Wednesday, January 31, 2007

We Lost A Good One

Molly Ivins dies of cancer at 62.

This world doesn't need to be losing feisty, intelligent, politically-aware, funny, poignant women. She fought off breast cancer for nearly eight years. A few of my favorite bits from this little eulogy:

"We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war," Ivins wrote in the Jan. 11 column. "We need people in the streets, banging pots and pans and demanding, 'Stop it, now!'"

"The trouble with blaming powerless people is that although it's not nearly as scary as blaming the powerful, it does miss the point," she wrote in a 1997 column. "Poor people do not shut down factories ... Poor people didn't decide to use `contract employees' because they cost less and don't get any benefits."

she was assigned to a beat called "Movements for Social Change" and wrote about "angry blacks, radical students, uppity women and a motley assortment of other misfits and troublemakers."

But Ivins' use of salty language and her habit of going barefoot in the office were too much for the Times

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

If It's Not One Thing...

I'll spare you the details of this morning, but believe me when I say it was one of those that makes Michael Douglas's spree in Falling Down not only completely understandable but practically compulsory.

I just wanted to come in to work - is that too much to ask?

And now come to find out Annie's shells and cheese are the devil.

I give up.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Sad News

Good Weekend

I can't seem to wipe this grin off my face.

Compatibility - what a great feeling.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Stencil Seen In September

I miss green trees.

Good Things

  • Car fixed, finally
  • Sun's out - 53 degrees right now
  • Friday
  • Stella finished with semester-long architecture project
  • Loving my job
  • D. coming over tonight
  • Making amends within the family
  • Bank account in the black

A Lot On My Mind

Last night I watched Friends of God: A Road Trip With Alexandra Pelosi. What a terrifying, frustrating, unintentionally hilarious and educational experience. I have more to say on the subject but don't have time to formulate it. I'll just say that people who are encouraged to "vote your values" somehow seem to forget dying civilians in Iraq, victims of hurricanes, and the poor in America and instead are focused on evolution taught in classrooms, gay marriage, and abortion. Too bad those "Christian values" appear so exclusive.

All the good movies are finally opening in Fayetteville. Okay people, let's go!

I have to miss Stella's spelling bee today. I hate that. I love going every year. It makes this former 1989 Carroll County 1st runner-up spelling bee champ proud. Damn that word "maraud!"

I really need to take a trip soon. It hasn't been since August, y'all. Arkansas is making me stir-crazy.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Not Quite An Elegy

My sweet grandpa died a year ago today after years of struggling with Alzheimer's disease, heart problems and, ultimately, cancer. Oddly enough, we were grateful for the cancer diagnosis as it qualified him for hospice care and allowed him to die peacefully at home, surrounded by family.

Poppy took great pleasure in being a grandfather. It is invaluable for children to feel that they can provide such sheer delight for an adult. Because my mother was an only child, my three sisters and I had our grandparents all to ourselves. We thrived on their attention. Poppy wrote and illustrated books for each of us. He taught us how to cast our Snoopy fishing rods from the rocky shores of Beaver Lake. In winter he would tie our sled to the trailer hitch of his old Bronco and drive us on the unpacked snowy trails. When he watched us by himself he would turn the kitchen into Poppy's Cafe which served only three dishes: cold cereal, salmon patties and strawberry smoothies, all of which we thought were absolutely delicious. When he drove us into town, Jessy and I would agree to try not to talk to him because he had to look us in the eye when he was talking and we were sure he'd plunge us off the side of the narrow, steep Ozark roads. We watched the Kentucky Derby on television every year, placing bets on our favorites and somehow he always let me win, changing his bet at the very last minute if necessary.

Watching him grow weaker and sicker was really hard, but not as hard as watching him lose his sense of humor. It was when he wouldn't catch on to my jokes that I realized he didn't want to live much longer. Those last few days, as he slipped further inside himself were amazing, in a way. It felt like Poppy was retreating, going deeper and deeper within until he couldn't hear us or respond in any way. His skin changed, becoming mottled and cold. Even his breath seemed to come from somewhere further inside, released in soft puffs. And then there was just one last faint exhalation that didn't even sound like a breath at all, more like a long forgotten sigh.

