Tuesday, September 30, 2008

I just can't live in this detergent commercial anymore.

Aw! I was sad to read about Sarah McLachlan's divorce. Ashwin Sood was her drummer since 1991 or so and they got married in 1997. Damn. But then, as my dad and I agreed, if Ken and Emma couldn't make it work...

Anyhoo, she's releasing two new songs (and hey, they both seem to be about divorce, weird) and here is one of them, U Want Me 2. Like the song, not too sure about the video...

And oh my god. I just read that Kevin Costner is going to put out a country album. My world is complete.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

I HATE a guy with a car and no sense of humor.

Wow, just when I think I don't need to experience anything new and awkward, people involve you without your consent.

I hit the Addison Flying Saucer on my way home today, as the weather was gorgeous and their main room is this large area with wood floors, wood tables and lined all around by French doors, which they always open on days like these. I always pick a window seat and can read and eat a fat pretzel with queso (bad diet!) to my heart's delight. No one ever bothers me--shit, the waitresses barely pay me any mind.

And while I'm sitting here trying to enjoy the world's most awful, guilty pleasure known as Twilight (it is shameless how much fun and awfulness it is all at once), the waitress brings me a second beer and informs me that the gentleman with dark hair and glasses "over there" has bought my first beer. (I thought she was going to tell me she'd accidentally given him my pretzel, you can tell where my concerns lie.)

I was totally at a loss for what to say. Infact, I think I told her, "Uh, ok..." I mean, wtf? Even if I were single and thought he was a wicked ticket, do you then buy him one back? Or offer a slimey wink and nod? Not only was I never skilled in this department, I have zero interest now (not only as a married woman, but dude, principles) and will continue to live by the same rules I always have: keep my head down and pretend it never happened.

In this, I am skilled.

I am only afraid he will continue to drink and come over here with his liquid courage and try to join me or talk to me. Thank god for the looking-oh-so-busy this laptop provides. I'm workin' here! However, I really just want to read my book. You fucking people. This would have never happened had I been studying my LSATs like I meant to. Only when I'm engrossed in utter piffle do people choose distract me.

And where the fuck is the goddamn pretzel I ordered 45 minutes ago? See what I mean?

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Ellen Aim was right about one thing: your brother's a jerk.

That was definitely a fucking blast. The most fun a girl could have with her clothes on, come to think of it. An ENTIRE THEATRE full of people singing along, cheering/screaming/applauding in all the right parts. It was a fucking great crowd.

And the film was an actual PRINT, which was surprising (well, not really, I called beforehand to see) as it's pretty rare. I've always wanted to own my own print of that film, but this particular print is off the market. Why? Well, the whole screening was sort of put together in honor of their old program director, because Streets of Fire is her favorite movie of all time. And it was her birthday. So guess what they gave her? HER OWN GODDAMN PRINT OF STREETS OF FIRE. I felt my jaw actually fall open in shock and envy.

But oh wow, the electricity of that fucking crowd was magic like you just can't order. Where the fuck have these people been all my life? I can't even seem to meet people who've heard of the fucking thing, let alone people who can quote and sing along!

They did a Q&A after the film, and the two actors, Michael Paré and Deborah Van Valkenburgh seemed to have a really good time. I got the feeling they hadn't seen the film in quite a while. Considering it's 25 years old, they were pretty blown away by how young everyone looked.

There was then a "world premiere" screening of the work-in-progress film The Road to Hell. It was only an hour, but people either seemed to mostly leave beforehand or cleared out during the screening. The mass exodus worked for me, though, as afterward I got to hang out in the lobby and get my Streets of Fire poster signed by the two stars (as seen in the previous post). They had designed a fairly cool poster for the event that night, but not only was it $20, it wasn't quite as cool (as evidenced by Michael Paré wanting mine).

So it was a helluva lot of fun, and easily worth the drive down and the cost of a night in a hotel (which was really nice, btw. We stayed at the Hyatt by the river, where everyone was lined up along the Congress bridge to see the bats take off--that time of year again)!

But now it's back to work and the joys of daily life. I am kind of looking forward to the presidential debate tonight, don't ask me why.

I'm also still piddling around with my law school applications, though I did send off my emails for letters of recommendation (fingers crossed that they remember me) and tried to get in touch with my friend's employment lawyer. She has a nice secretary, who either listens incredibly well and got my name from the very beginning, or wasn't writing jack shit down and I won't be hearing from her anytime soon. We'll see.

Anyhoo. You know, I would like to think I read somewhat intelligent books (for the most part), but anyone who breaks into my car might think differently at the moment. I just borrowed two books from the library (Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer)

and Nights in Rodanthe by Nicholas Sparks. Wait, I can explain.

The former, well, I think I am the last person to read it. So there. And I've heard good things. The latter? Ok, so my friend J clued me into the preview for the upcoming film version, which stars Diane Lane and Richard Gere.

