I don't know why, but every time I give blood and they ask me the standard pre-req question, "have you spent 72 hours or more in juvenile detention, jail or prison?"... I always, always, always crack up.
I really don't know why.
GAAAAAR!!
Or maybe this handy bi-lingual (mouse over the photo) warning to others.
And now I get to share the love.
First, my new favorite holiday movie. C'mon, when else do you get to see Denis Leary screaming RIGHT TO THE FACE of two-time Oscar winner Kevin Spacey?
Second, my new most disturbing movie. At times the "acting" was rather atrocious (or maybe people really do talk that way?), but the plot and main character's performance were overwhelmingly memorable. And... well... disturbing.
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* Okay, at the time this movie was made Spacey wasn't a two-time Oscar winner. But c'mon, when else do you get to see Denis Leary screaming RIGHT TO THE FACE of Valladolid International Film Festival's 1992 "Best Actor" winner?
It's such a cliche, such a silly phrase. Such a bad-romantic-comedy thing to say. I really hoped to get through life without having said it.
Took a wine country train tour today with the folks. We had a nice meal and then retired to the lounge car for coffee and dessert. Unlike the dining car, which (of course) had tables, the lounge car had seats directly facing the windows so we could all have a nice view. We were sitting next to another family of three, two parents on holiday visiting their son who was about my age. We exchanged some pleasantries and went back to our respective conversations.
After about 20 minutes of us (the kids) saying things and them (our hard-of-hearing dads who were sitting next to us) saying "What?!", and us (the kids) repeating what we had just said, we (the kids) looked at each other. Having said about two words to each other before this, the conversation went something like this:
Him: "I'm going to stretch my legs for a minute, would you like to take a walk through the train?"
Me (getting up immediately): "I thought you'd never ask."
The TV Yule Log, C-SPAN featuring 20 hours of non-news and 4 hours of real news, and the Blue Collar Comedy guys were invented solely for my father.
Just to set the record straight.
(Hey - I have a freakin' fiber optic fake Christmas Tree. Judge away.)
... a really long movie with incredibly drawn-out longing wistful looks between Beauty and the Beast!
I mean really. I know it's a love story and all, but PLEASE.
Other than that, and the dinosaur fights* (which were cool in and of themselves but seemed thrown in just so that Jackson could show off his crew's CGI skills - which, in my untrained opinion, were overall not as clean as in the LOTR films), and the fact that it's three hours long, and I'm sorry but who gives a flying fig about Jimmy Elliott and how was he critical to the film?, and have I mentioned the over-extended puppy dog eyes between Beauty and the Beast?...
Other than that, it was pretty good. The Beast's expressions were touching. Jack Black was great and Tom Hanks' son also did a fine job. I was on the edge of my seat during a few of the scenes. There was enough random humor to lessen the intensity. Did I mention Adrien Brody? Adrien Brody.
So given all that, it was worth almost every penny of my $6.
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* If you do see it, watch for Lumpy actively smoking while he runs like hell from the dinosaurs. I bet he thought that character trait up himself.
Unrelated - when I was in eighth grade I pretty much lost faith in "the Almighty" and all that surrounds it because my Sunday School teacher could not give me a definitive answer as to why the dinosaurs weren't in the Bible. "They weren't important to the story," she kept saying. If only this magical place had been around! Why didn't a T Rex swallow Jonah? Why weren't there two brachiosauruses (brachiosauri?) and two pterodactyls on the Ark? Did God kill off the dinosaurs? All your answers in one convenient Southern Baptist tourist trap! Now how much would you pay?
(Are you officially scared for mankind right now or what?!)
I always forget how much mental awareness living with people requires. For the past three days with the parental unit, I have had to be totally conscious and paying attention for about 17 hours a day. It's made me so tired that every time something funny/ridiculous/endearing happens and I think, "I so need to write about that!", it just oozes out of my cerebral cortex and into the void I like to now call my memory.
Unrelated, we watched Alfie (the original) tonight. I can say with certainty that I am no better off because of it.
