Gads, how in the hell am I going to be able to get through work after this? "I'm going to Japan," will get me through nearly any workday. But afterwards...Jon Stewart and The Daily Show are kinda far away...August...shit, then it'll be time to get Halloween outfits and figure out how not to work on Christmas Eve.
I'm a little sad not to be able to meet up with one of my good Liverpudlian friends in Tokyo; her good friend she's known from the age of three has recently started kidney dialysis and it has been a tense time. I'm not sure the outlook is good. She says she won't be good company and often sits at home by the phone or talks to her friend's daughter and ends up crying. I may run into her while I'm meeting up with my Harry Potter Japanese ladies (look, I used to teach it at the school, it was offered to me and yes, it was actually lots of fun), and I told her I'd bring her a bottle of wine. Cause wine and crying all alone in your apartment go so well together, right? I feel bad not to be able to do more.
Hmm. Not much else to add about today, gosh. Kinda of a one-note downer today...
Oooh, wait! Stop the presses!!
Finally out last Tuesday, seasons three AND four. Sweet. It's going to be so awful.
And best of all, my government loves me. They gave us our refund, snuggled all tightly in my little credit union piggy bank. Clearly they want me to do my part for Japan's economy.
Looking forward to hitting the usual suspects, like the Tsukiji Fish Market...
...and maybe all the cherry blossoms aren't gone yet.
Otherwise, work at the cookie factory has been ok lately. Except in very Office Space fashion I do seem to have about eight (ok, three) people over me. The peon of the bunch is my favorite, he is just the greasiest fucker. It's been years since I worked with someone who wore their modicum of authority with so much relish. It cracks me up. He was the one I had to speak with in regards to getting my shifts covered and he was a bit of a dick about it until my supervisor put him in his place. Then, I shit you not, I got an email with "Due to the fact that you made your trainers aware of your time off prior to your being hired, I am going to help you on this." Aw jeez, really? Thanks man, and here I was all about to get my knees dirty. What a douche.
Even better: "This means you will need to make up 24 hours for your time away on 3/30, 3/31, 4/1 and 4/2." And no, I don't work mini-shifts in case you're wondering, greasetrap just can't work his math. I assume I need to make up 32 hours. But hey, the big end of the times table can be a bitch, I understand.
Sorry, I'm really quite pleasant in person but every once in a while one person just really rubs me the wrong way. (And yes, I'm still nice to this person, but I can't help thinking dick every time I pass him in the halls while I try not to visibly shudder).
David Lynch is in the same city as I am right this very moment.
Honestly, the former is way creepier. The writing is fantastic and the shock element, the "out of the blue" aspect of the crime is very well depicted. The second is utterly depressing. I do find it very interesting because I've learned much more about Damien Echols' past than was ever depicted in the Paradise Lost films. Inasmuch as I want to be on the side of the wrongly accused, I find it difficult to put too much faith in documentaries. And really, it's a shame not to shed light on his checkered past considering what a terribly botched case it appears to be.
But In Cold Blood is much creepier to me. The whole West Memphis Three thing...don't get me wrong, the people in that little town scare the fuck out of me. But I hardly forsee my having to worry about running into them.
Don't worry, I also checked out the newest Amy Tan to balance things out.
Overheard from last night's Simpsons episode D was watching. (Speaking of which, damn! How good has South Park been lately??) The "Naggers" episode was shocking enough, but the latest, "Cartman Sucks," is definitely one of the best. It's all about "praying the gay away."
Anyway, I know, I'm lame. But it was a busy weekend! I had to work on Saturday, which I've gotten used to not doing.
Otherwise, the weekend went fairly well. D had a very nice birthday. Aside from the giant pet food recall due to sickness (only one woman called incredibly distraught), D's workday on his birthday wasn't too bad. We went, per his wishes, to the Studio Movie Grill to see Dead Silence. Oh my god did it suck. I was drinking and it was still not quite a oncer. Sadly, they had it in the smallest house and it was selling out. It was basically a thirty-minute movie stretched into a 90 minute feature. But it made him happy. I'm sure we'll see something equally shit for my birthday--my day falls exactly one week before the 4th of July, meaning I get all the big summer "hits." This year it would seem to be a Live Free or Die Hard birthday.
Our old roommate Rob came as well, along with his newish girlfriend Katie (the one we knew he liked because he wouldn't fart in front of her just yet...I'm sure he's long since grown comfortable enough to do so). LOVE Katie. He finally got one right. She is really, really cool. It was so foreign to me to be able to make offhand references to chick movies (you know, good ones) and have someone in the room get it.
