I Left My Flaming Guitar In Monterey
Day Four
We've decided to see the highly recommended Monterey Aquarium this morning, so we fill up on the packaged danishes that pass for a continental breakfast and strawberries I picked up yesterday at a roadside stand and head out. On the way to the aquarium, we pass by Cannery Row, and the many tributes to John Steinbeck. I've gotta read some more Steinbeck, obviously. I had no idea he loved sardines so much.
The aquarium itself is amazing. First, we head to the Outer Bay wing, where we are greeted by the creatures that live right outside in the bay, which is really a 2 mile deep underwater canyon, bigger than the Grand Canyon. Jellyfish are really cool. And we get to see them up close, because the glass is magnifying. Then we come to a two story glass tank holding 300 pound tunas, hammerhead sharks, sea turtles, barracudas, and a lone dolphinfish (mahi mahi). Shortly after we arrive, they dump two hundred pounds of squid and fish in the tank to feed the fast swimmers. It's an amazing scene. We clap when a sea turtle finally moves his slow butt over and grabs a bit of squid. In about 3 minutes, the 200 pounds of food is gone.
We see otters, mollusks, a kelp forest, the octopus and the nautilus, a cuttlefish, eels, flat fish, starfish, sharks, anenomes, sea cucumbers, barnacles, crabs, and I get to pet a manta ray. They feel slimy, but they're not. They're like satin leather. Most of the little kids get shafted because their puny arms can't reach the ray. Ha ha ha! Puny children.
Finally, we realize we've been there for three hours and we're hungry! We hit the touristy Fisherman's Wharf again and settle on the Fish Hopper because they offer us a free sample of chowder. We are easy like that. I have the sesame seed encrusted mahi mahi (sorry dolphinfish!) with mango salsa. Sean has an artichoke stuffed with shrimp. We overpay, but the view is gorgeous. We see otters swimming by. The bathroom has toilet seat covers.
By the way, today I am wearing a brown python print, stretchy, collared V-neck, a khaki cargo skirt (cooler than it sounds), and my Prairie Farm Boots. These details help you envision the story.
We leave Monterey, and try to find the location of the Winchester Mystery House. Sean wants to see this thing, and he thinks it's near Santa Cruz. Turns out, it's near San Jose, and we won't be able to get there before the last tour ends. I promise that the next trip we take to California will be all about touring mansions. Secretly, I am frightened of this house, as it reminds me of Stephen King's (albeit terribly written) scary Rose Red. We then decide to jet up to Santa Cruz for the amusement park, until I read in Frommer's that it isn't open yet. Ooops! Undeterred, we make a plan to find an inexpensive motel in Napa Valley and drive straight there. We mostly look at the pretty scenery, which is much like that at Big Sur, until we see a lighthouse in the distance. We stop to get a picture. Turns out it is historic, is closed to the public, is a prime spot for whale watching, and is also a hostel! We see a whale in the distance. Well, I mostly see a blur of mist, but Sean promises me it is a whale. I wish the lighthouse were cleaner, but Sean likes the rust running down the sides. Whatever.
We arrive on the south side of San Francisco and zip through (yeah, I mean, crawl through) to the Golden Gate Bridge. I get a great view of the city in the dusk, and am promised a better view of the bridge the next day. Finally, we leave Highway 1 to travel inland to Napa. I've secured a room at the Chablis Inn for $65. Oh yeah. It's terribly easy to find, even though I am momentarily doubted by the driver, who shall remain nameless. We are two tired puppies. We decide to get pizza at Round Table and watch the finale of America's Next Top Model (my idea, of course). I have mixed feelings about Yoanna winning. I don't think Mercedes was really better overall, but none of them had the whole package. Oh well. Sean falls asleep at 11.
Day Five
The bed is very hard. I wake up with a sore back. But who cares? We're getting wine! I try to straddle the fence between California and classy and wind up in a pale pink sleeveless cowl-neck sweater, my black cargos, purple sneakers and my hoodie. The front desk woman (who, according to Sean, has an unfortunate mustache) recommends a restaurant next door for breakfast. She is a good woman. The restaurant has a breakfast menu that sets me to drooling. It's almost unsightly. I order the breakfast named --- wait for it -- Larry's Breakfast. Shout out to my friend Larry. Sean wonders if he should call Larry but stops short as his jaw drops at the order. Three eggs scrambled, hash browns (!!!), four sausage links, and biscuits and gravy. He's so silly. It's not so much. It's not like I ordered it with the hamburger patty or the chicken fried steak.
The first winery we go to is Sterling. I leave my camera in the car, like a dumbass, because this winery is located on the side of a hill, and you have to ride a suspended tram to get up there. It's a beautiful day, and the ride is breathtaking. The winery is all white, with bell carillons. Sean has been here before, and I leave myself in his hands. We take the self-guided tour and see the big casks of wine. They use plastic corks! We have the complimentary (with ticket price) tasting of four varietals, which is very nice. The staff is incredibly personable and pleasant, so we go to the reserve room to taste the special 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon, the wine that put this vineyard on the map, according to Jacquie. It's decanted and everything. It's also very, very yummy. It's also on sale for $35 (from $125), so Sean buys it! I feel very classy.
I stop at the restroom, and while musing about the appearance of yet more toilet seat covers, I almost leave the 22 year old wine in the stall. Ooops!
Next we drive down to Beringer Vineyards. The main tasting room and shop is in a very pretty house with pristine gardens that smell nice. Look, I ain't no Keats, okay? They smell nice. The girl at the tasting bar is younger than I am, so I don't really take her very seriously, although she seems to know what she's talking about. For some reason, I don't buy it. That must be very sad for her. Anyway, I think Sean is getting drunk. Or maybe it's me. I have all Cabernets and they're very strong. Sean has a white I actually like, and he buys a bottle. It's his favorite white wine, and it was the last wine he drank in San Francisco or something. It's named after Ed Sbragia, the head vintor. I am starting to realize that Sean is a closet wine snob.
After leaving Beringer with a handy box for our breakable alcohol stuff, we stop at Taylor's Refresher, a roadside stand in St. Helena, the cute little town in the middle of all the vineyards. They have a $9 Ahi Burger. Sheesh. I get an $8 steak sandwich, and we split a soda. It's a cute place, though, and we sit outside in the sun. The food is good, but I can't help but think that New York is not nearly as expensive as California.
After sobering up a little (Disclaimer: Sean is not driving drunk. I exaggerate for effect.), we drive down to Domain Chandon. That's right, it's time to drink champagne. This place is beautiful. We park next to a pond full of lilies and lily pads, surrounded by sculpture. The arbor at the entrance is covered with dripping wisteria that look like bunches of grapes. The restaurant/tasting bar offers a view that would be hard to have at your back all day. Let's put it this way: I want to jump the bar and run out onto the grass, singing, "The hills are alive..." Modern sculpture dots the landscape. It's cool. We drink three champagnes, and I start to get a little tipsy. We get to keep our flutes. Our server tells us he's never been to San Francisco, which is about 50 miles away.
It's time to go to San Francisco. My back is sore and I lose my buzz and start to get crabby, as Sean gets crabby about driving in SF. The bridge is really cool. Half of it is completely obscured by fog. After a debate with the rental car company, we come out the winners and take a cab to Sean's friend's house in the Lower Haight, where we will stay the next three nights.
But it's not over, folks! I am required to go out. Andy and Jordan (the owners of our new couch-bed) come home from work and we take off for Chances, a nice little dive a few blocks away. Good music, all of Sean's friends from the neighborhood show, and my back finally loosens up (thank you, Tanqueray!). I endear myself to the crowd by headbanging to Metallica. There's a heated political argument, harsh words are spoken, then it's time to go home. I am so tired.