Tonight I'll make his favorite meal, fried fish, and try to remember his stories.

I Was So Wrong

Sam and Elia were voted OUT last night, leaving the nemeses Ilan and Marcel. I never woulda guessed. I don't even know if I can watch the finale now...I care so little about either one of them or what the cook or how they act. Just take your Spanish influences and your foams and your elementary school attitudes and go away.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Free Association Time

If any of y'all are writers and are stuck finding character names, I highly suggest raiding your bulk mail folder. Spammers do all the work for you! I'm thinking of writing a Tales of the City-esque play about an apartment building and its inhabitants...and all the names are coming from my spam emails. The characters emerge from the names themselves in my brainstorm sessions. Such as:
  • Dionysius Cabrales (drag queen)
  • Jerrold Trevino (milquetoast accountant)
  • Felicia Sheldon (fresh off the farm truck)
  • Paige O'Leary ("mama" to everyone in the building)
  • Mack Monroe (smooth operator, ladies man)
  • Deandre Gillis (know-it-all young teenager)
  • Trenton Aldrich (professor emeritus, always quoting tomes)

Do you get good spam names? What kinds of characters do you imagine them to be?

Wrong On Many Levels

Jimi Hendrix Energy Drink In The Works.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Time To Stock The Bar

In order to play The State of the Union Address Drinking Game, as recommended by my neighbors at The FiveForty. Now the question is what's a patriotic dissenter to drink? French wine (freedom juice?)? Cheap domestic beer? Maybe those little airplane bottles so I'll have plenty of handy items to throw at the television.

He Did It Again

Cary Tennis put another lump in my throat this morning.

Read his response to a 39 year-old black woman who wrote to bemoan her singleness. This passage is the one that got me:
So what about your dark side? It is our dark selves for which we seek a home in a relationship. It may be that while men admire everything in you that is good, and find you attractive and would like to be with you, their dark side wants a home with someone who is -- not necessarily dumber than you -- but more openly flawed. Vulnerability might be another word for it, or visible hunger, a genuine, quiet, sad, compassionate hunger. Or even perversity -- not sexually, but perversity in the sense of being truly angry at God, of not taking it anymore, of feeling that you are genuinely fucked, of feeling the tragedy of your fate and accepting the tragedy of the fate of others. That's what many of us are looking for: We are looking for a home for the part of ourselves that is like the part of you that has been crying for two weeks. That is the dark part of you that we respond to. That is probably the part that you feel is least attractive, the part of you of which you are most ashamed. But that is what we long for: We long not for your brilliance, but your humanity.
Isn't that lovely? He's so much more than an advice columnist. He's a gifted writer who seems to understand humans better than we understand ourselves. I spend so much time thinking about The Big Issues (the -isms, global politics, the environment) so it's good to take the time to read a well-crafted, personal response to someone's individual dilemma. No matter the topic, I always find something in Cary's response that I can apply to myself. Now that's good writing.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Pinko Liberal Exaltations

When I took a minute away from converting Thai bhats, Russian rubles, Brazilian reais and Mexican pesos to US dollars, researching Russian psychology ("acmeology", emailing professors, helping students figure out US coins, calling the mechanic to make sure my car can be resurrected (bracing myself for the estimate call...ouch), and working to find partner schools for an international teacher training program I realized today is the 34th anniversary of Roe vs. Wade. Sometimes I'm amazed this hasn't been overturned yet. I'm sure y'all can guess that I'm staunchly pro-choice but being pro-choice is about much more than wanting to keep abortion legal. It's about wanting reproductive health matters to be left up to women (and available to all women) and not become matters of The State. I just read that a Wal Mart denied emergency contraception to a couple. It's legal and over-the-counter now! That kind of shit riles me up. Almost as much as when they used to bring in hundreds of people to Fayetteville where they'd line up on College Avenue and I'd see little kids holding signs that said "I'm glad my mommy didn't abort me." Surely that's some form of child abuse. Anyway...they can chip away at it, but Roe v. Wade still stands. That's important.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Sorry Y'all

