Monday, July 31, 2006

That guy's being awfully forward with that donkey.

Oh my goodness, so much to blog about, I should space it out over the week to break up the monotonous "I hate my job and everyone near me," bullshit that eats up Monday through Friday...and most weekends, too, actually.

First off it was great to see Mob & the wife K, plus Morris and his new (approved of by all) beau Joe. We went to the most divine restuarant ever, Dakota's Steakhouse. I would have gone back tonight if the finances that be permitted it. I ordered a side of truffle butter sauce and was two bites into this most incredible steak before I realized I'd forgotten I had the sauce. And oh holy jesus, I slathered each remaining bite and almost caused an inappropriate scene right there at the table.

It also has quite the atmosphere, being underground with sexy marble and a giant wall fountain outside. And you are not allowed to park--you can only valet. Then you take the elevator into the earth, accidentally consume a $16 glass of wine and go from there.

Tomorrow I am talking to my lender and then we just may make an offer on this house! D likes it as much as I seemed smaller to me this time and I'm not sure where my hoosier can really go, but I guess I'll figure it out soon enough. Also didn't realize just how much wallpaper there really is. May just rent a steamer. Won't that be a fun-ass project.

Saw two great flicks today, one from a Cinemaslave recommendation (he was recommending Metallica: Some Kind of Monster, based on the merits of the filmmakers and the fact that you don't need to give one rat fart about Metallica to appreciate the film). In talking about the filmmaker's (Joe Berlinger's) other films, he went on about Paradise Lost, so I found myself renting that one first. It's a "documentary" (it's not too biased, all things considered, but by no means is this an impartial work) about the three kids convicted of murdering and raping three eight-year-old boys in 1993 in West Memphis, Tennessee. It's fairly involved, but long story short these kids were obviously easy targets for taking the blame, as they stand out as the "weirdo/freak" types. However, the kid who got the bulk of the punch, Damien Echols, (who will be executed here in a year or so) was by far the most well spoken person in the damn film. He was certainly a touch odd himself, but regardless. The complete lack of evidence is astounding--and the ability of the courts to uphold the original findings continues to baffle me. What a truly depressing piece of work, and for so many reasons. I think the biggest reason may be just what a goddamn spectacle the people of West Memphis make of themselves. Backwater redneck whitetrash just doesn't cut it anymore, we need a new word. This sort of sums it up nicely, and better still, for anyone who knows the case or has seen the flick, you can scroll down to see what became of the victims' (classy) parents. (Not to mention the suspects themselves and their parents).

The second was a far more upbeat and enjoyable time, Clerks II. I laughed out loud, the conversations were far more graphic than the first (or perhaps I'm just numb to the idea of "snowballing" by now) and as we've all heard, the ending is indeed ballsy. I originally thought re-visiting the film that made Kevin Smith was just an total embarrassment. What has to happen before he'll move on? Given past attempts, I'm not sure he can or even should at this point. And as Corinthian points out so well over at Big Suck Loser, Kevin Smith does do this one thing pretty damn well. My only complaint? It may only be a 30-second cameo, but 30 seconds is still too much Afflecktion. Ok, that and a couple things dragged, but I'll live.

In order to stand on its own, Clerks II had to top or at least compare to the first; no problems there. The conversations are far raunchier, the topics quite graphic (I have never heard the phrase "ass to mouth" used so much in my life), and nothing is taboo. Regardless of all the information I had about the ending, I still had a hand over my mouth laughing my ass off in disgust and shock. All in all, a very decent surprise movie.

Off to do more exciting things, like explore renting wallpaper steamers.

Friday, July 28, 2006

It has heavy swearing, heavy breathing and heavy gunplay.

That's a quote from The New York Times on Miami Vice and why it's R. Pretty intriguing review--sounds like it's worth a watch just for the visuals (one of which, Colin Farrell is not). And the review agrees with us there, it would seem. But seriously--great review, gives it lots of credit on the way it's shot, especially as that would be on video.

Shit, just re-reading that title...line me up, bitch!

Work was passable. Cinematographer Mark was there all day, so that helped. He'll be gone all next week, vacationing in Galveston with the wife and kids. Too bad a tropical storm may be developing. My wonderful fiancee bought a bag of gummy bracelets for Macon, Mark's daughter who is obsessed with all things pink and princess-related. (The bag had Belle and Jasmin and some other evil Disney slut on it). As Macon wasn't allowed to have any last night (having consumed a couple Starburst), she was content to just carry the bag around with her all night.

I've seen Macon in action, and even though I usually swear off children altogether, I would kidnap this girl in a second. This is how adorable Macon would be if she were a kitten. She has personality and charisma out the ass and is going to undoubtedly lead the easy life of being fawned over. From what I understand, on the side of things working against her, she is very much not into defending herself or being any part of a shady, unjust world. Let me clarify this: she has a little sister three years her junior, Molly. Molly is one tough hardass. I think the mother secretly really loves Molly's way of thinking, but that doesn't change the fact that she is an absolute bitch of a handful. Sadly for Macon, Molly really fucks with her. Macon finds this unjust and complains to her parents who, rightly, try to find a way to tell her she is bigger and know, without telling her to just beat the crap out of Molly. Molly is certainly a neat kid, too...but that doesn't change the fact I'm a total sucker for the adorable one. As a parent, I have no doubt I'd be on the mother's side (who wants their daughter to be a wet end? Ain't no one gonna fuck with Molly and she's a little over two). And I honestly don't think Macon's going to grow up soft, don't misunderstand me. I think that like any good woman she'll learn the wonderful ways of manipulation and suggestion. And who knows could completely flip-flop by the time they're in junior high.

I just continue to be baffled by the ability of other people to raise children well. I am in awe.

Anyway. The Not Bachelor Party should be in full-swing by now, Medieval Times to be had by all. Am I the only one who can't stop thinking of fucking Garden State? "It says 'BALLS' on your face!!" And I have a fairly decent crush on the Peter Sarsgaard (though NOT in that flick) and how painful for me that he's marrying/fathering the child of my girlfriend Maggie Gyllenhaal. I'll get over it.

Speaking of the Zach Braff, I was blog-hopping and I am ashamed to admit that I accidentally closed the window of whomever's blog I found this on. I even searched by the topic but alas, none was to be found. So I found this elsewhere but am linking to it because it is just too painful and hysterical: Zach Braff on the Babysitters Club. Love the once-over she gives him as they're introduced. As if she's thinking him about hiring him for her secretary. Then he's going to run home afterwards, bawling, "She said she'd give me cabfare--if I fucked her!" Very Linguini Incident.

Ok, I need more wine and something guilty-pleasurish to watch. (Something on my actual television, that is).

Thursday, July 27, 2006

I usually get kissed before I get fucked.

Wow. So who in the bloody fuck can afford to ever buy a house? Seriously. Without someone dying and leaving an inheritence, that is. Just optioning a house, saying, "I think I may want this one," is $100. Then the appraisal, $400. Then the inspection, $400. You will never see any of this money again and it is not part of the closing money. Then you give them between $500 and $1000 for "earnest money," or something to that effect. This is part of closing, but all I know is I have to pay them $500--$1000. Jesus. Christ.

And what is it about Thursdays? Every single one of these bastards--I feel like each and every Thursday I know without a shadow of a doubt by noon that I will be requiring alcohol by the time I get home. What would I do if I actually had an important job? I won't say this job's not stressful, but it's a little stupid. The hell would I do if it were actually important? I guess I'd just give up and bend over.

Anyway. Very excited Mob and his divine wife will be in town this weekend, should be a blast to see them again. I won't be in on the Not Bachelor Party, but I think we've established that that's ok. I'm fairly certain there's to be a real bachelor party later, thrown by Mob and our old roommate Rob. I hope K will make an appearance as well, in addition to several of the wonderful friends they've introduced me to as of late, and I myself shall be witness to these crazy shenanigans. As D himself said, "It just wouldn't be a bachelor party without my wife!"

VERY ready to go home. At this point, don't really care what that would do to my hours!

Have I made it abundantly clear I hate people? I hate people.

I am also starving and grumpy but deflecting stupid fucks fairly well at this point. Some cheese would be nice. Queso. And beer. There is just something about days like today where nothing tastes like a good beer. I find that to be only vaguely concerning.

And now that you've all decided I'm a belligerent alcoholic, I shall take my leave of you.

I'll probably get blamed for that, too.

