Out Now: Smug 2.0

According to a recent study, if you really, really like gadgets you are probably an arrogant prick. And if you’re an early adopter, even worse.

An online study of 25,000 American adults revealed a strong correlation between a love of technology and personality traits like leadership, dynamism and assertiveness coupled with serious lack of modesty. Is this really all that surprising? Did they really need to do a study to know that the guy texting away on his Blackberry in the middle of “Atonement” doesn’t really give a shit that he is distracting me from a spectacular film experience. Sure, he’s not talking, but I cannot concentrate on James McAvoy’s intensity with that little screen glowing to my right like a hole in the universe sucking every ounce of sexually charged air right out of the theater.

Did they really need a study to tell them that the people toting their Powerbooks around like newborns, Bluetooth earpieces making them look like half cyber-Spock, half human, while they appear to converse with the trees outside Starbucks, are probably not the most humble among us?

The study found that those who rated highly in assertiveness were 62 percent more likely to buy the latest model of a cell phone when it hits the market. Uh huh. And from this sort of data, they extrapolated that “those who are really assertive are the types to grab life by the horn” and that “when they see something they want or like, they go straight for it.” How much money was spent on this study?

Does all this embracing of the wonders of technology really equate with arrogance as the study concluded? (“Avid tech consumers were also likely to be low on modesty and may be perceived as conceited or arrogant.”) Or are they just basing their findings on having seen one too many Mac vs. PC ad? (I am beginning to feel a little sorry for PC at this point. Come on, Mac guy. Lay off already. It’s clear that PC is not as cool or clever as you are. You’re kind of becoming a bully.)

Could it simply be that those of us who have maxed out the icons in our dock or have stopped into the Apple store at least ten times to ask if the new iPhone is in yet are just eager adventurers on the technology highway of life? Wouldn’t Lewis and Clark have been the first guys to own a Garmin had it been available in 1804?

Our household has purchased three Mac laptops in the last six months. And we’re waiting anxiously for July 11 when the new 3G iPhone hits stores. What a bunch of insufferable ***holes we are.

Take A Number

Would someone please tell the people in my area that it’s a buyer’s market? While housing prices are down in most parts of the country, our little corner of the market continues to remain relatively strong. Pulling up to an open house is like showing up for a party. There are cars up and down the block and a continuous stream of people parading through the house. You will find yourself squeezing past a family of four to catch a glimpse of a master bath. Waiting in line to get a peek at the inside of a linen closet. And it’s not because these are fantastic deals. They’re not. This is the bottom of the barrel for this market, and they’re still north of a million. When something comes on at this rung of the ladder, it sets off a feeding frenzy of hungry house-hunters and prices get bid up above asking. It’s highly discouraging. Even more so when the listings tout new cabinets, appliances and countertops! (Their exclamation point, not mine.) And you show up to find the cheapest, off-the-shelf, oak cabinetry and white, featureless, appliances, including an electric cooktop. What an insult. Especially when, as in one recent viewing, the house is a mid-century Eichler that has been completely defiled with traditional oak cabinetry, mirrored wardrobe doors and a brass-trimmed fireplace. Nearly every original design element destroyed so that the place resembles a sad, fading starlet wandering, confused in a housecoat and slippers begging for a tube of lipstick, a shot of Bourbon, and some heavy curtains to save her the embarrassment of anyone looking in. The worst insult? It sold before I even had time to post this piece.

Prefabulous

This is the Kithaus K3, a 9’x13’ prefab serenity space, or whatever you’d like it to be. All steel and glass and wood and wonder. What would I do with one of these in my backyard? Fill it with art supplies and learn to paint? Leave it empty with the exception of perhaps a piece of art on the wall, and a yoga mat on the floor? Position a single arm chair and ottoman within reach of a large, full bookcase, a basketful of seaglass on the floor and a fountain outside the door? Set up a massage table? Fill it with fluffy daybed, an afternoon breeze, and Bach’s Cello Suites? A baby grand piano? A hundred orchids? My in-laws? On second thought, they can have our room. We’ll take the Kithaus.

