You guys, I'm totes sick today. So I'm going to use this, the last entry of NaBloPoMo 2008, to show you my fail-proof method for breaking a fever.
I know that everyone has a way to break a fever but my way doesn't involve swimming indoors for thirty laps, taking a hot shower, and drinking two shots of bourbon, or whatever it is your grandpa told you. My method has one easy step, it can be used on the first day that you feel sick, it's free, and it works every time. And there's absolutely no bourbon involved, which is great.
First, I have to tell you that I can always be sure I have a fever when I get chills - you know, when you feel strangely cold one minute, and horribly sweaty the next? A common mistake is to cover and uncover yourself as you feel too cold or too hot. I hate this feeling because it keeps me awake at night, it's annoying, and it makes me feel helpless. But no more!
The way to break a fever is to wear a sweatshirt and shorts (leaving the legs uncovered is mandatory), and pile two or three blankets on your bed. When you're cold, this will help you feel a little warmer. The important step is to NOT remove the coverings when you start sweating. LEAVE THE BLANKETS ON. I said that it was mandatory to leave the legs uncovered because at this point, you can stick your feet out from under the blanket and achieve some relief from the heat. However you absolutely must leave the coverings on and sweat. It's uncomfortable, but if you watch a couple of movies and eventually fall asleep out of pure sicky baby exhaustion, your fever will have broken by morning. Guaranteed.
The second, optional, step is to take a shower the next morning. You will feel at least 95% better than you did the night before, or your money back.
Now I'm going to go do my method and I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Full Circus
So here's a video of Britney performing Womanizer on the French television show Star Academy. It's supposed to be a, like, harbinger of her comeback, but I think the performance is a little bland.
Given: this show would be considered a triumph beyond words for most of us, and this is a huge improvement over that ghastly VMA performance. But Britney was always a dancer, and she barely does anything in this and seems more tired than anything else. I wonder if it would be such a bad thing for her to take even more time off? She's not in any danger of losing the spotlight, so maybe she could just eat grilled chicken and work out and get therapy and everything and then come back and really show us what a comeback is. Instead of - yes, I'm saying it - this half-assed bullshit.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Given: this show would be considered a triumph beyond words for most of us, and this is a huge improvement over that ghastly VMA performance. But Britney was always a dancer, and she barely does anything in this and seems more tired than anything else. I wonder if it would be such a bad thing for her to take even more time off? She's not in any danger of losing the spotlight, so maybe she could just eat grilled chicken and work out and get therapy and everything and then come back and really show us what a comeback is. Instead of - yes, I'm saying it - this half-assed bullshit.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Friday, November 28, 2008
I'm Judging You: Holiday Edition!
When you take your kids out to eat at a fancy restaurant on Thanksgiving and insist on sitting outside in the cold so you can smoke...
I'm judging you.
When you take your young kids out to eat at a fancy restaurant on Thanksgiving and ignore them when they start to scream...
I'm judging you.
When your kid trips a waiter (on purpose) and you reprimand said waiter for spilling water on or near your shoes...
I'm judging you.
When you go out into the public sphere and generally act like a fucking douchebag in front of your kid...
I'm judging you.
When you see me staring at you, furrowing my brow, and mouthing the words "you're a tragic waste of space"...
Yeah, I'm judging you.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I'm judging you.
When you take your young kids out to eat at a fancy restaurant on Thanksgiving and ignore them when they start to scream...
I'm judging you.
When your kid trips a waiter (on purpose) and you reprimand said waiter for spilling water on or near your shoes...
I'm judging you.
When you go out into the public sphere and generally act like a fucking douchebag in front of your kid...
I'm judging you.
When you see me staring at you, furrowing my brow, and mouthing the words "you're a tragic waste of space"...
Yeah, I'm judging you.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
A Very Brown Thanksgiving
My family has always been exceedingly casual about celebrating Thanksgiving.
For many of my childhood years, my dad was working and my mom was using the break from being the schoolwork taskmaster to catch up on other stuff, so we usually had pizza or a regular meal for our Thanksgiving "feast". As a kid, this was really irritating because everyone else was seeing their grandparents or traveling or whatever, and it was just another boring day for me.
Now that I think about it, my parents' utter disregard for Thanksgiving Tradition probably also has to do with the fact that they were both raised in Canada, where Thanksgiving is much less of a bloated event than it is here in the States. I don't care that much anymore - having been to a couple of traditional Thanksgivings since moving in with Kyle, I can say with authority that I could take it or leave it. Thanksgiving prep seems like a lot of consternation for a meal that lasts only half an hour and literally gets turned into poop half an hour after that (not that I would know anything about that part).
So I was only slightly interested when my mom told me that today we'd be going to eat at an Indian restaurant for "Thanksgiving Brunch". I really wanted to tell her that there's no such thing as "Thanksgiving Brunch", but when you think about it, it's not like we're having the traditional meal, but just at the wrong time...we're eating INDIAN FOOD. The only thing that makes it Thanksgiving Indian Food is the fact that it falls on this particular Thursday - and really, once you've broken with the way things are done in such a major way, why not just take it on to home base?
This year I'm thankful for Kyle, who has always been my most ardent supporter, in all things...even going back to school, when it meant that I would be far, far away and selfish. I'm thankful for being able to go back to school. I'm thankful for my family. And I'm thankful for Indian food.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
For many of my childhood years, my dad was working and my mom was using the break from being the schoolwork taskmaster to catch up on other stuff, so we usually had pizza or a regular meal for our Thanksgiving "feast". As a kid, this was really irritating because everyone else was seeing their grandparents or traveling or whatever, and it was just another boring day for me.
Now that I think about it, my parents' utter disregard for Thanksgiving Tradition probably also has to do with the fact that they were both raised in Canada, where Thanksgiving is much less of a bloated event than it is here in the States. I don't care that much anymore - having been to a couple of traditional Thanksgivings since moving in with Kyle, I can say with authority that I could take it or leave it. Thanksgiving prep seems like a lot of consternation for a meal that lasts only half an hour and literally gets turned into poop half an hour after that (not that I would know anything about that part).
So I was only slightly interested when my mom told me that today we'd be going to eat at an Indian restaurant for "Thanksgiving Brunch". I really wanted to tell her that there's no such thing as "Thanksgiving Brunch", but when you think about it, it's not like we're having the traditional meal, but just at the wrong time...we're eating INDIAN FOOD. The only thing that makes it Thanksgiving Indian Food is the fact that it falls on this particular Thursday - and really, once you've broken with the way things are done in such a major way, why not just take it on to home base?
This year I'm thankful for Kyle, who has always been my most ardent supporter, in all things...even going back to school, when it meant that I would be far, far away and selfish. I'm thankful for being able to go back to school. I'm thankful for my family. And I'm thankful for Indian food.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
HOW DID I MANAGE THIS
If you go to my Twitter page (linkies over on the left) you'll see what I got up to last night. For those of you who are too lazy to click over there, I'll give you a short summary: I made some good decisions (went out with an old friend), and then I made some bad decisions (started with tequila, continued with vodka, ended with whiskey *shudder*). And now I'm hung over. Maybe I'll give you a better play-by-play later, but for now I'm going to lie back down and listen to my innards churn.
By the way, the title is in reference to the fact that I am still on the wagon with NaBloPoMo.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
By the way, the title is in reference to the fact that I am still on the wagon with NaBloPoMo.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Sometimes I fall asleep...
...and wake up days later and don't know where I am or what I've been doing. Apparently, I've created an alter-ego for myself and posted hilarious Casual Encounters ads on Craigslist. Here's what I mean:
This will also explain the lifeless roars that have been haunting my dreams lately.
PS. I really did find this in the Best-Of category of Craigslist, and I have to say that I agree.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I am a very career-focused, attractive, 5'9, 120lb woman who is seeking a man who is willing to fulfill my ultimate sexual fantasy. I am an executive with a very successful corporation that keeps me very busy and I sometimes have difficulty finding men who share similar interests to my own in the bedroom.
Nothing turns me on more then Jurassic Park themed role play. You must be the animatronic dinosaur, and I must be the helpless child (Tim or Lex) stuck in the park at your mercy.
You will growl mechanically into my ear and stare threateningly. I will feign panic and search for the flash light in the back seat of the visitor jeep. You will sniff at the window slowly and then release a robotic roar into the night air. I scream for Alan Grant, but your over sized robot jaws come crashing down through the overhead window, pinning me to the floor.
I cannot stress this enough however, you must play as a ROBOTIC dinosaur. This is very specific, my interest lie entirely in animatronic dinosaurs, not real ones. I thought I should mention this as there have been unfortunate miscommunications in the past, leading to performances that have left me without an orgasm.