So I think I may have found a house! I won't bother linking to it, as the pictures kinda suck. I almost didn't even check it out; didn't help they still have their shit in the pics, which always makes it worse. Invariably, everyone has very bad taste. The real reason I secretly wanted to check it out? The hot tub in the sunroom! Yeah, baby. And really, just knowing how sweet that would be, I was convinced the rest of the house would be an embarrassment. And no, actually, it's quite nice! A single story in a cul-de-sac and nice neighborhood, low crime according to Arlington's crime stats. There is a screened-off entry way before you enter, if that makes sense...very nice big kitchen with an island (no stove on the island, but cabinets within the island) and smooth-top range, sweet...oh, did I mention the stone corner fireplace in the bedroom? And the master bedroom's bath has a large black jetted tub. (Which is pretty and all, but not unlike drinking out of a black mug...) There seems not to be a shower--gotta use the other bathroom for that, which is a tad odd but not really high on my list of concerns. The living room has wood panelling, but it doesn't really bother me. Lots of personality, I like.

The others were ok, except the one that smelled like (as Sam put it) a crystal meth head lived there. That was the one with the 70s bar. The bar was the only thing that place had going for it. We got the hell out. Scary.

In other news, found a great poster for a really horrid flick I was forced to sit through during the reign of Shock Cinema, a monthly horror fest that had a serious cult following. These guys would rent out an auditorium at the Angelika and put on a really tasteless skit (involving lots of messy special effects--some of our mics still have bloody brain bits wedged into the mesh) then screen a movie. They showed Cannibal Holocaust before my time, which is fine by me since I already had to screen that gem at the Inwood. (I do need to pick up a nice copy of that poster one day, since it (sigh) would be the flick that (as fate had it) happened to be the flick I put together and screened the night my beau and I decided to move past that boss-employee level. I'm not crazy about what appears to be the standard artwork, though I know I've run across a decent poster before...)

Anyway. This would be Cannibal Ferox. Without a doubt, the most fucked up movie I've ever seen and no desire whatsoever to see again. It actually bumped Cannibal Holocaust from the Most Fucked Up Movie spot. Shock Cinema showed the most offensive shit they could get their hands on, their followers lapped it up and I was doomed to tech screen whatever the fuck it was they were showing. I was impressed when Gates of Hell actually did make me gag. Go, Fulci. It was a scene when a woman was pulling an endless thick string of hair out of her throat. It went on forever and it was gross and I gagged. So there. The rest of the movie kinda blew. For Fulci, check out New York Ripper (no, don't); this guy stalks women and kills them and quacks like Donald Duck anytime he's onscreen. It's fucking bizarre.

Anyway. Just kinda wanted a poster of Cannibal Ferox cause it had a great poster and all. There was one on ebay for waaaay too much money. When I got home, however, the fiancee and I started looking at Russian posters I'd seen on the 'net before. We want to buy them all. Great site, and here are some samples here, here, and did someone say Russian propaganda? I love them all.

Oh, and a personal fave here. Quite possibly for the back of the house rather than the living room. The bathroom is reserved for a one sheet of The Sensei I've been begging Cinematographer Mark to get me, preferrably with the director's signoff. What a treasure.

And really, they don't have to be propaganda (but those do seem to be the best ones). What's wrong with some good old fashioned weird shit?

That's my night. Nothing too exciting. Now if only this house thing can go smoothly...*sighs*.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Where did you learn to drive, Circleville? I didn't pack a bag.

So I haven't posted in a couple days, I'm lame. I do actually write even when nothing is going on (as anyone who keeps up with this is all too keenly aware), but I guess I've just been lazy.

Did white wine and a disc of West Wing last night, and all of both. The appearance of Mary-Louise Parker has proved to be a promising spark of interest. It was suckin' pretty bad, but one episode containing both Marlee Matlin and Mary-Louise Parker will usually get my attention back on track. It seems they are FINALLY getting away from this dull-as-shit storyline they ended last season with. I do realize that The West Wing doesn't really go with the rest of the things I blog's sort of dorky in its un-dorkiness. But it's well written. And while I enjoy politics, saying I like this show because it's political is like saying "I like McDonald's because it's healthy."

And halfway through the next disc of Firefly, which is still great. Don't really have a favorite character yet. I feel like it's the obvious (and therefore lame) answer, but I kinda favor the captain. He's not annoyingly self-righteous like I felt the captain could sometimes be on Enterprise. And liking Kylee, she's cute, and of course Jayne. I think Adam Baldwin should be an Honorary Not A Baldwin. He seems to have done very well in escaping the Baldwin curse of sucking.

Bought the wedding flowers today, sterling roses for everyone. Ok, not really. But a pretty bouquet for me (with green dendrobiums and eucalyptus--which was in Veloute's bouquet). I hope it comes out pretty, as I won't see the damn thing til the day before. And a bouquet of eight sterling roses for each bridesmaid. I have no idea why we settled on eight, but we did.

D's Not Bachelor party is this weekend. His incredibly conversative Republican brother is throwing it and the dad is coming. In view of the fact that the fiancee does occasionally read my blog, I won't go into details since it's a surpise. Knowing what it is, I think it may be kinda sorta fun. I've never been there and hey, I'm sure it's entertaining. Beer would be a big help, and neither of the aforementioned family members drink. The dad might. But not in the way that one should at one of these places. Oh Christ, I'm just gonna link to it and if you're my fiancee you won't click here. Damn, that shit's pricier than I thought. Which I'm sure is why I've never been.

And before I forget, the mu-shu pork came out very nicely. The pancakes were much easier than I thought, and making the stir fry was very fun. I am just not a mushroom person. I choked down a few but ick. D really loved the recipe, so I'm sure I'll be making it again. Plus it was fairly cheapish to make! I wish I had taken some pics, but the kitchen was just too crazy.

And Brown and I (as Sam is more commonly known amongst the friends) are off to see six houses in Arlington this afternoon. One has a hot tub in a sunroom. *Drools on keyboard.* I bet you a thousand dollars the rest of the house blows. One house has a very 70s-looking wetbar with a wine rack in the wall. I am totally in love with it. Hopefully one of them has my name on it. In any case, I'll probably rant on about the results shortly.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

I can see you weren't burdened with an overabundance of education.

The big debate of my morning has been whether cloud ears and wood ears are the same thing. I think they may be. Not really knowing this before the trek to Central Market, I passed on the fresh wood ears. In the Asian aisle, there was a black bag of dried fungi next to the golden needles (dried lily flowers). I needed the latter and they so often seem to go hand-in-hand. I figured I'd just go for it. Now I have these mystery black dried fungi (strips) that I'm fairly sure are not cloud ears. I may use them anyway. It's for mu-shu pork...I can always try a tiny bit first. I don't even like mushrooms to begin with, but I'm trying. Especially in a stir-fry situation.

Also found Chinese rice wine, Shaoxing, in the Asian aisle. Luckily I wandered through the check-out line right at 12. It didn't even occur to me, but I lucked out and managed to look like a total alcoholic all at the same time. What I love about the rice wine is that they've slapped a label on it saying, "Cooking Wine," right over the original print that says, "Not for sale or use as a beverage," which I find very intriguing. Like sex toys that say, "For external use only," or the (legal) hallucinogenic mushrooms I used to buy in Tokyo that said, "For decorative purposes only." As if anyone decorates with mushrooms. Ah yes. I guess bongs here say that, too. Anyhoo.

Those four houses? Wow. Barf, next. The HUD house was a disaster--anyone who could fix it up, great deal, but us? The bathtub's side was kicked in, ALL the carpets were stained, one of the walls had brown splatter--you would have never guessed from the pictures!! The others were just weird. The best one was indeed #4, but the kitchen was TOTALLY lame. Little white maggoty bugs in the left hand side of the sink scared me off. Three large (dead) roaches per room--waterbug-sized didn't do a lot for me, but the house is next to a wetland and has been vacant for nearly two months. They were dead. It's a hard call, since I loathe roaches but love the quiet neighborhood, and one can presume the insect life could be kept under control? The foundation being shitty just kinda sealed the deal. Too much of a pain in the ass.

So the search continues and I've expanded beyond 2-stories. Sniff.

We are very much enjoying the Firefly. I bumped up disc 2 on my Netflix. I felt bad for Kylee (sp?) the mechanic, who was also in Wonderfalls, the other incredible Fox show to be cancelled at one season. At least she was in two awesome shows...How the heck did House ever survive this long?

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Fuck her! Let's get a sandwich.

So D and I watched In the Company of Men last night. Now, I have not seen this film since opening night at the Inwood (not linking to things currently evil; it was perfect at the time) nine years ago. To be honest, about 80% of the film was still vividly etched in my mind. I forgot about the part when Aaron Eckhart's character makes one of the new guys drop trou and show him his balls. How could you forget that scene? Anyone asking that hasn't seen the rest of the film. How's that for a recommendation.