[Editor's Note: Make that "someone who isn't related to me."]
And...Rob brought over his Wii. Both times he said, "We brought the Wii," I had to remind myself he wasn't saying, "I brought the weed." LOVE the Wii. So much fun. I usually do not partake of the gaming because I'm just so far behind the times it takes me ages to learn how to even use the damn controller, whereas everyone else has been playing the shit out of their XBox-what-have-you for huge chunks of their life. However. Wii is so new and it's a new controller and so we were all sort of on the same page. I totally kicked some Tiger Woods ass, not to mention pull off a fairly decent bowling score. I'm not saying I need to own one (I barely get to spend time with my gay Sim), but Rob can bring that over anytime. (And no, the controller did not go flying into the TV as some people have accidentally done).
Ooh, and earlier that day I happened to have an interesting conversation at work. Not someone necessarily famous, but relevant to me personally. I spoke with the guy who co-founded the arthouse theatre in which I used to work and in which I met my husband. (He hasn't been part of the company in many years, since it's been re-sold amongst different companies). We spoke at length about the current state of the theatre, his current projects (the Teluride Film Festival), etc. And upon looking him up, I found the bitchin' theatre he runs.
In 2005 those bastards had a Louis Malle festival!! A goddamn bona fide 18-film tribute! Dallas could never support that kind of culture fest. I drooled. This is exactly the sort of place D and I want to run. We're coming to terms with the fact that no arthouse theatre does strictly repertory films...even the Alamo Drafthouse shows first-runs. *sighs* Which hey, that's fine if we happen to live in a place that actually supports foreign or indie films. So...not Dallas.
And speaking of indie drooling, it looks like I may not get to meet Mr. David Lynch after all. The friend of a friend who was to secure passes is unable to do so due to the high demand. Which I suppose I should support (except I'm way selfish and therefore do not). Mr. Lynch specifically requested, however, that a second show be added (and I could get passes for that one). That feature, however, will not have a Q&A. Now, not to be a total child, but that is almost worse to me. That's like seeing a really awesome kitten in the window and going in to adopt it only to have someone else beat you to it. You can see the kitten, but you don't get to have the kitten. You don't even get to pet it. This may be the worst analogy ever. But you see my point. And at this point I think I'd rather just wait and enjoy Inland Empire on my own system than tolerate being inside the shitstain that is The Magnolia. Yes, even glimpsing the man would be cool (he will introduce it, after all), but I want the whole cake, baby.
On the upside of a completely different note, we're going to see a taping of The Daily Show!
I got tickets for us for our anniversary--and actually, not our wedding anniversary but the old one we used to celebrate, best known as the "Cannibal Holocaust Anniversary." So August 7th. If I'm still working at my current job, of course, as it obviously entails going to NYC. They had some for as early as April, but I figured we'd still be recovering financially from Japan. And perhaps you're thinking, "Hmm, The Daily Show? But you're always blathering on about The Colbert Report?" I know, but I adore The Daily Show almost as much (they certainly have more impressive guests, to be honest...after all, you don't have to be afraid on the damn Daily Show) and ok, Colbert is **impossible** to get tickets for. They won't even let people request tickets if they've seen the show in the past six months. And they won't even let you request tickets period because they're so overbooked. So yeah, I do check.
It's for the AFI Film Festival next week; she'll be here (so I understand) Thursday and Friday. (I will be unable to partake of greatness, I already sold my soul in order to get in on the Lynch action).
The film on Thursday has nothing to do with her, she's helping present an award alongside Sydney Pollack. Her film is on Friday. What is is? Why, one of the few existing prints of Dark Passage. And according to the guy who's cleaning it right now (my friend J), it's uncut. He'll have to cut it for the platter system. Hey, says I, she'll be there, I think it might be worth it. Ah, but when is it showing on Friday?
OW. I cleaned up the front lawn today, with the aid of my neighbors. These are really nice neighbors. Our yards connect and so they helped me clean up all the leaves (no, these are not from autumn, jeez. ok, well, mostly they're not. We have a giant looming tree that is running a little behind, apparently,) and we used their giant black bags when mine ran out. I have thirteen huge black bags by the curb now. And I am, it would seem, way the fuck out of shape. All those fried pickles probably don't help. Do alcoholic misanthropes just not take care of their yard? I guess if they are financially well off alcoholic misanthropes they pay someone else to do it? But it is all clean. Now if only I had money to put out pretty flowers. Ones that eat small children.