It looked pretty goddamn awful, so I thought I would read the book to see if that helped any. I knew that fucking name (of the author) sounded familiar, so when I flipped to the back to see he'd also written Message In a Bottle, A Walk to Remember, and The Notebook, well, I almost yakked up breakfast all over the jacket. And here I was borrowing it.

In all fairness, I have only read The Notebook (ok, 80% of it was all I could take) but I just felt like tearing the pages out one by one and using them for toilet paper would be a better use of the paper's time.

And best of all? The copy of Nights in Rodanthe is LARGE PRINT so now I can really feel like I borrowed it from my elementary school's library.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

I can get guns, smart guy, lots of em. Now... why don't you tell me your name?

Tom Cody! Or more accurately, Michael Paré! And he was just the sweetest guy with way more personality than you'd expect from Tom Cody.

And Reva, of course, Deborah Van Valkenburgh.

Have to get back to work, but I'll post about the evening later. No doubt, though, it was worth every mile and every penny to run down to Austin for the night!!

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Ooooh...a bitter and unprovoked attack...I like it.

I can't recall the last time I was this jealous!!

So if you recall, Mob & K were in town this week, and they went to JR's with Morris...well, guess who was ALSO at JR's and who they totally got to fucking meet!!!!! I am salivating with intense envy and tears. You can read about their adventures here.

Really, it's best for all concerned that I was NOT there. I mean, I try to respect people and their privacy, and I hate meeting "famous" people because what the fuck do *I* have to say they haven't heard before? But in this case? Especially considering that had I been at JR's, well, I probably would have been consuming alcohol. And then Morris comes back from the bar to say, hey, Andy Bell is at the bar? I would have simultaneously shat and drooled and then my friends would have left me and I would have had to walk home.

So really, it's all for the best.

The fact that I kept my shit together when meeting Julianne Moore and Parker Posey is something of which I am quite proud, but the whole Andy Bell thing taps into those angsty teenage years when everyone else was listening to bullshit grunge and I was tuning into my inner fag hag and knowing no one (aside from my sisters) who liked good music. So it's a tender spot, that's all I'm sayin'. One best not addressed in public nor with alcohol.

But still. Hella jealous.

Otherwise, had much fun this weekend with Alex, hanging out in Dallas eating Tex-Mex, watching Tell No One at the Angelika (that will be another post in which I mention how mature I am for being able to re-visit that hellhole with zero, or very little, animosity) and sleeping very soundly at the Fairmont Hotel (very nice hotel, but the room was positively littered with upselling--want a SNICKERS? want an EVIAN?? MINIBAR!! $15 for WIFI! Suck my balls, Fairmont). We spent way too much on room service and fell asleep watching Dr. Who (yummy Christopher Eccleston Dr. Who), good times.

Speaking of shamelessness and hotties, for no good reason other than he sounds like Christopher Eccleston, here is the link to Brian Cox and his discussion of the world's biggest supercollider. Had I been lectured by someone like this years ago, well fuck. That could have nearly been a career change. Yum.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of Trainspotting, which I have not seen in about five years (due to far too many viewings in the first place), and he just entered the "worst toilet in Scotland."

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Well, it looks like I finally found someone who likes to play as rough as I do.

I have the tickets, baby! Alex and I are headed down late Monday afternoon. I am SO FUCKING EXCITED. I owe my friend J an infinite debt of gratitude, as he was the one who stumbled upon the screening and, for some strange reason, thought of me. Hee hee.

I would have a drink to calm down beforehand, but I think it might just have the opposite effect.

I am hoping they have an actual print, but that is nearly too much to hope for. It might just be the DVD. But fuck me, if it's an actual print...that would be just too gorgeous for words.

It's ok. I'm fine. Really. *cough*


Besides, what sort of Ellen Aim would I be if I did not attend? Sheesh!


Anyhoo. Looking forward to this weekend, as Alex and I will be running around Dallas doing whatever the hell sounds good.

Hopefully I will behave on my diet, because my pants are starting to fit again! I got on a pair of cute capris this morning and I didn't have to lie down or struggle or anything! Woo hoo!!

Oh, and last night was lots of fun--D and I met up with Mob, the wife K and the good friend Morris (who you may recall from past shenanigans). We met up with them at their hotel, the Palomar, and all ate dinner at Houston's.

Now, the first time I ate there, I was somewhat unimpressed, though I wanted to like it. This time? I stopped myself from licking the plate. Center-cut filet with glazed carrots and a nice Malbec to wash it down. The food was nearly as good as the conversation...

I was telling Morris and K about The Savage Lovecast and what I had learned from it recently (don't ask), when D and Mob asked what we were talking about. I said simply that we were discussing a podcast, but really we'd already moved on to how anyone might ever desire something as painful and involved as fisting (stolen from Skyler'sDad's site!). (I'm not sure what Morris had to say on the subject, but some things are better left unknown.) K, who delightfully has no concerns about mincing words, asked her husband from across the table--in a voice that carries even more clearly than my own (seriously!), "I mean really, sweetie, do you have any desire to ever fist my asshole?"