Holy crap. I'll recap San Franciso tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
You Go, Rude Boy!
The opening night of Prince's Musicology tour was broadcast live on movie screens across the country, and I was at one of them last night. The concert was at LA's Staples Center (one place I didn't see in CA), so it started at 11 pm EST. It was very late. But it was awesome. I wish the people in the movie theatre had gotten up to dance, but I will get a chance to see the live concert at Madison Square Garden on July 14. The first (and last) Prince concert I saw was in July of 1997, soon after I moved to New York. I can't believe it's been 7 years since I saw him in person. It doesn't seem that long!
He played a lot of hits, some shortened, some with long instrumental jams, much like in 1997. He opened with "Musicology", which is a cute song. He played it on Leno a couple of weeks ago. Some unexpected surprises included "Shh" from Gold, "Insatiable" from Diamonds and Pearls, a cleaned up version of "DMSR" from 1999, and instrumental of "God" (B-side), and "Let's Work" from Controversy. I can't wait to see it again, where I can shake my booty down to the ground. He even did an acoustic encore. The man is incredible in concert.
But what did you think I'd say?
The opening night of Prince's Musicology tour was broadcast live on movie screens across the country, and I was at one of them last night. The concert was at LA's Staples Center (one place I didn't see in CA), so it started at 11 pm EST. It was very late. But it was awesome. I wish the people in the movie theatre had gotten up to dance, but I will get a chance to see the live concert at Madison Square Garden on July 14. The first (and last) Prince concert I saw was in July of 1997, soon after I moved to New York. I can't believe it's been 7 years since I saw him in person. It doesn't seem that long!
He played a lot of hits, some shortened, some with long instrumental jams, much like in 1997. He opened with "Musicology", which is a cute song. He played it on Leno a couple of weeks ago. Some unexpected surprises included "Shh" from Gold, "Insatiable" from Diamonds and Pearls, a cleaned up version of "DMSR" from 1999, and instrumental of "God" (B-side), and "Let's Work" from Controversy. I can't wait to see it again, where I can shake my booty down to the ground. He even did an acoustic encore. The man is incredible in concert.
But what did you think I'd say?
Monday, March 29, 2004
I Went To California and Didn't Die
Truly, it surprised me.
Day One
I wear my Teen Girl Squad tank top, black stretchy pants, purple sneakers and hoodie. Take a car to JFK to fly Jet Blue. I hate going out to JFK. La Guardia is 10 minutes from my house. However, the Jet Blue terminal is nice and efficient, and we're munching on sandwiches in no time. The flight crew is strangely chipper. Direct TV is addictive, and I find myself flipping between cartoons and game shows and neglecting my crosswords and my cassettes. That's right, I fly with cassettes. You got a problem with that?
We arrive in Long Beach, which has a quaint little airport. Baggage claim is outdoors. Already I can sense that California is... different. Sean's friend picks us up in his Mercedes and makes a joke about earthquakes. Ha ha. That evening, we hit Baja Cantina in Marina Del Ray for Mexican food (I have a pork taco and a cheese enchilada). Please keep the salt off my margaritas, fellas! The more intrepid of our little group head to a club called James Beach. They have valet parking. I learn that everything in the LA area has valet parking. That just seems wrong for a bar, you know. Are the valets liable if they hand keys back to a drunk person? Anyway, the bar is also outside. But they have heat lamps, because it's March and for some reason, Southern California is not as warm as I was led to believe.
Day Two
Morning comes and I find that not everywhere in LA is as sunny as I was told, either. The coast is covered in fog. I attempt to dress appropriately in Buffy t-shirt, black cargos, hoodie and purple sneakers. We have brunch at The Rose Cafe in Venice (I have the crabcakes), then set off to drive inland for the sun. We drive very quickly by: Santa Monica, the Hollywood sign, Graumann's Chinese Theatre (with the handprints and the Walk of Fame), The Beverly Hills Hotel, Rodeo Drive (Hermes!), Mullholland Drive (scary! windy! cliffy!), the San Fernando Valley, West Hollywood (The Viper Room, Whisky A-Go-Go), and some other stuff I can't remember. There is sun. We drive with the sunroof open. Then it's back to the Marina, where sun has come, as well, and a stop at Rubio's for fish tacos. I don't eat fish tacos, but Sean does. He loves them. Me, I'm 12 and I think it sounds gross. Hit the grocery store for ground beef and Bloody Mary mix and proceed to grill out, get drunk, and watch "Pimp My Ride" while listening to Miles Davis. I swear I am not making this up.
Day Three
It's time to do... more driving! Thankfully, I gave up driving, so I get to ride and navigate. I love navigating. With a road Atlas in one hand and Frommer's in the other, we start up the coast on California Highway 1, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). It's cloudy, so I am slightly bummed, but I'll live. Breakfast is half a leftover cheeseburger, but it's enough. First stop is Santa Barbara. It looks expensive. We get out to stretch our legs. The main drag is not very busy, but we watch some guys skateboard in the oceanside skatepark, then get a smoothie for Sean. I have water. I am not very impressed with California yet, as it is quite cloudy and chilly. We move on.
As we drive north, the sun comes out. We pull over at a rest stop so Sean can call his parents (his Mom had just had open-heart surgery; she's doing very well), and I change into a miniskirt that totally doesn't match my outfit (purple palette striped t-shirt, white socks and purple sneakers) because it's warm and I am happy. My first stop in a public facility in California, and I notice something. Flushable toilet seat covers, aka, ass gaskets. I figure that's normal for a rest stop and put it out of my head. Next stop, Pismo Beach!
We stop at Pismo Beach because Bugs Bunny once mentioned it in a cartoon. Don't ask. After taking Sean's picture by the giant clam statue (the Pismo clam is a nearly extinct mollusk), I discover that the port-a-johns do not have ass gaskets available. Oh well. We stand on the boardwalk and look at the pretty ocean and canoodle for a bit, then it is off to San Luis Obispo. Bye, Pismo clam! We will meet again some day!
San Luis Obispo is kind of an affluent college town. Copeland Sports is everywhere. We decide to eat at Moe's Barbecue, as recommended by Frommer's. It's very good, and there are pictures of other barbecue joints from the southeast on the walls, including Corky's, my fave rib place in Tennessee. Update: There are also toilet seat covers in the bathroom. I start to sense a trend. A quick call to San Simeon informs us that we have just missed the last tour, so we won't be visiting the Hearst Castle. C'est la vie! We decide to just keep driving up the coast to Morro Bay, where they have a big rock. The rock is cool.
From there we head north to Big Sur. This is just wild. We're driving along very high cliffs next to the ocean, but also in the woods. The mountains are to the right of us, and the horizon is the ocean at eye level on the right. I make Sean watch the road because it's very twisty. We catch sunset an must drive through in the dark, because hotels in Big Sur are far too expensive. We pass through Carmel and stop in Monterey.
After laughing at the Hilton's $179 room rate, we find a cute little motel across the street, The Stagecoach Inn. Exhausted and a little cranky, we still take the time to do what most people do in motel rooms, then scoot off to the overpriced and touristy Fisherman's Wharf for a very late dinner at Sapporo. I have steak teryaki and a piece of Sean's unagi (eel) roll. Finally, the long day is over.
More to come.
Truly, it surprised me.
Day One
I wear my Teen Girl Squad tank top, black stretchy pants, purple sneakers and hoodie. Take a car to JFK to fly Jet Blue. I hate going out to JFK. La Guardia is 10 minutes from my house. However, the Jet Blue terminal is nice and efficient, and we're munching on sandwiches in no time. The flight crew is strangely chipper. Direct TV is addictive, and I find myself flipping between cartoons and game shows and neglecting my crosswords and my cassettes. That's right, I fly with cassettes. You got a problem with that?
