In another two weeks, it’s new cell phone time for Miss Eva. I’ve been waiting for an update on the Samsung phone I posted about ages ago, and that’s the one now known as the Samsung Glyde.

It could be that, a Blackberry Curve or the LG Voyager.

c|net (my initial/trusted choice for such decision-making basics) reviewed the Glyde and gave it a 7.3 out of 10. That’s good.

They gave the Voyager 8.3 out of 10. That’s really good.

c|net doesn’t have an editorial rating for the Blackberry Curve yet, but the users give it a 9.0 out of 10. This I will take with a grain of salt since people get a little too attached - the Crackberry phenomenon.

I’m going to have to suck it up and go into a Verizon store (I loathe that part of the process) to play with them and see which interface is most eva-friendly. I’m pretty savvy with those things and can learn to use a new toy quickly - but the simple matter of how it feels in my hand will be part of the decision-making process, too. When the Verizon sales dudes come up to me to start pitching, I might pretend I don’t speak English. That should get them to leave me the hell alone.

I haven’t gone to a brick-and-mortar Verizon store in almost 6 years; I’ve done all my phone upgrading and plan changes online since I just hate the wireless store experience. It reminds me of the scene in Best in Show where the yuppie couple are discussing how lucky they were to be “raised among catalogs”:

I totally get that sometimes. Also, I love this scene and I adore Parker Posey.

I want this. I also want to buy it for two people I know. I like giving people books.

Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity by David Lynch

In this “unexpected delight,” filmmaker David Lynch describes his personal methods of capturing and working with ideas, and the immense creative benefits he has experienced from the practice of meditation.

Now in a beautiful paperback edition, David Lynch’s Catching the Big Fish provides a rare window into the internationally acclaimed filmmaker’s methods as an artist, his personal working style, and the immense creative benefits he has experienced from the practice of meditation.

Catching the Big Fish comes as a revelation to the legion of fans who have longed to better understand Lynch’s personal vision. And it is equally compelling to those who wonder how they can nurture their own creativity.

I also like the cover. That font is gorgeous.

So I’ve got some rollover vacation days to use up this month, and today was one of them. As a result of a largely sleepless weekend (petsitting, a noisy downstairs neighbor whom I’ve dubbed “Keith” because of his physical similarity to that member of The Prodigy - pictured left, police involvement, and a 3 a.m. confrontation with Keith that was resolved peacefully) I caught up on my sleep today - by way of sleeping until 11:11.

Thus, the likelihood of getting my car in for an oil change was slim. I called a few places anyway. It seems that I spoke to the same guy no matter where I called; a sleepy young man who (I imagine) looked away from the magazine he was flipping through just long enough to say, “yeah, no one’s even gonna be able to touch it for at least another two hours.”

Harrumph.

Plan B: shopping. There was a need for some work clothing (pants), some socks, shampoo, circular knitting needles, bumble and bumble tonic spray, and the pharmacy. I brought along a totebag to avoid getting 5 or 10 more plastic shopping bags that I absolutely don’t need. This proved far more difficult than I thought possible.

I didn’t bring the totebag into stores with me because that would be suspicious and I’d just be asking for trouble; it’s one thing in a foodstore, but quite another in a clothing or craft store. That wasn’t the problem.

My first stop was for shampoo and b&b spray. “I don’t need a bag, thanks.” Not a problem. The cashier gave me the receipt and sent me on my way. Done and done, in the totebag.

Stop #2: craft store for circular knitting needles. The distracted teenage cashier put them in a bag despite my saying I didn’t need one, but that was more because she was talking to her co-worker. When I reiterated my desire to remain bagless, she took the needles out of the bag and handed them to me with the receipt. Lovely.

Stop #3: pharmacy for the pill. This is well into the realm of TMI, but it’s for a purpose, so bear with me. Some birth control pills come in a lovely little clamshell case; I actually bought a reusable one with a “fun fashion design.” So when I go to the pharmacy and they give me the faded Pepto-Bismol pink clamshell case in addition to the pill refill, I tell them that I don’t need it and specifically ask them not to give it to me. It’s a wasted chunk of non-recyclable plastic. I told the pharmacist today the same thing; she looked at me as if I’d said, “I would like to give you $500 for that tube of lip balm.” Seriously - it made me feel like I might be a little crazy and perhaps not actually speaking the words I thought I was.

She stammered and said, “But it goes with it.”
I said, “Yes, I know - but they don’t come together and I already have one. I really don’t need it.”
Pharmacist: But they go together.
Me: I really don’t need it, though. Just the pills are fine. I already have a case.

She shrugged and told me how much money I’d have to hemorrhage for this particular prescription and while I was getting my card from my wallet, she placed the little “here are the ways this drug could possibly kill you” paper and meds into the paper privacy bag. I also told her I didn’t need a plastic bag, and that elicited an “OK.”

As I walked to the car, I noticed that the bag felt a little heavy for a small ring of tiny birth control pills. Lo and behold, she’d thrown in the stupid plastic clamshell case anyway - apparently while I was distracted getting out my method of payment. That was some mighty great customer service there. Truly.

Stop #4: clothing store #1. I found pants and a shirt. Again, went to the cash register and told the clerk that I did not need a shopping bag. She asked me if I was sure, and I said yes - that I was parked right outside and had enough bags already. “Oh,” said she, and I said, “I don’t think anyone will have a problem as long as I have my receipt on my way out, right?” (Clearly, but it’s the sort of silly obvious comment you sometimes have to make to clarify your point without sounding possibly bitchy.) No problem and I walked out with clothing, paper and no bag.