And I've also decided that I need to make up random stories about random friends I don't know. On the ride over, someone mentioned having had chicken cordon bleu for lunch. Morris replied, "You know, chicken cordon bleu always reminds me of Tommy Hannigan," (no idea what the real name was), "He always said the chicken cordon bleu was the worst part of rehab."

It's those colorful little stories that can really make the evening. And since these stories don't seem to happen to me, by god, it's time to just start making them up!

Listen, shithead, you give him some of your money, or I'll give him some of your money.

I honestly can't recall the last time I was ever so excited about something. Twenty-four years later, and I finally get to see it on the big screen.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

My log has something to tell you.

Goodness, I was SO productive today. I did not study any of my LSAT stuff (today can be my day off from it, I suppose), nor did I send off feelers for my letters of recommendation (though in fairness I kinda want to get my transcripts first because for the life of me, I have no idea what my final GPA was) and instead of emailing my lawyer friend questions about getting into law school, he and I emailed about how BSG 4 is now available for download from iTunes. Where would I be without him? (Seriously, I JUST checked iTunes for it the other day and NOTHING, so what a lifesaver!)

Priorities, dude.

As I was telling another friend of mine, though, I think I'm going to stop ranting and raving so much about law school. That way when I'm dealing with my inevitable failure the honest way, you know, with a bottle of Grey Goose under the table, it will be less humiliating on my own than having to post about it here. About how no one loves or wants me. Though once the Goose is gone, it would no doubt make for an entertaining post.

But because so little else is going on in my life, I will write about it today because I feel like it. I think Austin is still my best bet, especially as a Texas resident (sigh). Plus who doesn't love Austin? (Aside from you, Mob, you total weirdo.)

I saw a recommendation to apply to at least 8 schools, as sometimes it doesn't matter how awesome you are, you will get turned down for one reason or another. As I have two best friends who currently attend or just finished at both Yale and Columbia and yet were turned down by lesser schools, I know this is true. So I sent my dad a list of my 8 and it was pretty laughable, as they all cost like 40K+ and it may have read something like Chicago, Berkeley, Cornell, UT Austin, Georgetown...

Because if I'm going down in debt, by god I'm going down serious and in style.

I'm ready to nix Berkeley, because who the FUCK can afford to live in San Fran? And I might kill myself from lack of society in a place like Ithaca, NY (Cornell)...though you might argue that a person in law school isn't going to be having much of a social life anyway. An enormous highlight there, however, would be its proximity to Vermont. (Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetness).

Plus, I like saying "Cornell," because it sounds snobby and reminds me of a Commodore 64 game we used to play called Moonmist. Ok, so maybe the mystery was set in Cornwall and that's the only reason, but ask me if I care. It would be a PRETTY place to study. That's a good reason to go, right? Shit, it basically says as much on their site: LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION. Seriously, that's one of their biggest arguments.

More importantly, you know your deep-dish four-cheese pizza is good when you pull a forkfull back and a stray piece of cheese flies from the pile and flings itself against your laptop screen. There are good battle scars.

Monday, September 15, 2008

I believe global warming is just God hugging us closer.

Thanks, Alex, I missed this one! This is fucking hysterical like I haven't seen SNL do in ages. I guess it helps when there's an abundance of material...

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Maybe I want to be sterile.

So I was taking a nap this morning when someone rang the doorbell. I never answer the door, so I stayed where I was. They then proceeded to knock (kinda hard) twice, but I still didn't move. I knew where both my cats were (Bourdain at that moment was tear-assing for the closet and I had just seen Mouche, so I wasn't terribly worried about them having gotten out) and being Sunday, it wasn't anything for me.

Eventually I got up and got on the computer, only to have someone knock again. Due to the storms yesterday, I could only assume it might be related, so I thought fuck it, I'll answer. But there was no one there. Now, there is a large window right by the front porch that basically lets me watch people enter and exit my porch without them seeing me. So when the bell rang again, I watched, expecting to see the two boys from next door dicking around.

However, I saw two young girls, both in pretty dresses. And they didn't run away, infact they hung out in my porch for quite a bit. So I answered the door--and they didn't run off. Infact, as a one-day potential (though not if I can help it) mother, this meeting scared the shit out of me. The two girls were about eight years old, with nice names I cannot recall for the life of me. Seriously, like Azalea and Celeste, who the fuck knows. So they're just standing there and I'm all, uh, can I help you?

I have never seen small girls in this cul-de-sac, so it was already weird. They immediately said hi and that they do this all the time, just going around to say hi (wtf! I know it's a cul-de-sac and we're all friendly here, but I've been living here two years). They were also curious about my house because they thought it must be haunted. (Ah, yes, I'm getting that witch reputation already, good times.)

Apparently, the echo the porch creates made one of them think it was haunted and the appearance of a stone slab near the door (being used due to the storm yesterday) was a trap. Seriously, don't ask. But she asked, "It wasn't there yesterday, right?" So I'm immediately torn between two thoughts: on the one hand, I miss the imagination of being 8 and thinking a stone slab on the ground in such a position is clearly a trap. On the other, how the fuck often are you inside my porch that you know the position of what's inside?

