So, on the second straight Friday of the computers in my office going haywire – it is time for a blog post! Today’s topic – disturbing in the news!

The most disturbing news item I can think of should, by all rights, be the story of an actor actually slitting his throat onstage with what he thought was a prop knife during a performance of Mary Stuart in Vienna.

Unfortunately, because of what society has become in the twenty-first century, that horror is eclipsed in my mind by the results of a recent survey from the UK. According to a recent hyper-unscientific survey conducted by, the site’s mostly British readers can’t remember the words to classic lullabies. That, in itself is hardly distressing – after all, I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning.

What is upsetting, as reported by Jezebel and the Motherlode blog at the Times (and a bunch of Brit papers), is what they are doing instead. For reasons that are completely mysterious to me, parents, who presumably smoked so much weed in college that “rock-a-bye-baby” presents an insurmountable challenge, have rated Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” as the third most popular song to sing as they lull little baby Billy to sleep.

I can hypothetically understand the hypothetically addictive appeal of the ridiculously danceable song to people who should really be bemoaning it as a cheap commercial trick that exploits the legitimate sexual experiences of a considerable segment of the population (I may or may not hypothetically have it on my iPod and dance around my kitchen singing along to it when no one is home). But even with my shameful appreciation of the song, I fail to see how it makes the top three in newly minted lullabies!

The Times blog, trying to class up the story and prove how sophisticated fancy New Yorkers are, refers to her as “Kate Perry” and then asks readers to share their own bedtime traditions. Naturally favorites like the Beatles and Peter, Paul & Mary come up but so do Bob Marley, Rihanna and NeYo. You’ve come a long way (from Baby Mozart), baby!


So, what better way to start a new blog then with some new favorite words of the day? Granted I think words of the day are a good idea all the time because I am nerdy at a level that is best not pondered by average mortals without some kind of protective gear and an oxygen tank, but in this case words of the day seem particularly appropriate because my blog is called….what?


Ensorcelled – so maybe all of the super cool nerds use this word every day to talk about pastries and magical spells and really good deals at DSW but I can admit that I have only just become totally enamored with new favorite word # 1. To be fair, the circumstances under which I learned this word pretty much guaranteed the kind of love you can only spell with a u and an r (that’s luuurve for those of you still bogged down by rules of the English language). When Bradley Whitford wishes, in vain, for some trouble from the anti-choicers so he can use it as an excuse to visit the awesomely feminista Mary Louise Parker character in one of the still-totally-Sorkin early seasons of the West Wing, my swoon is not far off. When Josh Lyman stutters “She’s got…I really…I’m… bewitched. I’m ensorcelled” over the woman who will be Pot/Mom Queen of Suburbia – well damn, I’m ensorcelled too!      


Next up on the list of awesome words: a particularly appropriate word for Thanksgiving week from a place where they don’t even give thanks (at least not with the top button of their pants undone and college football on in the background) – Gastrosexual! No, I’m not kidding. Gastrosexual, according to (still not kidding) means “A person with a passion for food and the sensual pleasure that derives from it” or “Passionate about food, deriving pleasure from its preparation and consumption, thrilled by the shape of a pepper or seduced by the perfect combination of flavours”. While I’m as much of a foodie as the next girl, I’m not sure that reprinting my business cards to say “Gastrosexual Extraordinaire” is going to go a great distance toward getting me laid…but apparently I’m wrong. Despite the uncomfortable way the Britishism rolls off the tongue, the Daily Mail is heralding gastrosexuality (gastrosexualism?) as the next great wave in seduction – so bring on the Gastrosexuals!


Finally, a word from Jezebel that seems so tailor-made for a busy girl about Brooklyn on these cold winter days that I can only sit back and marvel:


“It’s that time of year again, when the thermometer drops below 40, and suddenly the streets fill not just with dry leaves and black ice but urban guys suddenly transformed into lumberjacks. The beards grow, the sweaters come out, and seemingly overnight, the cities are crammed with scrawny Hemingways. You know what I’m talking about: the Metrognome


Here’s hoping when I’m out tonight for this high holy day of a drinking holiday I’ll find, among the Thanksgiving Eve revelers, one special gastrosexual metrognome to become ensorcelled by… and call my own!