We arrive in Long Beach, which has a quaint little airport. Baggage claim is outdoors. Already I can sense that California is... different. Sean's friend picks us up in his Mercedes and makes a joke about earthquakes. Ha ha. That evening, we hit Baja Cantina in Marina Del Ray for Mexican food (I have a pork taco and a cheese enchilada). Please keep the salt off my margaritas, fellas! The more intrepid of our little group head to a club called James Beach. They have valet parking. I learn that everything in the LA area has valet parking. That just seems wrong for a bar, you know. Are the valets liable if they hand keys back to a drunk person? Anyway, the bar is also outside. But they have heat lamps, because it's March and for some reason, Southern California is not as warm as I was led to believe.
Day Two
Morning comes and I find that not everywhere in LA is as sunny as I was told, either. The coast is covered in fog. I attempt to dress appropriately in Buffy t-shirt, black cargos, hoodie and purple sneakers. We have brunch at The Rose Cafe in Venice (I have the crabcakes), then set off to drive inland for the sun. We drive very quickly by: Santa Monica, the Hollywood sign, Graumann's Chinese Theatre (with the handprints and the Walk of Fame), The Beverly Hills Hotel, Rodeo Drive (Hermes!), Mullholland Drive (scary! windy! cliffy!), the San Fernando Valley, West Hollywood (The Viper Room, Whisky A-Go-Go), and some other stuff I can't remember. There is sun. We drive with the sunroof open. Then it's back to the Marina, where sun has come, as well, and a stop at Rubio's for fish tacos. I don't eat fish tacos, but Sean does. He loves them. Me, I'm 12 and I think it sounds gross. Hit the grocery store for ground beef and Bloody Mary mix and proceed to grill out, get drunk, and watch "Pimp My Ride" while listening to Miles Davis. I swear I am not making this up.
Day Three
It's time to do... more driving! Thankfully, I gave up driving, so I get to ride and navigate. I love navigating. With a road Atlas in one hand and Frommer's in the other, we start up the coast on California Highway 1, also known as the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). It's cloudy, so I am slightly bummed, but I'll live. Breakfast is half a leftover cheeseburger, but it's enough. First stop is Santa Barbara. It looks expensive. We get out to stretch our legs. The main drag is not very busy, but we watch some guys skateboard in the oceanside skatepark, then get a smoothie for Sean. I have water. I am not very impressed with California yet, as it is quite cloudy and chilly. We move on.
As we drive north, the sun comes out. We pull over at a rest stop so Sean can call his parents (his Mom had just had open-heart surgery; she's doing very well), and I change into a miniskirt that totally doesn't match my outfit (purple palette striped t-shirt, white socks and purple sneakers) because it's warm and I am happy. My first stop in a public facility in California, and I notice something. Flushable toilet seat covers, aka, ass gaskets. I figure that's normal for a rest stop and put it out of my head. Next stop, Pismo Beach!
We stop at Pismo Beach because Bugs Bunny once mentioned it in a cartoon. Don't ask. After taking Sean's picture by the giant clam statue (the Pismo clam is a nearly extinct mollusk), I discover that the port-a-johns do not have ass gaskets available. Oh well. We stand on the boardwalk and look at the pretty ocean and canoodle for a bit, then it is off to San Luis Obispo. Bye, Pismo clam! We will meet again some day!
San Luis Obispo is kind of an affluent college town. Copeland Sports is everywhere. We decide to eat at Moe's Barbecue, as recommended by Frommer's. It's very good, and there are pictures of other barbecue joints from the southeast on the walls, including Corky's, my fave rib place in Tennessee. Update: There are also toilet seat covers in the bathroom. I start to sense a trend. A quick call to San Simeon informs us that we have just missed the last tour, so we won't be visiting the Hearst Castle. C'est la vie! We decide to just keep driving up the coast to Morro Bay, where they have a big rock. The rock is cool.
From there we head north to Big Sur. This is just wild. We're driving along very high cliffs next to the ocean, but also in the woods. The mountains are to the right of us, and the horizon is the ocean at eye level on the right. I make Sean watch the road because it's very twisty. We catch sunset an must drive through in the dark, because hotels in Big Sur are far too expensive. We pass through Carmel and stop in Monterey.
After laughing at the Hilton's $179 room rate, we find a cute little motel across the street, The Stagecoach Inn. Exhausted and a little cranky, we still take the time to do what most people do in motel rooms, then scoot off to the overpriced and touristy Fisherman's Wharf for a very late dinner at Sapporo. I have steak teryaki and a piece of Sean's unagi (eel) roll. Finally, the long day is over.
More to come.
Finally, Something Worth Watching
Take two minutes out ouf your busy day and watch this. You'll be glad you did. Unless you don't like your thoughts provoked. Which, considering what you're looking at right now, is possible.
Take two minutes out ouf your busy day and watch this. You'll be glad you did. Unless you don't like your thoughts provoked. Which, considering what you're looking at right now, is possible.
Monday, March 01, 2004
How Riveting... Oh, Wait, I Mean, Not Riveting
Big surprise, Sean Penn and Charlize Theron and Peter Jackson won. I'm just glued to the set, that is, when I can take a break from reading a recap of last week's America's Next Top Model, which I actually saw. What? Oh, the Oscars. Spielberg is about to announce the Best Picture Oscar. I'll save you the trouble of looking it up. It involves hobbits.
<...>
Yeah, I was right. Not like you had to be a genius to see this coming. Tied Titanic and Ben Hur for most wins. I have to say, I really liked the movie, the whole series, and hoped it would win this Oscar, but this is just overkill. Why anyone has to say anything after the 10+ other speeches is unfathomable. Shut up! I now have angry feelings toward the whole LOR franchise and it's all the fault of the Oscars. Damn you Billy Crystal! Damn you!
Big surprise, Sean Penn and Charlize Theron and Peter Jackson won. I'm just glued to the set, that is, when I can take a break from reading a recap of last week's America's Next Top Model, which I actually saw. What? Oh, the Oscars. Spielberg is about to announce the Best Picture Oscar. I'll save you the trouble of looking it up. It involves hobbits.
<...>
Yeah, I was right. Not like you had to be a genius to see this coming. Tied Titanic and Ben Hur for most wins. I have to say, I really liked the movie, the whole series, and hoped it would win this Oscar, but this is just overkill. Why anyone has to say anything after the 10+ other speeches is unfathomable. Shut up! I now have angry feelings toward the whole LOR franchise and it's all the fault of the Oscars. Damn you Billy Crystal! Damn you!
Sunday, February 29, 2004
Return of the Freaking King
Give me a break, already! Lord of the Rings: Part Tois has won every Oscar it's been nominated for so far! Even best original song. I love Annie Lennox and everything, but Mitch & Mickey's song from A Mighty Wind was just so awesome and perfect for the movie. It's just ridiculous, and the people accepting for them go on and on and on, reading these ridiculous laundry lists of thank yous. I loved the movie, but this is totally unfair, and getting quite boring.
Also, as I watch this show, I realize that there are only four actor categories, yet the whole Oscar buzz revolves around actors. Nobody there cares about documentaries or animated shorts or film editing. Hell, I don't care about those things. I don't work in the film industry, so I can't make a judgement on who did a better job of sound mixing. I feel like I could vote on costume and makeup, and I think LOR was just handed those two awards. Pirates of the Carribean had much better makeup, IMHO. A pair of pointy ears, some fuzzy feet, and a white beard don't match Johnny Depp's dreamy Jack Sparrow vs. Geoffrey Rush's creepy Barbarosa, John Rhys-Davies' amazing dwarf transformation notwithstanding.