I don't really post on the weekends anymore because somehow I done got myself a boyfriend. I'm not quite sure how it happened...I was just minding my own business celebrating Boxing Day with Jessica when the brilliant idea of playing 80s Trivial Pursuit popped in our heads and we invited the nice gentlemen with whom we'd been sharing a table and conversation to join us. The rest, as they say....well....shouldn't be said. Not in polite company, that is. I know, I're going to tell me you aren't polite company. But I am.

So now I spend my weekends holed up, building and stoking fires, making delicious meals, listening to NPR weekend shows, baking cakes, listening to D. play music, petting Lucy dog, and wishing Saturday and Sunday were longer than the other days. Not all that different from how I spent weekends before; it's just sharing them with good company makes them that much better.



Thursday, January 18, 2007

Thoughts While Watching The Office Tonight

  • "Jesus. How many ways are they gonna keep trying to make oatmeal exciting? IT'S OATMEAL, PEOPLE."
  • "Why is it that even numbers aren't deemed attractive to consumers? You never hear of Arby's offering '4 for $4.44' specials. There must be something subliminally desirous about those rounded odd numbers."
  • The tilde over the "n" for Mexican lemonade was a brilliant little scene.
  • "I'm enthralled by the swirling cleaning bubbles of that whitening Listerine. But I also remember the crushing disappointment I felt as a girl when little foaming bristle creatures didn't come zooming out of the can like on the commercial."
  • The accents of used car salesmen are somehow deeper and more exaggerated than other southern men.

Just Asking To Be Made Into A Quentin Tarantino Film

Cops: Pregnant Teens Go On Attack.

"Hidden Agendas of THE DARK ONES???"

Daily dose of outrage. I can't BELIEVE the stupidity of some people (wait, yes I can).

This email was forwarded to me today by someone who was equally horrified to receive it (needless to say, all spelling and sentiments expressed are exactly as I received them):
Subject: Be careful, be very careful

THe hidden agendas of the Dark ones always show their faces.


Barack Hussein Obama was born in Honolulu, Hawaii,
to Barack Hussein Obama Sr. (black muslim) of
Nyangoma-Kogelo, Siaya District, Kenya, and Ann
Dunham of Wichita, Kansas. (white atheist ).
When Obama was two years old, his parents divorced
and his father returned to Kenya. His mother married
Lolo Soetoro -- a Muslim -- moving to Jakarta with
Obama when he was six years old. Within six months
he had learned to speak the Indonesian language
Obama spent "two years in a Muslim school, then two
more in a Catholic school" in Jakarta. Obama takes
great care to conceal the fact that he is a Muslim
while admitting that he was once a Muslim,
mitigating that damning information by saying that,
for two years, he also attended a Catholic school.
Obama's father, Barack Hussein Obama, Sr. was a
radical Muslim who migrated from Kenya to Jakarta, Indonesia.
He met Obama's mother, Ann Dunham, "a
white atheist from Wichita, Kansas?"at the
University of Hawaii at Manoa. Obama, Sr. and Dunham
divorced when Barack, Jr. was two. Obama's
spinmeisters are now attempting to make it appear
that Obama's introduction to Islam came from his
father and that influence was temporary at best. In
reality, the senior Obama returned to Kenya
immediately following the divorce and never again
had any direct influence over his son's education.
Dunham married another Muslim, Lolo Soetoro who
educated his stepson as a good Muslim by enrolling
him in one of Jakarta's Wahabbi schools. Wahabbism
is the radical teaching that created the Muslim
terrorists who are now waging Jihad on the
industrialized world. Since it is politically
expedient to be a Christian when you are seeking
political office in the United States, Obama joined
the United Church of Christ to help purge any notion
that he is still a Muslim.