Can't really think of many other films that really stay with you. Ah, you say, how about Irréversible? You know what? All I remember about that fucking film is the literal ten minute raping with the goddawful woofing noise echoing throughout the tunnel. Oh, and the fire extinguisher scene, which to be honest was more Peter Jackson to me than anything else. All the other scenes were just filler to justify that shit actually being a movie. And I saw that one opening night at the Angelika a mere four years ago.

Moments like those may indeed be potent, but the actual story of In the Company of Men managed to really stay with me. And while that's a glowing recommendation that yes, everyone should see this little fucked up movie, I'm still not sure I like it. Ok, I like it. But I can't honestly say I enjoy it. I can't believe I watched it twice, even if the two viewings were nearly ten years apart. This one character is, as he himself would say, "A whole new strain of fucker." What can I say, it really made an impression. And it holds up.

On a much lighter side of the evening, I tried out the new Temple of Truth bubble bar (why did I bother linking to that, the description is downright lame) from Lush. First of all, I hate the reviews the stupid Americans always leave. It's like the conversation threads on imdb--I'm just uncontrollably drawn to it, however upsetting. Anyway, this one is new. Hot. Damn. Everyone needs one and anyone who is male and reading this and has a bath-lovin' woman, needs to get a couple for her. It was just the bubbliest, softest, most magical bubble bar in the whole wide world. A+. I'm crazy about their bombs (especially Romance In the Stone, as it's labelled in the actual store), but I have to say I'm compelled to try more bubble bars now if the rest are anything like this one. Must not drive to North Park. Must not drive to North Park.

And back to film, I watched Untergang, Der (Downfall), as per Cinemaslave's recommendation. Saw this one on my own, not really D's cup of tea. I admit I thought it was going to be a really long 2 1/2 hours, but it wasn't. The performances were indeed incredible--I didn't sympathize with Hitler's character as much as I expected I might. Still, it was an unusual movie simply for portraying him in the most neutral light I've ever seen. Obviously you still see the crazy, but it's not the same over-the-top caricature you always get. Instead it's a very top-notch performance in a film that also does a really decent job with the story. Going into the details of everyone's behavior would take too long, but it is their behavior that make the film very different from the rest. I don't think I've really seen a film like this that portrayed the German people at that time in such a real light. It's very thought-provoking. It shows individuals and their motives for the way they has no epic feel to it, nothing to really distance it from the audience. Instead, it's a very intimate look at what went on in the very last days of Hitler.

It may go without saying, but I think it's entirely key that this film isn't American. Although unlike the little film strips I saw in Vietnam, it's also not anti-American (now that was a whole new world to me).

Time to finish downloading the newest Cinemaslave and I'm trying out some (Cool) Shite on the Tube Podcast, as Mob is always going on about it. I must hear the bit about M. Night wanting the last Harry Potter?? I will hunt down the fucker and shoot him myself.

Friday, July 21, 2006

What kind of convenience store do you run here?

And finally, pics of stuff I talked about ages ago. These first two are my brioche, before and after. YUM.

And of course, the 'que before cooking (I didn't take pics any of it while cooking, or after. It's all gone now, it must have turned out okay). And the gorgeous marinade that made it so.

Cute cat, what's its name?

I must say the day is passing at a fairly decent clip. I keep sipping at my cold, bitter Americano, though, so it can't that great a day.

The highlight of my morning (other than "As fine as you?"), would be my being forced to pass a message to Pedophile Ed from his doctor's office. Just an appointment reminder. Unfortunately, this prompted from him, "My wife thinks I have skin cancer." Don't get hung up on the fact that this slimeball loser actually has a wife; he infact does and she's terribly possessive, no less. But then he proceeded to tell me all about his moles. Ever have one of those conversations where you are just left utterly clueless as to your next cue? I would have walked away if I wasn't already in my own lab.

And the goddamn printer just locked up for the second time today in the middle of the biggest fucking order of making a CD from 1100 files. So I will continue to bore the shit out of you.

Almost had a classic moment with me at the front counter and Superfly Amadeus Shaft playing something vaguely inappropriate in the back. It wasn't loud enough (sadly). In my folder of 80s shite for the wedding party, I have the occasional clip from a movie. Well, this would be the infamous rental car scene from Planes, Trains and Automobiles. If only it had been on full-blast with me off in the bathroom. Unfortunately, the retail/customer service world has me beaten too deeply into submission to allow such things to happen.

And now that I've screwed myself by openly stating that the day has gone by quickly, it will drag worse than any film we might have at the Angelika. As D is closing tonight, I will just have to fantasize about my evening with Downfall (thanks, Netfux), red wine and fried pickles. I know I'm gross, bite me.

Oooh! Navy Seals!

Morning of outright luxury--stopped both at Starbucks and Chick-Fil-A. And the same guy with personality was there. However, it should be noted: one time it's personality, two times it's creepy. It didn't have to be creepy, but it was.

Me: "Can I get some Polynesian sauce, too?"
Ew: "Sure, is three gonna be fine for you?"
Me: "Sure, three's fine."
Ew: "As fine as you?"

I shit you not. And then somewhere in between shocked and appalled, I heard myself say, "I hope so."

What the fuck does it mean to be as fine as (cheap-ass) sweet & sour sauce, anyway??

Great. So much for Chick-Fil-A.

We started Firefly last night, so you know what that means, Veloute! Time for you to be puttin' Buffy back on the list! So far so good, just one in so far. I'm sure we just didn't give it much of a chance last time.

Anyhoo, YES, we got ourselves a little Mac Mini last night, it's very cute. And we even successfully connected to the internet. We just didn't blog cause we watched previews instead. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...really? Fully animated. Why? And World Trade Center, which I wasn't sure how I felt about, but now having seen the trailer, I'm just so embarrassed that anyone went there. We were all there, do we really need a melodramatic rehashing? However much I worship the Maggie Gyllenhaal, my ability to take Nic Cage seriously dwindles shocking lower with each passing day. His face just makes me laugh. In that not-good way.

It was so worth it to take Rob with us--not only did he get us a nice discount, he gave off a very Morris-like air when dealing with the Comp plebs. Though it did take a bit to even find one. No one came near us in the computers for ten minutes, so Rob and I found a nice demo computer with speakers and tried to see how loud we could make them go. Quite loud, actually, and even better--it brought over no one. Rob finally chased one down as he tried to sneak past.

But little Mini Mac is so gorgeous (for as much as he cost, he'd better be). Irritatingly, our old Apple monitor wouldn't hook up to Mini, even with the adapter it came with, so we had to break out D's old Gateway monitor. Why can't everything just get the fuck along? It's still a nice monitor. And ooh, thanks also to Rob and iPodRip for making Superfly Amadeus Shaft's recovery possible. Yeah!

Netflix wanks finally let me have my christing movies. This weekend may also possibly be one for Clerks II. While I've spent most of my time being embarrassed that Kevin Smith felt he had to go there, after all the Joel Siegel BS (I have a great idea! Let's make a ruckus and give this movie LOTS of publicity! That always works against the film!) and the decent NYTimes review (thanks, dad), I admit I'm at least curious. Might as well just get this over with.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

I was just in there and I didn't see any goddamn pig.

Well, tonight D and I are off to buy a Mac Mini (and a harddrive to go with it, thank you very much). SIGH. Oh well. Nothing like a big purchase before a huge purchase. At least our friend Rob can come with us and diffuse the pain a little with his discount (he works for CompUSA corporate). He warns it may not help much, but I'll certainly take it where I can get it!

Then this weekend we're going out with Sam on Sunday to see four houses I like in Arlington. They all need lots of trees in the front yard--right now they look a bit severe. First up we have House #1. I'm not too sure how to do this one if we like it, as it's a HUD home (the previous owners couldn't make their payments). I feel weird buying it, but maybe it'll be ugly and we won't have to worry... Next up is House #2, with one of the ugliest fireplaces ever. The rest is quite cute and well-lit, though. And House #3, but oh my god. Someone tear down that awful wallpaper before the guests see...and last, but certainly not least, House #4. Damn good potential, if you ask me. 2 fireplaces? Ooh la la. Now if only I had any idea what the kitchen looked like. And anything with a garden tub in the loo is an A+.

And the soggy shart stains at Netflix STILL have not sent my Netflix movies. Well, let's rephrase that. They "sent" them, but they're not HERE. Bastards.

In other not-so-great news, it's a good thing I've been not working at the Angelika lately, as nearly every single person was interrogated over missing money. Now granted, had I worked, I still probably wouldn't have been interrogated as I never leave my little booth. But one guy got fired for having an affair with another staff member who was 17 (he's 31). Now in TX, I'm pretty sure 17 is legal, not that that still isn't a little questionable. But he was an hour and a half late for his shift the next day, so that's that problem taken care of. (Luckily, Landmark didn't give a damn who was sleeping with whom. Otherwise you might not all have an exciting wedding to go to around Halloween...)

