Wednesday, April 30, 2008

All You Zombies

"All you zombies show your faces / (I know you're out there) / All you people in the street / (Let's see you) / All you sittin' in high places / It's all gonna fall on you"

Last night, I finished reading World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks. Dusty didn't think I would enjoy this book, since Drew described it as an account of the zombie apocalypse. Well, the book wasn't so much a gory blow-by-blow as it was a compelling human-interest story written in a journalistic style. The stories were nuanced and not over-the-top; I could identify with almost all of the people featured.

This is the first book club book I've finished since February. Either I'm a lazy reader or the books have been suck-o-tash as of late. And I'm not a lazy reader.

So there's still a full month to go before the book club meeting. Perhaps this would be a good time to see what books on my shelf are just sitting there, waiting to be read. These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users*, i.e. they sit on the shelf just to make you look smart or well-rounded.

Here’s what you’re supposed to do:
- Bold the ones you've actually read
- Underline the ones you read for classes (at least once)
- Italicize the ones you started but didn't finish
- Put asterisks around the ones that remain on your bookcase, unread

Here’s how I fared:
Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations

American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : A Memoir in Books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Wicked : The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian : A Novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
The Count of Monte Cristo
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath [I turned in my book report anyway.]
The Poisonwood Bible
Angels & Demons
The Inferno (and Purgatory and Paradise)
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : A Memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-Present
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything

I guess I don't care that much about looking smart or well-rounded; there's only one book on this list that sits on my shelf unread, and I finished more than half of the books I have read.

What does your "unread" list look like?

"All You Zombies" by the Hooters. *Thanks Cori!

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

"Why does my soul / Feel so bad? / These open doors . . ."

My last day at work is only a month away and I'm looking forward to my ONE YEAR maternity leave. [Socialism RULES.] In my absence, Karincita is taking over my duties on Mass Effect 2. As soon as I confirmed that she would be replacing me, I knew that I wouldn't have to worry about the project. I trust Karin to polish the writers' work and make it shiny, yet not hesitate to kill any words that don't deserve to live. I know the ME2 team will love her; she's much nicer than me, but she also has as foul a mouth. It'll be like I never left, except there won't be as many rage-filled outbursts. ME2 is lucky to have her and I'm happy I can leave knowing I'm handing over the project to someone who will kick ass on it.

And yet . . .

I feel a little bit like I'm leaving one of my children for a year. I took care of ME2 during its infancy and saw it safely through to middle school. Now Karin will adopt and raise ME2 through its difficult teenage years. If it were anyone else taking over my position, I would expect to come back in a year and find that ME2 is a sociopath who skins puppies for fun, has seven steel stud piercings across its forehead, and "Thug Life" tattooed on its neck. Also, it delights in driving a HumVee half a block just to pick up unfiltered cigarettes. And I would smile a little despite myself and feel relieved that nobody could do this job like I can.

But I'm leaving ME2 in the hands of Karincita, my Mama Bear idol and favorite fellow tekneditrika. I just know ME2 is going to be a socially responsible college graduate who volunteers at the animal shelter, sports a neatly-trimmed goatee and a discreet nose piercing, buys organic vegetables from the farmers' market, and bicycles to work. Of course, when it gets to work, it shoots aliens in the face and blows up robots with grenades, but it's an honest living.

Part of this mild melancholy also stems from the realization that my name will probably not be in the credits this time. It was pretty damn awesome seeing my name and Dusty's name scroll up in the ME credits; that game was our baby. We certainly went through some trials together during the raising of that baby, so it was rewarding to get recognition for our efforts. Plus, being recognized by Mass Effect/BioWare fanboys is possibly my best chance at "celebrity".