I got an email from the folks today saying they'd checked in, gotten their "A" seats, and were very anxious about the visit.*
Yeah, you and me both. All three of us. Number one, for the record, they DO NOT clean when I go home so I shouldn't have to when they come out here. I managed to clear off the counter and table, which I've been meaning to do since last Monday, and I'll vacuum tomorrow before I head to the airport. But that's IT.
Number two, I have already anticipated the questions surrounding this, and I actually have reasonable answers. But how to explain all the pirate paraphernalia (including a friend's wedding pirate photo), seven seasons of Buffy, cat hair in the refrigerator (gross but true), and the orange couch and matching chair? How, I ask you?
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* I assume they actually meant "excited." I may have transferred some of my own feelings into the interpretation. You must understand, I live alone by choice. And I live 3,000 mile away by choice. Not that I regret asking them out here... And not that my apartment is much smaller than their house.
I am SO SURE they feel the same way when I come to visit ("Jesus when can we have our routine back?!"), which is why I'm not feeling so guilty about any of this.
Cute kittens here (takes a while to load - impatient people can go here and click on "Go Behind the Scenes at the San Diego Zoo"). Cute puppies here (Kid Rock has a heart - who knew!). Cute panda here.
And to soak up all the sap from ooohing and aaahing over those videos... 2005's Most Sarcastic Anchorman Award goes to... this guy!!
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DISCLAIMER for all these videos: I can't figure out the best way to link to them so I think they might not all play properly and also that the loop plays. E.g. you might get the Nascar video after the puppy video. YEEHAW!!
Tonight I did something I thought only happened in sitcoms featuring small children. I used a different washing machine than usual, and I guess that one was more sensitive to the amount of detergent than my normal machine. When I opened the door 39 minutes later, giant waves of soap suds flooded out.
Crap.
That was way too humiliating to call the building manager about. So I ran to get a big plastic bag, cleaned out as many suds as I could, and re-ran the cycle (WITHOUT adding more detergent of course). The second cycle seemed to clean up most of the leftover detergent but the towels still had the sound of wet soap suds when I put them in the dryer.
Oh well. I'll just consider it my latest invention - towels that you take into the shower with you! For complete and easy scrubbing! Soap included.
Seriously?!?! How has he not been impeached? I truly do not understand. We really have two more years of this shit?
And speaking of Jesus H Christ, this afternoon at Trader Joe's I stood in front of a talkative 93 year old who kept saying how unbelievable it was that we had to be so p.c. about Christmas. "I mean, 'happy holidays?' Really now."
I bet these folks would disagree.
My apartment is right next to the elevator, and I can hear when people are getting on/off. It's not loud or anything, just audible. I noticed a while back that Luna had taken to running to the door in what appeared to be expectation of a visitor, whenever she heard the elevator open on our floor. I thought that was pretty odd since I hardly ever have people over. Odd, or perhaps smart. Perhaps she was ready to stand guard, to hold down the fort should a stranger or land shark break in and try to rob or eat us.
Today the phone rang and she ran to the counter, sat under the phone and meowed.
I'm starting to think she's just lonely. Maybe it's time to invest in these babies.
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Reason #457 why I should not have kids - THAT'S my solution to the problem. (OK it's a sarcastic solution. But still.) Although, to be fair, both she and Riley once loved to watch the Discovery channel and Microcosmos. I'm not sure why that stopped. Now she's got the Cirque du Soleil squirrels outside for entertainment.
Subject: "Or count on sailing."
Um, OKAY!
In other email news, I got my weekly monster.com job search results today. The first on the list was "pre-kindergarten teacher." There are so many things wrong with that.
And then this reminds me of my part-time job in college. The evil parking department, which gave out meter-expired tickets the MINUTE your meter expired, and REALLY EXPENSIVE tickets if you parked in a red zone for two seconds to drop off a paper, had a cool alter ego. They had a service that gave you a jump if you drove to campus on a rainy day and forgot to turn your lights off because you were late for your exam. Or changed your tire because you had a flat and couldn't deal with it before class because you were late for your exam. Or gave you a lift to the gas station if you ran out of gas on the way to the exam you were late for. Or popped your lock if you left your keys in the car because you were running to your exam (late).