Anyway, our friend Paul David got fired, as did some creepy guy named Michael, for actually doing the stealing. They admitted it, as well. PD is definitely more Jeremy's friend (the head projectionist) than mine, but we all know each other through work, anyway. PD had major surgery at the end of last year, from which he almost died, then he moved to Georgia last month to live with his girlfriend (his high school/college sweetheart, with whom things had rekindled), only to take the bus back one week later. It really looked like the year was starting out great for him (post-surgery), but damn. This is a no-shit all-time-low. OUCH.

Still have not heard from the man who is to slay boar for my wedding. For the time being, I'm thinking fuck it. Veloute and I (possibly with the help of Morris) will just make one goddamn big dessert table. Oh, they'll be cheese or something of relative "substance," but it may just be a dessert wedding at this point. I guess the time of day will make a difference. Inside or out...gotta find the house first. It's the weekend we gain an hour, so it gets darker faster. All for having it inside with lots of candles (I have the two candelabras from the house, Veloute!) and Halloween-themey, but Cinematographer Mark might hurt me. I'll ask him later...

If all goes well, then there may be posting tonight! Somewhere!

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Lying's the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off - but it's better if you do.

Well fuck. Our little Mac is on the blink, so Corinthian's going to have a rough time updating either Five-Part Trilogy or Big Suck Loser. He was actually in the midst of a review when it locked up; now it blinks this ominous question mark on it. Fucking computers.

So it wasn't shaping up to be a great day (he gave me this news around 5:50am so instead of going back to sleep I'm lying there wondering if everything on the ipod is going to be lost forever). Considering the three lethal margaritas I seem to have consumed with D & Morris last night (and what Morris was drinking was mystifying--it invovled beer on ice with lime and tabasco sauce--this after a fat margarita on the rocks!!), I stopped at the Chick-Fil-A for some chickin-minis or whatever the hell they're called. I blame one of our regulars for turning me onto them. She brought them for us one's the biscuity dough the "chickin" is wrapped in, it's addictive...Anyway, the dude at the window actually had a personality. It really caught me off guard. They'll have that bastard broken within a week.

And now the other lab girl and myself are struggling to make a day of what little we have here. It's going to be a Very. Long. Day.

But at least there's still leftover barbeque for dinner! And possibly brioche if it's not staler than hell. The 'que turned out mighty fine; marinading for two days instead of one made a very big difference in the flavor. It's just hard to prepare anything that far ahead. And it cooked for 2 hours per pound, which should have meant 8 hours but was more like 9. I actually finished a bottle of wine before that bastard was ready to be dealt with. And even though the temp just would not break 150F no matter how much longer I left it, it was fine, no one became deathly ill (and I didn't want to dry him out--yuck)!

Need to hit the Fine Cookings this evening for something new to make. We polished off the ginger-pumpkin cheesecake a while back, so a new dessert may be in order. I'm tempted to try another cheesecake since the crust got the better of me. Too sticky. Not enough cookie. But cheesecake sounds horrid at the moment, what with it being 110F outside...

Okay, blogger keeps flipping out and disconnecting itself. I'm just going to post and let it recover...

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

My dad shot that snake and then went back to bed!

Goddamn. D is off to finish the last 30 minutes of Room 6 and balls if I don't know what that is. It has potential, he says. If I know D movies, it'll end up blowing!

We're holding off on the whole MD/VA thing for now, seems like a bit too much.

Had drinks with Morris, which DAMN, do I need to do more often!! What a great daily perspective to have, if one has the means. I simply adore the ability to make things happen; I could never do it without causing others to spit in my food. Morris, however, practically SNAPPED his fingers at the waiter when my third margarita never made its way to the table--and goddamn if that bitch wasn't sitting in front of me, complete with apology in three minutes. I think you have to possess a sort of divine charisma rather than a tangible loathing for humanity.

My real estate agent broke his toe and is also avoiding the heat. I will double-check the listings, but we could seriously have a house and then a wedding on our hands quite soon. Simply exciting.

I'll feed him. But I'm not picking him up.

Turns out Romancing the Stone is still lots of fun. It does make me blush, however, to realize that at the age of 8 I took the film at face value. Now, of course, I can appreciate the value of satire. I also love remembering what went through my head as a child, or what I simply didn't bother to question. I recall not "getting" why the campfire made her dizzy (I guess I assumed it was just too hot already?) and not really pausing to wonder what the hell marijuana was. I guess I knew it was a drug, but again, it just didn't give me pause! I also recall thinking how uncomfortable the post-coital scene looked to me--as he was on top, surely he was just crushing the hell out of her boobs. So as you can see, I was concerned with the important things.

I'm glad I still enjoy the film, as it's fairly safe to say it played a decent role in my childhood. I was allowed to swear when quoting the movie, and Michael Douglas was (in this role, thank you) my first film star crush. I still find the role pretty hot, so at least I'm not completely mortified to admit it. The movie would be something of a failure if women found that character utterly repugnant. And luckily the dialogue makes me smile rather than cringe, so I think it holds up quite well.

As an adult, I can see that naturally it's rife with problems. Who the hell are these bad guys exactly and why does the (dead) brother-in-law have this fucking treasure map to begin with? The bad guys are very one-dimentional, I'm not even sure of their relation to each other or to the plot. Just that they want the stone. Fair enough. And really, I'm not terribly bothered--who needs cumbersome backstory anyway? In the end, I think the whole reason this film is so enjoyable is largely due to the two leads, their chemistry, and a well-paced plot.

So I would still highly recommend this flick to anyone willing not to take it too seriously. When half the fun revolves around how sexy Kathleen Turner can possibly manage to look in her dirty and ripped outfits (and don't get me started on his buying the sexiest, perfectly sized date outfit), obviously we're not supposed to be questioning reality.

And as the jerkbags over at Netflix failed to get either of my two movies out to me, I'll have to find something else to amuse myself. I'm about to meet Morris (who I know through Mob & K) for drinks at Glorias (home of the most fantastic lethal margaritas ever--for $3 no less), so perhaps it's best I watch something afterwards not involving a lot of concentration...

Monday, July 17, 2006

How will you die, Joan Wilder? Slow, like... a snail? Or fast, like a shooting star?

I think I enjoy having as few options as possible when it comes to big decisions. Narrowing down the DFW metroplex to a suitable city for owning a home was fun enough, but now, due to new and exciting factors (the rest of my family), another possibility has popped into the mix: how about Washington, D.C.? Since the majority of the family, it seems, shall be residing in Vermont, it would be nice to live closer than Texas. Sorry, Veloute, but living in Vermont itself would be too much! Even though I never go out or do anything, there is something about living in The Middle of Nowhere that sorta brings me down a little. And however much I may loathe the heat here (it was 99 before 10am the other day), I'm not sure six months of winter is really me, either.

So I have always loved Maryland and think DC would be a great city to live near. Maryland/Virginia, who cares. In commuting distance to DC. PA was gorgeous but perhaps a tad far. Unless we work in Philadephia, and an ex of mine (having grown up there) has fully turned me against it over the past years. I now picture Philadelphia as one of the meanest cities in the world. Not real high on the list. However, back to MD/VA...upon perusing the real estate, I've been scoping out the same price range as we were using here. I don't know whether to laugh my ass off and give up altogether or what. The one house that did show up, I could not make this up, was boarded up at every opening. I feel like I should be looking at trailers. It totally took me down a peg or eight.

Somehow we went from good-sized two-stories (2000 sq ft) with backyards to...trailers. Okay.

So I did a search online for comparing cost of living. For example, if you make $35,000 in Dallas, you should make $48,000 in DC to enjoy the same lifestyle. Which is better than NYC, where you must make $80,000 to keep things on the same level. Holy balls. Now here's the prob: If we make x amount of money NOW, even if we would be paid DC wages once we got there, how could we possibly get approved for the amount needed to live in a suitable house near DC where the rats won't use my cats for dodgeball?

I am definitely getting older. I (at the moment) really feel like just sticking with my decently sized ol' Arlington houses. So much easier and cushier. Just gotta score a gig with an airline and fly for free. Problem solved. SIGH. I find the effort and the unknown to be incredibly daunting. And yet somehow I once took off and lived in Tokyo? Age is taking over, that's for sure.

I cannot find Romaning the Stone because the special edition is coming out August 29th. Looks so cool...squee. There is also one with both it and Jewel of the Nile, but I just can't remember that movie being even remotely decent. D really seems to like it, but he also keeps rediscovering these movies he thought he liked, only to find ginormous turds where great movies ought to have been. It may have been watchable, it's just that I'm sure it's nowhere near the realm of the first.