Our last brush with random fandom was at the Crumpet Shop in Seattle, where Ling took me and Dusty for a spot of tea. At the end of our counter sat a kid in a leather jacket with a skull bandanna tied around his neck and a fierce mohawk. He looked like he could kick all of our asses while drinking his tea with one pinkie raised. He had overheard me tell the cashier I was from Canada and he spotted Dusty's Mass Effect team t-shirt, so he asked, "Do you guys work for BioWare?" When we said "yes", his eyes lit up and he confessed to being a fan "from way back during the Black Isle Baldur's Gate days". He was playing ME and enjoying it and just wanted to let us know he loves the games we make at BioWare. I walked out of the Crumpet Shop feeling a little bit like a rock star.

Good times. Good times. *deep, blessing-and-releasing breath*

I know that very soon, I will be walking out of the birthing centre feeling A LOT like a ROCK STAR after welcoming my and Dusty's best joint production into the world. And in about a year, I will walk back in to work and meet ME2 for the first time. I will marvel at what a fine, upstanding citizen it has turned out to be. And then I will ask it to show me how to use the assault rifle to mow down the space pigs from Zothar 8.

"Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" by Moby

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Make 'Em Laugh . . . Some More

"You start off by pretending / You're a dancer with grace / You wiggle 'till they're / Giggling all over the place"

Thong took this video in 2000, when we gathered to celebrate the creation [finally!] of the Asian American Studies program at University of Maryland, the program we all worked so hard to get instituted. Even Thong's laugh makes me laugh.

Best. Video. Ever.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Make 'Em Laugh

"Make 'em laugh / Don't you know everyone wants to laugh?"
Dear Chu Thong,
Belated Happy Birthday, ya big lunkhed! You would've been 34 years old yesterday . . .
Okay, so you know I hate sappy bullshit; that's one of the many reasons why we became such good friends. You and I are both cold-hearted bastards who understand that there is absolutely no crying in baseball. But sometimes there is crying when you miss friends who are taken from this world much too soon. And I really miss you.
I miss your generosity, your kindness, your laughter, your geekiness, your spirit, and your jacked-up sense of humor. You could make anyone laugh. You always played to your audience well, whether you'd known them for ten minutes or ten years.
I miss your Fashion Tips for Fat Guys commentary.
I miss the postcards you would send me from as far away as Fiji. At last count, you'd sent me more postcards than Hsuan and Phu combined. You're a big wiener! You even wrote the best postcard notes. Both those lunkheds would go on and on about their travels, trying to make me all jealous. On the back of a photo of Belgium's Manneken Pis, all you wrote was: "Pervs!" Dude, totally.
I miss your bone-crushing, lift-me-off-the-ground bear hugs.
I miss our random IM conversations, when you'd ping me in the middle of the night just to show me photos of your twin nieces. Just before Christmas 2006, we spent about half an hour trading photos of our respective sisters' children; you were trying to convince me that your nieces were cuter than my niece and nephew. Psh. As if. We were also trying to figure out when we could get together, since you were spending Christmas in Colorado and I was going to be in Maryland. Dusty and I would be flying home just one day before you were coming back to Maryland. You bugged me for a full 10 minutes to change my flight so we could at least go have a beer. I told you to suck it. I wish I had known it would be the last time I'd chat with you.
I miss you signing my birthday cards "Love ya like a cyst!"
I miss your questionable photography skills. I can't believe you emailed everyone those inappropriate photos of me, Ling, and Glenna that you took at the 2000 AASU reunion. So I'm posting this HAWT one of you:

I miss those ugly, clunky supernerd glasses. You apparently started a trend, though; I was going to IM you the day after the 2007 Oscars aired to tell you that Josh Hartnett was wearing your birth-control glasses at the Spirit Awards. I just never got the chance . . .
During last year's Oscars, I was hanging out with my friends Karin and Patrick, helping them pack for their big move and half-watching the awards when my cell phone rang. I stopped tickling Karin and Patrick's son and put him down on the ground, right side up this time. I answered the phone, still sneaking tickles on Monchichi, who was clinging to my leg and giggling. I had expected to hear Dusty on the line, perhaps phoning to ask for a pickup from work. It was Hsuan. I tried to keep my voice light, but I thought something might have happened to Betty or the kids. "Everything okay, Hsuannies?"
Hsuan said, in one breath, "I got your cell number from Dusty . . . I don't know how to tell you this, but there's been an accident. Thong was blindsided by a drunk driver this morning. He passed away on the operating table. Thong's gone." My knees buckled. I guess Patrick must have swept up his son into another room. All I can remember now is sitting on their hallway stairs, with Karin sitting behind me, stroking my back as I sobbed and asked Hsuan difficult questions. I don't remember hanging up, but I think Karin then drove me to pick up Dusty, who took me home, made me tea, and let me cry while he sat silently and held me to his chest.
I flew out to Maryland a few days later to say goodbye to you for the last time. It was good to be with our friends, gathered in Hsuan's house. We spent the weekend remembering and celebrating you, crying inconsolably and laughing hysterically at the same time. I know you were there with us, taking inappropriate photos as always.
There's only one thing we never wrote to each other in our postcards, but now I really mean it: Wish you were here.

Love ya like my bra,

"Make 'Em Laugh" from Singin' in the Rain

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Don't Speak

"I know just what you're saying / So please stop explaining"

On this week's episode of Dude, Seriously. Shut Up:

Co-Worker: Ah, I see you're joining the BioWare Twins Club.

Me: I'm not having twins. [rub single-occupancy belly]

CW: . . .

Me: . . .

CW: You know who has twins? Co-Worker X. He has twin boys. Yeah . . . oh, and also Co-Worker Y has twin girls. Um . . . hey, remember Co-Worker Z who recently moved? He has twins, too. Yeah, everybody's having twins. But not you, no. And . . . [keep listing people who had or are having twins]

I say: Mm-hm. [raise eyebrow]

I think: Wow. You may want to get a bigger shovel. Or SHUT UP.

"Don't Speak" by No Doubt

It Might As Well Be Spring

"I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm / I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string / I'd say that I had spring fever / but I know it isn't spring"

All right, Edmonton Weather. Now you're just being an asshole.

"It Might As Well Be Spring" by Frank Sinatra

Friday, April 18, 2008

If I Had $1,000,000

"If I had $1,000,000, I'd buy you a green dress. / (But not a real green dress; that's cruel)"

So let me get this straight, Harputs Market: you're charging almost $1000 for these pink . . . things, these godless abominations. You honestly think that people would rather buy these open-toed pink Barbie high heels with attached leather leg-warmers/spats than, say, pay rent. Or eat. Or do anything other than buy and wear these bitches. Wow. If these shoes = fashionable, then I will happily go fug myself.

And yes, I did call them pink. The caption says they're lavender, but I refuse to tarnish lavender's good name by associating it with these shoes. Besides, the caption also says they're boots, and clearly, they would never function as such. I dare anyone to wear these as boots during an Edmonton winter. For serious, who would wear these?! When sober, I mean?!

Dear whoever designed these: NO! NO NO NO NO NO. NO! Just . . . NO!

"If I Had $1,000,000" by Barenaked Ladies. If I had $1,000,000, I still wouldn't buy these bitches. Uh-uh. NO.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Torn Between Two Lovers

"Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool / Lovin' both of you is breakin' all the rules"

Dear Ewan,

I just watched the trailer for your new movie, Deception, in which you are co-starring with Michelle Williams and Hugh Jackman. Hugh Mofo Jackman i.e. possibly your most bitter rival in the Sorry Dusty, But Cookie Would Totally Run Away to Aruba With This Man If Given Half the Chance contest.

Do you realize how much energy my eyeballs will expend trying to follow you and Hugh around on the screen without giving one of you preference over the other? Not to mention that my heart rate will most likely hit the roof and I'll have to do some serious yoga breathing to calm down and contain the SQUEE that will threaten to burst forth. For gods' sake, man, I'm eight months pregnant and breathless enough as it is from my unborn child jamming him/herself into my ribs! Are you trying to kill me?!

I'm so mad about this that I will only watch this movie once when it comes out next Friday. Okay, maybe twice, but that is my absolute limit. The third time I will only watch it on DVD. That'll learn ya.