Other situations could include you being the dilophasaurus and spitting in my face and then going for my jugular. Or you could be the ill and moaning triceratops, and I would be Ellie Sadler, digging through your stool to find the source of the ailment. More or less any scene from the film involving a mechanical dinosaur interacting with a human will do fine.
I don't like wasting my time, so make sure you do your homework and watch the film and make sure you can fully embrace the mindset of an animatronic dinosaur. I am an incredibly sexual person and I would make it a blockbuster night that you would never forget.
This will also explain the lifeless roars that have been haunting my dreams lately.
PS. I really did find this in the Best-Of category of Craigslist, and I have to say that I agree.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Gagging
Okay, gotta interrupt your regularly scheduled whatever right now, did you guys hear that Heidi and Spencer got married in Mexico over the weekend? Yeah! They eloped! Heidi's parents are undoubtedly disappointed; they wanted to be present at the wedding and...you know...she got married to Spencer. Even the brain-dead assholes who foisted Heidi herself on us know that that's a bad thing. The guy has a beard that is THE SAME COLOUR AS HIS FACE. I cannot stress that enough. The same colour.
The following is a video of what my insides just did.
The following is a video of what my insides just did.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Major Dragging
So...MONDAY. Today both of my classes were "freebies" - in Econ I just watched a couple of presentations about economies of the world, and in Theology I had a true/false quiz about Baptism: Painless. Tomorrow I have my English classes, which should be great - I'm supposed to have read an article for Lit Crit and up to chapter 10 in Lord Jim. God, it's going to pretty much be a Friday (since Thanksgiving break starts on Wednesday), though! What do they want from me!? Participation!? The horror.
I seriously believe that the only thing worse than having to read a Hardy novel is having to read a Conrad novel, and the only thing worse than a Conrad novel is a Pynchon novel. The next item (and epitome) of that list used to be James Joyce, but after reading those letters of his last week I've developed a soft spot for him. I know, it sounds weird, but I'm just going to assume that his unadulterated insanity has to have some origins in the heart. So from now on Joyce gets filed under "Lovable Crazies" with David Foster Wallace and Shel Silverstein. This probably makes me a poor candidate for graduate school in Literature, but there's always the Milton-Chaucer-Shakespeare route, right?
None of my 19th Century aggravation, however, means that I won't study them just to have something else to sound snobby about.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I seriously believe that the only thing worse than having to read a Hardy novel is having to read a Conrad novel, and the only thing worse than a Conrad novel is a Pynchon novel. The next item (and epitome) of that list used to be James Joyce, but after reading those letters of his last week I've developed a soft spot for him. I know, it sounds weird, but I'm just going to assume that his unadulterated insanity has to have some origins in the heart. So from now on Joyce gets filed under "Lovable Crazies" with David Foster Wallace and Shel Silverstein. This probably makes me a poor candidate for graduate school in Literature, but there's always the Milton-Chaucer-Shakespeare route, right?
None of my 19th Century aggravation, however, means that I won't study them just to have something else to sound snobby about.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
BONUS!
I just got back from watching Quantum of Solace (for the second time) with my dad - Marion and I saw it sometime last week and liked it. It was pretty good. A lot of people said it was kind of like a forgettable fourth Bourne movie, and to them I say PSHAW because at what point does Jason Bourne walk around in tight, deliciously close-cut, almost legging-esque in their clingability pants? NEVER. Also the girls are hotter, albeit more by way of blackface - I'm looking at you, Olga - than acting ability (not counting Julia Stiles, whom I'll always love unquestioningly).
On a completely divergent note, here's a clip of Stephen Colbert being awesome! From the costume and set I'll hazard a guess that he's cutting up while shooting Strangers With Candy. I personally love the head tossing towards the end. You'll see.
I guess I might as well admit that - due, I think, to all those years spent at WASPy private schools in my youth - I have a particular fondness for men flinging themselves around to the tunes which Angels sing.
On a completely divergent note, here's a clip of Stephen Colbert being awesome! From the costume and set I'll hazard a guess that he's cutting up while shooting Strangers With Candy. I personally love the head tossing towards the end. You'll see.
I guess I might as well admit that - due, I think, to all those years spent at WASPy private schools in my youth - I have a particular fondness for men flinging themselves around to the tunes which Angels sing.
Rahmbo
Every day I see someone associated with Obama do something incredible. I'm so fucking refreshed it's like a Summer's Eve commercial up in this piece.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Weekend Update: Stupid Edition
Okay. I am officially out of things to talk about, so I'm just going to go over what I did this weekend, day by day, and that way I'm sure to fill up at least three paragraphs of material (boring though that material may be), and therefore fulfill my NaBloPoMo requirements. Ready? Let's go!
Thursday
Went to class (nothing special). Lauren and John were in town from Austin - house-sitting while Lauren's parents were gone somewhere - so Marion and I went and ate dinner with them at Mayuri, which was awesome as usual. Then I went home and fell asleep.
Friday
Went to class (still nothing special). Went home and lounged around. Marion and I went to Lauren's house and watched Black Sheep with her and John. Black Sheep is a horror movie about zombie sheep, and it was incredible. The production values were INSANE for a movie as crappy as that. It was recommended to us by the Hot Asshole waiter at Brazil, so we're going to go back there at some point and tell him we saw it and hopefully get him to talk to us some more. After Black Sheep we ate sushi, which was delicious, and went to Shadwell Wake, which I think I wrote about last night. It turned out to be an alright time. There was a band playing that was SUPER COOL but I didn't get the name, so I'll have to find out. Imagine Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, but drunk on moonshine in Louisiana in the 1900s, and you'll have this band. One of the guys played a solo on a fucking SAW with a BOW. That is some rock n' roll from the boonies, you guys. I drank two glasses of wine there, didn't see anyone I went there to see (namely some profs and a fun guy from both of my English classes), and went home to pass out by midnight.
Saturday
Marion and I woke up at 10 and went to play Cranium at Lauren's with her and John. John and Marion won, Lauren and I came in a close second (ha ha). Then we went to lunch and had Chinese food, and then we came home and played Little Big Planet, which was really fun until someone taught Marion how to slap - after which she just followed me around and knocked me over while I was trying to complete the missions. THEN I came home and got dressed for a birthday party, which I think I was invited to by mistake, drank two vodka gimlets, and now I'm here (at home). I felt like a fucking lush because people were like, "what are you drinking?" and when I told them they asked to have a taste (this happened about 4 times), and I obliged, and then they were all, like, "so you're a drinker then." WTF? Apparently they all thought my drink was insanely strong and were very impressed with me, which is beyond hilarious, and also kind of distressing because I was happy that the bartender had made my drink so weak. As I was driving home I was overcome with the urge to stop at McDonald's and eat like forty chicken mcnuggets but I resisted. So I'm starving. But drunk. And it's 11:15, so...I'm lame.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Thursday
Went to class (nothing special). Lauren and John were in town from Austin - house-sitting while Lauren's parents were gone somewhere - so Marion and I went and ate dinner with them at Mayuri, which was awesome as usual. Then I went home and fell asleep.
Friday
Went to class (still nothing special). Went home and lounged around. Marion and I went to Lauren's house and watched Black Sheep with her and John. Black Sheep is a horror movie about zombie sheep, and it was incredible. The production values were INSANE for a movie as crappy as that. It was recommended to us by the Hot Asshole waiter at Brazil, so we're going to go back there at some point and tell him we saw it and hopefully get him to talk to us some more. After Black Sheep we ate sushi, which was delicious, and went to Shadwell Wake, which I think I wrote about last night. It turned out to be an alright time. There was a band playing that was SUPER COOL but I didn't get the name, so I'll have to find out. Imagine Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, but drunk on moonshine in Louisiana in the 1900s, and you'll have this band. One of the guys played a solo on a fucking SAW with a BOW. That is some rock n' roll from the boonies, you guys. I drank two glasses of wine there, didn't see anyone I went there to see (namely some profs and a fun guy from both of my English classes), and went home to pass out by midnight.
Saturday
Marion and I woke up at 10 and went to play Cranium at Lauren's with her and John. John and Marion won, Lauren and I came in a close second (ha ha). Then we went to lunch and had Chinese food, and then we came home and played Little Big Planet, which was really fun until someone taught Marion how to slap - after which she just followed me around and knocked me over while I was trying to complete the missions. THEN I came home and got dressed for a birthday party, which I think I was invited to by mistake, drank two vodka gimlets, and now I'm here (at home). I felt like a fucking lush because people were like, "what are you drinking?" and when I told them they asked to have a taste (this happened about 4 times), and I obliged, and then they were all, like, "so you're a drinker then." WTF? Apparently they all thought my drink was insanely strong and were very impressed with me, which is beyond hilarious, and also kind of distressing because I was happy that the bartender had made my drink so weak. As I was driving home I was overcome with the urge to stop at McDonald's and eat like forty chicken mcnuggets but I resisted. So I'm starving. But drunk. And it's 11:15, so...I'm lame.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Friday
You guys, I am so sprung on Fridays lately that it's starting to be a little weird. It's like I'm back in middle school again and I'm going to sleep over at my best friend's house and talk about how hawt Mark McGrath is...well, these lyrics will help you understand:
I don't think the Aquabats know about YouTube yet, since I could not for the life of me find an official music video online. I chose this one instead because it is hilarious.