Stop #5: clothing store #2. Two pairs of pants. I said, “I don’t need a bag.”
[cashier double-take]: You don’t need a bag?”
Me: No thanks. I have so many already, it’s just a waste.
Cashier: Are you sure, hon? You really don’t want a bag?
Me: I’m good. I’ll be fine with just the receipt.
Cashier: The bag will be easier to carry.
Me: It’s fine. I’m parked right outside.
Cashier: OK. If you’re sure.
Me: Yes I am, thanks! (getting a little testy here)

Stop #6: Whole Foods for a box of ginger snaps, salad from the salad bar and a box of chamomile & lavender tea. The cashier asked what kind of bag I wanted. I said, “none.” She nodded in assent, took my money and told me to have a nice day.

That’s totally the way to do it, but I wouldn’t really expect much less from yuppie-hippie central. Trader Joe’s is also really great about this (similar demographic, too, surprise-surprise).

It just goes to show how far we have to go before being less wasteful or somewhat environmentally conscious is understood and not viewed as crazy person behavior. I was telling my like-minded friends about this whole voyage and one suggested, “You should’ve just said ‘I don’t need a bag - I’m a hippie’. That would probably work.” Maybe. But it’s annoying to have to waste breath on any sort of explanation, justification, clarification, etc. for something this simple.

It crosses over into customer service territory. Having been on the other side of the register back in my bookstore days, I know you’re riding on auto-pilot some of the time and shoving things into a bag is simply part of the assembly line process. But the customer service part isn’t hard if you keep a single neuron firing; if someone was only buying a magazine, I’d ask, “Do you even want a bag?” More often than not, they’d pause and say, “Nah, I don’t need one just for this.” Yes, sometimes they’d say, “You’d better give me one - I’ll be going into other stores.” Fair enough - but let the customer make that call.

I’d best get to sleep. There might be pills involved. Waking up at 11 doesn’t bode well for falling asleep at a decent hour tonight without chemical intervention.

I don’t know why I let myself look at NOTCOT.

Almost every day, I find an object of desire or lust. Because, like many Americans, I lust after objects, a.k.a. material things. (What!? Why you lookin’ all cross-eyed?) Today, this made me wish I’d started a fund back in the day, say, with a share of Google stock, and had held onto it until now so I could pay off debts and just go shopping like the crazy girl I am.

Um, hi. A silver scissor cuff bracelet - it does actually open, providing a different look. Right now, it doesn’t look like it’s available yet; it’s part of a forthcoming collection from an Italian designer. But damn. And I bet it will be out of my price range. Sadness washes over me.

One thing I could afford would be this unnecessarily huge birthday candle. The site provides an image of the candle alongside a champagne flute and a layer cake to give you a sense of scale. Incredibly ridiculous.

And how about the Negativity Refuse Bag? The gimmick there is that it’s printed with instructions on how to rid yourself of negativity or inner demons. You place the offending items (say, things that remind you of an ex or a bad habit) into the bag and throw it away. Yes, you could do that with an ordinary trash bag, but this has more flair. I’d consider buying a few if I had any friends who were serial daters who got totally attached to people and then ended up burning everything associated with that person when it was over. It would be a nice companion to the “let’s watch a DVD and eat some ice cream” combo.

There’s also a ring that’s carved to the shape of your loved ones’ facial profile. Those start at $580 (I’m guessing that’s for the basic stainless steel ring, not the platinum). They say, “Take your loved one’s profile with you everywhere you go- who could want more?” That might not be the right way to spin it, but I get what they’re aiming for.

I’m going through the items I’ve marked in Google Reader (I subscribe to the NOTCOT.org RSS feed) and there’s just too much coolness. Too much. I am overwhelmed. I will now let that wash over me.

Futurama is back! And that was a Zoidberg quote from season 4.

The December issue of Wired has an interview with Matt Groening and David X. Cohen talking about the history of Futurama and the new season (direct to DVD and eventually Comedy Central). It’s a really interesting piece and provided much insight into why the show is so perfect for people who enjoy geeking it up:

After the show got a green light, Cohen assembled the geekiest writing staff television had ever seen: one MA in math, one MA in computer science, one MA in philosophy, one PhD in chemistry, one PhD in applied math, and some normals to balance things out. “I went from Home Improvement, where people earnestly pitched jokes about farting and table saws, to a place where there were discussions about nanophysics and string theory and quantum mechanics,” writer Eric Horsted says. “I could only follow the conversation for a few minutes before my brain would start sweating and I’d have to reach for a copy of People.”

“One of the great things about the show was the instantaneous, intense fan reaction,” Groening says. It operated on several levels, rewarding multiple viewings, and it was full of catnip for geeks: In addition to the riffs on The Twilight Zone, Star Trek, and Star Wars, there were allusions to classic videogames, programming languages, Schrdinger’s cat, and the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.

“The operating principle of Futurama was that you can do a joke that 1percent of the audience gets, as long as it doesn’t derail the enjoyment of the mass audience,” Cohen says. “And that 1 percent becomes a fan for life.”

As much as I can enjoy the geeky Star Trek references and whatnot, I’m glad to say I’m not as hardcore as some:

Some jokes in Futurama were written in a strange alphabet that fans had to decrypt. “Most were jokes about aliens eating people,” Cohen says. “Like, an alien sign on a restaurant says TASTY HUMAN BURGERS.” He checked the Web a few hours after the pilot aired and discovered that the freeze framers had already cracked the code. A trickier alien alphabet was devised.

My copy of “Bender’s Big Score” (the first part of the new DVD set) will be arriving from Amazon this week… along with the first two pieces of my Christmas shopping.

I’ve decided that Christmas shopping this year will be done entirely online. After having seen some of the Black Friday videos out there, I’ve lost all faith in and patience with people.