Being late for exams was not a prerequisite for this service. It was just the reason I heard a lot. But I got paid to sit around a lot and occasionally drive the campus parking truck out to revive dead batteries or change tires or open locked cars or (very rarely) take people to gas stations.
It was the beginning of my career in customer service... and grand theft auto.
This reminds me of the float we made in ninth grade for the homecoming parade. The theme was Olympic galaxies or Olympics of the future or something like that... So we created a float around the main centerpiece of a big Olympic torch and had "alien" competitors in various Olympic costumes.
Everyone said our torch looked like a big flaming feminine hygiene product. Shockingly, we lost the float competition.
Cupie doll to the first person who works this into their next insult or rant: "big flaming feminine hygiene product." Bonus prize if you're male.
Long post - it's been a long day.
There are a few bands I will see whenever possible, whenever they come around, no matter what the cost, or the venue (though I DO hate assigned seating*), or the timing**. One is the Violent Femmes.*** Another is They Might Be Giants, because you just never know what they're going to do. A third is the Barenaked Ladies. Unlike the previous two I also listen to the Ladies' albums on a regular basis. So they are a special breed of "must-sees."
Tonight's show was absolutely needed because I had the most wretched morning at work.**** I was in a horrible mood right before the show, and I had a terrible time finding parking (which SO did not help my mood - however, now I have a good cheap parking lot to recommend!) but once I got in my seat I knew I was in for a good time.
I got there right as they opened. Well, right as the local elementary school choir opened. These cute little kids from a local choir that they'd recruited sang several holiday songs... and part of the way through, the band came out to play and sing in the background. And then the kids left and the band sang really good and/or really fun songs. Some holiday related, some not. And the crowd was SO into it. And I was SO into it. And then Steven Page did a fabulous opera-like version of some Christmas song that I can't remember right now (man, that guy can belt out a song - I will never forget his voice during their improv version of "Memories" a few years ago). And they jovially bantered a lot between songs. And they encouraged cameras and videotaping. And they did a lot of re-enactments of random 80s songs/videos. And someone threw a stuffed monkey onstage during "If I Had A Million Dollars" and Steve stuffed it in his pants and poked the monkey head out through the zipper of his jeans and the band cracked up.
I wish I could entertain people like they do. Or even like they entertain themselves.
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* Tonight's show featured someone nearby who smelled like pee or maybe it was patchouli (I can never tell the difference), and two gals right next to me who talked the whole time. After several "Oh My God SHUT THE FUCK UP" conversations in my head, I managed to kindly ask them to lower their voices if they insisted on talking through the whole show. Turns out the kind, non-abrasive request worked. WHO KNEW?!
** I have the unpaid job day-long meeting this Saturday, and I have a lot to do in prep for it. I hope I can get it all done Thursday evening. Lord knows there is a lot to do.
*** (I think I need Roman numerals to keep up with all these footnotes...) I will never forget a local radio show at a stadium that I went to about ten years ago, where the entire balcony decided to form a "train" and dance up and down the balcony aisles throughtout the Femmes set. And at no other time during the other bands in the show. It was really energizing. Damn, I am getting old.
**** At approximately 10:16am I was THIS close to just outright quitting right then and there. Teeth and eye benefits be damned.
Maybe if I make resolutions now, instead of on 12/31/05 or 1/1/06, they might actually stick. I hereby resolve, in 2006, to:
Today I kept getting a "page not found" error when I tried to access our internal help desk system to research an issue. I picked up the phone and called the local help desk to see if it was just me. It was not just me.
The very nice IT support person gave me the case # of the internal help desk system reference number for the case I opened regarding the access issue. So that I could follow up on the issue via the internal help desk system. Which I could not access.
I swear, over and over again, that I do not make this stuff up.
Today on a whim I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time ever. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. After the wax she did a little extra tweezing. I have tweezed before but I've never had anyone else tweeze.