Later today, Marion, Lauren, John and I are going to be busy busy bees! We're going to watch Black Sheep (maybe), then go to dinner, and then we're going to this Shadwell Wake event at my school. It's a party thrown by the English Honors Society to celebrate the death of this poet, Thomas Shadwell. We're celebrating it because he was terrible and we're glad he's dead so he can't write poetry anymore!
Here is an example of how much he stinks:
People are going to dress up in funeral clothes, someone will do a reading of his poetry, and there'll be a procession and everything. Isn't that hilarious!? Everyone I've talked to about this has raised their eyebrows and called me a nerd, so I retreat and say something about how I was promised free drinks and underclassmen aren't allowed. But I'm going because it's funny. I'm not going to drink (much) because one of my professors is going and I don't want to say something (overly) stupid to him. I had a nightmare last night that I walked up to him and said, "I LIKE YOUR SHIRTS THAT YOU WEAR" in my best slurry drunk voice. There's nothing like waking up preemptively embarrassed to ensure good behavior.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I don't think the Aquabats know about YouTube yet, since I could not for the life of me find an official music video online. I chose this one instead because it is hilarious.
Later today, Marion, Lauren, John and I are going to be busy busy bees! We're going to watch Black Sheep (maybe), then go to dinner, and then we're going to this Shadwell Wake event at my school. It's a party thrown by the English Honors Society to celebrate the death of this poet, Thomas Shadwell. We're celebrating it because he was terrible and we're glad he's dead so he can't write poetry anymore!
Here is an example of how much he stinks:
Love in their little veins inspires
Love in their little veins inspires
their cheerful notes, their soft desires.
While heat makes buds and blossoms spring,
those pretty couples love and sing.
But winter puts out their desire,
and half the year they want love's fire.
People are going to dress up in funeral clothes, someone will do a reading of his poetry, and there'll be a procession and everything. Isn't that hilarious!? Everyone I've talked to about this has raised their eyebrows and called me a nerd, so I retreat and say something about how I was promised free drinks and underclassmen aren't allowed. But I'm going because it's funny. I'm not going to drink (much) because one of my professors is going and I don't want to say something (overly) stupid to him. I had a nightmare last night that I walked up to him and said, "I LIKE YOUR SHIRTS THAT YOU WEAR" in my best slurry drunk voice. There's nothing like waking up preemptively embarrassed to ensure good behavior.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Block: The Name Drop Entry
It took me until today to get NaBloPoMo writer's block. That's impressive to me, as the month is - for all intents and purposes - pretty much over. Anyway, I can't think of any one topic that can command my attention for an entire entry, so prepare yourself for a disjointed, clip-show like read today. Besides, all I want to talk about right now is "sounding" and how it's horrible. But I won't (you're welcome, John).
Instead, I will talk about leggings. Leggings! I bought a couple of pairs this week, which means that I am about to embark on a magical, season-long journey in which I wear leggings as pants. People (namely, the Fug Girls) rail against this trend constantly, but I think it's only annoying when certain people (Lindsay Lohan) only wear leggings-as-pants and never any pants proper. I intend to continue wearing actual pants in addition to the occasional legging.
Here's one of the pairs that I bought.
And here is the other:
I just realized now that they're both navy. Umm...navy is supposedly the "new neutral" and now it's okay to wear it with black, so that's fantastic! I'll be fine. Besides, I have so fucking uncreative when it comes to colours and stuff that I stick to a pretty limited colour palette in my wardrobe so if all else fails I can throw random articles on and at least they'll be of complimentary hue. That's my secret. Well, I have two secrets. 1. All colours in the same colour palette so even if you try to get creative you can't fuck up too badly, and 2. Know your silhouette.
Speaking of leggings, I just found a pair that costs $700. That was not a typo: SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS. What the fuck!? I don't understand how anything (besides party dresses or very fancy shoes/handbags) could possibly justify a price tag like that. At some point you cease paying for craftsmanship and start paying for the privilege of saying that you paid $700 for a pair of leggings. LEGGINGS.
Okay, so now that I've thoroughly wasted your time talking about leggings for two paragraphs (I'm sorry!) I will do you a big favor and turn you on to James Joyce's dirty letters to Nora. I'm including a link under Favourite Links so you can just click right over and enjoy. These are NSFW, and (SPOILER!!) James Joyce is what they call an "ass man", so they're probably NSFHome either, but...it's literary, right? Enjoy.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Instead, I will talk about leggings. Leggings! I bought a couple of pairs this week, which means that I am about to embark on a magical, season-long journey in which I wear leggings as pants. People (namely, the Fug Girls) rail against this trend constantly, but I think it's only annoying when certain people (Lindsay Lohan) only wear leggings-as-pants and never any pants proper. I intend to continue wearing actual pants in addition to the occasional legging.
Here's one of the pairs that I bought.
And here is the other:
I just realized now that they're both navy. Umm...navy is supposedly the "new neutral" and now it's okay to wear it with black, so that's fantastic! I'll be fine. Besides, I have so fucking uncreative when it comes to colours and stuff that I stick to a pretty limited colour palette in my wardrobe so if all else fails I can throw random articles on and at least they'll be of complimentary hue. That's my secret. Well, I have two secrets. 1. All colours in the same colour palette so even if you try to get creative you can't fuck up too badly, and 2. Know your silhouette.
Speaking of leggings, I just found a pair that costs $700. That was not a typo: SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS. What the fuck!? I don't understand how anything (besides party dresses or very fancy shoes/handbags) could possibly justify a price tag like that. At some point you cease paying for craftsmanship and start paying for the privilege of saying that you paid $700 for a pair of leggings. LEGGINGS.
Okay, so now that I've thoroughly wasted your time talking about leggings for two paragraphs (I'm sorry!) I will do you a big favor and turn you on to James Joyce's dirty letters to Nora. I'm including a link under Favourite Links so you can just click right over and enjoy. These are NSFW, and (SPOILER!!) James Joyce is what they call an "ass man", so they're probably NSFHome either, but...it's literary, right? Enjoy.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Chad Vader, the Day Shift Manager
Seeing Vader in such a pathetic position makes me cringe. Only a little though, since I watched the Star Wars films for the first time in the mid 90s and at that point I was way more terrified of E.T. Besides, I already knew that (SPOILER ALERT!!) he was Luke's father, and anyone who contributed to someone as cute as Mark Hamill couldn't be all bad, right? Yeah, I was just as shallow then as I am now.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Where the Wild Things Are (maybe test footage)
You guys,
Watch this.
Now look me in the eye and tell me you're not going to see the fuck out of this movie when it comes out. I liked this book a lot as a kid, and I am going to see this movie and probably cry my damn brains out. It looks beautiful.
Here is another shot that's rumored to come from the movie. Max's suit is different in this one, and it's a different Wild Thing sitting on the beach. I've heard some crazy rumors about this movie needing to be completely re-shot, some sequences taken out and redone in CG, release dates all scrambled...so that may have something to do with this being different.
I don't care. It all looks so great.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Watch this.
Now look me in the eye and tell me you're not going to see the fuck out of this movie when it comes out. I liked this book a lot as a kid, and I am going to see this movie and probably cry my damn brains out. It looks beautiful.
Here is another shot that's rumored to come from the movie. Max's suit is different in this one, and it's a different Wild Thing sitting on the beach. I've heard some crazy rumors about this movie needing to be completely re-shot, some sequences taken out and redone in CG, release dates all scrambled...so that may have something to do with this being different.
I don't care. It all looks so great.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
The Kissing Family
This clip from SNL made me so happy.
Could Paul Rudd be any cuter? Seriously. Could he? I hope not. Because I think a cuter Paul Rudd would make my head fucking explode.
Could Paul Rudd be any cuter? Seriously. Could he? I hope not. Because I think a cuter Paul Rudd would make my head fucking explode.
Monday, November 17, 2008
So Gay
I haven't said anything about the passing of Prop 8 because I don't know how anyone could think it was a good idea. I can't even begin to understand it. And it makes me so angry that this is legal, in this day and age, as they say, that I can't speak or write rationally about it. How about this:
I don't want to be associated in any way with people who would deny gay people the right to marry.