Anyhow, they should get do all the boring tech awards and short subject awards two weeks prior to a tight, two-hour, all Hollywood actors show featuring the following awards: Best Supporting Actor and Best Actor (men and women don't have to be separated. Just pick the best one, for goodness' sake); Best Picture; Best Director; Best Costumes and Makeup; Best Song; Best Score; and Best Overall Effects. Dumb it down and get it over with.
(PS, Julia Roberts looks good, for once. She should wear her hair down and strawberry blonde to more awards shows. The year she won, she looked like an idiot. Much like Marcia Gay Harden tonight. What's with that crazed helmet hair?)
Give me a break, already! Lord of the Rings: Part Tois has won every Oscar it's been nominated for so far! Even best original song. I love Annie Lennox and everything, but Mitch & Mickey's song from A Mighty Wind was just so awesome and perfect for the movie. It's just ridiculous, and the people accepting for them go on and on and on, reading these ridiculous laundry lists of thank yous. I loved the movie, but this is totally unfair, and getting quite boring.
Also, as I watch this show, I realize that there are only four actor categories, yet the whole Oscar buzz revolves around actors. Nobody there cares about documentaries or animated shorts or film editing. Hell, I don't care about those things. I don't work in the film industry, so I can't make a judgement on who did a better job of sound mixing. I feel like I could vote on costume and makeup, and I think LOR was just handed those two awards. Pirates of the Carribean had much better makeup, IMHO. A pair of pointy ears, some fuzzy feet, and a white beard don't match Johnny Depp's dreamy Jack Sparrow vs. Geoffrey Rush's creepy Barbarosa, John Rhys-Davies' amazing dwarf transformation notwithstanding.
Anyhow, they should get do all the boring tech awards and short subject awards two weeks prior to a tight, two-hour, all Hollywood actors show featuring the following awards: Best Supporting Actor and Best Actor (men and women don't have to be separated. Just pick the best one, for goodness' sake); Best Picture; Best Director; Best Costumes and Makeup; Best Song; Best Score; and Best Overall Effects. Dumb it down and get it over with.
(PS, Julia Roberts looks good, for once. She should wear her hair down and strawberry blonde to more awards shows. The year she won, she looked like an idiot. Much like Marcia Gay Harden tonight. What's with that crazed helmet hair?)
Thursday, February 26, 2004
Very Important Entertainment News
I know all two of you are waiting with bated breath to find out what I think of this whole Passion mess. Well, sit tight, because I have plenty to say about it. First of all, I'm glad they finally got Sheridan out of that pit, but if I have to hear her screaming for her baby one more time, I don't know if I can take it. And what's with Alistair Crane playing Providence in this backwards morality play? He's there at every turn, sabotaging any opportunity for the good people of Harmony to be happy or, at the least, aware of the truth. Why is everyone in Harmony so stupid, anyway? Why doesn't Eve just tell Whitney the truth about her relationship with Julian? Why doesn't Liz just tell TC she's Eve's sister? Why can't Charity just tell Miguel that she made a deal with Death to save Baby Maria? It's so frustrating. Finally, why does every day in Harmony last ten of our Earth days? Other than that, I enjoy the show, and I can't figure out why some lady had a heart attack while watching it.
I know all two of you are waiting with bated breath to find out what I think of this whole Passion mess. Well, sit tight, because I have plenty to say about it. First of all, I'm glad they finally got Sheridan out of that pit, but if I have to hear her screaming for her baby one more time, I don't know if I can take it. And what's with Alistair Crane playing Providence in this backwards morality play? He's there at every turn, sabotaging any opportunity for the good people of Harmony to be happy or, at the least, aware of the truth. Why is everyone in Harmony so stupid, anyway? Why doesn't Eve just tell Whitney the truth about her relationship with Julian? Why doesn't Liz just tell TC she's Eve's sister? Why can't Charity just tell Miguel that she made a deal with Death to save Baby Maria? It's so frustrating. Finally, why does every day in Harmony last ten of our Earth days? Other than that, I enjoy the show, and I can't figure out why some lady had a heart attack while watching it.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
...Sometimes Just Pretzels and Beer
Hello, children. Isn't it great when everything is just coming together? When you feel productive and energized? When things are going your way? Sure, these times are fleeting and infrequent, but they can really do a lot to offset those days of pain and misery. One day of sunshine, one day of stamped and mailed envelopes, one day of phone calls that yield positive results, one little perfect day can make all the difference. One day leads into two, then three, and suddenly, you know what it means to be successful. Right now, I just feel successful in keeping myself on top of things, successful in taking care of myself in a difficult situation, but it's enough.
Small successes lead to heightened expectations, meeting small goals makes it easier to create bigger goals. Every day that I move forward makes it seem more and more impossible -- unacceptable -- to fall back.
When I was in high school and college, I was a borderline Type A student. Perfection was the goal, nothing else would do. My first semester in college I got a 3.88 GPA and flew into a tizzy. I had to get my shit together! For the next 6 semesters, I came out with a 4.0. The impending end of college, the end of the ability to gauge perfection and validate my behavior, threw a monkeywrench into the system. It has taken me years to get back on that track. I had to learn a new way to validate myself. I had to start "grading" myself. It is very difficult for me to function in an environment where I'm not given some kind of gold star (usually metaphorical) for my efforts. Making the leap to a life where I have to accept my own judgements of myself -- rather than relying on the judgements of others -- has been tough! Of course, very few people don't have people coaching and advising them, and I am not one of them. But now I use advice and criticism and lessons as guidance rather than as a seal of approval (or sometimes, disapproval!).
I guess it's true, life doesn't end at 30! Although the wrinkles do come fast and furious...
Hello, children. Isn't it great when everything is just coming together? When you feel productive and energized? When things are going your way? Sure, these times are fleeting and infrequent, but they can really do a lot to offset those days of pain and misery. One day of sunshine, one day of stamped and mailed envelopes, one day of phone calls that yield positive results, one little perfect day can make all the difference. One day leads into two, then three, and suddenly, you know what it means to be successful. Right now, I just feel successful in keeping myself on top of things, successful in taking care of myself in a difficult situation, but it's enough.
Small successes lead to heightened expectations, meeting small goals makes it easier to create bigger goals. Every day that I move forward makes it seem more and more impossible -- unacceptable -- to fall back.
When I was in high school and college, I was a borderline Type A student. Perfection was the goal, nothing else would do. My first semester in college I got a 3.88 GPA and flew into a tizzy. I had to get my shit together! For the next 6 semesters, I came out with a 4.0. The impending end of college, the end of the ability to gauge perfection and validate my behavior, threw a monkeywrench into the system. It has taken me years to get back on that track. I had to learn a new way to validate myself. I had to start "grading" myself. It is very difficult for me to function in an environment where I'm not given some kind of gold star (usually metaphorical) for my efforts. Making the leap to a life where I have to accept my own judgements of myself -- rather than relying on the judgements of others -- has been tough! Of course, very few people don't have people coaching and advising them, and I am not one of them. But now I use advice and criticism and lessons as guidance rather than as a seal of approval (or sometimes, disapproval!).
I guess it's true, life doesn't end at 30! Although the wrinkles do come fast and furious...
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Plush Velvet Sometimes...
Although I'm not starting to feel broke yet, I know I should be soon, so I'm prepping for that. Thankfully, I've always been frugal. No, not a cheapskate, FRUGAL. Just ignore what I said about Victoria's Secret the other day, and think about how I can make a meatloaf that lasts for four meals for under $4. I buy store brand canned vegetables and Angel Soft toilet paper (cheap and non-linty!). I pay my bills online and I negotiated my checking account fees down. My only credit cards are American Express, and after my shopping spree last week, I won't allow myself any clothes shopping until at least summer.