And I was happy to learn that the bushes in front of our house (the ones that weren't destroyed by the foundation repair people) do indeed match our street name. I think it's cute. The neighbors used to own some as well but had to rip them out for whatever reason. I got the backstory on the previous owner, his girlfriend (his wife died a few years back), how much he spent on various parts of the house, the fact that we almost didn't get a fridge out of the deal, and that had this happened a few years down the road, the kitchen would have been remodelled. Oh well!
All I know is that if if I lived here, I wouldn't have to worry about the yard. Or the carpet. Or people. Just, how is the next shipment of wine arriving? Thanks for the link, dad. I'll let you visit. If a wave doesn't destroy us. (Keep scrolling down to see inside my house).
My whole body aches. It's all I can do to lift the beer to my mouth.
So Alex came up this weekend. We sampled Americone Dream (yum), watched Wicker Park (how in holy fuck that happened...all three of us got through it, which is fairly impressive...god that was tripe) and D made us burgers on the newish grill which were fan-fucking-tastic.
Then Alex and I went to the Parks Mall today, and as you can see from the above photo, got distracted by really bad prom dresses. Really cheap (quality) and really impressive. And we both noticed that somehow most of the dresses ended up looking so much better in the photos than in real life. Weird. Plus I was in most of them and wow, someone doesn't photograph well. So you can just imagine them.
Then we hit Calloway's on the way home and I was very naughty. I got a little something for D I know he has always wanted...and it was supercool, we were both in awe.
Our new Nepenthes 'Gentle', a carnivorous pitcher plant. Or as Alex put it, as she poured out the milky contents of his pitchers, our Bukkake Plant.
He likes humidity, so he is going to live by the spa, and he especially likes bright light and rainwater (so he's in the perfect spot but can go outside if and when it ever freaking rains). Apparently in the more tropical regions, some of these guys can even eat lizards and (small??) rats.
Was supposed to go to a party tonight with co-workers but since they're nice but not really my crowd (two of the three I like had to miss out as well), well...the (apparently dominant) anti-social urge wins out once again! Hoorah!
Actually, THREE. My husband RULES. Albertsons RULES.
Today was "graduation" at work and they took us out to lunch and then we got to leave early. I wasn't even out of the GARAGE at work before my temperature light came on. I had to stare at it for a few minutes to even figure out what the fuck it was. D told me to drive home with the heater on. It's got to be a record high today of 80 degrees AS IT IS. Actually, it wasn't so bad. But seriously, it is 80 out. And the car didn't catch on fire or anything. And D went to the store and got me coolant (which he is putting in now, pleasepleaseplease let that be all it needs).
And he bought me THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AMERICONE DREAMS!!! It's YUM. I'm eating it NOW. I will put up pictures of me eating this damn-ass yummy ice cream.
Alex is coming up tonight. She can have a whole pint. No one can say we're not doing our part for this ice cream.
Fuck. D says it's not the coolant but our extremely handy neighbors happened to be out and he says it's either the thermostat or the water pump (which I had replaced a year ago so hmmm) or a one-time weird-o fuckup. They have a friend they can call who *knows* cars. Why can't I know someone who *knows* cars? I still have one more year to pay on this car, it has to last at least that long.
The highlight of my day may have been at 7:45am while crawling through traffic listening to All Songs Considered on Superfly Amadeus and usually it's a half-hour of show of great indie stuff. Well for some reason this episode was sucking. And I wasn't even in a bad mood. I noticed it had one song left and I almost moved on altogether but happily, I did not, because the last song was the brand new Fountains of Wayne song! I used to love their older stuff, recommended to me by my dad. Then a few years ago this song came on the radio I loathed and despised called, yup, "Stacey's Mom." They played the ever-living-shit out of it on the radio and I wanted blood, I tell you, that's how much they played it. I was ready to throw feces. And then one day I saw a new Fountains of Wayne CD in the store and looked at it and went, oops. But now that I do not listen to Dallas radio and some time has passed, I can not only listen to "Stacey's Mom," I actually find it bouncy and enjoyable. I used to think, you know, those lyrics are just a litle bit creepy. But I guess I got over it.
From NPR's site, you can listen to "Someone to Love". It's way bouncy and the ending made me laugh. It's not going where you think it's going. I'm glad I don't listen to radio anymore so when Clear Channel starts raping it like a drugged date I won't have to start hating it.
Work is going ok. I'm just choosing not to write about it, it can only end badly if I do. No real complaints just yet. Certainly nothing I can't go into without being way too specific.
More importantly, 20 days. (Til Japan).