People who are against gay marriage are afraid that the gays will destroy marriage. They are afraid that if we make it okay for one man to marry another, or for one woman to marry another, soon it will be allowed for one man to marry a cow, or one woman to marry a fencepost. I categorically reject this line of thinking and hereby announce that we can't be friends if you believe this. I am of the age now where I am not only responsible for my own actions, but how the actions of others reflect on me. If I hang out with people who are, by my definition, oppressive and cruel, I am complicit in their oppression and cruelty. I can't in good conscience be part of it.
In my view, it is the same law as the anti-miscegenation laws of the 1960s, which kept white people from marrying members of other races. That law would have made my love for Kyle and his for me a punishable offense. If you support Proposition 8, you are against my love; you are against me. And if you're against me, you should find some other friend.
See? Too angry. Obama says that hoping is okay, that it is, in some way, profitable. I want to talk about permanent, legally binding gay marriage like it's on the near horizon, but I can't right now. I'm too sad.
But I saw this picture (via Jezebel) from one of the Prop 8 protests and I think it says what I want to say.
Other bloggers are loath to influence their readers in any way, but on this front, I am not. If I can influence even one of you out there to do the right thing, then I hope this works.
Remember: when it comes to be your turn to decide whether or not gay people should be able to marry...you need to vote yes. You need to vote FOR gay marriage.
I promise - it's just love. And you may get to go to some really great receptions.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I don't want to be associated in any way with people who would deny gay people the right to marry.
People who are against gay marriage are afraid that the gays will destroy marriage. They are afraid that if we make it okay for one man to marry another, or for one woman to marry another, soon it will be allowed for one man to marry a cow, or one woman to marry a fencepost. I categorically reject this line of thinking and hereby announce that we can't be friends if you believe this. I am of the age now where I am not only responsible for my own actions, but how the actions of others reflect on me. If I hang out with people who are, by my definition, oppressive and cruel, I am complicit in their oppression and cruelty. I can't in good conscience be part of it.
In my view, it is the same law as the anti-miscegenation laws of the 1960s, which kept white people from marrying members of other races. That law would have made my love for Kyle and his for me a punishable offense. If you support Proposition 8, you are against my love; you are against me. And if you're against me, you should find some other friend.
See? Too angry. Obama says that hoping is okay, that it is, in some way, profitable. I want to talk about permanent, legally binding gay marriage like it's on the near horizon, but I can't right now. I'm too sad.
But I saw this picture (via Jezebel) from one of the Prop 8 protests and I think it says what I want to say.
Other bloggers are loath to influence their readers in any way, but on this front, I am not. If I can influence even one of you out there to do the right thing, then I hope this works.
Remember: when it comes to be your turn to decide whether or not gay people should be able to marry...you need to vote yes. You need to vote FOR gay marriage.
I promise - it's just love. And you may get to go to some really great receptions.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
It's a Celebration!
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fairly Alarmed readership: this is my 500th post! I thought a little present was in order. So, all of you who have been reading along at home, I give you...
DANCE FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, she pretty much deserved everything that happened to her, huh? Amazing.
DANCE FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, she pretty much deserved everything that happened to her, huh? Amazing.
America. Fuck yeah.
A picture says a thousand words, but can all 1000 words be the same? If so, that word would be "YES". As a matter of fact:
YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
STOP CORRUPTING MY MEMORIES OF A HAPPIER TIME (an Open Letter to Hollywood)
"Evan Rachel Wood has "finally" found a guy her age: The 21-year-old was seen making out with Joseph Gordon Levitt, 27." (from Jezebel)
Here is a web I made in MS Paint to illustrate my point. This could go SO MUCH FARTHER but...I can't. I just can't. I started out laughing and now I have an incredible headache. ENJOY! Oh - you should click on it to make it bigger (that's what she said [yes, I went there]).
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Dear Hollywood,
What the hell? I understand that celebrities can only very rarely find someone they can trust outside of the spotlight - I'm sure it seems like everyone has an ulterior motive when you get famous - and this makes it sort of necessary for the manic inbreeding that goes on among the rich and famous. I may be speaking from a place of blissful ignorance, but it used to be that you couldn't draw a 6-degrees-from-Kevin-Bacon-esque web with actual celebrity couples (strangely enough, Kevin Bacon himself can only be linked to his wife, Kyra Sedgwick). AND NOW YOU CAN. Everyone either needs to stop being so completely slutty OR keep it under wraps for god's sake, have a little dignity!
Love,
-Priya
Here is a web I made in MS Paint to illustrate my point. This could go SO MUCH FARTHER but...I can't. I just can't. I started out laughing and now I have an incredible headache. ENJOY! Oh - you should click on it to make it bigger (that's what she said [yes, I went there]).
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Duck Tales Theme
Enjoy that song as it rattles around in your brain for the rest of your life. You're welcome.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Something
I don't know why, but there's something about this scene in Office Space that makes me so happy.
So happy, in fact, that immediately after watching it I formed a crush on all three men featured. These crushes live to this day, about 3 years after I first saw the movie. Now that I think about it, actually, this probably has something to do with EHS and the fucking infuriating, absolutely constant problems we all had with laptops there, and the fact that these guys are wearing ties. TIES. That's so hot.
MMMmmm...
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
So happy, in fact, that immediately after watching it I formed a crush on all three men featured. These crushes live to this day, about 3 years after I first saw the movie. Now that I think about it, actually, this probably has something to do with EHS and the fucking infuriating, absolutely constant problems we all had with laptops there, and the fact that these guys are wearing ties. TIES. That's so hot.
MMMmmm...
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
From Salon.com: An Open Letter to Boomers Everywhere
I read this article (via Schmutzie) on Salon.com, and I'd like to link to it, but for some reason the links I make in blogger don't work. So, until I work that shit out, I'm copying and pasting directly from the site. If that's gauche, fine, but you should really read this. It speaks to my tarnished, cynical soul, and I think it will speak to yours, too.
Nov. 7, 2008 | Dear boomers: We're sorry for rolling our eyes at you all these years. We apologize for scoffing at your earnestness, your lack of self-deprecation, your tendency to take yourselves a little too seriously. We can go ahead and admit now that we grew tired of hearing about the '60s and the peace movement, as if you had to live through those times to understand anything at all. It's true, we didn't completely partake of your idealism and your notions about community. Frankly, it looked gray and saggy in your hands, these many decades later. Chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!" at that rally against the Iraq war made us feel self-conscious in spite of ourselves. We felt like clichés. We wondered why someone couldn't come up with a newer, catchier, pro-peace slogan over the course of 40 years of protests. We knew we shouldn't care that some of you were wearing socks with sandals and smelled like you'd been on the bus with Wavy Gravy for the last three decades, but we cared anyway. We couldn't help it. It's just who we are.
And look, we really did stand for something, underneath all the eye-rolling. We're feminists, we care about the environment, we want to improve race relations, we volunteer. We're just low-key about it. We never wanted to do it the way you did it: So unselfconscious, so optimistic, guilelessly throwing yourself behind Team Liberal. We didn't get that. We aren't joiners. We don't like carrying signs. We tend to disagree, if only on principle.
But when we watched Barack Obama's victory speech on Tuesday night, we looked into the eyes of a real leader, and decades of cynicism about politics and grass-roots movements and community melted away in a single moment. We heard the voice of a man who can inspire with his words, who's unashamed of his own intelligence, who's willing to treat the citizens of this country like smart, capable people, worthy of respect. For the first time in some of our lifetimes, we believed.
Suddenly it makes sense, what you've been trying to tell us about John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. Sure, we knew all about their roles in history, we'd learned about them in a million classes, through countless books and documentaries. Eventually, though, the endless memorials and tributes and TV specials and Oliver Stone films grew a little tedious. We didn't quite understand why you've never let those two go, why you'd speak so relentlessly about a better time.
But how could we have known? We were raised under Ronald Reagan, smiling emptily under a shellacked cap of shiny brown hair like a demon clown, warning us (With a knowing nod! With a wink!) about those evil Russians stockpiling nuclear arms thousands of miles away. We were raised by "The Love Boat" and "Eight Is Enough" and "Charlie's Angels," a steady flow of saccharine tales with clunky morals. There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits.
You and all your boomer friends read "I'm OK, You're OK," and tried desperately to avoid the mistakes of your parents, those stoic alcoholics of the so-called Greatest Generation. But you couldn't quite put your ideals into motion. As our parents, you told us to tell you anything, to be honest, to come to you with our problems, but when we did, you were uncomfortable and dismissive. You didn't really want to know how we felt. When we were emotional, you flashed back to that time your drunk mother threw the jack-o'-lantern into the street. You loved us, but you were passive-aggressive and avoidant in spite of your best intentions.
You did your best. But we rose out of that murky soup of love and confusion, of stated beliefs without the actions to back them up, and we grew cynical. We doubted even the most heartfelt, genuine statements. We didn't want to be blind to our own faults, like you were, so we paraded our faults around, exalted in our shortcomings. The worst thing, to us, was to not see ourselves clearly. The worst thing was to not be in on the joke.