It really is amazing how I can live on $250 a week, in New York, even. Plus, I take cabs and only drink top shelf. How can this be? I need to start analyzing my every expenditure. Still, I'm looking at quitting smoking as the most lucrative endeavor ever.
Speaking of, how great do my lungs feel this winter? This is the first winter in years that I didn't get bronchitis. Last year I had it for five weeks. I was miserable. Just wait until I decide to exercise. I'm sure I'll notice a difference there, too.
Although I'm not starting to feel broke yet, I know I should be soon, so I'm prepping for that. Thankfully, I've always been frugal. No, not a cheapskate, FRUGAL. Just ignore what I said about Victoria's Secret the other day, and think about how I can make a meatloaf that lasts for four meals for under $4. I buy store brand canned vegetables and Angel Soft toilet paper (cheap and non-linty!). I pay my bills online and I negotiated my checking account fees down. My only credit cards are American Express, and after my shopping spree last week, I won't allow myself any clothes shopping until at least summer.
It really is amazing how I can live on $250 a week, in New York, even. Plus, I take cabs and only drink top shelf. How can this be? I need to start analyzing my every expenditure. Still, I'm looking at quitting smoking as the most lucrative endeavor ever.
Speaking of, how great do my lungs feel this winter? This is the first winter in years that I didn't get bronchitis. Last year I had it for five weeks. I was miserable. Just wait until I decide to exercise. I'm sure I'll notice a difference there, too.
Friday, February 13, 2004
I Am Still Alive
I was toying with the idea of just retiring the blog, but I know how all three of you love to read it. Just don't expect the frequency I gave you back when I rode a desk. Right now, I'm coloring my hair, so I thought I would take this down time to throw you a bone.
Check it out: I went to Victoria's Secret the other day and dropped $177 on fancy underwear. You would to, if some angel approached you with a measuring tape and handed you a 34D bra. It's like a dream, a fantasy! I owe everything to the birth control patch, because puberty didn't do anything for me. Now all I have to do is whittle down the old tummy, and I'll finally be excited about swimsuit shopping.
Speaking of swimsuits (oh, yeah, I know how to segue), I'm going somewhere I never thought I would go. Somewhere I've hoped to never have to go. California. I know, it's horrible. But, I'm doing it out of love, so it shouldn't be that bad. Still, if sometime in the week following March 20, the Big One hits, you'll know why. Pray for me.
So, what's stuck in my craw lately? The Bloomberg administration was bandying about the the idea of a new nightlife license which would effectively close some bars at 1 am, but due to pressure from the New York Nightlife Association, Mike says they probably won't get to that this year. So, that's good. People still don't know how to walk down the street in the most efficient way, but I'm going to have to accept that this is an issue about which only I am concerned.
Oh, there's more, but it's time to rinse.
I was toying with the idea of just retiring the blog, but I know how all three of you love to read it. Just don't expect the frequency I gave you back when I rode a desk. Right now, I'm coloring my hair, so I thought I would take this down time to throw you a bone.
Check it out: I went to Victoria's Secret the other day and dropped $177 on fancy underwear. You would to, if some angel approached you with a measuring tape and handed you a 34D bra. It's like a dream, a fantasy! I owe everything to the birth control patch, because puberty didn't do anything for me. Now all I have to do is whittle down the old tummy, and I'll finally be excited about swimsuit shopping.
Speaking of swimsuits (oh, yeah, I know how to segue), I'm going somewhere I never thought I would go. Somewhere I've hoped to never have to go. California. I know, it's horrible. But, I'm doing it out of love, so it shouldn't be that bad. Still, if sometime in the week following March 20, the Big One hits, you'll know why. Pray for me.
So, what's stuck in my craw lately? The Bloomberg administration was bandying about the the idea of a new nightlife license which would effectively close some bars at 1 am, but due to pressure from the New York Nightlife Association, Mike says they probably won't get to that this year. So, that's good. People still don't know how to walk down the street in the most efficient way, but I'm going to have to accept that this is an issue about which only I am concerned.
Oh, there's more, but it's time to rinse.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Now I'm Steamed!
How could WWOR (New York's UPN station) replace two episodes of "That 70's Show" with Ryan Seacrest? I'm distraught! That was a high point of my day. Ever since it went into syndication, it's moved around all over the schedule, from Fox to UPN and back again. It's just too much for one Danny Masterson fan to take! Plus, Ryan Seacrest? What a dink. I'm off to grumble while grudgingly watching "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." Grr.
How could WWOR (New York's UPN station) replace two episodes of "That 70's Show" with Ryan Seacrest? I'm distraught! That was a high point of my day. Ever since it went into syndication, it's moved around all over the schedule, from Fox to UPN and back again. It's just too much for one Danny Masterson fan to take! Plus, Ryan Seacrest? What a dink. I'm off to grumble while grudgingly watching "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air." Grr.
Monday, January 05, 2004
Ad-ult Subject Matter
I got a little turned off by MoveOn.org and their hysterical e-mails, but I really like this political ad contest they're sponsoring, called Bush in 30 Seconds.
I feel beat down by the government. I feel like nothing I do or say will matter, and that the rest of the country is ok with the Patriot Act and the rest because they're afraid of terrorism. I'd like to see the media show some of its famous leftist leanings and air the truth before it gets too late.
What do I mean? During the holidays, the US went into Orange Alert. Flights were delayed for hours, and just about everyone gets patted down at the security checkpoint. When the local or national news airs a story about this, all we hear from are travelers who aren't a bit put out. They're happy that security is so tight. I just can't believe that no reporter has found a single disgruntled air traveler for an opposing viewpoint. It's so biased! Like a commercial for the Bush Administration and Homeland Security. They sure didn't interview me, or I would have told them exactly what I thought about being super-searched after not setting off the alarm. The hell?
Now they want to fingerprint and photograph all foreigners without Visas coming into certain airports. Wait, not all! A couple dozen European countries are exempt. I guess it's because mostly white people live in those countries. I certainly would boycott all travel to the US if I were the leader of a targeted nation, or react like Brazil, and require the same of American visitors. Nobody is fingerprinting me unless I'm booked for a crime. Again, the news shows naturalized Americans saying, "It's good. It protects us." Make me vomit. They really can't find anyone who will say what they really think on air? I'll bet they can, they just want to keep the public docile about these radical changes.
I'm not happy about this.
I got a little turned off by MoveOn.org and their hysterical e-mails, but I really like this political ad contest they're sponsoring, called Bush in 30 Seconds.
I feel beat down by the government. I feel like nothing I do or say will matter, and that the rest of the country is ok with the Patriot Act and the rest because they're afraid of terrorism. I'd like to see the media show some of its famous leftist leanings and air the truth before it gets too late.
What do I mean? During the holidays, the US went into Orange Alert. Flights were delayed for hours, and just about everyone gets patted down at the security checkpoint. When the local or national news airs a story about this, all we hear from are travelers who aren't a bit put out. They're happy that security is so tight. I just can't believe that no reporter has found a single disgruntled air traveler for an opposing viewpoint. It's so biased! Like a commercial for the Bush Administration and Homeland Security. They sure didn't interview me, or I would have told them exactly what I thought about being super-searched after not setting off the alarm. The hell?
Now they want to fingerprint and photograph all foreigners without Visas coming into certain airports. Wait, not all! A couple dozen European countries are exempt. I guess it's because mostly white people live in those countries. I certainly would boycott all travel to the US if I were the leader of a targeted nation, or react like Brazil, and require the same of American visitors. Nobody is fingerprinting me unless I'm booked for a crime. Again, the news shows naturalized Americans saying, "It's good. It protects us." Make me vomit. They really can't find anyone who will say what they really think on air? I'll bet they can, they just want to keep the public docile about these radical changes.
