What happened to yesterday afternoon? Well, we had a sweet technical meltdown, since “resolved” (silver lining: we are outgrowing our systems, crap lining: this is not over yet, bear with us), and decided to move our posts from noon yesterday on into today, so you could all get to give them the attention they so richly deserved. What was nice, though, is that Nick got to do some yelling, which he’s amazing at, and rarely gets to do because of the goodness of our authors and readers. You can’t keep a bird in a cage; you can’t keep a lawyer from yelling. Let’s call the situation a wash, then. To apologize for the inconvenience, you are allowed to use this link roundup as a Tuesday Open Thread.
Are you watching the World Cup? Tomorrow is going to be a little rough in my house, because I have to cheer for Germany over the US due to family tradition (no, we are not German, my father is just a longtime supporter of Bayern Munich because he always has to be different.) I mean, the US is probably going through no matter what, so.
How much of a 1990s Christian youth group kid were you?
A 1997 interview with the Spice Girls:
Do they think the Spice Girls will go on forever? And if not, what will they do after it ends? What do you really want to do? ‘We talked about that the other day, didn’t we?’ Geri, sitting on the floor, turns around to the three girls sprawled on a black sofa. Emma, in a white from-the-Sixties dress, perches on a high chair. Their hair has been done, their faces powdered, and they’re ready for the photo.’I want to own restaurants,’ Victoria takes the lead. She wears a skin-tight designer outfit, perfectly positioned Wonderbra and heels seemingly too high to walk on. Unlike the other girls, she never lets her mask break open. ’The entrepreneur,’ remarks Mel B fondly. ’Restaurants and art,’ Victoria continues. ‘I’ve always liked art. Ever since I was . . .’ She pauses. ‘And I’d like a nice big house, and to fill it with, you know . . .’ ‘Sculptures!’ Mel B. ‘Nude men.’ That’s Mel C. All the girls are laughing. Victoria admits – and her emotions finally start to show – that’s she’s always fancied doing art. A few years ago, she and Geri were going to return to college, but they didn’t have the time. Now the others are teasing her about her shoes.
David Sedaris on living the Fitbit life (I too, live that life. You may find yourself pacing around your kitchen island at 11pm in order to make your last row of numbers turn green, be warned.)
At the end of my first sixty-thousand-step day, I staggered home with my flashlight knowing that I’d advance to sixty-five thousand, and that there will be no end to it until my feet snap off at the ankles. Then it’ll just be my jagged bones stabbing into the soft ground. Why is it some people can manage a thing like a Fitbit, while others go off the rails and allow it to rule, and perhaps even ruin, their lives? While marching along the roadside, I often think of a TV show that I watched a few years back—“Obsessed,” it was called. One of the episodes was devoted to a woman who owned two treadmills, and walked like a hamster on a wheel from the moment she got up until she went to bed. Her family would eat dinner, and she’d observe them from her vantage point beside the table, panting as she asked her children about their day. I knew that I was supposed to scoff at this woman, to be, at the very least, entertainingly disgusted, the way I am with the people on “Hoarders,” but instead I saw something of myself in her. Of course, she did her walking on a treadmill, where it served no greater purpose. So it’s not like we’re really that much alike. Is it?
I really enjoy the Behind Closed Ovens series.
Nicole is an Editor of The Toast.