Because the LAST THING y'all want to be doing is unknowingly electing a MUSLIM, what with their hidden agendas and all. Because we pristine white Amuricans don't EVER have hidden agendas. No way.
Whatever. I'm so disgusted with people today. We allow ourselves to be controlled by fear and it sickens and depresses me.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Kate's Birth Day

When my younger sister Jessy was a toddler she climbed up on the kitchen counter and somehow slipped and fell and broke her top tooth halfway off. The part of the tooth that was left turned a dark gray. We called it her "rotten tooth" because we didn't know about self-esteem back in those days.

Jess and I were vaguely aware of our mother's pregnancy but, being seven and five, we didn't really concern ourselves with matters outside of our insular, imaginative world. On a very cold morning 24 years ago, I woke up to Jessy excitedly telling me she had finally lost her gray tooth. That meant only one thing - ice cream. Our parents told Jess they would buy her ice cream when she finally lost her tooth. For girls being raised on a macrobiotic diet, and whose only permissable sweeteners were rice syrup and fruit, the promise of ice cream was a HUGE deal. We went running into the living room, Jessy holding what was left of her tooth, demanding ice cream for breakfast only to see our mother holding a little baby. My first thought was, "Is someone with a baby visiting us?"

It took a good 15 minutes of explaining before we realized that our mother had given birth at some point in the night and the baby she was holding was our new little sister. Jess and I were all, "Yeah, yeah, baby..whatever. WHEN ARE YOU GETTING THE ICE CREAM?!" Kate Elizabeth Massey was born exactly 24 years ago in our tiny farmhouse in the Ozarks, our dad acting as the midwife. And in all the pictures taken that morning, you can see Jess and me gleefully holding containers of Häagen Dazs.

Happy Birthday, Kate! I will always love you more than ice cream. I promise.


Last night I caught a fascinating documentary on PBS. Shadya is the story of Shadya Zoabi, an Israeli Arab girl who is a karate champion and considers herself a Muslim feminist. Her story is compelling and gives a real insider's view into her life and what it means to be a young woman living in Israel as a Muslim, an athlete, a daughter, a sister and, eventually, a wife.

I didn't watch it from the beginning and fell asleep before it was over so I'm really hoping they air it again.

See...I don't just watch crap on television. That said...I'm anxiously awaiting tonight's Top Chef.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The (Underdeveloped) Gift

I may be a touch psychic.

I've always had my suspicions but now I have proof.

Last week I woke up from a crystal-clear dream in which my friend A. had her baby. I dreamt she had a girl and named her Addison Grace. I meant to call A. and tell her about it but got caught up in the work maelstrom.

A. just now called me to tell me she had the baby on Sunday. A girl.

Her name?
Olivia Addison. I'M NOT KIDDING.

Do you have chills?

Okay so I'm not 100%, but maybe it's a skill like any other and I just need to practice.

I Got Your Outrage Right Here

This article in Salon today is just so good. Please read it.

I'm too busy today to formulate a longer response, but I don't think we can keep comparing Iraq to Vietnam in terms of how we ordinary citizens are responding to the war. We live in a completely different world today, a world that doesn't, and can't, stop for a war on foreign soil. I know there are often protests scheduled here in Fayetteville but I forget about them because guess what, I'm really fucking busy trying to keep food on the table. It's not that expressing my outrage isn't important to me, it's that then this anger and frustration with our government and its policies become just more things on The List of Things I Should Be Doing. I can't handle the guilt. So I got this here blog...geez, whatta cliché.

Monday, January 15, 2007

I Most Likely Wouldn't Die 4 U

Back in 1998 Ang, Amy G. and I saw Prince in concert at Barton Coliseum in Little Rock. He did four costume changes (black, white, red, and purple, duh), writhed on top of a grand piano, and refused to sing a single song in its entirety - totally phoned it in, doing basically a 2-hour medley.