I'm not happy about this.
Monday, December 29, 2003
Philosophy for Dummies
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I'll say it again
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I don't believe in magic
I don't believe in I-ching
I don't believe in Bible
I don't believe in tarot
I don't believe in Hitler
I don't believe in Jesus
I don't believe in Kennedy
Í don't believe in Buddha
I don't believe in Mantra
I don't believe in gita
I don't believe in yoga
I don't believe in kings
I don't believe in Elvis
I don't believe in Zimmerman
I don't believe in Beatles
I just believe in me
--John Lennon
I don't believe in God. That is, I don't believe, as countless people do, in a being or power that created the universe and has had or will have an additional effect on the Earth and its denizens. I don't believe that something talked to Buddha and Moses and Mohammed and Joan of Arc, and gave them commands. I don't believe that prayer changes anything except the mindset of the praying person. I don't know if there is life after death, but I doubt it. I don't believe in Heaven, Hell, karma or reincarnation. I don't believe that all people act morally because of a fear of Hell. I don't believe all people do anything. I don't believe in ghosts, magic spells, or the collective unconscious. I used to believe in some of it, but things change. People, animals, plants, minerals, water, fire; this is all we have.
I believe that people have free will, and that nurture is stronger than nature. I believe that people are inherently good. I believe in morality. My moral code is to treat others the way I would like to be treated. (It's really self-preservation. I'm sure the first time one caveman saw his neighbor killed by another caveman, he thought, "Hey, I don't want that happening to me. I think killing other cavemen is wrong, and I'll spread the word." Same thing the first time one caveman saw his neighbor with his cavewoman.) I'm not so self-righteous as to think myself perfect, but my goals are to not lie, cheat, steal, injure or in other way harm other people. That includes, to me, schadenfrude and wishing specific ills on people. Sure, you know I get angry at people for their stupid behavior, but I'd rather they change their behavior than be hit by a bus. Please trust that I exaggerate for comic effect. Now, it may not directly hurt someone else to enjoy her suffering or wish she would accidentally stick a fork in her eye, but harboring such thoughts opens us up to allowing ourselves to behave in a harmful way.
(I believe in right and wrong, but also in that which is neither. It just is what it is. Now, deliberately going out of your way to get in the way of someone else's happiness in the name of morality is a big no-no in my book. That's right, if my sex/love life doesn't involve you, it's none of your business, and not subject to morality.)
I don't get it when people say, "Well, you just have to have faith that there is a god, and when we die, we go to a better place." No, I don't. You know that old quote by Groucho, where he says that he wouldn't be a part of any club that would have him? Well, I wouldn't want to believe in any god that was happy with people being unquestioning sheep. It may be a paradox, but the best god would be one whose believers were atheists. Ok, you're right, that doesn't make any sense, but I like the sound of it.
People talk about the glories and happiness of being with God, but all I see are zealots, killing each other in the name of their god. I hear people calling themselves "chosen ones," when the fact is that they are the ones doing the choosing, not "God". Hatred, massacres, Crusades, destruction, in the name of a god. People just can't take responsibility for their own feelings. Do you hate homosexuality because God told you to, or because you just hate it? Do you want to destroy the magnificent libraries of a foreign people because they are heathens, or because you know they are smarter than you are, and you don't want to feel inferior? Do you grasp onto to hope of life after death because you hate the life you have? Even the good; I believe Jesus may have been a person who had great ideas. A philosopher doesn't believe God is talking to him, though; he takes credit for those ideas. I'd venture that most people who say God talks to them are schizophrenic. But that's another story.
We are born. We have a limited amount of tme on the Earth, and we can make of it what we choose. We are all limited by our resources; some are more attractive, or more intelligent, or more athletic. Society dictates how we start out, and sometimes how we will end up. Then we die. Maybe a victim of crime, or an accident, or disease. Rarely, people can live long enough that their bodies just give out. Then it's over. It doesn't matter what you did in your life that was good or bad or how often you went to church or how often you hurt others. We all die.
In the time I have, I'll follow my moral code (which is okay for most people! check the old Bible for the Golden Rule). If I'm wrong, and there is a God that would deem that a bad way to live, then I don't want its love or comfort. You can ask anyone who knows me, and I'll bet they agree that I'm a better person than George W. Bush, Osama bin Laden, Jerry Falwell, Ariel Sharon, or Yasser Arafat. And they all believe in God.
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I'll say it again
God is a concept
By which we measure
Our pain
I don't believe in magic
I don't believe in I-ching
I don't believe in Bible
I don't believe in tarot
I don't believe in Hitler
I don't believe in Jesus
I don't believe in Kennedy
Í don't believe in Buddha
I don't believe in Mantra
I don't believe in gita
I don't believe in yoga
I don't believe in kings
I don't believe in Elvis
I don't believe in Zimmerman
I don't believe in Beatles
I just believe in me
--John Lennon
I don't believe in God. That is, I don't believe, as countless people do, in a being or power that created the universe and has had or will have an additional effect on the Earth and its denizens. I don't believe that something talked to Buddha and Moses and Mohammed and Joan of Arc, and gave them commands. I don't believe that prayer changes anything except the mindset of the praying person. I don't know if there is life after death, but I doubt it. I don't believe in Heaven, Hell, karma or reincarnation. I don't believe that all people act morally because of a fear of Hell. I don't believe all people do anything. I don't believe in ghosts, magic spells, or the collective unconscious. I used to believe in some of it, but things change. People, animals, plants, minerals, water, fire; this is all we have.
I believe that people have free will, and that nurture is stronger than nature. I believe that people are inherently good. I believe in morality. My moral code is to treat others the way I would like to be treated. (It's really self-preservation. I'm sure the first time one caveman saw his neighbor killed by another caveman, he thought, "Hey, I don't want that happening to me. I think killing other cavemen is wrong, and I'll spread the word." Same thing the first time one caveman saw his neighbor with his cavewoman.) I'm not so self-righteous as to think myself perfect, but my goals are to not lie, cheat, steal, injure or in other way harm other people. That includes, to me, schadenfrude and wishing specific ills on people. Sure, you know I get angry at people for their stupid behavior, but I'd rather they change their behavior than be hit by a bus. Please trust that I exaggerate for comic effect. Now, it may not directly hurt someone else to enjoy her suffering or wish she would accidentally stick a fork in her eye, but harboring such thoughts opens us up to allowing ourselves to behave in a harmful way.
(I believe in right and wrong, but also in that which is neither. It just is what it is. Now, deliberately going out of your way to get in the way of someone else's happiness in the name of morality is a big no-no in my book. That's right, if my sex/love life doesn't involve you, it's none of your business, and not subject to morality.)
I don't get it when people say, "Well, you just have to have faith that there is a god, and when we die, we go to a better place." No, I don't. You know that old quote by Groucho, where he says that he wouldn't be a part of any club that would have him? Well, I wouldn't want to believe in any god that was happy with people being unquestioning sheep. It may be a paradox, but the best god would be one whose believers were atheists. Ok, you're right, that doesn't make any sense, but I like the sound of it.
People talk about the glories and happiness of being with God, but all I see are zealots, killing each other in the name of their god. I hear people calling themselves "chosen ones," when the fact is that they are the ones doing the choosing, not "God". Hatred, massacres, Crusades, destruction, in the name of a god. People just can't take responsibility for their own feelings. Do you hate homosexuality because God told you to, or because you just hate it? Do you want to destroy the magnificent libraries of a foreign people because they are heathens, or because you know they are smarter than you are, and you don't want to feel inferior? Do you grasp onto to hope of life after death because you hate the life you have? Even the good; I believe Jesus may have been a person who had great ideas. A philosopher doesn't believe God is talking to him, though; he takes credit for those ideas. I'd venture that most people who say God talks to them are schizophrenic. But that's another story.