Netfux didn't send me my stuff today. I think they are trying to tell me they want Running With Scissors back. I have had it for ages. Meh.
Dammit! Stephen Colbert finally addressed his ice cream on the show the other night (I suppose they put it off due to the fact they actually had Ben & Jerry on the show). And then? They gave every single person in the audience their own pint! Why wasn't I there? I blogged about it weeks ago, do I get one? I'll compromise--just agree to sell the shit in Texas and I'll let it go. (And after they announced that they were giving everyone a pint, they cut to the audience's reaction on Oprah when she gave everyone a car).
Don't try to work out what John Cusack has to do with this post. It was a random whim.
Then I attended a meeting around 4pm in which I did not need to participate so my brain completely shut off. I just got damn tired all of a sudden. Driving home on the most evil of all highways (I always thought it was LBJ but 360 has taught me otherwise. I hear rumors of 183 being even worse but praise the shred of sanity 360 has left me, hopefully I'll never have to know). Luckily it's still closer than my old (much missed--however lame it was amazing I got paid for what I was doing) job so even when I crawl home I still get home in 45 minutes at the worst instead of 1 hr 15 min at the worst.
Did I mention I've been a little spacey for the end of today?
So much so that as soon as traffic picked up, I got so excited I turned on my blinker and nearly exited at a completely random exit. Seriously. I have no fuckin' idea what made me try to exit. Luckily good sense (any sense at all really) kicked in and I turned off my blinker and pretended like nothing had happened.
D has been sick since yesterday, just headache/congestion/nausea (is that all?) but made it in today and had an interview for a promotion within, which it looks like he will be getting and a move to a bigger store--wait for it--closer to home!! No more Addison, woo hoo! (Not that I don't like Addison--they have my Flying Saucer with the GOOD pretzels. But it's so far). I'm so glad for once that they seem to realize how much work he really does. Most jobs don't notice or give two rat farts.
I'm listening to the latest Cinemaslave and it would seem Joe went to see Ghost Rider in eager anticipation of it being so abysmally awful it would be fun.
(Just look at him! When the hell did he get so goofy??)
Instead of transcending its own awfulness and thereby becoming a real gem, well, it sounds like it just sucked the balls of mediocrity. I know exactly what Joe's talking about--there's nothing worse than expecting something spectacularly putrid and getting a warm turd instead. Which is too bad because I was already having visions of pitchers of beer (it's at the Studio Movie Grill). Maybe if we go in after having already consumed a pitcher...
The Studio Grill also has Zodiac, which I admit I'm curious about. I couldn't help noticing, however, the christing 165 minute runtime!
Ok, time to throw wood on the fire for one of our last cold nights here in Texas. D won't be home til around 1am (stupid store) so I have to amuse myself tonight. So far it involves wrestling with the cat who fucking refuses to get out of my lap. It is a little chilly in here. I've kicked him off at least three times (it's awkward typing). He's got mad purring skills, though, so I've relented. His snuggling/burrowing skills aren't bad, either.
Hang on, judging from the sounds of the children outside, it would appear someone is tearing one of them limb from bloody limb. Ah. I think someone jammed a finger while playing basketball.
I had a moderately nice weekend, fairly uneventful, which I think is good. The days are nice and warm but the evenings are a little chilly. That was especially annoying last night since I was determined to use the grill. And D didn't get home (due to closing the store) til around 11. But since I have the patience of a small gerbil, well, we used the grill, didn't we? On the hugely plus side, what we were grilling was prime filet mignon from Central Market. Thought I should christen the grill properly. Actually, D did, so I kind of got out of the whole chilly-as-shit ordeal.
But I did make bearnaise sauce for the steak, which turned out nicely. It was no Les Halles bearnaise, but it was still nummy. It was much easier this time than the first time I made hollandaise. I guess that's how this whole "practice" thing is supposed to work. And to CLEAN the grill...well, I used a little Williams Sonoma card that had been burning a hole in my bag for ages...(a month?)...I got a super-snazzy double-sided brush with steel wool and bristles and a flat chisel edge. Very cool. Ok, and a kitchen torch with gas (hello, creme brulee!) and a way cool veggie chopper. SO neat. Always wanted one but spending my own money would mean I was too lazy to chop veggies. That was a very nice wedding gift from Daveyyojimbo and Blancodeviosa. Don't worry, I'm not nine, I'll send a real letter! And yes, D was thrilled to have these things, too; I shopped with him in mind. I skipped the $45 lobster pick. Seriously, they had them.
