Runaway bride.

AKA, one of the many reasons why I haven't read/watched the news in about four weeks.

This will be a really inappropriate post if the story ends badly, but I am so tired of hearing about women faking their own disappearances because they don't want to follow through with the wedding.

Then again, I'm also really tired of hearing about homocidal husbands who kill their wives. Let's hope it doesn't go that route.

Don't panic.

I happened to remember that Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was opening today, so I planned my day around a matinee viewing. Hooray for vacations!!

I didn't read any reviews so as not to have expectations. It turned out to be exactly what one would expect a Douglas Adams book(s)-turned-movie to be - which was a pleasant surprise... Plus the added bonuses (boni?) of staring at Martin Freeman for 90 minutes and appearances by Sam Rockwell, John Malkovich and Alan Rickman (who was a hilarious Marvin).

I don't recall the presidential jabs from the books, but then again I read them over 10 years ago. If anyone can confirm/refute that they were added into the movie, that would be appreciated.

How not to start your vacation.

Watch Closer, followed immediately by Midnight Cowboy. Holy crap, what depressing movies. What really, really, really good, but really, really, really depressing, movies.

I also recently saw Spanglish, which I enjoyed a lot. And Chris Rock's Bring the Pain. Thank God for those.

Vacation, day #1.

I took seven business days off due to a slight break in the workload, and also the fact that I'm not too fond of my job right now. Judging from how today was spent, I'm thinking I'm going to be spending a LOT of money in the next week or so.

One place I spent money today was Costco, the magical warehouse of mass quantities of crap. It was my first visit as a "real member" and I only wanted to case the joint on a day other than Saturday to see what I should hold off on buying at Longs and Target. Naturally I didn't call to see what time they opened, and I arrived at 9:30 am to find that they didn't open until 10 am. So I went down the street and got Mom some peanut brittle from See's, and picked up a few more houseplants at Home Depot since Luna doesn't seem to be eating the first one I brought home. At 10:05 am I headed back to Costco.

Had I read the sign correctly, I would've seen that my lousy "gold membership" didn't allow me into the store until 11 am. SIGH. I stomped back to my car and headed to Nordstrom Rack to look for shoes. At 11:15 am I arrived back at Costco for the third time, and was finally permitted entry.

While browsing, I found this, this and this. Dear. God. Why.

________________
You can also buy caskets through Costco online. Yeesh.

And while we're on the subject...

I've been vaguely trying the dating thing (again). I've (again) come to the conclusion that it's a complete and utter waste of time, that (again) I'm not going to meet anyone reasonable through any online means, that (again) the bar scene is SOOOOOO not for me, and that (again) I'm much happier going home and doing whatever the hell I want to do without having to consult with anyone.

Crazy-Aunt-Jenny-land, here I come.

Attention, married men!!

Please wear your damn wedding rings. That is all. Thank you.

Democracy in action.

A petition to keep Arrested Development around for another season... The show that brings us such wonderful lines as, "I'm tired of trying to find happiness through lies and self-medicating. If you need me, I'll be at the bar. "

And also - a petition to get "them" to release The Critic on DVD... That show made me laugh.

Hanging ten.

I went to a couch-surfing party today (my favorite kind of surfing), which featured a replay of the Half Moon Bay Mavericks surf competition and other incredible video of surfers. At one point I commented that I'd like to marry a surfer.

Despite interviews with the been-stoned-one-too-many-days-of-their-lives competitors, and a hilarious interview with a bleached blond "scientologist of surfing" (my own terminology - but it fits), I stand by my affirmation. How cool it would be, to be that engaged with someone who completely respects one of the vital elements and who lives his life to be a part of - and suffer through - and conquer - something so out of his own control.

That was way too many "be"s. Sorry. But really, it's much more interesting to me than being that engaged with a fire-eater, or a tornado-chaser, or a geologist.

Then again, it would probably be a lot like dating a musician, and lord knows that SUCKS. Hmm... Maybe I'll just learn to surf instead.

"Feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’..."

I've been pretty good about exercising lately - at least 2 days of weights and at least 3 days of walking or walking-running a week. In the gym I can set intervals on the treadmill, so I walk for 2 mins and run for 3 or 4 mins (depending on how I feel that day), and rotate for 40-45 minutes. When I go around the lake, I use my iPod "workout" playlist to estimate the intervals - run for a song, walk for a song.

(There is a reason for this lengthy intro.)

Today at the lake I was finishing up my last running interval and just as the song ended and I started walking, the Bee Gee's "Stayin' Alive" began...

It took every ounce of remaining strength not to start strutting and doing the disco arm as I walked the final hundred feet to my car. EVERY OUNCE.

New respect for Christian...

... Christian Slater, that is. I had no idea that River Phoenix was slated for his role in Interview With a Vampire and that Christian took it over when River died. I also had no idea that he donated his salary for the movie to River's favorite charity.

(It's on the web, so it must be true!)

Marketing - not his strong suit.

I was recently approached by a "petition signature gatherer" or whatever their official title is. He had five petitions. When I asked him what the issues were about, he fumbled his way through three of them, and instead of explaining the other two, he said "This is my first day, I don't really know what these are all about."

Puzzled, I inquired who his employer was, and he mumbled something about "some guy in Berkeley."

At which point I nodded, wished him luck, and went on my way. Yeah. Good luck with that.

Must. Find. This.

Driving to the vet I saw a bumper sticker that said, "If you can read this, you're not the President."

Haha.

Unrelated, it seems that cats get seasonal allergies too, which explains Luna's recent itchy issues. Like mine, her allergies developed later in life. It's getting weird how much we are acting like each other these days.

"I know it's pretty damn weird to eat people."

Recently seen...