We are born. We have a limited amount of tme on the Earth, and we can make of it what we choose. We are all limited by our resources; some are more attractive, or more intelligent, or more athletic. Society dictates how we start out, and sometimes how we will end up. Then we die. Maybe a victim of crime, or an accident, or disease. Rarely, people can live long enough that their bodies just give out. Then it's over. It doesn't matter what you did in your life that was good or bad or how often you went to church or how often you hurt others. We all die.
In the time I have, I'll follow my moral code (which is okay for most people! check the old Bible for the Golden Rule). If I'm wrong, and there is a God that would deem that a bad way to live, then I don't want its love or comfort. You can ask anyone who knows me, and I'll bet they agree that I'm a better person than George W. Bush, Osama bin Laden, Jerry Falwell, Ariel Sharon, or Yasser Arafat. And they all believe in God.
Friday, December 26, 2003
Clever Headline
The cast of Friends looks far too tan for people who are supposed to live in New York.
Kwanzaa starts tonight. It was started in the 60s and promotes such values as "believe in yourself" and "help the community". Hippies.
The cast of Friends looks far too tan for people who are supposed to live in New York.
Kwanzaa starts tonight. It was started in the 60s and promotes such values as "believe in yourself" and "help the community". Hippies.
Thursday, December 25, 2003
One More Thing
And another thing, Ms. Zellweger. Where do you get off playing Janis Joplin? She was fucked up on Southern Comfort and heroin for 75% of her life, but at least she could open up her eyes once in a while.
While I'm bitching about Renee Zellweger, I wish someone would tell her that if she keeps messing with her weight like that, she's going to have a heart attack. Guess what, honey? In the movies, they can make you look fat! It's true! And what's more, you don't have to shrink down to 90 pounds just to prove you're attractive! Oh, what's the point? I hate all of them. It's no wonder people like reality shows. Actors and celebrities are tiresome and repulsive. I mean, every day that passes, I grow more and more grossed out by Madonna. I even feel like apologizing for listening to her old music. This could go on and on. I'm going to watch "The Price is Right." At least Bob Barker never lets me down.
And another thing, Ms. Zellweger. Where do you get off playing Janis Joplin? She was fucked up on Southern Comfort and heroin for 75% of her life, but at least she could open up her eyes once in a while.
While I'm bitching about Renee Zellweger, I wish someone would tell her that if she keeps messing with her weight like that, she's going to have a heart attack. Guess what, honey? In the movies, they can make you look fat! It's true! And what's more, you don't have to shrink down to 90 pounds just to prove you're attractive! Oh, what's the point? I hate all of them. It's no wonder people like reality shows. Actors and celebrities are tiresome and repulsive. I mean, every day that passes, I grow more and more grossed out by Madonna. I even feel like apologizing for listening to her old music. This could go on and on. I'm going to watch "The Price is Right." At least Bob Barker never lets me down.
Seeing Things In A Whole New Light Isn't Necessarily A Good Thing
So, I see this ad for One True Thing, you know, the movie where Meryl Streep is Renee Zellweger's mom who gets cancer. Who the hell is this movie for? If you are a daughter, you could maybe appreciate your mom more, but it's not likely. If you are a daughter who has lost her mother, especially to cancer (hi!), all you could get out of this film is more grief. I'm tired of being forced to confront my greatest pain every other time I turn on the TV, thank you. Maybe a daughter of a mother who had cancer and beat it could feel so very lucky. Good for them. Personally, I hate people whose mothers beat cancer. Sure it's silly and irrational, and sure, a very close friend of mine just had that happen, but it doesn't change the fact that I want to punch her. So do me a favor, Haollywood, stop making movies about people with cancer. It's not like AIDS, which is a subject about which we need more exposure and education. It's cancer. It's ugly and painful, and the families of its victims are tired of being sad all the time.
Hey, if the families of Columbine students could get the final episode of Buffy Season 3 postponed because students used weapons (of the mostly medieval variety) against the town mayor-- who had transformed into a giant demon-- I can request that ER never reruns the episode where Mark Green's dad dies from lung cancer. I can request that Sharon Osbourne shut the hell up about how she was able to beat colon cancer (which is what my mom had) because she's so rich. I know nobody will pay attention to my requests, but if I can't vent in my blog, where can I vent?
So, I see this ad for One True Thing, you know, the movie where Meryl Streep is Renee Zellweger's mom who gets cancer. Who the hell is this movie for? If you are a daughter, you could maybe appreciate your mom more, but it's not likely. If you are a daughter who has lost her mother, especially to cancer (hi!), all you could get out of this film is more grief. I'm tired of being forced to confront my greatest pain every other time I turn on the TV, thank you. Maybe a daughter of a mother who had cancer and beat it could feel so very lucky. Good for them. Personally, I hate people whose mothers beat cancer. Sure it's silly and irrational, and sure, a very close friend of mine just had that happen, but it doesn't change the fact that I want to punch her. So do me a favor, Haollywood, stop making movies about people with cancer. It's not like AIDS, which is a subject about which we need more exposure and education. It's cancer. It's ugly and painful, and the families of its victims are tired of being sad all the time.
Hey, if the families of Columbine students could get the final episode of Buffy Season 3 postponed because students used weapons (of the mostly medieval variety) against the town mayor-- who had transformed into a giant demon-- I can request that ER never reruns the episode where Mark Green's dad dies from lung cancer. I can request that Sharon Osbourne shut the hell up about how she was able to beat colon cancer (which is what my mom had) because she's so rich. I know nobody will pay attention to my requests, but if I can't vent in my blog, where can I vent?
Yule Love It!
I know. You're shocked that I'm awake so early, on a holiday, no less. Well, I was awakened this lovely X-Mas morn at 7:55 by the gentle strains of some crazy old woman yelling to another woman across the street while her big dog barked in protest. It was beautiful! I had to open my window and yell at them to move it along. What a great way to start the day!
I figured I might as well get up, what with the sun shining and all, so I turned on channel 11 to watch the Yule log. The news was still on, so I left the TV on and rolled over for a few more winks. Around 9 am, I kicked the cat off the bed, made it up, and did a couple of stretches. I showered, then went out for milk. I was thinking about making French toast, then I remembered that that would be unpatriotic, so I opted for Cream of Wheat. When I got home, I turned on the Yule log (a video of a fireplace with Christmas music playing in the background), turned on the tree, lit some holiday type candles, and started breakfast. I figured since it's a holiday, I deserved a big one. Coffee, grapefruit juice (my favorite juice), scrambled eggs with thyme, wheat toat, and Cream of Wheat with whole blueberries and milk. Yum! So, nobody needs to feel sorry for me that I'm staying home for Christmas.
I know. You're shocked that I'm awake so early, on a holiday, no less. Well, I was awakened this lovely X-Mas morn at 7:55 by the gentle strains of some crazy old woman yelling to another woman across the street while her big dog barked in protest. It was beautiful! I had to open my window and yell at them to move it along. What a great way to start the day!
I figured I might as well get up, what with the sun shining and all, so I turned on channel 11 to watch the Yule log. The news was still on, so I left the TV on and rolled over for a few more winks. Around 9 am, I kicked the cat off the bed, made it up, and did a couple of stretches. I showered, then went out for milk. I was thinking about making French toast, then I remembered that that would be unpatriotic, so I opted for Cream of Wheat. When I got home, I turned on the Yule log (a video of a fireplace with Christmas music playing in the background), turned on the tree, lit some holiday type candles, and started breakfast. I figured since it's a holiday, I deserved a big one. Coffee, grapefruit juice (my favorite juice), scrambled eggs with thyme, wheat toat, and Cream of Wheat with whole blueberries and milk. Yum! So, nobody needs to feel sorry for me that I'm staying home for Christmas.