"Torn Between Two Lovers" by Gracie Rivera in the P.I. and Mary MacGregor in the U.S. This was--oddly--my favorite song when I was three years old. I used to ask my yaya [nanny] to put this LP on the record player in the living room so I could sing along to it. Okay, really I belted it out at the top of my lungs. I think I wanted to be a torch singer when I grew up. It could still happen.

Friday, April 11, 2008

I'm Sorry

"You tell me mistakes / Are part of being young / But that don't right / The wrong that's been done"

Dusty was away in LA for a prototyping workshop all week, so on Tuesday night, I had a just-for-me movie night and rented Atonement. If you haven't seen the movie or read the book, there might be spoilers ahead.

The first quarter of the movie, the summer 1935 set piece, is gorgeous, sumptuous, and sultry. I could almost hear the dragonflies buzzing lazily in the garden. For once, Keira Knightley's inherent haughtiness is put to good use as the high-class Cecilia. She has an amazing on-screen chemistry with Scottish cutie James McAvoy, who plays Robbie with a barely-contained intensity. The scene in the library . . . oh, lawdy. It gave me the vapors!

Saoirse Ronan was excellent as 13-year-old Briony, her crystal blue eyes brimming with righteous indignation when she falsely accuses Robbie of the crime that sends him to jail. In fact, Briony's character was written and played so well by all the actresses portraying her [Romola Garai at 18 and Vanessa Redgrave at 77], that I had a really tough time feeling sympathy for her. Granted, there are so many layers to Ian McEwan's story and it will probably take a second viewing to absorb it all, much less understand or make peace with it. Then again, maybe the movie was meant to leave me feeling unsettled.

First of all, the movie is not a straight-up romance as the trailers would have you believe. After the first quarter, the movie becomes bleaker by the minute. Even the color scheme changes to match the mood. Second, this isn't so much Robbie and Cecilia's story as it is Briony's, but they are definitely intertwined. Briony spends the rest of her life trying to atone for what she had done to her sister and her sister's lover during the first quarter of the movie. She forgoes an education at Cambridge and works as a nurse during World War II, scrubbing floors and emptying bedpans as a sort of penance for her prideful sin.

So Robbie and Cecilia get one passionate tryst and a half hour at tea to declare their love for each other. Then they both die horribly in World War II before they reach their 30s, before they realize their full potential. Briony gets to live a long life, marry, have children, and publish 21 novels. Well, yes, but in her 70s we find out she is dying from a horrible disease that will eventually deny her the ability to speak and wipe out her memory. The language loss is a bummer, but how convenient that her memories of that awful time and of what she has endured because of it will be gone.

Briony's latest and last novel imagines a chance at happiness for Robbie and Cecilia, the chance that she took from them in real life. It doesn't make up for Robbie spending three years in jail and Cecilia spending the rest of her short life estranged from her family. It doesn't atone for the years of separation that Robbie and Cecilia go through during the war, with no reward for their faithfulness to each other. But Briony is ever so sorry. Really.

It's not that I insist on happy endings to love stories; Casablanca is my favorite movie of all time. That ending? Not so happy for the lovers. It was, however, more satisfying than the ending of Atonement. I came away from Casablanca feeling like Rick and Ilsa's separation was for a greater good. They were torn apart by forces bigger than themselves, and they were willing to make the sacrifice to remain apart if it meant that Victor could make the world better with Ilsa by his side. Briony is a force of nature, to be sure, but Robbie and Cecilia's separation did nobody any good. I came away from Atonement feeling like Robbie and Cecilia died in vain and Briony got off relatively scot-free.

"But she lived with guilt and remorse and regret ALL HER LIFE, Cookie!" Well, then she'd make a fabulous Catholic. It still doesn't make me feel sympathetic towards her. "But she's dying of a horrible disease!" She's 77 years old! She had a good run! Call me masochistic, but I wanted her punishment to be more severe, like maybe she never found love and lived as a secluded spinster. Or she never publishes a thing and her family loses all their money. SOMETHING that would make her suffer more than guilt and remorse and regret.