But I explained that while I did infact own a black cat, the house was not haunted. So then the girl who lives around here was incredibly forward, stepping right up near the door (I had the door pulled up to me, they couldn't really see in) and asking if she could see him! I said no, the doorbell scares him away. She then asked if I could go get him. Bitch, please. I want to invite torment on my baby like I want you ringing my doorbell for five solid hours. I mean, they were perfectly nice girls, but Mouche would shit. (I simply said no.)

Another reason the house didn't sit with them, apparently, was that there were never any cars there. "We park in the garage," I explained. And they both got this look on their faces like, "Ohhhh yeaaaahh..." And one of them said theirs was full of stuff. Yes, I deduced as much. I never see this girl around, and it's a tiny street, so I don't know when she's doing all this stalking, but whatev.

I got rid of them and started to work again, only to be interrupted less than three minutes later. I was going to ignore them, as I have no desire to be an asshole, but 5-10 solid minutes of door knocking and bell ringing later (I have far less of a problem with the much-too-forwardness of meeting the neighbors than I do the TOTAL lack of manners in harassing someone not wanting to entertain you), I went back to the door. (There is no way I'll be seeing either of my cats for the rest of the day today.)

Somewhere in between them handing me yesterday's mail (this explains our great mystery of how one day last week our mail ended up in our porch) and one of them showing me the snail she found, I explained that I was working and the bell ringing is really the most annoying-fuck thing ever (maybe not those words) so they cannot do that.

You know, it's nice to be assertive and have a personality, but Jesus fucking Christ, where the ever-loving-fuck are your goddamn parents? What. The. Fuck. It may be time to start locking the screen door...

Friday, September 12, 2008

Relax, would you? We have seventy dollars and a pair of girls underpants. We're safe as kittens.

Holy balls, dude! One of my actor friends, Jennifer Sipes, is in an upcoming Terrence Malick film, The Tree of Life, **AND** will be in the new Oliver Stone flick, W! I am so proud and thrilled for her! She is a genuinely neat person--plus she's gorgeous and smart, so it's no surprise that she may be finally getting somewhere.

I shot several rolls for her headshots many years back in Turtle Creek, one of which can be viewed here! She was such an easy subject, she couldn't be more photogenic.

Most of her films lately have been horror films, with tag lines like, "How do you kill it? How do you kill it forever?" And that is still totally bitchin', because it's way the fuck more work than I could ever get, but I am just so delighted to see her in these fucking incredible (hopefully) movies. Hooray!

Alrght, this seems like an opportune moment to pick it up a little. Here's one for the kid in the back...

I always thought this was about adoption, but there's no reason it can't also be about abortion...I guess the former is a little more cheerful, no?

Maybe the sun won't come up tomorrow if you wash your hair.

I didn't mean to be insensitive by not mentioning 9/11, btw. For what it's worth, this blog entry will show up on 9/12, which is the day that I really experienced 9/11, since I was living in Japan. It was Louisa's birthday (my Liverpudlian friend) and it was the first day I didn't go into work, as I didn't want to listen to the other Westerners. As it turned out, they were decent at first. AT FIRST.

Anyhoo. Here's what I posted last year. Since the same 2 people read this in addition to my family, I am sure they read it last year and don't need me to repeat it this year. Utterly profound, especially how I segue from 9/11 to my having learned what "69" meant. Class, that's me.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Harry, I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.

Considering the impending ass-pounder of a storm this weekend, I'm breaking out the Twin Peaks golden box set. I bow down before it.

My sister and I were going to hit downtown Dallas for the weekend, even staying at the Fairmont. But with Ike looking the way it is--potential level 3 hurricane, winds around 50-70 mph--well, it might kinda wreck the point of going. On the map, it seems to be missing Fort Worth, so let's hope it kinda stays that way. (Fuck Dallas...)

So now I'm going to get a whole bunch of cherry pie, coffee, doughnuts and blow for my marathon. (Just kidding. Cherry pie and doughnuts aren't on my diet.)

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Yes. Yes. I'm George, George McFly. I'm your density. I mean... your destiny.

It's a slightly different one. And again, serves no purpose here whatsoever except to make my day nicer.

What a day. I am both cheating on my diet (or about to, but I've already made up my mind) and not looking at my LSAT prep book. It's just sitting there on the seat next to me, under my bag. And you know, it's probably going to stay there. It has been kind of an off day for me and I was basically just ruining a perfectly good practice test by vomiting stupidity all over it.

So I'm drinking wine and reading my blogroll instead. LOVED Dooce's post today. I snorted at one point.

I'm cheating by eating pizza, by the way. But since I can justify nearly anything under the sun, I will say that cheating once a week is not a big deal. See? Easy and now I feel most excellent. Bad, unforgivable cheating would be if I got dessert, too, as they have this oh-so-wicked chocolate peanut butter cup number--I mean, it takes up the whole goddamn plate--that is so good I almost growl while I'm sharing it with my significant other when his spoon gets too close to mine.