We watched Stranger Than Fiction, which D liked much better than I. I thought it was barely a oncer, despite starring Emma Thompson, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Will Ferrell (Alex and I agree that enjoying Will Ferrell depends largely on how good the material is to begin with. I think I like Will Ferrell, but I'm not going to go out and rent Anchorman, for god's sake). It was just...mediocre. I mean, obviously you can't overthink the movie or you're probably not going to enjoy it. And it did have cute moments, sure, but overall...meh. It just wasn't enough.
Much better in the film line-up was today's Infamous, the second movie that came out about Truman Capote. It's actually too bad, because in many ways it's a superior film. It's hard to say who does a better Capote, especially since I'm a huge Philip Seymour Hoffman fan, but Toby Jones does a great job. I think it's honestly okay to say they're just different performances and leave it at that. And I also have a very weak embarrassing spot for Sandra Bullock but she made me cringe as Harper Lee. I don't know if her accent was as horrendous as I think it was or if she just looked too goddamn silly doing it.
Speaking of goddamn silly, Alex and I also found ourselves discussing that embarrassing stain of a 1987 flick, Maid to Order. Well, I was all set to revel in my online anonymity and have Netfux send me a copy, only to have the little Save button come up. So now it can sit on my list indefinitely and just leave a little stain wherever it goes. So then I looked on amazon, curious if it had ever even been on DVD. Get this: it has, but it's out of print and people are selling USED COPIES for $18. EIGHTEEN DOLLARS for Maid to Order.
Look at it. You remember this. This stupid movie that was on Showtime all the time and we all saw most if not all of it half a dozen times. I just remember her getting out of the pool naked and a scene in which she dumped a huge pickle from an ashtray. This is one of those rare times that, should I find myself near a videostore that actually rents VHS (so, not Cockbluster), well, I might have to don a pair of sunglasses and create a fake account. I guess I could buy it on amazon for $2, but who the fuck wants to own this? And getting rid of VHS is not easy these days.
Anyhoo. I drained the hot tub today...he was getting a little murky. I think this will be the last refill before he gets "summerized." Spa people talk about "winterizing" your hot tub, but what better time to have a spa? Whereas there's something about sweltering July that just doesn't really say "hot tub" to me. Especially in a sunroom with no A/C. Yum yum.
I have very little exciting news to write about, hmm. Alex once, ages ago, sent me to Dooce, a hysterical blog, and I visited and it was great. And she reminded me recently, so I went back and laughed my ass off some more. I know everyone already knows about Dooce, but hey, you can count on me to always be behind.
On a way positive note, my technical director dear sweet friend has given me the heads up (I sort of burned it into his head that the moment he heard even a suggestion of a mouse fart about David Lynch coming to Dallas, he had to tell me) that yes, David Lynch is coming to Dallas during the AFI Festival for his film Inland Empire.
I don't know if I have even one single thing the man could sign that wouldn't be so embarrassingly obvious. As Lynch and his fans are so die-hard culty, well, the hell do you present David Lynch to sign that isn't the usual? My Japanese VHS bootleg of Eraserhead? Actually, that's winning at the moment since it's Japanese and I think he likes Japan as much as I do. The Jack Nance documentary would be sweet and sentimental (yes, Lynch is in it), but uh, I don't own it.
I took communications in college with Jack Nance's niece, btw! She found out I was a Twin Peaks freak and found me after class. Sadly, I cannot remember her name. Sadly, he was also already deceased at the time.
Ok, I'm getting all excited and gushy.
What these two are doing in Dallas is beyond me. Someone is clearly getting paid a very decent sum of money.
One more day of work this week, one more day of work this week...it turns out I finished 2nd in my class of 17 (story of my life...actually, in high school I was 17 out of 555, and you know what? I think this current ranking, which in turn determines my schedule, probably matters way the hell more). So I got to pick whatever shift I wanted (out of the crap available) and as long as it wasn't what Stephanie (#1 in the class and a fantastically cynical bitch who doesn't want children but is marrying an Australian and we'll all try to forgive her) wanted. It wasn't. So I get Sundays and Mondays off and work the other days 9:30am-6pm. This is a dream shift and I'm giddy with joy. (Almost everyone else works 12:30-9pm). However, they bid for shifts every three months and guess what? This is only my schedule for the next TWO WEEKS. D'OH!!! Part of which shall be spent in Japan anyway.
Me. There, on that island. NOT AT WORK. March 27th. (Ok, 28th, travel time). Me. There. Drinking. Eating. Drinking. Eating. Not working. I could sleep in the alleys of Kabukicho and it would be an improvement. Rest assured, one big ass fucking smile on my face.