So we cast a jaded eye on ourselves and each other. We drank too much and listened to obscure indie rock bands. We dressed badly and communicated in four-letter words and read books like "Infinite Jest" and "The Corrections," modern-day versions of your precious J.D. Salinger in which everyone is a fake and the high capitalist world is bought and sold and even the purest form of art is a commodity, not to be taken seriously. No one can be trusted, nothing is pure -- these are the truths we held to be self-evident.
No, we weren't always ready to get involved and make the world a better place, because the air we breathed was toxic with absurdity and excess. Consider our head-spinning trajectory: Mister Rogers, Son of Sam, the Iran hostage crisis, Catholic school, the Hite Report, "The Day After," Edwin Meese, rampant divorce, "Fantasy Island," "Endless Love," Jeffrey Dahmer, the Happy Meal, the Lockerbie air disaster, Toyotathons, John Updike, "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?" Do you see how far we had to come? How we were primed to hate our own country, and ourselves along with it?
And then most of us became mature, rational adults at the exact moment that a reckless frat boy boomer became our president. Just when we were starting to understand how to be a part of the larger world outside, Al Gore had the election stolen right out of his hands in Florida, and then the twin towers collapsed before our eyes. At first we felt moved to act for the greater good in the wake of that tragedy. But then the whole country seemed to implode in front of us, from our invasion of two sovereign nations to the rise of celebrity culture to tanning beds to McMansions to Guantánamo Bay to Hummers and a big, faceless herd of humans in low-rider ass pants, chattering about whether or not to get Botox. It was so sad and pathetic that it was funny to us, even if it was only sad and pathetic to you. We urged you to get a sense of humor; we'd lived this way for years, after all. Things were much worse now, worse than ever -- but we'd always expected that they would be, eventually. That's one of the few rewards of being deeply pessimistic, of being trained to lower our expectations, of living in a constant state of distrust and learned helplessness.
But on Tuesday night, that changed. We understood, for the first time in our lives, what it means to be a part of something big, without reservation. We saw the joy in that. We knew that history had been made, and we were happy to have made calls and sent money and knocked on doors for this man. We felt like we were really, truly participants in history, that we had a connection to those people in the crowd at Grant Park and those kids crying and celebrating in Compton on the local news. We were all Americans, together, old and young, black and white and Latino and Asian, and it didn't feel hokey or overly earnest to admit it for once.
So we apologize to you, for making fun of your earnestness. We never want to go back to our old way of thinking. Sure, we'll still be our irreverent, self-deprecating, exasperating selves, but we also want to believe. We want to follow this man, and trust him, and give him our full support. The world may not be transformed overnight, the economy may still struggle, Obama will surely make his share of mistakes. But we want to stand behind him, stand behind this country, and show our fellow Americans the same respect that this new leader of ours has shown all of us, in his words, in his manner and in his promises.
On Tuesday night, we could all sense, with open hearts, that this man meant what he said. There's no shame in seeing that clearly, together. There's no shame in trusting someone's words, and allowing those words to move and inspire you. There's no shame in throwing ourselves into this new future with full hearts, with tears in our eyes, unselfconsciously.
And in 15 years, our kids probably won't understand it when we talk about the night that Obama was elected president, either. They'll sigh deeply and roll their eyes and say they've heard this story a million times before, so please shut up about it already. They'll purse their lips and think about how our hair looks stupid and we smell like old cheese.
But maybe, just maybe, we can change the world enough that they'll get it. Maybe if we dare to hope, eventually hope won't feel quite so daring.
Nov. 7, 2008 | Dear boomers: We're sorry for rolling our eyes at you all these years. We apologize for scoffing at your earnestness, your lack of self-deprecation, your tendency to take yourselves a little too seriously. We can go ahead and admit now that we grew tired of hearing about the '60s and the peace movement, as if you had to live through those times to understand anything at all. It's true, we didn't completely partake of your idealism and your notions about community. Frankly, it looked gray and saggy in your hands, these many decades later. Chanting "What do we want? Peace! When do we want it? Now!" at that rally against the Iraq war made us feel self-conscious in spite of ourselves. We felt like clichés. We wondered why someone couldn't come up with a newer, catchier, pro-peace slogan over the course of 40 years of protests. We knew we shouldn't care that some of you were wearing socks with sandals and smelled like you'd been on the bus with Wavy Gravy for the last three decades, but we cared anyway. We couldn't help it. It's just who we are.
And look, we really did stand for something, underneath all the eye-rolling. We're feminists, we care about the environment, we want to improve race relations, we volunteer. We're just low-key about it. We never wanted to do it the way you did it: So unselfconscious, so optimistic, guilelessly throwing yourself behind Team Liberal. We didn't get that. We aren't joiners. We don't like carrying signs. We tend to disagree, if only on principle.
But when we watched Barack Obama's victory speech on Tuesday night, we looked into the eyes of a real leader, and decades of cynicism about politics and grass-roots movements and community melted away in a single moment. We heard the voice of a man who can inspire with his words, who's unashamed of his own intelligence, who's willing to treat the citizens of this country like smart, capable people, worthy of respect. For the first time in some of our lifetimes, we believed.
Suddenly it makes sense, what you've been trying to tell us about John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr. Sure, we knew all about their roles in history, we'd learned about them in a million classes, through countless books and documentaries. Eventually, though, the endless memorials and tributes and TV specials and Oliver Stone films grew a little tedious. We didn't quite understand why you've never let those two go, why you'd speak so relentlessly about a better time.
But how could we have known? We were raised under Ronald Reagan, smiling emptily under a shellacked cap of shiny brown hair like a demon clown, warning us (With a knowing nod! With a wink!) about those evil Russians stockpiling nuclear arms thousands of miles away. We were raised by "The Love Boat" and "Eight Is Enough" and "Charlie's Angels," a steady flow of saccharine tales with clunky morals. There were smiling families, hugging and learning important lessons on every channel, while at home, our parents threw dishes at each other's heads. We went to church and learned about God's divine plan every Sunday, but all it took was one Dr. Seuss cartoon about an entire world that existed on a speck of dust, and our belief in God was deconstructed in an instant. Our childhoods were one long existential crisis. We ate Happy Meals while watching the space shuttle blow into tiny bits.
You and all your boomer friends read "I'm OK, You're OK," and tried desperately to avoid the mistakes of your parents, those stoic alcoholics of the so-called Greatest Generation. But you couldn't quite put your ideals into motion. As our parents, you told us to tell you anything, to be honest, to come to you with our problems, but when we did, you were uncomfortable and dismissive. You didn't really want to know how we felt. When we were emotional, you flashed back to that time your drunk mother threw the jack-o'-lantern into the street. You loved us, but you were passive-aggressive and avoidant in spite of your best intentions.
You did your best. But we rose out of that murky soup of love and confusion, of stated beliefs without the actions to back them up, and we grew cynical. We doubted even the most heartfelt, genuine statements. We didn't want to be blind to our own faults, like you were, so we paraded our faults around, exalted in our shortcomings. The worst thing, to us, was to not see ourselves clearly. The worst thing was to not be in on the joke.
So we cast a jaded eye on ourselves and each other. We drank too much and listened to obscure indie rock bands. We dressed badly and communicated in four-letter words and read books like "Infinite Jest" and "The Corrections," modern-day versions of your precious J.D. Salinger in which everyone is a fake and the high capitalist world is bought and sold and even the purest form of art is a commodity, not to be taken seriously. No one can be trusted, nothing is pure -- these are the truths we held to be self-evident.
No, we weren't always ready to get involved and make the world a better place, because the air we breathed was toxic with absurdity and excess. Consider our head-spinning trajectory: Mister Rogers, Son of Sam, the Iran hostage crisis, Catholic school, the Hite Report, "The Day After," Edwin Meese, rampant divorce, "Fantasy Island," "Endless Love," Jeffrey Dahmer, the Happy Meal, the Lockerbie air disaster, Toyotathons, John Updike, "Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire?" Do you see how far we had to come? How we were primed to hate our own country, and ourselves along with it?
And then most of us became mature, rational adults at the exact moment that a reckless frat boy boomer became our president. Just when we were starting to understand how to be a part of the larger world outside, Al Gore had the election stolen right out of his hands in Florida, and then the twin towers collapsed before our eyes. At first we felt moved to act for the greater good in the wake of that tragedy. But then the whole country seemed to implode in front of us, from our invasion of two sovereign nations to the rise of celebrity culture to tanning beds to McMansions to Guantánamo Bay to Hummers and a big, faceless herd of humans in low-rider ass pants, chattering about whether or not to get Botox. It was so sad and pathetic that it was funny to us, even if it was only sad and pathetic to you. We urged you to get a sense of humor; we'd lived this way for years, after all. Things were much worse now, worse than ever -- but we'd always expected that they would be, eventually. That's one of the few rewards of being deeply pessimistic, of being trained to lower our expectations, of living in a constant state of distrust and learned helplessness.