My life revolves around bread, how the fuck will I ever keep this up?!!? *Trudges on.*

The weather is still gorgeous and cool. It kinda sucks because it has both a soporific and depressing effect if you let it, but I also really love it. Conflicted!

Ok, my husband just joined me so I should pay attention to him now!

And I'd like to dedicate it to a young man who doesn't think he's seen anything good today - Cameron Frye, this one's for you.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

This is insane...just the way I like it!

Started my Pink Panther box set last night (animated PP, not Clouseau)...damn that's good stuff.

(While I do infact own this teapot, this one is not actually mine.)

And so far I have seen several I've never seen before...I can't help but notice that he smokes in the ones I've never seen, so I'm curious if that's why...but what great fucking stuff. There are very few cartoons, if any, that I would actively sit down and watch these days, but the Pink Panther is certainly one of them.

Despite the years that have gone by, it is still artistic and intelligent--it still feels creative. D and I remarked on the lack of an established "set"--so often the action takes place on a loosely drawn "blank slate" with merely a door or whatever serves the plot's (for lack of a better word) purpose. It gives it an abstract feel that suits it beautifully.

And you know, the Panther can be kind of a shit sometimes. But unlike Tom & Jerry, which irritated me no end as a child (though I continued to watch), it never bothered me here. He's not always a shit, but even when he's antagonizing someone for no good reason, or getting away with shit he shouldn't, I really didn't object. I guess that was also a good aspect of it--sometimes he got away with it, sometimes he got totally shat on. And violence--though it had its fair share to be sure (where would we be without sex and violence, after all?)--was not essential to each story.

So I'm really enjoying revisiting (and in some cases, discovering for the first time!) these episodes. But anyhoo, I'm pretty sure that's way too much about the Pink Panther. I feel like Josh at the end of The Last Days of Disco delivering his diatribe about disco and then explaining that, though he does mostly believe what he was ranting about, he was really just prepping for his job interview that day.

On a completely different note (watch how I talk about cartoons and then proceed to judge a Top 20 educational institution), I know I'm a snob. (I mean, how many times can I reference Whit Stillman, anyway? Stay tuned.) One of the reasons I quite enjoy Lost In Translation is that I can identify with Charlotte, particularly when she explains to Bob (about her husband), "He thinks I'm so snobby." And how sad is it that I'm looking at the rankings for law schools, and I was looking at Vanderbilt's site (they're #15), only to find:

The school receives nearly 4,000 applications in a typical year, granting admission to less than 1,000 applicants, approximately 200 of which will form the next year’s entering class.

And the bad grammar really shouldn't deter me ("less" as opposed to "fewer"), but it does. I am certainly full of bad grammar and spelling mistakes myself, don't get me wrong, but considering how much money I'm going to have to shell out, well, I just think their website should have proper grammar. Sigh.

By the by, this moment is so great that I'd cheat on that other moment from before, marry this one, and raise a family of tiny little moments.

The weather outside is unreal. So cool and nice...if there is a place in the world where it's like this all the time, yeah, that's where I need to live. The rain is nice, but it's the cooooooooool I'm in love with.

Someone at work started playing 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover at random, and you know, today is just a really great day for Paul Simon. (I mean, every day is a great day to listen to Paul Simon, but combined with the weather? Jesus, I just want to sit outside and smoke a cigar now. With red wine, of course. Don't tell my diet.)

I love this moment so much I want to have sex with it.

So I finished my first practice LSAT.

What does this image have to do with anything? Nothing, absofuckinglutely nothing. I just felt like it. And I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned my favorite local hottie just because all the shows are in repeat right now. Submit!

Anyhoo. Hmm. I got a 160, which is decent, but apparently I need to shoot for more along the lines of 171 on up. I haven't been in school in ages, my jobs since then don't really reflect someone who plans on going to law school and I have hardly any extracurricular/community activities worth mentioning (and um, read: none). So boning up on this test might be a good idea. The internets tell me:

Let's start with the possibilities: every tester will score between 120-180 on the LSAT. 75% of all testers score between 140-160; half of the remainder score below that range, and half score above it.

If you score higher than 150, you will probably be accepted to a law school somewhere.
(For the record, I love this sentence. "Somewhere." So depressing and yet, I'm sure quite accurate.) For example, many state law schools have a student body with average LSAT scores in the low 150s. If you score 160 or higher, you'll be considered a good candidate almost anywhere and you may become eligible for scholarships. To be a competitive candidate for admission into the very top law schools in the US, you'll want to aim for a score of 165 or higher.

So. I went to Borders and Central Market after work, stopping at the first for a Practice LSAT book. The girl checking me out asked, "So, are you about to take the SATs?" and I found that it was impossible to say, "Actually, it's the LSAT, it's for law school," without sounding like a total douchebag snob. So I laughed and followed it up with, "I wish I was young enough to be taking the SATs!" Because let's stop a moment and consider--do I really look like I'm in high school? If so, fuck yeah. But I doubt it. She also forgot to give me change and I had to remind her, so I just assume she was five minutes from the end of her shift or something.

