that scene (above).

I am blogging about BLOGGING. Someone needs to have me put to sleep.

On the upside, the first comment to that post says “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but I want some.” I couldn’t imagine a higher compliment.

A few weeks ago, my sister and I ate at The Cheesecake Factory in Chicago. We stood in their nasty waiting area (the walls resemble intestinal tracts) for half an hour on a Sunday night. We’re insane.

Anyway, between us, we ordered three staggeringly large (because they all are) menu items. The first was the spinach/artichoke/but mostly cheese dip. It was yummy in the way that a deviled egg is satisfying a few hours before the main Thanksgiving meal. Yes, you want the egg — but were steaming slices of carved meat and stuffing to be plunked down in front of you, you’d toss it over your shoulder without even looking.

Such was the scene at TCF, as round 2 (Cajun Chicken Littles, with garlic mashed, veggies (gross) and two dipping sauces) swooped in for the kill on our massive table that should have seated at least six.

I call this shot… “Abandoned Chip.”

You want it.

Damnit, Annie! There’s so much freakin’ dip left! Looking at it now makes me crazy.

Have you ever done this?

For season 3 recaps of The O.C. and links to briefer recaps of season 4, visit Annie’s O.C. Page.

I was so sick of reading about how gross it was that Britney Spears doesn’t wear underwear that I decided to sort of stick up for her.

I’m going to interview the winner of Top Model next week! Yay! What should I ask?!?! I’d almost rather interview the loser so my first question could be “Will you conspire with me to murder Tyra?”