That experience was much like when you go to the dentist and the cleaning lady flosses your teeth for you. (That is to say, weird.)
Today I had the opportunity to sit next to a random high school student for a few hours. Boy. High school has really changed since I was there. When he wasn't commenting on how hung over he was, or saying how cool it was that possession of certain drugs didn't buy you jail time, or talking about how the club scene in the city sucked, he asked variations* of the following questions:
I really had to drag myself to the local radio station's annual holiday concert last night. When I bought the ticket a month ago, I did really want to see the White Stripes and Death Cab for Cutie. But yesterday I was sooooooo tired and cranky after a long hard week and just wanted to go home.
Several ticket-sale-attempts-via-CraigsList-during-the-day later, I headed into the city to try to sell my ticket outside the concert. Turns out I was not the only one with that idea. Crap. So I figured, well, I'm here, might as well just go. Normally I don't mind going to shows alone. Or plays, or movies, or whatever, alone. I don't have to worry about anyone other than me having a good time and I can decide when it's time to leave. However, the main attendees at this show were high school kids and I was strikingly aware of how old I felt.* I found a seat upstairs in the "parents who can't stand up for 4 hours straight who are chaperoning their kids" section, though, and we old folks all had a good time.
The first band I saw was this one. They're one of those bands that I find interesting to see live, but only when they open for someone I really want to see. Their drummer was really amazing, but a lot of their songs sounded like Rush meets Zeppelin... which only reinforced the "I feel old" sentiment. Alas.
And then Hot Hot Heat came on (oh THEY'RE the ones who sing that catchy bandages song). And THEN.
I'm not sure why I thought Death Cab for Cutie would put on a tame performance. It's not like they're a particularly mellow band. But they TOTALLY ROCKED OUT. Several times they even kicked amplifiers and speakers over. They engaged the crowd throughout. And they did Company Calls, which is my favorite DC song ever (even though I still don't know why).** So that 50 minutes alone was worth my evening.
And then the White Stripes... Forgive me Jack, but the sound was terrible (overall but particularly for them) and they just seemed like they were completing a chore by being at this show. I left after about five songs, when I walked downstairs to see if the sound was better and I still couldn't make out a word of "We're Going To Be Friends." Which is a one-man acoustic song. You know the sound is bad if you can't hear that.
Thus ends my commentary on last night's show. Other than to say, I need to remember this the next time I buy a ticket well in advance of a show I know nobody I know would be interested in attending. JUST GO. You will be glad you did.
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* Sitting up in the balcony looking down on the floor of about 5,000 people, I was highly amused watching the various mosh pits and crowd surfers. Jesus, ten or twelve years ago that would've been me. Good times, good times.
** Second only to The Sound of Settling, which I correlate directly to work... OK who am I kidding, I really love everything they do.
I was at the dentist today for my regular 6-month tartar intervention. There's a new hy... hi... tooth-cleaning lady so she was asking me all sorts of questions (of course while my mouth was gaped open and she was poking around - really, have these people not SEEN the Cosby dentist skit?).
Anyway. I guess she noticed something weird on the inside of my bottom lip and asked if I'd had any "trauma" there. I patiently pointed to the HUGEMONGOUS SCAR (okay maybe it just feels that way to me) from where I busted my lip open falling off a swing when I was four years old. "Oh wow! They did a really good job stitching that up - I barely noticed it." Uh-huh... Riiiiight.
Then she asked about the caps on my two front teeth, and I explained how I fell off my bike in second grade and broke my fall using my teeth and the handlebar. "You were busy as a child!" Uh-huh... CLUMSY, more like.
And then I started thinking about my other scars over the years. I really don't have that many to speak of (nor did I ever break any bones knock on wood)... The only other significant scar was from when I was 14 or so, and my brother played a prank on me by locking me out of the house when I stepped outside for a few minutes, and then turned his music up so loud that he claimed not to hear me knocking or ringing the bell. So I pounded on the door, and rang the doorbell, and then pounded on the glass, and at some point my arm went right through the window. I'll spare you the details. But I will say that they didn't do such a good job stitching that one up, you can still see the "holes" where the stitches were.*
Of late I have scars on my arms from burning myself on oven racks... (At the rate I'm going, my arms could someday look like this.) And all the bruises I find these days but can't remember where they came from.