Downfall and In the Company of Men are on their way from Netflix, which should bring me lots of entertainment tomorrow night.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

All the best people have bad chests and bone diseases. It's all frightfully romantic.

Great. William-Sonoma sent me an email this morning, the title of which was, "15 Weeks Until Your Day!" I can only assume they're talking about my wedding. In any case, being hounded about a stressful deadline is always appreciated so early in the morning. Thanks, William-Sonoma. Even more annoying, I added some stuff to the registry and it makes other stuff I previously added disappear. And I don't really see an "additional pages" type button. Whatever, screw them.

The fiancee and I watched a flick last night, specially given to us for a good night of ripping it apart. My friend was the cinematographer on it and oh my holy jesus was it bad. I'm certainly not going to link to the site and end up getting anyone in trouble, but if anyone wants to see the trailer (OUCH), I'm sure it can be found on the site. The flick is called The Sensei, and the chick who wrote/directed/produced/starred in it (not unlike a Harold P. Warren flick I could mention) was at one time Buffy's stunt double. Her father, however, shows up quite a bit, like in Big Trouble In Little China, and he actually trained under Bruce Lee.

But back to our's about a woman (wait, let me change that: at the beginning, you think it's about this gay kid who keeps getting his ass whipped and just wants to learn karate-kung-fu-whatthefuckever. NO ONE will teach him or look at him or even sit next to him in church. We were starting to think he'd fisted the neighborhood kids in the public square. But no--he's gay!!! I don't think the film dated the story, but I'm assuming it's back before AIDS was really widely known? Hope I'm not giving anything away there, gosh!) Anyway, lo and behold, it is NOT his story, even after getting broomsticked in the boys' shower (the audience is at least spared this). It is--gasp!!--her story. She surrounds herself with very Asian-looking people (this woman is like, one quarter Asian, maybe), except for an ethnically vague brother, for whom we kept adding Agador Sparatcus-flavored dialogue. You're just afraid of my Guatemalan-ness! And then, like, we find out she has AIDS and she dies. She got it from her boxer husband, told by the doctor, "Uh, yeah, there's nothing I can give you and nothing I can do. Late, yo!" So again, we just sort of prayed this was supposed to be set in 1980 or something. Who knows. But who cares, cause jesus did it just drag the fuck on. And don't get me started on the dream--I can't use the word "sequences," as that would imply firstly that something happened during said sequence. Basically the lead chick and some hot dude--oh, look at that, her real-life husband!--standing around with "the wind blowing" (this chick really has a thing for the wind always blowing--her hair MUST be gently whipped about to in order for her to fully emote) and looking nearly out of focus, the lighting is so soft. The dream sequences bordered on douche ads.

Anyway, my friend certainly did do a decent job shooting the thing, and this was just some crappy DVD transfer rough cut thing. (Including a grossly melodramatic meltdown scene that continues FAR too long until you finally DO hear someone yell, "Cut!"). This bitch was 2 1/2 hours, it could easily be cut to 80 (first, take out any scene in which the lead lady is ogled and guys say things like, "Hey boys, looks like there's a fresh piece of meat in town!") Seriously, who writes themselves into a part in which someone else is going to refer to you as "so hot?"

And whoever edited this (or, I assume, whoever made someone edit it this way) cannot even tighten a single scene to save their own ass. It reminded me of the BBC Office when they just don't cut but leave the camera running for the full pain impact (a technique used brilliantly, unlike in the aforementioned turd).

D placed it at number 3 on his all-time shitlist. For those of you who don't know, my fiancee will rent anything horror with a cool coverbox. His friends, at one point, banned him from renting the weekend movies. This film is coming in behind Ax 'Em and Club Vampire. Apparently Scarecrow Slayer and Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter were even better than this, as they came in at numbers 4 and 5, respectively.

Whew. Went to bed after that, the movie wiped me the hell out.

My Carolina barbeque (tomato AND vinegar based, a blend of both North & South) is roasting in the oven for eight hours. It's sitting fat-side up, so the fat can drain down into the rest of the meat and make it yummier for pulling later. This also means I can't really go anywhere for eight hours, so I imagine I'll be blogging a bit more later.

I also have to finish reading my Anne Perry mystery. Anne Perry, if you don't know, is actually Juliet Hulme. She came forward to reveal her identity in 94 during the making of Heavenly Creatures. (I always thought it a tad tacky to have made that film while both women were still alive, but hey, still like the flick). I'm not a huge fan of her mysteries but I keep reading them. They sort of irritate me while I read them...and Juliet Hulme was Kate Winslet's role if you're too lazy to look it up!

The kitten wants to be fed and so do I.

I've always been a tequila man.

For no reason whatsoever, I added my ten favorite flicks to the sidebar. And really, these are not the flicks I'd bring out when trying to impress people, they are just my ten personal favorites. The things I pop in when I drink, need comfort viewing, or feel intensely uninspired. They're just perfect. And actually at the moment it's only eight, so we'll see what I can come up with later...

They aren't in any particular order, except maybe the first one. Streets of Fire is just flat out my favorite movie (hence the usage of Ellen Aim). This is a bad movie. Let's just get that out of the way. It's terrible! Even Diane Lane hates it! But I absolutely love it. It's one of the few films, in my opinion, that is completely uniform in its style, thereby allowing me to fully accept the little world it shows me. This movie has Diane Lane, Rick Moranis, Amy Madigan (Ed Harris's wife, think Field of Dreams), and none other than Willem Dafoe (in black pastic garbagebag-style overalls, get that!). It also has Michael "Who?" Pare, who I once saw in Hope Floats, and if there was some way I could have avoided learning that first hand, I wish I had.

This movie has a killer soundtrack (Ry Cooder, The Blasters), an amazing look and style (a very sexy mesh of 50s and 80s), perfect characters and dialogue ("Are we gonna talk about it or are we gonna do it?"), and the best plot ever: rock and roll girl gets kidnapped by badass motorcycle gang, her badass ex has to come rescue her, then has crowbar smackdown with motorcycle leader. Hot! Damn! Who doesn't love this movie already?! And I bet you all know Warriors instead. It's almost the same damn movie, only Warriors is '79 and this is '84. Both Walter Hill. And yet that one makes all the cult lists and cult lines. I was unimpressed by Warriors. The only you reason you may know this film (without even realizing it), is because this is the film that the 80s song I Can Dream About You by Dan Hartman was from. But really, I have met two people in my entire life who ever knew of this movie.

Anyway, since this is '84, Diane Lane is 19. I'm 27 and have never and will never look that smokin'. Although I admit I really want to be Ellen Aim on the outside, it'd be McCoy (Amy Madigan) on the inside. McCoy has all the lines, the very best scene of hers undoubtedly being her first. Every single line of hers. I want it. McCoy is probably the one I actually idolize more. In a very interesting sidenote, I saw Amy Madigan in an interview once saying that the script originally called for Tom Cody's sidekick to be a little Mexican man named Mendez. She convinced the director it was the best part and she wanted it. Ta da! And thank god, cause this movie really would have sucked.

And upon perusing imdb's trivia, this was supposed to be the first in a trilogy of actions flicks with Michael Pare as Tom Cody. The box office was just that bad. Too bad it wasn't made today, when things like Inspector Gadget and Garfield start making sequels before the first one even has a chance to bomb abysmally.

I just think it's so much fun. I just love everything about it. And don't bother telling me how awful it is. I have no doubt that if I saw it for the first time today I wouldn't love it as much (though I do still think I'd like it). I've been watching this film since I was probably 10 or thereabouts, so clarity of perspective isn't real high on my list of concerns. I still seek out nearly every Diane Lane movie (yes, I have seen Judge Dredd, my loyalty knows no bounds) and nearly killed my bastard friend Hollywood Mark when he got to direct her in a series of spots for Lifetime. She was complementing him on his age, saying he looked too young to be a director. Knowing my crazy obsession, he did manage to squeeze in, "Young enough to have seen Streets of Fire in the theatre!" Maybe she took it as a slam, who knows, but she kinda shut up after that.

So I highly recommend this film. The sound MUST be cranked; if you have surround sound, so much the better. I also highly recommend drinking with this film, as it is just a rockin' good time to be had by all. Certainly try not to take it seriously or find fault--after all, it pulls one of the very best carte blanche moves of all time: the first words to hit the screen? "Another Time, Another Place."

Friday, July 14, 2006

The credits sound like they're drunk!

First of all, as of 8:30 this morning it was officially Armpit Level 5 outside, the humidity and heat ALREADY unbearable. AT 8:30AM IN THE MORNING. I hate Dallas. At least Austin, though perhaps even more moist, was Austin. Le sigh.