Now in my day I've seen many bands who were past their prime (The Ramones, Blondie, Flock of Seagulls, Blue Öyster Cult, just to name a few) but Prince has got to be the most thrilling and disappointing. I'm pretty sure he was lip-syncing that night in Little Rock...but he was still Prince.

Although I suspect he's now ready for either his own Vegas or Vh1 reality show.

The Ice Storm Cometh

The Weather Channel called it a Winter Blitz. The local paper called it a Winter Blast. I call it a huge pain in the ass for making me so worried about the roads that I left the roaring fire, the bubbling pot of soup, the hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps, sweet Lucy dog, and her even sweeter owner D. to come home and sit around waiting for the temperature to drop. Even more fun than waiting for paint to dry or water to boil.

And I don't want to hear the phrase "freezing drizzle" ever again.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Things I Don't Think I'll Ever Understand

  • Prog rock
  • The appeal of The Three Stooges, Jerry Lewis, NASCAR, margarine, televised baseball, poetry slams, diet Berries n Cream Dr. Pepper, and the comics page
  • Quantum physics
  • Ugly shoes
  • George W. Bush's foreign policies
  • Inherent bigotry
  • Decaf coffee (and how it becomes decaffeinated)
  • My mother
Please note, not understanding isn't the same as not liking.

But pretty much.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Alannah Very Tired

Spending all day with foreign students of varying English proficiency is exhausting but in a really good, fulfilling way - like the exhaustion that comes from a long, hard workout.

I try to be empathic, to imagine what it must feel like to cross many time zones in one day, to not sleep and then spend all day dealing with bureaucratic hassles and paperwork, to then be tested in foreign language skills and to be given important specific instructions, to be away from familiar faces, language, climate. I hope I convey friendliness, helpfulness, care and a desire to reach common understanding. Even when I resort to monosyllabalic Tarzan-like sentences.

At the end of a day like today all I want to do is grunt, park my ass on the couch, drink a beer and watch tv. I feel like this guy:

Not exactly an ideal ambassador.


Top news story on Not President Bush's long-awaited "plan for Iraq." You might think that would be important enough to be at the forefront of "America's most trusted news source."

You might think.

But no...It's David Beckham coming to America! Cue the James Brown and break out the party hats! Forget all that doom and gloom, people...let's celebrate! Woo hoo!

Bet you didn't even know there was such a thing as the Los Angeles Galaxy.

Disheartening Morning

It makes me so sad that as I, in my own very small way, am working to promote international friendship, literacy and communication, my president is working equally hard to alienate not only the rest of the world but his own country and armed forces. NO ONE WANTS THIS. I have yet to hear a single person argue effectively that a "troop surge" is a good idea.

I pity the person who will take office in 2008 and inherit this clusterfuck.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Constructive Use Of Crankiness

Today's post from 5of9er really cracked me up. Not only do I agree with most of his peeves (except The Flaming Lips...why such a hater, 5of9er?) but I admire his method of dealing with a bad day. Next time I wake up in a bad mood, I'll take it out on every last thing that irritates me.


Arkansas governor Mike Huckabee will be on The Daily Show tonight.

Crossing my fingers he won't embarrass us.

Wondering if Jon Stewart will bring up the "triple-wide trailer" days.

Big Day

My first group of international students arrives today and tomorrow and I'm very excited and will be very busy. Y'all will have to be outraged and sorry for yourself without my guidance for a short bit during the days.

At least I got the complete mental & emotional breakdown out of my system yesterday when the car died on the hill. It was a sight to see....

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

I Resolve Not To Cry In The Women's Restroom

My car's transmission is out. I can't afford to fix it, much less get a new car. I live in a town with next-to-no public transportation. This is one of the busiest weeks of the year at work. I'm so mad that I'm dependent on a stupid car! I'm mad at the car for not being more durable. I'm mad at a system that keeps single mothers toeing the poverty line!