Sin City: Having never read the graphic art novels (or whatever they're called) I wasn't sure what to expect. I loved this movie. Loved it. LOVED IT. It was gory and glorified and pretentious and creepy and... did I mention gory? (See subject of post.) It literally was a comic book made into a movie. Genius, sheer genius.

Butterfly Effect: Okay. I rented this (online of course!) because I was curious. I had no expectations whatsoever. Turns out, it really wasn't half bad. I didn't think his acting was any worse than normal, and the story kept me interested until the very end (which sucked, natch - but this is true with me and most movies). What a pleasant surprise to expect to hate something and end up liking it.

Shark Tale, on the other hand: BLEAH. At least I balanced my checkbook and did all my ironing during that one. I did chuckle at the "You had me at hello!" reference. But that was about it...

The monkey lane!!

The guy behind me in the grocery store tonight kept telling his 3(ish) year old son that he was a monkey (presumably because he kept squirming around in the cart), and that they might have to move from the "express" lane to the "monkey" lane.

"We're going to have to ask the manager where the monkey lane is! Time to go to the monkey lane! Which lane is the monkey lane! We'll have to find the monkey lane! The monkey needs his monkey lane!" Repeat ad nauseum.

(I am not making any of that up.)

Judging from the look he gave me when he handed me the receipt, I think the cashier shared my "shut the hell up already about the monkey lane" sentiment...

Disturbing headline du jour.

Beer Bottles Key in Search for Girl.

The story is pretty disturbing too, of course.

I'll be returning my salt lick

Lately (and I mean, in the past week or so) I've noticed that I am really sensitive to salt. I just gave blood and my bp was in the normal range... So I'm sure this is another fun by-product of getting older rather than some serious illness I need to start paying attention to and/or taking meds for. (Right?? I mean, shit like this is a bit too scary. Damn the Internet. Damn it.)

But because the sensitivity has been so prominent, it's really been making me think about the kind of food I eat. For a vegetarian I don't eat enough fruits and vegetables. And even though I try not to, I eat a lot of processed food (veggie burgers and other fake meat being the main culprits) and also WAY TOO MUCH cheese. All of which has, you guessed it, a lot of salt. So tonight for dinner I made baked tofu (plain) with broccoli and mushrooms, and threw a little pepper onto it. Salt content = O mg... Fat = 0 g. Taste = the big goose egg as well.

Sigh. This must be how my parents feel after every meal.

Somewhat related but not really, I've also been eating less bread lately, just because I have been, not because I'm on some psycho-pseudo-Atkins diet or anything. I'm more sensitive to that now too. Today I had a bagel and my digestive system essentially said, "NUH-UH!!!" (Wait, was that too much information?)

In other news, I have a date on Saturday. My entire being is essentially saying, "NUH-UH!!!!"...

I only owe you five dollars...

I stand corrected. My first phone call since getting a "real" phone line was from my smart-ass friend, who was responding to the mass email I sent out today saying "sorry for all the times my crappy cell phone cut us off mid-conversation, here's my new number that actually works." The message I got from my smart-ass friend was along the lines of "hel..o? are...oo there? ...can't...ar you..." along with some SOFAKEEVENPEEWEEHERMANWOULDBEASHAMED static noise between every syllable.

(I must admit, that was pretty clever. Made me laugh, anyway.)

However, the second call I got was from a telemarketer... And so it begins.

Even more sour grapes.

I finally bit the bullet and re-signed up for a land line because my cell phone gets ZERO reception in my apartment. ("Can you hear me now?" "Um, no.") Turns out, the money I was saving on not having a land line was simply not worth the frustration and annoyance I caused people and coworkers who called me and inevitably got cut off mid-sentence several times during any given conversation.

Who knew.

After numerous tries to do this on SBC's web site (which, no matter how far in the process I got, kept punting me back to the first screen) I called and spoke with someone. As of tomorrow I shall have phone stability again. Which means I need to buy a phone tonight. A cool phone. With a good speakerphone... And a mute button. Wow, phones have come a long way since I last bought one - this one has a radio and an alarm. Why, it's perfect for telecommuting! Haha.

Anyway, the "even more sour grapes" come in here: in order for your name, address and number not to be listed anywhere, you actually have to pay a certain amount each month. Granted, it's only $0.28/month, so I won't be breaking the bank or anything, but really now. It's the principal of the matter.

Ten bucks says my first call will STILL be a telemarketer...

Sour grapes.

So my one friend scored two tickets to the exclusive Springsteen show at the Paramount next month, whereas I couldn't even get one... And my other friend actually met Bono yesterday.

Yeah, I'm bitter. What of it?!

"Do your very best not to scream."

That's how bad the movies I've seen recently have been. In no particular order...

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason: I was actually looking forward to this after a night out with some single girlfriends where we discussed relationship shit ad nauseum, especially since I really enjoyed the first one. Suffice it to say, the disc kept stopping mid-sentence and after a few stops I shut it off, reported the problem to Netflix and asked that they not send me a replacement copy.

In the Company of Men: See Sideways review, only with a better (read=less happy) ending. This one was actually scream-worthy for its content, but really well acted.

The Village (from which I drew the subject of this post, ironically): Just when you thought it couldn't get any more stupid, it does. Why oh why did I not heed all the warnings and leave it alone? Must not let the Joaquin/Adrian factors drive which movies I rent. Must... not...

And finally, one that I should probably give another go... Donnie Brasco: I'm sure this was a swell movie, but I was incredibly distracted by three things throughout that prevented me from enjoying it: that I need to round up some old Fugazi, that Anne Heche is a crazy person (not in the movie, just in general), and that the "forgetaboutit" dialogue was way too similar to that in the crappy Hugh Grant movie.

Approximately 8 hours of my life that I will not get back. Oh well, at least I can warn others...