When the Dog Bites

It may go without saying that B.J. Novak is a damn genius. But let's go ahead and say it anyway. Because I already did.

In concert with some other brilliant minds of our time, Novak (are you reading his short stories, people? He's so good!) has come up with an app that truly ought to curl my toes. Curl them right up like whichever wicked witch got smooshed by a house.

The List App

I hate lists. Like super duper hate them. Know why? Because they're always about stuff I have to do. Or stuff Eric hasn't done. Or stuff that won't buy itself or appointments that won't be canceled. Yuck!

But The List App has taken that ugly reality and turned it on its head. It exists for the fun of lists. The fun of lists? What could that possibly be, you ask. Um, get on The List App and check it out for yourself.

Mostly, all I've done on there so far is followed some people (B.J. Novak) and started a list I haven't finished. Also I've written this post, which will hopefully inspire you to get on that app! And then follow me (ironsmadon) so I can follow you and we can read each other's inane lists.

Let me be clear: I don't condone listing. It's an ugly, ugly habit that results in rumpled sticky notes lying about the house and pencil-smeared paper scraps floating around in purses.

But this is clean. It's fun. It's oddly soothing. So get yourself on there and do something useless for a few minutes. Because why not?

1. Because you have a job.
2. Because you, too, hate lists.
3. Because you are not inclined to share your innermost thoughts in bulleted form.
4. Because you're dumb! [This is a great idea. Get on it.]

Comments

31 Things I Learned Before 32

Tomorrow, I turn 32. So with no more ado or fanfare than that, I share with you 31 things I've learned in 31 years of life. In no particular order and with no promised gravity. The Golden Rule doesn't ensure you'll get treated the way you wish to be treated. It just means you can sleep at night, knowing you did right. Sandal tans garner an inexplicable degree of respect and admiration. The book is always better than the movie. So all you book snobs out there can just hush up about it. We know. (Yes, I'm a total book snob. But I'm so snobby I don't even try the movie. You're welcome.) If you don't water the plants, the plants die. When you're going through some shit and people tell you, "I could never do what you doing," the appropriate response is: "Yes you could. You just haven't had to." Dog people have hair all over everything and cat peoples' houses smell funny (which is a nice way of saying bad ). Children a...

We're Off to the Icecapades! And Other Roads Paved With Cold Tears.

You know how your Great Aunt Margaret always looks at your baby's long fingers and says she's going to be a piano player? And how that guy bagging your groceries always tells you your slightly-taller-than-average boy is going to be a basketball player? Or how, when you accidentally leave the scissors on the counter and your toddler gets ahold of them, she's going to be a Monster Truck driver for three months because of that sweet mullet she gives herself? Well...I've got a long-legged African baby. And let me tell you, folks, she's destined to be a runner. At least that's what I've been told by no less than three thousand people in the last two years. If qualifying for the Olympics happened based on popular vote of the people, Ayana would have run last year. It would have been a staggering disappointment for Americans everywhere, but she'd have been there. (Shut up, fact checkers. I know the summer Olympics didn't happen last year.) But here...

Therapy Llamas...And Other Bad Ideas

Oh, sure. It sounds sweet: Therapy Llama Visits Children at St. Jude. Coverage of that might even include a picture of bandaged or bed-ridden toddler with his arms wrapped around a long, hairy neck--the perfect photo op. In fact there is exactly that picture, floating around in cyberspace, attached to an article explaining the benefits of therapy llamas. I want to be charmed--llamas are cute, and I'm all for cheering up a sick kiddo. But honestly, I can't get past what a bad idea it is. Llamas are big. They're hairy. They're germy. They spit. They fight--brutally actually--with those huggable necks. I'll be the first to admit they're cute, and I can understand the temptation. They're trainable enough to forced into the drudgery of servitude (or is that alpacas?), and to stand still long enough to be woven into a lovely sweater (that might be alpacas too...); wandering around the sterile corridors of a children's hospital ward, then, shouldn't b...

Life As a Pearl

Search This Blog