There ain't enough Xanax or Calgon in the world....

Another Reason To Appreciate James

He calls me to say, "There's an interview with Sacha Baron Cohen on Fresh Air RIGHT NOW. Turn it on!"

You can listen to it here. It's well worth it.

January 20, 1990

Is a Eureka Springs High School dance going to be the only social aspect of my weekend? HE called this morning. I don't want myself to keep feeling this way, but how can I stop? He has such unknown power over me.

"Yesterday I got so old I felt like I could die. Yesterday away from you froze me deep inside."

Take me, Robert Smith. Keep saying the words that save my life
Reading my old diary entries is quite the exercise in humility. They alternately crack me up and make me sad. I wish I could take the 14 year-old me aside and tell me to focus on myself, not so much on boys, to develop my talents and do whatever it takes to gain confidence. "Take me, Robert Smith....the words that save my life?" That's just too much. Although I do still listen to The Cure, and I am still alive.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Eat This

Manchego & garlic Gouda on marble rye with spicy mustard, fresh spinach, avocado & sliced shiitake mushrooms, sprinkled w/ garlic powder, cayenne & a quick spritz of Bragg's.

Classic Disaster Movie Set-Up

Gas-like odor permeates Manhattan.

Dead Birds Prompt Downtown Austin Shutdown.

But don't be alarmed, people...just get back to work.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Everyone Likes To See A Pretty Girl Cry

I hadn't cooked a healthy dinner in I don't-know-how-long, apparently preferring to consume all December calories in the form of sweets and alcohol. Last night I wandered around ONF in stupefied daze ("Right! So THESE are those vegetable things again") for about an hour, picking random things that sounded good and wound up making turkey italian sausage in a tomato, fennel, spinach, and herb cream sauce over polenta. I planned to make an apple crisp too (the pink ladies are a deep hot pink right now) but quickly lost motivation. That happens when Kelly brings over wine and the couch is comfy and there's a marathon of America's Next Top Model on.

Check out that mise en place,y'all. Sometimes it's fun to put everything in bowls and pretend you're on a cooking show. From left to right: fennel, tomatoes, sausage, garlic, mixed wild mushrooms, onion, one can plum tomatoes w/ basil, heavy cream, spinach, polenta, chicken broth, and italian parsley. I also added chopped fresh sage & rosemary near the end of the cooking time. Oh, and toasted pine nuts.

Looks like a good combination of crunchy, chewy, smooth, and tangy. The acidity of the tomatoes & red wine (about 1/3 c) cut the richness of the cream but I added only about 2 TBs of cream so it wasn't too heavy. Polenta is the easiest thing in the world (polenta & broth cooked on the stovetop then spread in a pan w/ shaved parmesan on top) to cook. It's also heartier and more flavorful than pasta.

Mmmm, so good it'll make you slap Tyra AND her mama!

Friday, January 05, 2007

Ode To Martha

I'm keeping with the Friendly Friday theme. For southern women it's considered horribly uncouth to be photographed smoking, but I do so love this picture of my friend Marty. I hope she forgives me. She introduced me to my new favorite food, pupusas, the Salvadoran delicacy.
She's awesome in about four hundred other ways as well, such as making kickass dance mixes, mixing a delicious salty dog, giving personal and thoughtful gifts, and snagging both an incredible husband and cats. She's talented and smart with an innate sense of justice. Just don't ever ask her how the weather is up there.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

"Pharma Babes?" Are You Kidding Me?

There are some things that I encounter and at first I know they piss me off but can't articulate exactly why. I have to reread or rewatch or rehear them to figure out why or how I know they're fucked up. This article was like that. I read it two days ago and thought, "Pffft, what a douchebag." But I kept thinking about it and realized it's more than just another douchebag doctor's opinion. I had to examine why it got me riled up and I think I'm about there.