Warning: May Be Harmful to Patient
I was just watching TV, and I heard the most ridiculous thing. The ad was for Strattera, a drug which is used to treat ADHD, otherwise known as "childhood behavior." Watch out! If your child is acting childlike, you may have to medicate it! Anyway, one of the many warnings included this statement: "Tell your doctor if your child has a history of heart problems." Um, if your doctor doesn't already know your child has a history of heart problems, you have serious parenting difficulties. Of course, the doctor needs to know, but if you have to be told to do that, you shouldn't even have kids. Wait, what am I thinking? People who have their children treated for imaginary diseases are idiots by default. I apologize. The ad men did the right thing. You go, ad men!
I was just watching TV, and I heard the most ridiculous thing. The ad was for Strattera, a drug which is used to treat ADHD, otherwise known as "childhood behavior." Watch out! If your child is acting childlike, you may have to medicate it! Anyway, one of the many warnings included this statement: "Tell your doctor if your child has a history of heart problems." Um, if your doctor doesn't already know your child has a history of heart problems, you have serious parenting difficulties. Of course, the doctor needs to know, but if you have to be told to do that, you shouldn't even have kids. Wait, what am I thinking? People who have their children treated for imaginary diseases are idiots by default. I apologize. The ad men did the right thing. You go, ad men!
Holiday Notes
Happy Christmas Eve, sixth day of Hanukkah, post-winter solstice, etc. As a Santa worshipper, I'm about done with this holiday season. Of course, it'll really be over when I wake up wearing one sparkly earring and an evening gown hiked up around my waist, with mascara smeared all over my face, on my neighbor's floor on New Year's Day, but as far as the standard holiday goes, I've gotten my best gifts already. My very thoughtful and excellent boyfriend got me Seasons 1 and 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD, as well as an amazing Silkstone Body Fashion Model Barbie Doll. She's fabulous! And she has nifty lingerie and headshots. My roommate gave me a cute little purple brocade makeup bag with a tiny travel brush with a mirror on the back. My friend Scott gave me a candle that lights up a Christmas tree scene, and my friend Jae bought me a dress from H&M which I haven't seen yet.
I got my boyfriend a picture frame with a shot of us smooching at his birthday party, a T-shirt and CD from the hilarious Homestarrunner site, the Looney Tunes Visual Guide and the Looney Tunes Premiere Collection on DVD. My friend Scott got a candle with a white rose holder, Larry got a gift certificate to his favorite store, Jae got rhinestone Hello Kitty jewelry, and my roommate Candy got a foil cutter and two wine stoppers. I had fun buying gifts this year. Normally, I hate obligatory gift giving, but I just kept my list small. I felt like, considering my employment status, that no one was expecting anything from me, which made it more fun to shop. Not that I ever left the comfort of my computer, but, still.
In other news, some sicko came through our front gate, let their small dog mount our stoop and crap right on our brown doormat. It was very disturbing. I'm assuming my landlord cleaned it up, because it was raining, the stool was loose, and I wasn't touching it. It was easy enough to step over. It's gone now anyway. Why would anyone do that? Who in the house has such a perverse enemy? I know it isn't me, because I don't know anyone with a dog in the neighborhood. Very strange.
By the way, I read in an article from last year that lots of people knew about Strom Thurmond's love child for years, but neither of them admitted to their true relationship. How lame.
What else is happening?
I watched 8 episodes of Buffy today, as well as two soap operas and an episode of Smallville. I have issues. I need to have my TV taken away. Wait, I spoke too rashly. Never mind.
Saw Return of the King, the other day. It was fabulous. I had some trouble with the light tone of the ending, the heavy homoerotic tension between Frodo and Sam, and the fact that some people haven't figured out that you need to arrive early to a movie in New York if you want a seat, but otherwise, I was floored. I totally cried through most of it. Full disclosure, I totally cried while watching Buffy and Passions today, too, so it's hard to judge by me. I tend to get emotional.
Seems we're burying my mother's ashes next to her parents on Saturday. A holiday surprise, I guess.
Oh, you know what pisses me off? No, besides that. Besides that. Look, I know a lot pisses me off, you don't have to rub it in. Anyway, I hate receiving Christmas cards "return to sender." What is a person to do? God forbid someone I haven't talked to in over a year wouldn't let me know that she had moved. Ingrates.
Okay, no more screens. My retinas are fried. Happy Holidays! Maybe I'll do a Best of 2003 later in the week. If I can tear myself away from Buffy.
Happy Christmas Eve, sixth day of Hanukkah, post-winter solstice, etc. As a Santa worshipper, I'm about done with this holiday season. Of course, it'll really be over when I wake up wearing one sparkly earring and an evening gown hiked up around my waist, with mascara smeared all over my face, on my neighbor's floor on New Year's Day, but as far as the standard holiday goes, I've gotten my best gifts already. My very thoughtful and excellent boyfriend got me Seasons 1 and 3 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD, as well as an amazing Silkstone Body Fashion Model Barbie Doll. She's fabulous! And she has nifty lingerie and headshots. My roommate gave me a cute little purple brocade makeup bag with a tiny travel brush with a mirror on the back. My friend Scott gave me a candle that lights up a Christmas tree scene, and my friend Jae bought me a dress from H&M which I haven't seen yet.
I got my boyfriend a picture frame with a shot of us smooching at his birthday party, a T-shirt and CD from the hilarious Homestarrunner site, the Looney Tunes Visual Guide and the Looney Tunes Premiere Collection on DVD. My friend Scott got a candle with a white rose holder, Larry got a gift certificate to his favorite store, Jae got rhinestone Hello Kitty jewelry, and my roommate Candy got a foil cutter and two wine stoppers. I had fun buying gifts this year. Normally, I hate obligatory gift giving, but I just kept my list small. I felt like, considering my employment status, that no one was expecting anything from me, which made it more fun to shop. Not that I ever left the comfort of my computer, but, still.
In other news, some sicko came through our front gate, let their small dog mount our stoop and crap right on our brown doormat. It was very disturbing. I'm assuming my landlord cleaned it up, because it was raining, the stool was loose, and I wasn't touching it. It was easy enough to step over. It's gone now anyway. Why would anyone do that? Who in the house has such a perverse enemy? I know it isn't me, because I don't know anyone with a dog in the neighborhood. Very strange.
By the way, I read in an article from last year that lots of people knew about Strom Thurmond's love child for years, but neither of them admitted to their true relationship. How lame.
What else is happening?
I watched 8 episodes of Buffy today, as well as two soap operas and an episode of Smallville. I have issues. I need to have my TV taken away. Wait, I spoke too rashly. Never mind.
Saw Return of the King, the other day. It was fabulous. I had some trouble with the light tone of the ending, the heavy homoerotic tension between Frodo and Sam, and the fact that some people haven't figured out that you need to arrive early to a movie in New York if you want a seat, but otherwise, I was floored. I totally cried through most of it. Full disclosure, I totally cried while watching Buffy and Passions today, too, so it's hard to judge by me. I tend to get emotional.
Seems we're burying my mother's ashes next to her parents on Saturday. A holiday surprise, I guess.
Oh, you know what pisses me off? No, besides that. Besides that. Look, I know a lot pisses me off, you don't have to rub it in. Anyway, I hate receiving Christmas cards "return to sender." What is a person to do? God forbid someone I haven't talked to in over a year wouldn't let me know that she had moved. Ingrates.
Okay, no more screens. My retinas are fried. Happy Holidays! Maybe I'll do a Best of 2003 later in the week. If I can tear myself away from Buffy.
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