Then off to CM, where I spent seventy-goddamn-dollars but it was worth it. I love that place. If you could have sex with a place...ok, sorry, awkward. Anyhoo. And really, it was nearly all veggies...ok, so there was $12 worth of fish, a $13 bottle of wine a stranger recommended (I pointed her in the direction of a nice muscat) and about $11 worth of chicken wings, which are roasting on the grill outside as I type. They are getting a nice peanut Thai sauce, which technically falls outside the range of my diet, as there is undoubtedly some sugar in there. But I can live with tiny amounts. It's not really a big cheat, right? Right??

Anyhoo. Also learned how to chop up chicken wings. Kinda fun and therapeutic, really. Also good practice if anyone ever gets handcuffed, the keys get lost and I have to take an ax to the chain between their wrists. I'm saying they've got a 50% chance right about now...and that's after this practice of whacking at chicken bones.

Off to bed...gorgeous weather finally, this evening. Thunderstorms started around 5 and it has been piddling rain all evening (with a considerate interlude for grilling, ta). But it's so nice to be able to drive with the windows down...if only it would stay this cool. (During the day it has been getting up to 95 again). For the record, I still do recommend the latest White Stripes album, Icky Thump, for highway windows-down driving. Good times, bitchin' tunes.

Monday, September 08, 2008

The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care.

And such is work. I just wish I was busy all the time. Because when I'm not busy here, it's kinda hard to motivate myself to do my uh, you know, "other work" that one may or may not surreptitiously do on one's computer. This blog does not count as "work," btw. This would be "goofing off" or at best, a "frivolous exercise in writing."

I finished all the available BSG this weekend and now must rely on Tivo to fish the remaining ten episodes from season 4 that are just floating around out there. And naturally, this week they are showing episode 4.2. Of course.

Anyhoo. I started a practice LSAT and wow. It's uh, kinda kicking my ass. Well, the first section did. The second section was pretty easy. The first section...well, there were just so many choices that I thought were perfectly viable. Apparently not. (Otherwise it wouldn't be multiple choice, would it?) I'll take it home and get my dad to try to make me see the error of my ways...good times, he'll be thrilled.

Two more sections left and I know it's going to involve logic. So I had to stop and eat lunch. And jeez, don't get me started on lunch. I'm trying to (loosely) follow my sister's candida diet. I basically want to cut carbs and sugar from my diet to see if I can maybe fit into my pants again someday. So far so good, but knowing how I feel about food (namely carbs and sugar, fuck!)...goddamn, this will be harder than any LSAT I could ever take.

Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs and mixed berry yogurt, and now I'm eating baby carrots, spinach salad and vanilla yogurt. The funny thing is, the carrots actually taste pretty bitchin'. Like it might actually quell the desire to eat real food. (Just kidding, mommy, bunny food is real food, yeah yeah...)

Maybe it will get busy and I won't have to do the logic part of test? (Right, because avoidance is a GREAT tactic.)

I just overheard someone walking by, saying, "I know I'm not the smartest tool in the shed..." And you know, I hope it was on purpose. (As opposed to "sharpest.") But either way, I think I'm stealing it.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Kara Thrace and Her Special Destiny? Yeah, sounds like a bad cover band, Sam.

Not a bad weekend, really. I'm still taking my voice lessons...I've been (badly and slowly) relearning a little piano on the side, so I'm tempted to stay with it just a little while longer, if for no other reason than it makes me practice. The lessons do still grate a bit, since I feel like I'm singing for an audience of one with no real criticism or suggestion. Grrr.

Also got most of Scrubs season 4 knocked out...disc 2 ended on kind of a downer, sheesh. But great show, Dr. Cox will always be my hero...I would love to be able to say half the shit he says to people...or at least just the annoying ass-twats who deserve it.

Anyhoo. Also got an email from my friend Sonia who sent me her husband Parker's short story...and it was surprisingly good! (Not that I would think it wouldn't be, but you know that feeling of sitting down to read someone's writing and really hoping it doesn't suck, right?) It was nice to read a short story that wasn't full of pop-culture winks and nods or wasn't embarrassingly veiled in a thin veneer of self-referencing BS. I've read a lot of that. I've probably also written a lot of that. Anyway, I really liked it. She said it's pending publication, but they said the pending part seemed to be taking a little too long. I hope they come through!

And thank you so much, Veloute, for this, Star Trek + Nine Inch Nails = Closer. As she put it, "Oh so wrong, but oh so right." I fucking died.

Awesome. And speaking of awesome, my dad sent me another great Sarah Palin link...there was a blurb on NPR about this letter making the rounds on the internet. It was written by Anne Kilkenny, a woman from Wasilla, Alaska, who wrote it in response to all her friends' questions about Palin. Great stuff.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Let's go get some of that Saturday night beaver.