Well, to start the very first sentence is sexist and patronizing. "It's the click of high heels that gets our attention." So already he's positioned the sexy pharmaceutical reps against the dowdy, boring "good women" who work in hospitals. That old dichotomy. It's so fucking tiresome. He then goes on to tell us that these "pharma babes" aren't specially trained or educated but he makes a case for why they're important to him anyway.
"They encourage us, though, with smiles, samples and glossy cards with easy-to-understand graphics. Perhaps more encouraging are their compliments...10 minutes of rapt attention from a smiling beauty is still 10 more minutes than usual."
Because doctors are big, dumb dolts who don't like to read and are suckers for heels and pretty faces. your blood boiling yet? Mine is. I hate to believe that studying for the boards is so hard that doctors don't have time to educate themselves on every new medication and it's just easier to passively accept whatever the pharmaceutical reps tell them, even though I'm sure it's true. Do I have to accept it, though? And are we to assume that all doctors are straight men? I GUESS SO. I am so disgusted with this man, with the medical business (and don't get me is very much a business, not a service) in general after reading this article. I'm sure some of it is true. I know that pharmaceutical companies have way more power than they deserve. But that's not the point he makes at all. He thinks these "pharma babes" serve a real function. I'd like to serve HIM a function - squarely in the nuts.

ETA: Carol Lloyd at Salon sums it up better than I do.

I Hope You Found What You Were Looking For

Favorite Google searches that led people here:
  • The song with the lyrics the downtown was so scary
  • White trash
  • Leonard Cohen wine wafer
  • Playboy October 2006
  • Recovering Broken Heart
  • Southern Brown Beans Recipe
  • Novovirus
  • Pi
  • Bottled Egg Nog
I think those do a fairly good job of summing up this here blog.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

"No Shit" Headline Of The Day

Iraq Prime Minister Wishes He Could Quit.

Our Very Own Nostradamus

That Pat Robertson is one lucky SOB. Did you know that God speaks to him directly and gives him little previews of the year to come? It's true. Like God told Robertson that Bush would be re-elected by a landslide and that his Social Security reforms would pass and a tsunami would hit the North American coastline in 2006.

Apparently this year we can expect a "mass killing" in the U.S. sometime after September and it may or may not be nuclear - God wasn't real clear on that. The Lord doesn't know everything, okay?'s not like he's....God.

Waiting For...

The Gerald Ford tribute as performed by Chevy Chase.

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

I Yuv You Yemes!

Every girl needs a James in her life. James is my straight gay boyfriend. He serves the function of a gay boyfriend (de facto date, tells me I look good, is always clean and smelling nice) but is straight (overly straight, perhaps, but that's a different story). Saturday we decided to go see a movie, but this being Arkansas, the pickins were depressingly slim. We agreed on The Good Shepherd.


I started to get pissed halfway through and I could tell it wasn't anywhere close to being over but I didn't drive and I was held hostage by the tropes of lame & obvious symbolism and too damn many long close-ups. I've committed to memory every single pore on Matt Damon's face. I actually laughed out loud at the Key Character Development Scene in which he burns a letter and the charred bits float through the air ever so delicately and waft down into the Trashcan of Symbolic Finality. I mean, COME ON. And don't get me started on...well, everything else. I won't even tell you about the Lone Wedding Dress of Dashed Hopes. Ugh. Just so many overwrought performances and one hell of a convoluted script, which wasn't at all necessary because this film really does have an interesting topic but Robert DeNiro somehow managed to drag it into the most boring film I've seen all year.

But the great thing about having a James in your life is that a horrific experience like The Good Shepherd doesn't have to make it a bad date or a bad night. Granted, it did take beers and jukebox songs at the pub followed by repeated viewings of The 40 Year Old Virgin AND The Big Lebowski plus three bottles of wine and a foot rub to undo the damage done by that bloated piece of crap people will be fooled into thinking is "a good film."


2007 & back at work.