I know that life works this way, that horrendous things happen to fairly good people, that sins go unpunished, but I don't necessarily watch movies to experience life. Atonement is still worth a viewing, for the powerful performances and gorgeous photography. Just keep in mind that you may walk away from the ending going, "Oh, sister. Sorry don't right the wrong that's been done here."

"I'm Sorry" by Brenda Lee

Wednesday, April 9, 2008


"This is the book I never read / These are the words I never said"

There are three reasons why I may not finish Wizard's First Rule by Terry Goodkind in time for our book club meeting in May:

1) We only have one copy borrowed from Drew and Dusty has to start reading it soon. The book is about 820 pages long and it would be difficult for two people to read it at the same time.

2) I really like my retinas. They are beautiful and useful. I don't want to burn them any more than is necessary, and 133 pages of Goodkind burned them just enough.

3) I've already read the funniest passage in the book, so I should quit while I'm ahead. Nothing could possibly top this:

[The wise old wizard Zedd has just given Richard the Sword of Truth]
[Richard says,] "Zedd, I've never seen this before. Where have you kept it?"
Zedd smiled proudly. "In the cabinet, in the house."
Richard eyed him skeptically. "There's nothing in the cabinet but dishes and pans and your powders."
"Not that cabinet," he said, lowering his voice as if to thwart anyone who might be listening, "in my wizard's cabinet!"

"In my wizard's cabinet", y'all. It's right next to his mage's pantry, where he keeps the necromancer mixing bowl* he uses to make night druid cookies. While wearing his mystic theurge apron. I could beat this metaphor to death, because that's what Goodkind would do. Why just labor over a passage or a concept when you can belabor it?

Thank you! You've been a fantastic crowd. I'll be here all week! Please tip your waitress.

"Why" by Annie Lennox. *Thanks, Brian Kindregan!

Monday, April 7, 2008

What About Everything?

"What about aeroplanes? / And what about ships that drank the sea? / What about the moon and stars? / What about aliens? / What about when buildings fall? / What about that midnight phone call, / the one that wakes you from your peace? / Well, I am not in need."

And so it begins. Yesterday, Dusty and I spent nearly three hours in two different stores researching, testing, and finally buying a stroller/baby carrier/car seat travel system very similar to this. We researched and tested other items, too, but we're trying to only get things as we need them. I've never done this before, so beyond the travel system, I don't know for sure what would be handy.

Okay, I'm lying. Of course I've made a checklist of other baby gear that we might need or want based on what I've found out from my sister and friends and interwebs research. Think I'd unpucker for something as important as my baby's well-being? Shyeah. Now I just need a quick bullshit check on my list.

Just this morning, Tricky and I discussed the merits of having a pack-and-play porta-crib. My friend Mac, who has four children, found it indispensable. I'm torn about getting one because, seriously, how many cribs does my child need? We already inherited a nice standard crib from a co-worker and we're getting one of these for the early days when we will all just be getting used to our new little family.

Tricky believes the pack-and-play is really only handy when we travel to places with no crib available for the baby. I think we could use it during those two weeks in August when it gets sweltering hot in Edmonton and everyone sleeps in the basement, or as an extra crib when Button's baby cousins and friends visit, or as a playpen in the living room. Or, you know, not. Betsy used a laundry basket as a playpen and her kids turned out just dandy. And, as Tricky and I concluded, babies will sleep just about anywhere as long as there's a food source nearby.

We have right around nine weeks to go before this wee beastie arrives and I'm walking that very fine line between excited to meet him or her and worried that I'm not prepared to do so. I know that babies need very little to be happy in the first few weeks and months of their lives, but I would rather be overprepared than underprepared. Right now I'm feeling underprepared and a little overwhelmed. We don't even have the baby's room cleaned or painted yet because it's still too cold and snowy outside to open a window for ventilation. Stupid arctic tundra!

What is the ONE piece of baby gear that you found was key to your sanity and your baby's well-being?