But on Tuesday night, that changed. We understood, for the first time in our lives, what it means to be a part of something big, without reservation. We saw the joy in that. We knew that history had been made, and we were happy to have made calls and sent money and knocked on doors for this man. We felt like we were really, truly participants in history, that we had a connection to those people in the crowd at Grant Park and those kids crying and celebrating in Compton on the local news. We were all Americans, together, old and young, black and white and Latino and Asian, and it didn't feel hokey or overly earnest to admit it for once.
So we apologize to you, for making fun of your earnestness. We never want to go back to our old way of thinking. Sure, we'll still be our irreverent, self-deprecating, exasperating selves, but we also want to believe. We want to follow this man, and trust him, and give him our full support. The world may not be transformed overnight, the economy may still struggle, Obama will surely make his share of mistakes. But we want to stand behind him, stand behind this country, and show our fellow Americans the same respect that this new leader of ours has shown all of us, in his words, in his manner and in his promises.
On Tuesday night, we could all sense, with open hearts, that this man meant what he said. There's no shame in seeing that clearly, together. There's no shame in trusting someone's words, and allowing those words to move and inspire you. There's no shame in throwing ourselves into this new future with full hearts, with tears in our eyes, unselfconsciously.
And in 15 years, our kids probably won't understand it when we talk about the night that Obama was elected president, either. They'll sigh deeply and roll their eyes and say they've heard this story a million times before, so please shut up about it already. They'll purse their lips and think about how our hair looks stupid and we smell like old cheese.
But maybe, just maybe, we can change the world enough that they'll get it. Maybe if we dare to hope, eventually hope won't feel quite so daring.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Motif
God. My parents are turning into my grandparents. It's not even funny. The other day the three of us were watching The Office and I said something about one of the older characters being "like, a hundred years old," when he was really only about 50. My mom looked over at me and jokingly said, "so your parents are a hundred years old?" And I said, "YEAH." My dad piped in and said, "we're 100 when you put our ages together." Mom laughed and said, "...Oh my god. We are. We're a hundred." It was hilarious how disturbing this news was to her.
Then, after we finished the episode, they started talking about how they had a picture of me at like 3 months old, sitting on a table during our first Diwali. They were reminiscing about how cute I was (I will concur with them on this point: I was a cute baby. WAY cuter than my brother ever was). And then my dad broke out the photo album and sat down next to me, and my mom sat on my other side, and we looked at naked baby pictures of me for half an hour.
So my question is: What the hell?
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Then, after we finished the episode, they started talking about how they had a picture of me at like 3 months old, sitting on a table during our first Diwali. They were reminiscing about how cute I was (I will concur with them on this point: I was a cute baby. WAY cuter than my brother ever was). And then my dad broke out the photo album and sat down next to me, and my mom sat on my other side, and we looked at naked baby pictures of me for half an hour.
So my question is: What the hell?
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Next Step!
I have a better post scheduled to go live later today (Wednesday), but I really wanted to share this with you IMMEDIATELY. I got my Flip camera in the mail today (I ostensibly got it to easily immortalize SXSW in March) and nothing film-worthy happened, so I decided to show you all a tour of my bathroom counter. I am over the moon with this technology, you guys. Mad ups to the Flip people and whoever made Vimeo possible.
I think these new personalized videos will really add another layer of FUCKING AWESOMENESS to this blog. What do you think?
Bathroom from Priya on Vimeo.
Comments about this video:
1. My secret shame: yes, I have 3 pink toothbrushes. I don't know why, it's some Conspiracy Theory type shit where I feel compelled to buy one every once in a while. Every few months I'm forced to go through a toothbrush culling. This will be strange for Kyle to hear, since I used the same toothbrush for two years when I lived with him. And that toothbrush was red (because the brand we use - from Whole Foods, natch - doesn't come in pink). Obviously this is really important to me. First world problems, y'all. The best problems to have.
2. I'm seriously not as fat as I look in this video. I demand that you mentally remove 10 lbs from whatever you can see. Holy crap my hair is so long these days though.
3. PRODUCT ADDICT. I know. The first step is admitting it, the second step is fuck off because I'm not apologizing for this.
I think these new personalized videos will really add another layer of FUCKING AWESOMENESS to this blog. What do you think?
Bathroom from Priya on Vimeo.
Comments about this video:
1. My secret shame: yes, I have 3 pink toothbrushes. I don't know why, it's some Conspiracy Theory type shit where I feel compelled to buy one every once in a while. Every few months I'm forced to go through a toothbrush culling. This will be strange for Kyle to hear, since I used the same toothbrush for two years when I lived with him. And that toothbrush was red (because the brand we use - from Whole Foods, natch - doesn't come in pink). Obviously this is really important to me. First world problems, y'all. The best problems to have.
2. I'm seriously not as fat as I look in this video. I demand that you mentally remove 10 lbs from whatever you can see. Holy crap my hair is so long these days though.
3. PRODUCT ADDICT. I know. The first step is admitting it, the second step is fuck off because I'm not apologizing for this.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Fashion Victim
I think I've already gone on record with my disgust with toques (otherwise known as...*shudder*...beanies). I am categorically against them. There is just nothing awesome about them, and I won't be caught dead wearing one. They make your hair go flat and static-y, the scratchy wool makes your forehead itch, and they also have the additional horrific effect of making you look like your primary source of nutrition can be found in a dumpster. And yet...Burberry Prorsum - whose collections I usually adore - has seen fit to foist them upon us for Fall/Winter 2009.
Seriously, I see enough of this shit every winter without the added fashion pressure. Usually it takes a season or two for trends to trickle down (see: opaque tights, colour-on-colour, berry shades, grey) to normal consumers, but I can totally see this happening on a mass scale immediately.
Which, of course, fucking sucks.
Upon further reflection, this may be some kind of effort on Christopher Bailey's part to keep up with Alexander Wang's fantastic post-apocalyptic show. But he should not. Just...no.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Seriously, I see enough of this shit every winter without the added fashion pressure. Usually it takes a season or two for trends to trickle down (see: opaque tights, colour-on-colour, berry shades, grey) to normal consumers, but I can totally see this happening on a mass scale immediately.
Which, of course, fucking sucks.
Upon further reflection, this may be some kind of effort on Christopher Bailey's part to keep up with Alexander Wang's fantastic post-apocalyptic show. But he should not. Just...no.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Monday, November 10, 2008
OH DAMMIT, M.I.A.!
http://gawker.com/5082521/mia-expects-cave+aged-gruyere-at-every-show
The above URL will take you to a Gawker article which outlines M.I.A.'s 2008 tour rider. The fuck, girlfriend? Only ONE bag of Milano cookies?
The above URL will take you to a Gawker article which outlines M.I.A.'s 2008 tour rider. The fuck, girlfriend? Only ONE bag of Milano cookies?
Pop Art Imitating Life
I've always loved pop art, to the extent that I wish I could be rotoscoped in real life. As I walk down the street, I want splashes of paint to appear in the air around me. Does that make sense? To clarify: I more or less want my life to look like an iPod commercial, hence my always having wanted a large-ish tattoo with bold lines and bright colours. Recently my dress has started to reflect this...I wish there was some socially acceptable way to take it a step further. Ideas? ANYWAY, when I saw these videos yesterday, I was both tickled and envious.
I'm kind of angry at the director of this Kanye West video for having such an awesome name (Hype Williams? Are you freaking kidding me? It's second only to Princess Nudelman). I only kind of tolerate the song itself. I get that everyone's entitled to a little relationship ennui, but the rhyme, lyrics, melody of the song aren't as...hypnotic as I think the video deserves. Check it out:
Heartless from kwest on Vimeo.
This video is a LEGO fashion show, which has a little bit of something for everyone. I actually found myself taking notes on the things the little guys and girls were wearing - some of those outfits are actually pretty killer (namely the Cloud one-pieces and the word-stamped top and pants)! Also: have a little chuckle at the LEGO Anna Wintour sitting in the front row, movable parts making her a little...fuller-figured than usual, but iconic bob and sunglasses intact.
JCDC Versus LEGO from Four H on Vimeo.
Here's an example of how my vision would work in real life (see the portion with Nicole Kidman in the insane yellow suit, and imagine splatters of #1E90FF flying onto the air, like the background is actually a two-dimensional backdrop, behind her). It also helps that this clip in its entirety is really fucking funny.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
I'm kind of angry at the director of this Kanye West video for having such an awesome name (Hype Williams? Are you freaking kidding me? It's second only to Princess Nudelman). I only kind of tolerate the song itself. I get that everyone's entitled to a little relationship ennui, but the rhyme, lyrics, melody of the song aren't as...hypnotic as I think the video deserves. Check it out:
Heartless from kwest on Vimeo.