I watched MST3K's Indestructible Man last night, preceded by the short Undersea Kingdom Ch. 2. Great stuff. I was in and out, checking on my marinade (god it smelled good), which I actually finished before 1am, unlike last time when I was up til nearly 3...luckily I had several discs of The West Wing to keep me company that time. Great MST3K 'sode, good times. I also rediscovered that you simply cannot makeout during MST3K, it's futile.

Also listened to Cinemaslave's Episode #47. I will have to bump up Coffee & Cigarettes, as that flick just sits like a rock somewhere in the midsection of my 400+ listings...I've even deliberately bumped it back down (and yet I keep it on there). Love the Jarmusch, but just haven't been feeling the love for that one. Though after hearing the review, I know the Cate Blanchett bit will make it all worthwhile.

And better still, someone who FINALLY also makes the point about Memoirs of a Geisha being SO hard to swallow in English. The book is fine in English--it's a book told from someone else's perspective. But the film? Spoken in really bad English? I'm totally awed by anyone who can master more than their own native tongue, don't get me wrong. But it was so awkward and distracting--I mean, why are these characters speaking English?? And in real life, even if they weren't speaking Englsh, these (lovely) actresses are all CHINESE. So it would probably be just as much an effort for them to all learn their parts in Japanese. I'm afraid the only solution is just to straight up use Japanese actresses. So yeah, in the end, just stick with the book.

I'm also very excited for the upcoming episode involving Stand By Me, which is still very dear to my heart. I've continued to watch it throughout the years and it has meant something different to me at each stage of my life. I also find it remarkable how closely the characters have mirrored the actors' own lives. Obviously we have the untimely and tragic death of River Phoenix. And Corey Feldman went off into his hooligan years (blackout several years, come back and bring us The Coreys. Sadly, no, I am not making this up, it's going to be a TV show), but also Wil Wheaton seems to have left the biz altogether to pursue writing. And I thought Jerry O'Connell would break out of the box with the little stud stint he had in Jerry Maguire a while back, but I have not really seen him of late. This will also always be one of the very few flicks in which narration is superbly well-used. Richard Dreyfuss, no less. Usually, as a rule, if I hear narration in the first two minutes, you're starting with a negative score. So anyway, I'm quite eager to hear what Cinemaslave will have to say. And holy shit, look at that. I just surfed over and there it is, all ready for me to download!

You know...I just re-read what I said about Match Point and damn does that sound cold (I assume, for anyone who's seen the film). I just meant...*sighs*. So hard to say what I mean without giving anything away. I just thought the film had a lot to say about class struggle, which is such a very British subject. So not only is Allen shooting outside NY, he's also tackling very non-American topics. Leave me alone...

On a completely unrelated but cute sidenote, Cinematographer Mark's daughter Macon is turning five today. She got her first (pink-sparkly-princess-twinkletoes) bicycle, the purchase of which Mark found to be somewhat moving. "It's like buying her her first car!" So she got the bike, plus training wheels and helmet today. Mark says he just got a text message from the wife, telling him Macon's sitting at home watching Narnia with her helmet on.

Ok, enough of this, time to download #53!

Thursday, July 13, 2006

He lays me then busts me.

Oh, thank you oh so much Mob, of Dear Bastards, for pointing me in the direction of Cinemaslave. I've been meaning to dive into the world of podcasts, but I've simply just been dragging my ass. I've dabbled, by subscribing to All Songs Considered at NPR, which has been great. However, I certainly admit that upon learning that Cinemaslave is run by my old MST3K dealer Joe Barlow, I did start downloading a little faster. Not only have I added a bunch to the ol' Netflix list, especially after listening to Episode #52 I find myself wanting to pop in some of those old VHS tapes he sent me.

And there goes your shout out! (I'm listening as I type). VERY cool shout out, he seems to quite enjoy your site! I'm envious!

But what THE FUCK was up with the Woody Allen wankfest? I will go to the grave watching Woody Allen films trying oh-so-hard to like them. I guess I can respect the best of them, but they utterly fail to resonate with me. And I LOVE those, shall we say, pretentious talky yuppie flicks. But with Woody Allen, I'm afraid I just draw an utter blank. I DID like Match Point, though I don't need to marry it, as I think Cinemaslave almost might. My big surprise with Match Pointwas towards the end when I kinda, well (I will avoid spoilers), wanted Jonathan Rhys Meyers to get away with what happened. I was actually on his side. I like to think that yes, in the real world it would not be so. And I didn't even LIKE his character--what a sleazebag! And yet...I guess I just didn't want the rich family to be the ones to bust him. I won't go into what did happen, it's certainly worth a watch...I just think once (or maybe twice way down the road) was enough.

And I put In the Company of Menon my netflix, in the hopes that D hasn't seen it. I saw it opening weekend at the Inwood (which I would link to if it weren't pure evil now) back in the day and recall quite vividly that it was one of a kind. I loved it and hated it all at once. Mostly, I loved it but vowed that I really never needed to see it again. As I'm a little older, however, I'm curious to see if it's as disturbing as it was nearly ten years ago. I know it will be, which is my demented reasons for wanting to see it. Inflicting it upon D will just be my excuse.

And I totally recognized that music clip Joe plays from Manos: Hands of Fate, which the MiSTie viewers all voted the worst film of all time. It is so unbearably bad as to render the MiSTie players silent from time to time. Which is why I secretly prefer Mitchell.

And now I'm going to finish listening to this episode while I simmer my Carolina barbeque marinade.

How about Global Thermalnuclear War?

I forgot to mention how appalled I was this past weekend when I went into Hobby Lobby (leave me alone, their frames are always 50% off) and found them setting up aisle after aisle of...yes...Christmas decorations. I know we all bitch that the xmas crap tends to go up a wee bit early, but Christ Almighty. I get that it IS Hobby Lobby, but I also get that it's JULY. Anyone who's that well prepared to start working on xmas stuff this early needs a different hobby altogether. I'm embarrassed to admit that they actually had some really bizarre/cute ornaments; with the excuse of two nieces, I'm good to go.

Well, today here at work we were discussing swearing at TiVO. This suddenly gave me a flashback to typing in obscene commands at the keyboard of my Commodore 64 and what were called (after some googling) text adventures. The ones I have the fondest recollections of come from the Infocom Gallery: Moonmist, Suspect and Witness. We also played the shit out of something that involved being stranded on a beach, finding a hut and not falling in quicksand. Turns out that was Mindshadow. That game used to irritate the fuck out of me, but that doesn't mean I don't recall it with incredibly rosy nostalgia.

I am positively salivating at the notion of going home to download these bitches and hunkering down with fried pickles and beer on the side. It just doesn't get any better.

Fuck. The Melting Pot just sent me their newest "for a limited time" fondue offering. It's this big four course meal involving Gran Queso Cheese Fondue (fontiago + gran queso + chorizo + chimichurri + chipotle), Stawberry Almond Salad with fresh berries and toasted almonds (and I hate salads but that sounds pretty ok by me)...then you choose between the Lobster Indulgence or Fondue Feast entree. I won't detail either of those two...simply too many meats (black tiger shrimp, teriyaki sirloin, citrus-marinated pork tenderloin...). And most importantly, tropical coconut rum chocolate fondue for dessert. I have a hard time eating anything coconut without feeling like I'm ingesting suntan lotion, but shit, I'd try this out.

Ok, enough dicking around. Gotta finish my movie trivia...slow going...


I made ravioli by hand tonight, which was fun at first. I think 6, rather than 5, is the proper setting for my future ravioli, but they were perfectly yummy and edible. Cheese centers with cream sauce. It was a little like working at the photo at first, and then a rapid downward spiral into am I done yet? Coupled with leftover brioche, which also turned out wonderfully the other day. Quite buttery little bastards.

Speaking of bastards, surely you remember the worthless fuckwit who comes into the lab during the afternoon to, gosh, how do I put this? "Work?" All this bastard does is fist himself and doodle and yammer keybonics to his little myspace friends. If I stop to wonder how this boy has ever scored a girlfriend, I will never make it back to my point. So Cinematographer Mark is quite the passive aggressive troublemaker, this being a keen example. Let's just say he started it (I mean, I wasn't the one who downloaded a keystroke logger) and I finished it by deleting all of this fuckwit's little myspace friends. And I'll have you know deleting 272 friends took at least three minutes. If you think that's mean, we did actually try to cancel his account. Unfortunately, myspace has safety nets against mean fucks like us (it was going to send him an email to complete the process). So we went with Plan B, which was probably more irritating for him in the long run and, more to the point, our goal. We tried to block myspace a few months ago, but it was impossible to do without it blatantly popping up a box saying, "This site is BLOCKED!" And frankly, that's way too confrontational. Even if we could just blame the owner.