Yeah, well. My mom hasn't called me "Grace" (with implied air quotes) all these years for nothing.
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* He eventually heard my screams and came upstairs to open the door... And then he went a little pale at the sight of all the blood, and gave me the most genuine hug he's ever given me. Minus all the bleeding and pain, it would've been kinda sweet.
Number one. (Check out the video at the bottom of the page.)
Number two. (I don't see anything about reducing the noise factor so you can sneak up on people - maybe I just missed it - but if that doesn't sell these babies nothing will.)
Man. I really have to get moving on that patent for the car tail-lights that light up more brightly depending on how hard you press the brakes. Especially since people already beat me to the butt-warmer seats.
... without cat posts, apparently?
Way to prove your manhood, Scott Stapp - pick a fight with a bunch of scrawny goofballs. How convenient that you just released a solo album... I smell a publicity stunt!!
I hate that guy.
Can you guess which one just doesn't belong?
I can't get over how freaky this is. I just zoomed from my house, to my parents' house, to a random place in Arkansas.
I need my log cabin in the mountains IMMEDIATELY. I'm starting to get the shakes.
Yesterday I hung out with my friend who was under the weather, and she wanted to watch West Side Story. We had both seen it eons ago and had vague memories of it being somewhat amusing.
Two and a half of the longest hours of my life later, we were not so amused. Aside from the obvious - white people in bad makeup with bad accents playing Puerto Rican people, every stereotype in the book on prominent display, many really really bad songs that went on forever usually accompanied by really really bad choreography - the worst part was that Maria didn't die in the end. What kind of Romeo and Juliet adaptation is THAT?
And what the hell was up with the beat influence? I'm so sure two rival gangs in NYC in the early '60s went around snapping their fingers and saying "Cracko Jacko!" and "Great, daddy-o."
There are reasons that Broadway shows stay on Broadway instead of becoming movies. Ahem.
Part of my thought process when I clicked on this... "Roses and guns? What do roses and guns have to do with band names? ... D'oh."
[No, I really DON'T make this stuff up.]
How many of the 75 band names represented in this image can YOU find?
It was with great trepidation that I recently sent my iPod back to Apple for repairs. (It's been shutting down for no apparent reason, and the battery doesn't charge like it should.) They sent me the box to return my defective device about a week and a half ago, but since it's my saving grace on a daily basis and especially during workouts, I was really, REALLY reluctant to hand it over. Sad, I know, but true.
I had until 12/9 to return it, so I took a big gulp and sent it in last Wednesday. Today I got an email stating that the repaired device (which I am hoping is just a brand new one) is on its way back to me and should arrive in 2-3 days.
To which I say, RIGHT ON.
I am a therapist-specializing-in-codependency's wet dream, I would bet.
It was really hard to resist opening this recent spam email with the subject:
redundant toad Jarred Burnsl
But I think that I will add "redundant toad" to my list of insults. Along with "is your head an EMPTY COCONUT??" which my friend's 9 year old recently inquired of her.
So evil of them to HAND ME THE RECIPE for one of the only drinks I now consent to purchase from them. Just to irk them I will publish the recipe here (it's not like we couldn't just figure it out on our own anyway!):
Starbucks Eggnog Latte
Start by blending your favorite cold eggnog with cold whole milk in a 2:1 ration and steam until it reaches 145 degrees F. Note that eggnog scalds more quickly than milk, so be careful not to overheat.
1. Steam: Eggnog-milk mixture to 145 degrees F.
2. Add: One shot of brewed espresso to cup.
3. Fill cup with: Steamed Eggnog-milk mixture to 1/4 inch below rim.
4. Top with: 1/4 inch Eggnog-milk foam mixture.
5. Garnish with: A sprinkle of nutmeg.