The Unbearable Lightness of Middle School

There is nothing more sweetly awkward than a bunch of eighth grade boys in dress shirts and ties. Yesterday, at my son's middle school graduation, I watched a hundred or so parade across the stage to receive their diplomas, their heads at a constant 45-degree angle in order to see past the swath of hair that is their protection from the world. I had to swallow a Chihuahua-sized bundle of bittersweet at the sight of them, especially when my son came across the stage and flashed that slightly uncertain smile.

No more middle school angst. Now we can dive headlong into full-blown adolescent neuroses. The chunk of each day spent with my husband discussing whether we're dealing with issues that portend an ankle monitor in our future, or simply the typical teen struggle with good, evil, and self-esteem, is about to get larger. Or, if we’re lucky, the hard-won lessons of the past year have bought us some peace for the next four.

This was the year our son decided to stop doing homework and discovered the correlation between work and compensation (grades). This is the year he decided to exercise his right to protest by creating a petition to get his science teacher fired. (In his defense, it was well written, but he gets no points for that.) This is the year we freaked out because we found a suspicious plastic tab in his room that turned out to be an errant piece of a 3M tape dispenser. This is the year he decided he was going to be a rock star and didn’t need school. This is the year we bought the guitar amp that contributed to that decision, took it away, and gave it back again. This is the year we had to decide between becoming the parents who crush their child’s dream in order to assure a stable future, or the ones who find a way to help him balance hope, aspiration, and reality. This is the year we all had to grow up, just a little.

While he celebrated his graduation with his classmates in the gym, hair-posing and high-fiving, we went out to dinner with the parents of one of his friends, splurged on a bottle of great wine, and reflected on the challenges of the year. Our kids will get their report cards next week. But we won’t know what grades we’ve earned until years from now.

Taking The Um Out Of Summer

I now know what to do with all those long, hot hours when the SPF toxicity level in my skin is peaking and I need a break. Thank you, Stanford Theatre Foundation.

I just received the summer film festival schedule for Palo Alto's sumptuous art deco monument to the golden era of Hollywood film-making, and I’ve had to spend half an hour creating iCal reminders for all the upcoming celluloid greatness.

Bette Davis, who introduced strength and depth to glamor in the era of the starlet, figures prominently. Eleven films made during the peak of her illustrious career are featured in the line-up, including her most famous, “All About Eve.” A dozen Jimmy Stewart films pay tribute to his centennial. Plus, there are classics featuring Audrey Hepburn (“Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” “Charade,” “How To Steal A Million,” “Roman Holiday”) and Elizabeth Taylor ("Father Of The Bride"), a handful of Marx Brothers comedies and Charlie Chaplin silent films, Bob Hope and Bing Crosby in “Road To Morocco,” a couple musicals for those so inclined, and a bunch of other great stuff that is the antidote to the summer blockbuster action flick. (Not that I'm against all that. But sometimes I like a little art with my sex and violence.)

I didn’t know I was such a fan of old movies until I saw “Citizen Kane” in this voluptuous setting, complete with a guy playing a Wurlitzer organ, which rises from beneath the stage, then slowly descends again as the red velvet curtains part the film begins in all its grainy, black and white glory. It’s truly a time machine. And the fact that you can get a large popcorn, three sodas, two boxes of Whoppers, and a box of Raisinettes all for under ten bucks means even if you don’t like old movies, it’s worth it just for the snacks.

You can see the complete summer schedule here.

Just Say Om

Some in the Hindu community have their saris in a twist over the upcoming Mike Myers comedy The Love Guru. There have been calls for a boycott of the film, which features Myers as Guru Pitka, a spiritual teacher with an arsenal of bad acronyms and a deep desire for enlightenment and Mariska Hargitay.

Real-life spiritual mentor Deepak Chopra, who makes an appearance in the film (and who is currently promoting a new book, Why Is God Laughing?), made a statement telling the reactionary Guru bashers, "it's a sign that your faith has become a cover up for all your insecurities because you can't even take a joke. Mike is bringing attention to some very profound truths (and my book) and these people haven't even seen the movie."

With that controversy laid to rest, we can concentrate on deeper questions like where did Deepak Chopra get those fabulous red glasses he’s been sporting in his lectures of late, and is he somehow spiritually in touch with Liberace?