Suffice it to say, work has been a little slow this week.

We started The 25th Hour tonight, which is one of the few Spike Lee movies I enjoy. D has never seen it, and he's not sure he's ever seen a SL movie he's enjoyed. I always found Do the Right Thing to be in the same vein as Raising Arizona in that I was the only one in the room who didn't like it. But he must have at least one other film I enjoy...all I can think of right now was screening She Hate Me at work and cursing the man's name. Getting PAID to watch that was not enough. And I realized Anna Paquin is starting to annoy the fuck out of me. I kinda need her to go away now. Not unlike Keira Knightley--do NOT get me started on Pirates.

I enjoyed the first one fine. A oncer, enjoyable, a surprise. The Depp, who could hate it? But this was like...I don't know, recreating your ex in your head as something fantastic, then going back and fucking him with your eyes closed going, "Oh my GOD, I LOVE YOU!" It was just wrong, it went on WAY TOO LONG, and it was wrong to even go there in the first place. But that's what whoring is all about. Or something. Anyway, D loved it, so I'm glad. And I'm so proud I got through it all without sighing very loudly in the middle of the theatre. Did I mention it was long? And the plot...I know, I know. D cannot seem to understand my beef with the plot or lack thereof. And I'm not trying to kick a disabled kid down the stairs--I realize it's not supposed to be about the plot, but it's just too much shit not to complain. Someone's slapping me mushroom tattoos on my forehead with a really tiny dick and then asking me why I'm not enjoying myself. $99 on the special effects, $1 on the script, nuff said.

The best part of the day (aside from successfully making edible ravioli) was D coming home from his 6am meeting and making me breakfast--waffles, bacon, fresh pineapple (a la Thailand). And the worst part was me realizing I have to come up with a fuckload of new film trivia tomorrow because I've been slacking off. It always seems to bite me on the ass. And it's much harder than I expected...which I expected. It's for the slide presentation preshow enterainment at Studio Movie Grill. Mainstream, but not too obvious, not too culty...and it should be funny, too. Kill me.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Hi. I'm Elle Woods and this is Bruiser Woods. We're both Gemini vegetarians.

Blech. I sat down this evening, geared up for yummies all around. I just returned from a Central Market excursion (to the tune of $71, yikes) with two bottles of red wine. One is an old reliable, the other a bit of a random choice. Just a California Cabernet, really, I didn't think I was being all that ballsy. It is a screwcap, I should note, but much of what I've read of late tells me screwcaps are fast becoming the new pink and I should not fear them. Ok, now, I hardly know how to even begin to describe wine well. I know nothing about wine. But this shit--Cyress Vineyards, I warn you--is skank! It has this bizarre sweet even smells a tad sweet. It doesn't taste like anything at first, you have to swallow and then you get this bright sweet slap. I can't even think what to name this fucking thing. I want to name it Ashton Kutcher for its horridness, but something ickly sweet would be more apt. Ok, this is Reese Witherspoon. This wine is so Reese Witherspoon. With every sip I pull a face. With each sip I think maybe it will be better than the last, but ah no. It would be a far more apt recall name if everyone else raved about this wine, but I highly doubt it.

With any luck I'll just get used to it. Like any Reese movie, I can usually manage to sit through it...I'm just left wondering the whole time, "Now why am I here?"

But I also picked up two cuts of pork butt (8 lb), untrimmed and boneless (easily the bulk of my bill) for my Fine Cooking's recipe that combines South and North Carolina barbeque styles (vinegar based meets tomato based). It is incredibly succulent. I swore last time I would make it earlier in advance, as I previously didn't let it marinade as long as they suggested. It's going to marinade for two whole days...I mean, these are some seriously dense babies, they need it.

I'm also hoping to feel ambitious enough to break out the pasta maker I got for this past birthday and crank out some ravioli (as it comes with the ravioli attachment). I'll try to have a Plan B for when I can't figure out how to work the damn thing, but I'm really hoping that with a little wine and patience (not this fucking wine, I can tell you), things will go smoothly.

I even have a great shuffle in...a Leonard Cohen (in honor of the flick we're finally getting this week at the Angelika), Smile Smile (which I admit I bought strictly on the word of Josh & the Adventure Club), The Tango Lesson soundtrack, J.J. Cale, and His Name Is Alive, the last three of which I recently bought off my dad. A decent wine would have gone SO WELL. Sigh. Yes, I will bitch about this wine throughout the entire blog.

I also got to speak with Veloute this evening. I'm very excited that she's making my cake, I can't wait to eat it. I'm basically aiming for a blood-red cake covered in chocolate and perhaps topped with double-dipped strawberries. Just your fairly typical groom's cake! Oops. Oh well, you all saw a chocolate cake coming, bite me. But of course it won't be ordinary because Veloute will be making it and everyone's going to leave a naughty stain on their chairs. Which is why, of course, I shall be renting chairs...

And as always, I am so in awe of how anyone can raise two children so incredibly well. Seeing the giving birth part (sans pain killers, (!!!), I should add) was mind-boggling enough, but the patience involved in the blows my mind every time. Of course they are delights and gorgeous and a total pleasure just to watch and interact with...but I spend months and months away from them, too!! Needless to say, I am all a-twitter to see Fiona & Sophia in October. And hopefully the little dragon girl (or whatever it is she's going as these days) will want to do some flower duty! Given her diva-like personality, I'm not worried. If she's anything like Cinematographer Mark's 5-year-old, she'll stop for poses.

And yes, the wine is still sucking balls.

And now off to start some brioche. Buttery brioche. Something else I hardly make enough as it takes two days. I'm not real big on the project-type foods...

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Six thousand dollars?!? It's not even leather!

So myself, my fiancee and my sister all went to Fry Street last night. Everyone has big petitions in their windows. I think the shitstorm may begin in September or so. They seem pretty obsessed with getting parts of it declared historical, but I thought the big worry was if the old owners would be able to pay the new rent, especially since they want to specifically put in things like CVS, Barnes & Noble, no doubt a Starbucks or eight. It's so depressing. Denton would be almost completely worthless.

Anyhoo, went to Cool Beans and played this little computer trivia thing in the corner Derek and I got addicted to the last time we went. Nothing like sipping beer in a dark corner playing addictive computer games...and yet for once, doing it in a bar was probably the same price as doing it at home! Love Denton. I think we spent more on the game than on beer. And of course, just as we were leaving the bartender showed us the slew of naughty games on there we hadn't seen! Strip Poker, Peepshow, lots of weird (and probably just creepy) shit. Next time.

One of the best things we saw on Fry Street was taped to the door of Voyager's Dream, with 12 questions you could ask yourself if you thought you were a pothead. Our favorite was, "Does your maijiuana smoking allow you to live in a privately defined world?" I mean, don't I need pot to begin with to even follow that? Don't we all live in crazy little privately defined worlds? Well, it blew my mind anyway.

The timeline is creeping up on us for buying a house and getting married. Still have plenty of time, but it's out there. It's officially getting closer. Still need Derek's accessories (bow, quiver, Robin Hood hat...oddly, I think the last will be the most difficult matching-wise). I wish the man slaying boar would return my emails. I've written two and while it's quite far off and I'm sure he's busy, isn't it just common courtesy to return an email with any sort of reply? I admit I'm not always the best with that--with friends, but this is business! Jesus Christ.

Also finally seeing Pirates tonight. Derek is quite pumped. I read a great review in the New York Times that seemed pretty accurate to me, though the best line was lambasting Orlando Bloom: "Mr. Bloom, as is his custom, leaps about, trying to overcome his incurable blandness, and is upstaged by special effects, musical cues, octopus tentacles and pieces of wood."

Ok, off to dig up some lunch.

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Are you totally deranged?

I ordered something off the If I can manage to remember I ordered something over the next month, hopefully I'll see something in the mail in 2-4 weeks. I think I did. Really should have picked up more written Japanese...

So, is it a bad sign when you decide before noon that you're going to be picking up some tequila on the ride home? I blame the ignorant customers and the incompetent fuckwits at the B&W lab we use. They've driven me to it. When the morons at BWC (the only lab in DALLAS we can use because they process slide film) can't figure out how one of our orders made it clear across the metroplex to Richardson...amazing how everyone seems to get away with incompetence. No one gets fired, we never change labs, everything just kinda shambles along badly. Whatever.