Ghostbusters 3, anyone? Thanks, Alex! Hee hee.

And this is the lady I'm off to see at the end of October! I first ran across Dar Williams when I worked for Austin City Limits...I sat in on the show rather than work that night to get an idea of what went on. It was a double bill, if memory serves, and I also had to fucking sit through Brad Paisley. But whatever, it was so worth it. And this was the first song of hers I totally fell in love with...it was a song she wrote about discovering the joy of public radio...

I had one of my monthly massages tonight...actually I got behind last month so I have two saved up for this month. I had a guy for the first time (you can't be picky when you call and want a session 15 minutes later), and though I usually specify female, I truly don't care about the gender of my masseuse. Anyhoo, it was incredible and helped make a somewhat crappy week go away. Although he didn't massage my scalp as much as I wanted, he did do this bizarre thing where he pulled chunks of my hair one at a time during it. All I could think of was my friend J and how his special lady friend loves to have her hair pulled so hard during sex she'll have a headache the next day and like it.

And I managed not to giggle.

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Men say that. They all say that. Then they cum.

I'm surprised to have to say this, but I was pretty disappointed by the Charlie Huston book I recently read, The Shotgun Rule. I really enjoyed Already Dead, but this was...dull. And there was something really wrong with the edition I had--the last fifth of the book or so had the last word missing from much of the dialogue. It was truly bizarre and I wrestled with my sanity.

On the other hand, I really enjoyed The Last Lecture, which wasn't nearly as depressing as I imagined.

I think reading it was almost preferable to watching it online, though I'm sure both are enjoyable. It just seemed to have more material, including a few stories about his wife that he would have been too emotional to speak about. (FYI, the book was written by Randy Pausch, a computer science professor from Carnegie Mellon who had pancreatic cancer.) The link goes to his website, where the lecture can be viewed. Obviously, it's fairly moving and interesting material. I highly recommend it, it can certainly help put things in perspective...

The most recent book I read was called Boy Proof, and I can't recall for the life of me where I read about it.

It was kinda cute, and was basically written for nerdy girls. (The main character is a girl in high school who renames herself and dresses like her favorite character from a science fiction movie. I'm cool with that, but a white cloak, really? That would have gotten so dirty...anyhoo.) It was a little too neat and trim with its ending but still made for an okay one-sitting fluff read.

I just picked up Up in the Air, which I expect will make my skin crawl from having worked in that particular department of the airline industry.

Also, another James Ellroy--though this one, My Dark Places, is his memoir about his mother's murder when he was 10 and his search behind his obsession with violence against women (think Bud White, I guess).

And lastly, a book I've been curious about, Fierce People, which promises to be twisted and offbeat. (It was also supposed to be a film, directed by Griffin Dunne and starring Diane Lane...I think it finally sputtered out onto DVD, it probably blows donkey balls, but I'll watch it anyway...siiiiiigh).

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

A world of no.

On the one hand, I feel old trying to work the new version of Microsoft Word that came on my laptop. It has to be THE most un-user friendly version ever; it is actively working to hinder my abilities. Everything is straightforward except how to, oh I don’t know, OPEN A NEW DOCUMENT OR EVEN SAVE ONE. Jesus.

On my way hipper side, I’m watching the RNC in HD. Oooooooooooh. I mean, they aren’t broadcasting in HD, but that just means the ratio is 1:33 on my HDTV and the image is BITCHIN. If only I could say the same for the content. They have a big clock on the screen counting down to Palin’s speech. In all fairness, who really cares what the fuck Mitt Romney has to say? Huckabee will, at least, be vaguely personable.

I take it back. I was just talking over him (Romney) to ask my husband what other aspect of Definitely, Maybe merited discussion in a critique. While discussing the actresses, he asked me, “Did you notice that the brand of cigarettes Ryan Reynolds smoked in the movie was the same brand they use in The X-Files?” to which I found myself replying, “Wait, honey, I can’t hear Mitt Romney.” Luckily, he also knows I’m just giving him shit.

God this shit is hard to listen to. DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP HUUUUUUUUUURTING. This is why I’m trying to do film critiques at the same time. But then I hear some shit and it totally makes me yell at the TV. I usually reserve my TV-yelling for the Oscars and the actual presidential debates. Omfg. Well, and maybe there’s some tense squealing during Olympic gymnastics…

They’re all chanting, “USA! USA! USA!” but all I hear is “One of us! One of us! One of us!” from Freaks.

Oh my GOD, did you know Obama brought back “EUROPEAN IDEAS?” from his trip and he’s going to make the government take away our liberties? Thank god Huckabee is here to warn us. OMFG he’s giving Obama the silver spoon shit…you have got to be fucking kidding me. HAVE YOU LOOKED AT YOUR PARTY’S GODDAMN CANDIDATE, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?!?!!? Oh man, now he’s ranting about being pro-life, the real meaning of “marriage”…fuck this, I’m off to the kitchen to fix dinner. I can’t take this.