"What About Everything?" by Carbon Leaf

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Spring is Here

"Once there was a thing called Spring / Spring is here / I hear"

My backyard this morning:

What the fudge, Edmonton Weather?! April showers means rain, genius. Try again.

"Spring is Here" by Rodgers and Hart

The Right Stuff

"First time was a great time / Second time was a blast / Third time I fell in love / Now I hope it lasts"

"They may be pushing 40, but the New Kids are returning to the block."

Doesn't anyone fade gloriously into obscurity anymore? At some point, can't they all just be content with what they had and settle down to become real estate developers like my favorite New Kid, Jonathan? Maybe I should ask you that, Jonathan. After all, it was you who vanished in the middle of what would be NKOTB's final world tour. I hope you're doing better at managing the panic attacks that made you want to leave in the first place, or more importantly, I hope you think this reunion is going to be worth the effort. But really, all of you: Why come back?

NKOTB released their breakthrough album, Hangin' Tough, in September 1988, so I'm guessing they timed this reunion as a 20th anniversary thing. But what has really changed since VH1's failed attempt to reunite them a couple of years ago? At that time, Donnie and Danny refused to even appear on-camera, and denied any possibility that there would be a reunion. I understand the need to reunite on their own terms instead of being forced to do so by a reality TV show, but I call "bullshit" about how their love for the music they're now recording in-studio is what drove them to reunite. It made me laugh when Donnie said that during their Today show reunion announcement, which I totally only watched out of curiosity. Totally.

When NKOTB first came out, my sister was their perfect target audience. Marishka was 10 years old and primed for her first innocent crush on non-threatening pop idols. I was 13 and trying really hard to be cooler than I was; I had already been to see Crowded House with my hip older cousins, and I was listening to my brother's New Order and Depeche Mode albums. I wasn't about to regress to my baby sister's fave boy band, no matter how cute they were. By the time I turned 14, I was going to "alternative" rock shows like the New Order, Sugarcubes, and Public Image Limited joint concert and just beginning to listen to the Cure. Honestly, I didn't get the Cure at the time. I had a fairly happy childhood with minimal angst, and my heart had never been stomped to pieces by anyone, so I didn't understand what all the dark eyeliner was about. Maybe that's what drove me straight into the arms of the New Kids.

I don't know when the switch was flipped, but I remember my sister and I rushing home from school to tape Oprah, when NKOTB performed "The Right Stuff" for the first time in front of Oprah's live studio audience. When the boys came out onstage, Mar and I both jumped to our feet and started clapping, chattering, and giggling. We didn't even hear a word those boys sang; we just focused on how cute they all looked and how well they danced. We made up our minds on the spot that the Knight brothers would be our future husbands. As soon as the performance and interview was done, we rewound the tape and watched the show again so we could actually listen to what was being said. Then we rewound the tape and watched the show again, this time to practice the dance moves. I think the show aired on a Wednesday; by the end of the week, we could perform the entire routine perfectly.

When I emailed her the article about the reunion, Mar and I tentatively agreed that if NKOTB's Baltimore show happens after I give birth, I would fly out with the baby so we could go to the show together. Mar and I only saw one NKOTB live show, though we sat in different areas because I was allowed to spend more of my babysitting money for tickets. My friend Becky and I sat in the fifth or seventh row, front and center. Mar and her friend Laura sat in the balcony with our dad chaperoning. [What a nice daddy!] We had an absolute blast! And during one of the freeze-frame poses after a song, Danny totally pointed his finger-guns at me and Becky. Totally.

Maybe it doesn't matter what NKOTB's reasons are for coming back. Even if this is just a lark, or a way to earn some extra cash, why the hell not come back for one last hurrah? Everyone else is doing it.

So let's see: Duran Duran, The Police, Spice Girls, Lemonheads, New Kids . . . "And when the Lamb opened the sixth seal . . ." who shall it be? Come on, Shaun Cassidy. If the Apocalypse is coming, I want to see you belt out "Da Doo Ron Ron" one last time.

"The Right Stuff" by NKOTB