Anyhoo. My friend Hollywood Mark seems to be releasing an interesting album here in a few months. This is the man I met at a screening of his second short film which featured a kid projectile vomiting for a talent show, so I wouldn't expect serious lyrics. Some of them are...hmmm...a little easy for my taste? But I have to admit he has a pretty savory voice...But the last time I saw Mark I had entirely too much vodka (in an attempt to be knocked out on a 13 hour flight, whoa did that backfire), petted Vince Vaughn, and probably did an altogether impressive job of totally blowing whatever cool factor I ever had going for me. So we keep in touch for some reason. And Hollywood Mark should not be confused with Cinematographer Mark, the latter with whom I currently work and who (fingers crossed) may be shooting my wedding.

And while I'm strolling along the shame parade, why don't I share what I bought. Essential. Words fail me. It made me laugh. Had to put one in the 80s mix for the wedding party, it's too priceless. Would have bought the LP if I could have gotten it onto the ipod...And yes, thank you, I got it used. Five bucks, it made me giggle.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Get Ready to Bleed.

I admit there's something just a teensy bit girly about Kamikaze Girls that prevents me from wholeheartedly recommending it to anyone who might stray across this. But I have not laughed out loud so often in ages, at any movie, intentional or otherwise.

One expects most Japanese movies to have a fairly high weirdness factor. Infact, I've almost grown tired of what sometimes appears to me as forced weirdness. This movie, however, manages the logical yet completely bizarre visuals that go along with its crazy little story. I think even by Japanese standards it's just a little odd. Throw in two incredibly cute girls (damn--infact, if I could just possibly look a little like Ichigo, I'd be so set. Luckily, starting so far off the mark as I am, I won't even attempt it). (And yes, Alex, I realize if I could just somehow be the Yuki--Ichigo lovechild, all would be right and good in this world. The self-love would be on).

And really, even without that bit of a nod to...oh, female insanity?...right there in the middle, it wouldn't have the great balance that it does. The bloody ass-kicking wouldn't be quite as fun somehow. And it may also be worth mentioning that as the film goes along, it's certainly banking on the audience just rolling with it. And hey, who cares? Who needs believability when fun is on the line?

So many thanks to Alexandra for recommending it. That movie is a ton of fun...I forsee owning it.

I've Been Kidnapped By K-Mart!

It stopped raining long enough last night for there to be fireworks after all. And it's hard living near Addison to not see at least eight different shows going on at once. We were already out finding a little Monty Python for me, so we just pulled over in a parking lot with a great view.

I bought an FM transmitter for Derek earlier in the day, as his car stereo does not have a cassette. I thought he should be getting a little time with Superfly Amadeus Shaft. The bizarre thing is that I also picked up a simple cable to attach SAS to the receiver at home. Oddly enough, the FM transmitter works better than the cable. In my world, I always thought hooking something up directly just uh, meant better quality. Apparently not. But it's pretty bitchin', especially since I'd heard mixed things on transmitters, mostly due to big city signal problems. But 87.9 has suddenly turned into the greatest station ever.

Gads, what's wrong with me. I'm being incredibly nice to the customers I usually despise. I'm not in a great mood, average I suppose. Not that I'm ever rude or mean to these people, but I've certainly learned to meet their condescension with a degree of ambivalence and certainly with passive aggressive tendencies (I'm sorry, I can't possibly work on your shit til next week, asshole). But here I am asking them if they want to get it this afternoon. Just like to keep em on their toes, I suppose. Then when they come back all snooty and pissy another vicious cycle shall begin.

On a less cheery note, my good friend Jeremy got dumped. I admit I'd be sadder for him if he was less sad about his season tickets for the Fair Park Music Hall being half vacant for the rest of the year. He misses the idea of her greatly, but she specifically...not so much it seems to me. Especially since I was there (or rather, my ear) for the numerous phone calls back in 2004 when the love of his life dumped him really hard. Now that was painful. He still cannot stop talking about her to this day. It doesn't help that she still floats around Dallas. In any case, now he wants me to help him find a date by Sunday (for Mamma Mia). If there is anyone who knows fewer people than I--people who are single and female and somewhat interesting, no less--I would be blown away.

I swear I am going to finish Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang tonight. What kind of horrible Robert Downey, Jr. fan am I, anyway?

Monday, July 03, 2006

I Weep For the Future.

Balls. Why can't we just be closed today, everyone else is. Instead, it's like the worst kind of Saturday...lots of weirdos coming in. And I've been getting my share of taking passport photos, which is just annoying. I'm trying not to let today be too aggravating...I'm off tonight and tomorrow, so I'd like to be able to actually enjoy them. The chances of this seems to be greater with the fewer number of people in the store...On the plus side, Ed the Pedophile is off today, but on the down side a "friend" of ours may be coming in who just annoys the everliving fuck out of me. Everything out of his mouth is just a whiny bitch-rant.

Did finally see Superman last night, which was very enjoyable. Everyone in it did a great job (especially Kevin Spacey, but how obvious of me to even say so). Even Derek was finally impressed with the new guy. He had a few minor beefs, impossible to get into without spoilers. They were beefs someone might have if they knew all the backstory, and in my blissful ignorance I saw nothing wrong with the story. Good times.

We also watched Lifeforce yesterday afternoon, but it was a terrible, horrible, no-good very bad turd. I slept through the better part of it, including Patrick Stewart's ten minutes. We were starting to think it was a different Patrick Stewart. Derek someone toughed it out, but hated it.

Jesus Christ. I'm reprinting Miller Lite's wedding as her dress was "too magenta." Hey, I didn't print it, who cares. But this woman looks like a moose-bird. As Mark pointed out, a woman will probably never look better than on her wedding day and in this lady's case...ouch. As I most assuredly have a place firmly carved out in hell already, I'm afraid I have no choice but to point and stare. I honestly probably wouldn't mock her if she weren't always raising a Miller in the air while horsefacing it.

Ok, better finishing not working so it at least looks like I got something done.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Darling, you can't rape a townie.

So last night was positively great. Our plans to see Superman fell through as Derek had been running some sort of Dogapallooza parade/adoption thing at work with Operation Kindess. Lots of sun, suntan lotion in the eyes, dehydration, sweat--the usual sort of thing to make you want to stay home when you finally do get there. So we got some of our magical Chinese food and some Blue Moon beer and I popped in Black Christmas. And what a great little flick, how have I never seen that. Add about an hour's worth of pouring rain, thunderstorming, great wind...I'm so glad we stayed home. First bit of rain in months and still won't be enough. Not to mention it'll feel like an armpit out there this morning. Anyway.

First of all, in the first ten minutes alone you've got Olivia Hussey and the word 'cunt' being repeatedly whispered on the phone. After years of seeing Ms. Hussy in the Olivier-narrated version of Romeo and Juliet, well, it takes a moment, that's all I'm saying. Derek found Margot Kidder's outrageous character to be similarly bizarre. ("Did you know there's a species of turtle that can screw for three days without stopping?") But regardless, the movie itself is incredibly well-done. It's all you could ask for in a horror flick--it gets right down to it, has a decent amount of gore (not overly done), and a fantastic ambiguous ending. Even better than most of this sort, it actually spends a moment or two with the killer in a few vaguely disturbing scenes. One at the end when Olivia Hussey glimpses him behind the door was probably one of the film's best scenes. Nothing shocking, just moments of real creepiness. And you know, I don't think this movie had any sex or nudity...and it was actually just fine without it.

Now the one we saw afterwards, which I thought we'd save until after dinner, was Maniac. Another classic neither of us had seen, though this one is a celebrated gorefest (for 1980). And really, it holds up quite well. It's about a, well, mentally disturbed--to say the least--serial killer who kills women, scalps them and then takes it home and tacks it to a new mannequin. (I love that he uses colored tacks rather than nails). What really gave this movie huge points in my book was the obvious care taken in setting the scene. His apartment (including the cast of a mouth on the door) had so much detail, which is far more interesting than the abusive-mother-plot they have going (it's hard to forgive the movies that did it first when you're seeing them twenty years down the line). And upon reading imdb's trivia, I absolutely love this tidbit: The film originally had a title song of the same name, but in the end was not used. The lyrics were toned down and the song Maniac was used in Flashdance (1983). Trying to picture that song in this movie, give me a moment. Anyway, have to highly recommend this one based purely on the scene where Tom Savini (of gore make-up fame) gets his head blown off through a windshield with a rifle, in semi-slow-mo.

Still have Lifeforece and November to polish off, though the latter is more of a thriller. Netflix decided to send that to me instead of Critters for whatever random reasons they pretend to have. I guess someone just thought four was too many horror movies at once.

And now to warm up some cream cheese for Derek's pumpkin-ginger cheesecake. I think I need the blender to make the crust...which means I'll have to do something with that last bit of margarita that's in there at the moment. Eleven on a Sunday? Perfect.