This video is a LEGO fashion show, which has a little bit of something for everyone. I actually found myself taking notes on the things the little guys and girls were wearing - some of those outfits are actually pretty killer (namely the Cloud one-pieces and the word-stamped top and pants)! Also: have a little chuckle at the LEGO Anna Wintour sitting in the front row, movable parts making her a little...fuller-figured than usual, but iconic bob and sunglasses intact.
JCDC Versus LEGO from Four H on Vimeo.
Here's an example of how my vision would work in real life (see the portion with Nicole Kidman in the insane yellow suit, and imagine splatters of #1E90FF flying onto the air, like the background is actually a two-dimensional backdrop, behind her). It also helps that this clip in its entirety is really fucking funny.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
The Monkees? The Proclaimers?
Yes, yes Yes.
This scene (from Stranger Than Fiction) gives me goosebumps every time. It's probably the one major reason I like this movie so much - the relationship between these two characters that blossoms throughout the film (especially the second half) feels deep and nuanced. Another thing I like about this movie is the negative light in which the director and writer chose to portray smoking and smokers.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Nineties Duchovny.
So much to say about this:
Minute 1: This video has pretty much cemented my belief that, while the current Duchovny is definitely awesome, there is really nothing like 90s Duchovny.
Minute 2: There is nothing more amusing than a man in a Knicks t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Seriously.
Minute 3: Oh my god, four minutes of this should be illegal.
Minute 4: My pupils are so dilated now I can hardly see. Also: Why is the chorus to this song four minutes long?
Minute 1: This video has pretty much cemented my belief that, while the current Duchovny is definitely awesome, there is really nothing like 90s Duchovny.
Minute 2: There is nothing more amusing than a man in a Knicks t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Seriously.
Minute 3: Oh my god, four minutes of this should be illegal.
Minute 4: My pupils are so dilated now I can hardly see. Also: Why is the chorus to this song four minutes long?
Friday, November 7, 2008
This is turning out to be Media Month
I got this high-five montage from Mighty Girl (you can find the link to her site under Favourite Blogs, on the left). As a lover of high fives, montages, and videos you made at home that feature your parents being good sports even though they clearly don't understand why you think this is a worthwhile pursuit, I enjoyed this video very much. I think you will agree.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Tribute to John Williams
This is pretty awesome, no matter how you slice it.
Devin followed this up by saying, "John Williams is going to die soon." BLASPHEMY.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Devin followed this up by saying, "John Williams is going to die soon." BLASPHEMY.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Election Result Maps
One of the most aggravating things about CNN's coverage of last night's events was the fucking 3D displays, holographs, and randomly coloured maps. When I'm Queen of the World, I pledge that I will put an end to all unnecessarily cool displays in news reports. Though...holographs. That is pretty fucking sweet.
Check out Michigan. I can make it bounce!
Speaking of unnecessary, Michael Crighton died today, at age 66. That is kind of a good thing and a bad thing. It's a bad thing because I will sorely miss the man who created my favourite dinosaur-based adventure franchise, but it's a good thing because I'm not sure the world needed more melodramatic pseudoscience novels. I'm also glad that he didn't live to see Jurassic Park 4. That shit is uncalled for.
Check out Michigan. I can make it bounce!
Speaking of unnecessary, Michael Crighton died today, at age 66. That is kind of a good thing and a bad thing. It's a bad thing because I will sorely miss the man who created my favourite dinosaur-based adventure franchise, but it's a good thing because I'm not sure the world needed more melodramatic pseudoscience novels. I'm also glad that he didn't live to see Jurassic Park 4. That shit is uncalled for.
November 5th
I still can't really believe that this is happening.
I knew the numbers that kept rolling in, but I couldn't imagine another disappointment like the one we suffered when Al Gore lost this race, so I stayed as neutral as possible while keeping in mind that one candidate wanted to make my life better and one didn't. Obama taught me in this race that it costs nothing to hope, and it is possible for any hope to be rewarded.
I don't have the words to tell you how optimistic I am for this country, now that it is in the hands of someone with the intelligence, experience, and ability to lead it well. For the first time in my adult life, I will know what it is like to be proud of the man who represents the country I live in.
This is also the first time that I've actually watched history being made and realized that nothing would ever be the same: it could be, and would be, better.
I knew the numbers that kept rolling in, but I couldn't imagine another disappointment like the one we suffered when Al Gore lost this race, so I stayed as neutral as possible while keeping in mind that one candidate wanted to make my life better and one didn't. Obama taught me in this race that it costs nothing to hope, and it is possible for any hope to be rewarded.
I don't have the words to tell you how optimistic I am for this country, now that it is in the hands of someone with the intelligence, experience, and ability to lead it well. For the first time in my adult life, I will know what it is like to be proud of the man who represents the country I live in.
This is also the first time that I've actually watched history being made and realized that nothing would ever be the same: it could be, and would be, better.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Awaiting President-Elect Obama (UPDATED!)
We just heard McCain's concession speech. Now where the fuck is President Obama? SHOW US PRESIDENT OBAMA.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Check Myself Befo' I Become the Subject of a Restraining Order
You guys, I need to learn how to reign in my unabashed admirations. Seriously. Remember how I wrote a long email to my Literary Criticism prof last week about how much I love her class and value her opinion, and she wrote back some one-liner about senior theses? Yeah, I just did that again. This time with my 19th Century Novel prof:
He said...
Wow. Really? Do you think it's possible to get a more terse note than that? Hahaha. The reason I'm so bothered by this is because this kind of outreach has historically gone over really well with my profs. WHY WONT YOU JUST LOVE ME!? I guess it also has to do with my insecurity and the first ever documented case of juvenile-onset dementia. AND I don't want them to think I'm sucking up. Because I'm not! I'm just enthusiastic and verbose! How do I get across "enthusiastic and verbose" while simultaneously leaving out the "cutthroat insincerity"? Anyone got any ideas for this?
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Hi, Dr. Prof,
I couldn't remember the name of this painting when we were talking about my presentation after class today. It's The Outcast, by Richard Redgrave. I'm attaching it so you can see what I was talking about. I'm also attaching The Awakening Conscience by Holman Hunt. This is the other painting I'm going to use in my presentation.
Let me know what you think! See you Tuesday...
-Priya
He said...
Priya,
I like them.
I think they'll make your presentation richer. Best, Dr. Prof
Wow. Really? Do you think it's possible to get a more terse note than that? Hahaha. The reason I'm so bothered by this is because this kind of outreach has historically gone over really well with my profs. WHY WONT YOU JUST LOVE ME!? I guess it also has to do with my insecurity and the first ever documented case of juvenile-onset dementia. AND I don't want them to think I'm sucking up. Because I'm not! I'm just enthusiastic and verbose! How do I get across "enthusiastic and verbose" while simultaneously leaving out the "cutthroat insincerity"? Anyone got any ideas for this?
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
This photo makes me weep in my soul
By the way, that's Ice T (dressed as...a black Punisher?) and his wife, Coco (as a whorish cat).
Courtesy of The Superficial.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
You heard it here first...(UPDATED!)
Lil Wayne is NOT dead.
I got hold of an internet rumor that Lil Wayne had been shot 6 times outside his show in New Orleans tonight, but - though the cop named in the report on kineticnorth is a real person - the report was false. I guess it was a slow news weekend.
I got hold of an internet rumor that Lil Wayne had been shot 6 times outside his show in New Orleans tonight, but - though the cop named in the report on kineticnorth is a real person - the report was false. I guess it was a slow news weekend.
Well, Alright
Other than a set of happy accidents last night when I crossed paths with a couple of people with whom I attended high school, my weekend has been extremely uneventful. That's a good thing, though. For the last two weeks I have been operating in a state of controlled panic - studying for the Economics midterm and writing a paper for that same class - and I have nothing of importance due tomorrow. So I kicked back and didn't think too hard. I mostly watched a ton of back episodes of Law and Order: SVU. I'm so stoked on that show it's ridiculous.
As Ken (from Forgetting Sarah Marshall) would say, "when they mix the sexuality...and the violence...I like it!" Hahaha. Seriously though, I just have a girl crush on Mariska Hargitay. And I also love it when previously rock-solid defense witnesses fall apart on the stand and implicate themselves in court. LOVE THAT.