Fuck. And that goddamn desk story? I wish I hadn’t heard that. He’s fun to watch, so I felt compelled to hear how it turned out, and it’s like when you sense you should dread the end of the story…like someone’s about to tell you about the righteous path of Jesus or about how “the gays” are the reason we have AIDS…you just smell it coming…and sure enough, I had to fight the chunks back down.

So Veloute sent me a Sarah Palin pic this morning and warned it may be NSFW. I think it has been on the news and made it around the blogosphere by now...along with the chanting defense of, "Photoshop!" and you know what? Even if it is, the fact that this pic is totally plausible is scary enough right there. It comes from www.kunstler.com, who writes,

Meet America's first trailer-trash vice-presidential candidate:
Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska ("the state closest to Russia!" )--

soon-to-be grandmother of out-of-wedlock child carried by 17-year-old daughter, Bristol. Shown here relaxing, Alaska-style.

This would be funny if it didn't scare and depress me all at once.

For the real laughs, if anyone missed it from the comments section yesterday, Alex sent me a gem from Wonkette, the Republican M4M ads from Minneapolis/St Paul...the pièce de résistance being:

I’m looking for a Republican delegate to take for a ride like Bush & Co. have been doing to our country since they took office.

Here’s the scene: I come to your hotel room, you’re wearing nothing but your convention credentials. You blow me while I berate you for ruining our economy. Then I flip you over and slam your ass like Hurricane Gustav is gonna do to your news coverage. Then I pull out and cum on your face and you learn the real meaning of Trickle Down Theory.

ME: 6′4″, 220, Blonde & Blue, hairy, with a 9″ uncut viking cock

YOU: Pig Bottom Republican

There were LOTS of mentions of "pig bottom Republicans," to which one commenter finally said, "I don't even want to know what a 'pig bottom' Republican is." Nor do I.

Honestly, all that nightmare material (mostly the Palin pic and the various speeches) and I go and have a totally different sort of nightmare. There was this giant pregnancy test, and while I don't recall peeing on it, I do recall it coming up with two big fat lines on it that meant pregnant. It was huge.

I think it had to do with the fact that while at work yesterday, someone had Oprah on the TV in the break room (don't get me started) and there was this woman on who'd had sextuplets and twins and they had all the kids climbing all over the place. I held up my hand and said, "Holy jesus, I think I just went sterile!"

It was a terrible nightmare. I had to wake up and down a beer.

So, how long have you been using the Republican Party as a lesbian dating service?

Is it weird that I'll probably end up having watched more of the RNC than the DNC? Just keepin' an eye on 'em. After all, it was totally awesome to see the Co-Chairman completely fuck up Sarah Palin's name and not seem to realize it. But I am curious to see Palin's speech tonight, I admit it.

I still think it was a mistake, but it's funny to read other people's writing on the issue, as they tend to go from one extreme to the other. Hey, we'll see how it works out.

Also, I caught the latest New Rules online, it was fucking great...

In way more important news, it's that time of year again! Yup, the only way we know it's fall down here...the return of the Pumpkin Spice Latte! (Thanks, Alex!)

Oh, baby, baby...

And it just so wonderfully coincided with Bitchin' Weather Day, meaning the high today was 80. Like, for reals. I have all the windows and doors open. I never know who's more orgasmic, me or my cat.

Monday, September 01, 2008

Well, I guess when I'm your age, I'll forget what I eat, too.

Movie Trading Company had their little buy-3-get-1-free sale this past week, resulting in the happy purchase of No Country For Old Men, The Sure Thing, Speed and Tremors.

What a classic! Still cracks me up, love it. But so far, only previewed The Sure Thing, and oh boy, it has been more than a few years. Still very cute and enjoyable. It's funny--the one 80s John Cusack movie I never saw was Better Off Dead, and though D and our roommate Rob insisted it was hysterical, I wanted to brain myself rather than finish that movie. It was so not funny. It was painful. And on the flip side, D has never seen The Sure Thing. So I'm curious if he'll feel the same way--like without nostalgia, it just won't have anything going for it.

But I quite like Daphne Zuniga in it...

plus it has a ton of young now-famous people (it even totes the credit "And Introducing Nicolette Sheridan"), like Anthony Edwards with all his hair!

And while we're trotting out shameful 80s movies, I also ran across The Secret of My Success on cable, which I had not seen in eons....and you know what? It wasn't anywhere near as bad as I recalled; I think I was more embarrassed by it at the age of ten than I am now.

Ok, except that scene. And though I didn't see the ending this time, if memory serves I think that may have been kinda painful, too. But really, it actually had some cute moments. I mean, it could never have been more unrealistic, and there was this bitchin' 80s-music makeout scene, but it was kinda fun. And talk about good actresses just not seeming to get enough work these days...

(I actually really like her, I just couldn't resist that picture). And in all fairness, Helen Slater does seem to be getting plenty of TV work (not unlike Ms. Zuniga, so it seems).