Daylight Savings didn't really affect me last night - I'm awake when the clocks get set back every year so I don't feel like I get the benefit of the extra hour of sleep. It's when they set the clocks ahead that I get screwed; as though my understanding of the passage of time weren't tenuous enough. I can never tell if I'm running late or early - last year I went to work an hour early because I forgot to set my alarm differently and none of the buses had changed their clocks yet. I made it all the way to work before realizing that anything was amiss. Dammit! When I called T-Mobile (the only people I could think to call who might know anything objective about the time changes), the guy on the other end started railing against President Bush. Apparently he had something to do with the ineffectiveness of switching the clocks ahead last year...not that I know anything about that other than the fact that I was unusually tired.
I went to grab dinner with my brother just now, and the guy who was serving us asked if we were excited for Tuesday. I gave him a blank stare until I realized that ROCK THE VOTE! event is on Tuesday. I lied and said yes, I was very excited about it (lied because I'm a Canadian citizen). He asked me who I was voting for. I told him who I would have voted for, had I the right, and he smiled approvingly. I thought it was gauche to ask someone who they were voting for, and I would think that - despite improved visibility of this country's politics - that would hold especially true in a controversial year like this one. Is that right, or is that assumption just another manifestation of my pathological need for privacy?
In other news, I'm confused about NaBloPoMo posting, so if any other bloggers reading this are participating in NaBloPoMo: am I supposed to copy and paste all my entries into the Ning profile that Eden has set up? Or am I just supposed to post here? Where should I find this information in the future? Also: WTF?
My dad just brought home Journey to the Center of the Earth on Blu-Ray. He's really excited about it because it comes with 3D glasses. I'm pretty sure this movie is going to be so horrible, but at the same time...this does mean an hour and 1/2 of Brendan Fraser in 3D, in my living room. I guess you could say that I'm amenable.
As Ken (from Forgetting Sarah Marshall) would say, "when they mix the sexuality...and the violence...I like it!" Hahaha. Seriously though, I just have a girl crush on Mariska Hargitay. And I also love it when previously rock-solid defense witnesses fall apart on the stand and implicate themselves in court. LOVE THAT.
Daylight Savings didn't really affect me last night - I'm awake when the clocks get set back every year so I don't feel like I get the benefit of the extra hour of sleep. It's when they set the clocks ahead that I get screwed; as though my understanding of the passage of time weren't tenuous enough. I can never tell if I'm running late or early - last year I went to work an hour early because I forgot to set my alarm differently and none of the buses had changed their clocks yet. I made it all the way to work before realizing that anything was amiss. Dammit! When I called T-Mobile (the only people I could think to call who might know anything objective about the time changes), the guy on the other end started railing against President Bush. Apparently he had something to do with the ineffectiveness of switching the clocks ahead last year...not that I know anything about that other than the fact that I was unusually tired.
I went to grab dinner with my brother just now, and the guy who was serving us asked if we were excited for Tuesday. I gave him a blank stare until I realized that ROCK THE VOTE! event is on Tuesday. I lied and said yes, I was very excited about it (lied because I'm a Canadian citizen). He asked me who I was voting for. I told him who I would have voted for, had I the right, and he smiled approvingly. I thought it was gauche to ask someone who they were voting for, and I would think that - despite improved visibility of this country's politics - that would hold especially true in a controversial year like this one. Is that right, or is that assumption just another manifestation of my pathological need for privacy?
In other news, I'm confused about NaBloPoMo posting, so if any other bloggers reading this are participating in NaBloPoMo: am I supposed to copy and paste all my entries into the Ning profile that Eden has set up? Or am I just supposed to post here? Where should I find this information in the future? Also: WTF?
My dad just brought home Journey to the Center of the Earth on Blu-Ray. He's really excited about it because it comes with 3D glasses. I'm pretty sure this movie is going to be so horrible, but at the same time...this does mean an hour and 1/2 of Brendan Fraser in 3D, in my living room. I guess you could say that I'm amenable.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Show Time
I find myself awake and restless at 1AM on November 1st, which means...first entry of this year's NaBloPoMo! Are you totally psyched? I am!
Marion and I had dinner tonight, and then we went to see Changeling. It was a toss-up between that at Zack and Miri Make a Porno (I don't care what the new commercials say! That's the title of the movie and I'm sticking to it!), but Changeling started first and since it was Halloween we thought it would be fitting to see something creepy.
So...Changeling. Yeah. Lots to say about that movie, but I don't know where to start exactly. Marion and I talked about how there are a couple of scenes which really make you suffer (on purpose), which we liked - Clint Eastwood didn't back off stuff which could have made the audience uncomfortable, like a particularly graphic death in the last half of the movie. It was like he didn't want to necessarily make a point about what he was examining, but he did want to bring the issue to the table, give the viewer the facts, and force at least an examination, if not analysis. I can respect that. Angelina Jolie really chewed the scenery, which was distracting. There were a lot of really tight shots of her face as she looks into harsh light while a single tear slides down her cheek. And there was one secondary character whose Irish accent kept inexplicably fading in and out, sometimes in the middle of a scene, which was really distracting. Our main complaint was that the movie was almost 3 damn hours long and you really feel every minute of it. It just goes on for fucking ever. And for most of that time (a good two thirds of it), the viewer is supposed to be in a state of emotional climax. It's just too long a period to sustain that kind of feeling, so we kind of got inured to the action, which, you know...is not the point. I'm undecided on what grade I'd give it...I'm hovering between a B and a B-.
In other news, I've been practicing harmonizing with Weezer songs in the car and I think I'm pretty good at it now. I sing in the car all the time and nobody notices, but somehow today every time a Weezer song came on I'd look over and someone would be staring at me. AH! One of their songs is stuck in my head right now.
I have to get up earlier than I'd like to tomorrow (later today) so I can meet with the other kids in my Economics group. We have a project due at the end of the month. I'm the team leader, which means I have to show initiative and leadership, which shouldn't be too hard since I'm pretty sure I'm about 4 years older than my partners. I just hope they don't dick around too much, since I will be doing plenty of dicking around myself. I hope I can intimidate them enough tomorrow that they'll do what I tell them to without too much whingeing. After I leave the meeting I plan on getting a manicure, to reward myself for working hard on my midterms and finishing my Econ paper last night without too much ado, and then I need to come home and read a bunch of David Copperfield (since I'm behind our reading schedule by more than a few chapters). However, just thinking about dealing with my partners tomorrow is making me tired now, and the margarita I had with dinner has passed through my system and is giving me a dehydration headache. Bedtime.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
Marion and I had dinner tonight, and then we went to see Changeling. It was a toss-up between that at Zack and Miri Make a Porno (I don't care what the new commercials say! That's the title of the movie and I'm sticking to it!), but Changeling started first and since it was Halloween we thought it would be fitting to see something creepy.
So...Changeling. Yeah. Lots to say about that movie, but I don't know where to start exactly. Marion and I talked about how there are a couple of scenes which really make you suffer (on purpose), which we liked - Clint Eastwood didn't back off stuff which could have made the audience uncomfortable, like a particularly graphic death in the last half of the movie. It was like he didn't want to necessarily make a point about what he was examining, but he did want to bring the issue to the table, give the viewer the facts, and force at least an examination, if not analysis. I can respect that. Angelina Jolie really chewed the scenery, which was distracting. There were a lot of really tight shots of her face as she looks into harsh light while a single tear slides down her cheek. And there was one secondary character whose Irish accent kept inexplicably fading in and out, sometimes in the middle of a scene, which was really distracting. Our main complaint was that the movie was almost 3 damn hours long and you really feel every minute of it. It just goes on for fucking ever. And for most of that time (a good two thirds of it), the viewer is supposed to be in a state of emotional climax. It's just too long a period to sustain that kind of feeling, so we kind of got inured to the action, which, you know...is not the point. I'm undecided on what grade I'd give it...I'm hovering between a B and a B-.
In other news, I've been practicing harmonizing with Weezer songs in the car and I think I'm pretty good at it now. I sing in the car all the time and nobody notices, but somehow today every time a Weezer song came on I'd look over and someone would be staring at me. AH! One of their songs is stuck in my head right now.
I have to get up earlier than I'd like to tomorrow (later today) so I can meet with the other kids in my Economics group. We have a project due at the end of the month. I'm the team leader, which means I have to show initiative and leadership, which shouldn't be too hard since I'm pretty sure I'm about 4 years older than my partners. I just hope they don't dick around too much, since I will be doing plenty of dicking around myself. I hope I can intimidate them enough tomorrow that they'll do what I tell them to without too much whingeing. After I leave the meeting I plan on getting a manicure, to reward myself for working hard on my midterms and finishing my Econ paper last night without too much ado, and then I need to come home and read a bunch of David Copperfield (since I'm behind our reading schedule by more than a few chapters). However, just thinking about dealing with my partners tomorrow is making me tired now, and the margarita I had with dinner has passed through my system and is giving me a dehydration headache. Bedtime.
I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008. Post every day in November. That's all you have to do.
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