Weekend Happenin's:

* We saw "The Number 23" on Friday at the two-dollar theater. Not bad. I had expected a movie that would suck more, and I was pleasantly surprised that it didn't suck. I particularly liked the dynamic of the family in the movie because for once, they weren't dysfunctional.

* On the way home from the movie, we were stopped at a light when out of nowhere, an old pickup truck came flying down the road in front of us. The interesting thing was that this truck had no front tires. It was burning a track down the road, shooting orange sparks everywhere and creating a nasty burned-tired smell in the air. Right after the truck went by, it was followed by a couple of screaming police cars and flashing lights. The light changed, and once we were sure there wasn't going to be any more out-of-control action coming at us, we drove home. The phrase to best sum up our reactions was, "Huh. You don't see THAT everyday."

* Some friends of ours gave us a gift card to AMC movies, so we used it to go see "Hot Fuzz" on Saturday. AWESOME movie. Great little story, hilarious, razor-sharp editing and all-around perfection. It was just so much fun. I definitely recommend this one. It's funnier than Shaun of the Dead.

* The one drawback to seeing this movie was the theater itself. We do NOT like patronizing AMC Theaters. They are so retardedly expensive, and they place all sorts of restrictions on the moviegoers that other theaters do not. For instance, if you have a coupon good for a 2-for-1 ticket, you can't use it on any movie that is a "Special Engagement." And the bitch of it is, they keep all their movies "Special Engagements" for the first two or three weeks that it's been open. Also, they are Large Popcorn Refill nazis. It is good ONLY at same visit; good luck trying to bring the bag back another time. They not only throw it out, but they give you a snide mini-lecture about their policies. We are so spoiled by the Cinemark down the road from our house.

But anyway, our card was good for $20 at AMC. We planned on a 4:25 matinee so we could take advatnage of matinee prices, and get popcorn and a drink on the card, too. Unfortunately, when we get there we find out they end their matinee prices around NOON on the weekends, so all shows after that time are full price. Which is $9.50 a ticket. So we spent $19 on tickets, leaving us one precious dollar for snacks. We put it towards one large soda that we shared. No popcorn. After all they wanted $6.00 for a large. Yeesh.

I know that anyone living in places like New York are probably dealing with even higher prices than $9.50 and $6.00 for popcorn, so I shouldn't be complaining, I guess. But still...it was a little bit of a shock for us. We are not going to go to an AMC again. This we swear. And we swear it very seriously. I hope AMC goes out of business and Cinemark takes over their theaters.

* I went to a baby shower yesterday. It was nice, but I only knew two women there and one was the expectant Mom, so you know she was a popular one. I felt like a dork standing around with the blue Kool-Aid-based punch in my hand, nibbling at the snacks. I think I spent more time than I should have giving belly rubs to the three little dogs that lived in the hostess' house. But that's pretty typical for me-- being more interested in the dogs than the chit-chat.

One thing that I found out: it's not cool to answer with a firm, "No, I am NOT pregnant, thank God" when someone inquires as to why I am actively avoiding the spicy foods at the party and wonders if I could be pregnant myself. The look I got...! This girl just sort of stared at me for a second and then said in a tense voice, "There is nothing wrong with having a baby," before she found someone else to talk to and went away from me. I felt like a schmuck. I didn't mean anything bad by it, and I found myself mumbling to whoever else was nearby and might have overheard my gaffe: "I just mean I am not ready RIGHT NOW for a baby, is all, ummm, yeah." As I sat there watching the Mom-of-Honor open all the cute little baby gifts a few minutes later, I definitely felt a little out of place, and it was all because the girl I'd had the little conversation with was sitting right next to me, cooing loudly at the gifts. And I am pretty sure it only compounded the problem when the Mom-of-Honor opened our gift, which was the humor book, "Mommy Knows Worst" by James Lileks. The book was passed around relatively quickly and with few smiles; at least a couple girls were looking through it and chuckling. Overall, I didn't think my gift went over as well as all the serious gifts. Eeeeeeh. Fuck. Whatever, I know the Mom-of-Honor's sense of humor and I know SHE liked it. All them other women can piss off.

I left early. I just felt awkward. I even missed the cake, which is NOT like me. Shit, I LOVE cake. But you know, sometimes you just have to know how to make a graceful exit before you make another inadvertent faux pas. And I like to think I did avoid that.

A lot of people are pregnant right now. I'm not. And despite my reaction to what the offended-lady at the shower said yesterday, I am not going to feel guilty because I am NOT pregnant. I know I am getting older, but... I also know I wouldn't make a good Mom right now. I'm enjoying things the way they are. I'm sure that maybe one day I will feel differently and want to start our family, but at the moment I feel good knowing I am at least smart enough to know there really is no rush, and I can do whatever is right for me and Greg. For now, life is great. And one day we might adopt a little bundle-o-fun; but for now, I guess I would say I'd appreciate not attending any more baby showers. I'm happy as HELL for my friends, but it just isn't the right place for me to be opening my mouth, I guess. Better to stay away!

He's done it! Go, go, Stephen Hawking!!

I love my co-workers. We spent some wonderful moments pondering just how it might sound when Stephen Hawking throws up. It was a cacophony of people speaking in mechanical voices ("I'MGOING TOBE SSSICK.") and making noises best described in writing as: "HHHUUUHHHAAAGGG."

This would not be possible if the news didn't recently include the hilarious-imagery-provoking headline, STEPHEN HAWKING TAKES FLIGHT IN VOMIT COMET.

Besides my co-workers, I also love these headline writers who come up with this stuff. I am still laughing over this one, almost four years later. Bless your dear little hearts, all of you dear headline writers!

And bless Stephen Hawking, too. All joking aside, the man is pretty damn amazing. Even though it would be comical as all hell, I really hope he keeps his lunch during his weightlessness.

Disney should start drawing up the plans now for the next big ride at DisneyWorld: Mr. Hawking's Wild Ride. Think of where they could go with this.

It's not that often that I can give a book a full 5 out of 5 stars in my own ranking system that I keep in my darling little head, but I am happy to say that today -- a new 5 has made the list.
I just finished reading "Kindred" by Octavia E. Butler, and I am feeling that strange emotion you get when you complete a very good novel. I feel sad because it's over, and I also feel stimulated and challenged by what I have just absorbed. I've never read a book like this one. I can't compare it to anything else I've read. To me, it's an incredible achievement by a very talented and intelligent writer. And it's one that I feel should be read by other people, and that's why I am putting this here, on the blog. :)

Last year, I read "Fledgling" by the same author, and was very impressed with the originality and strong person voice of the protagonist, but this book just drew me in right away and demanded my attention and emotion. Fledgling was great, but this is an artistic achievement in storytelling. Why this book was not on our school's reading list when I was in high school or college is beyond me. It really should be read. Period.

What's it about? In a very-inadequate-nutshell, a black woman named Dana is suddenly pulled back through time to the antebellum South to save the life of a man who will one day father one of her ancestors. While the author never explains the how of the time travel part of the story, once I realized what was going on, I didn't really care that I never found out how. The explanation wouldn't have made a difference. It became like one of those accepted realities that happen in real life-- we don't know how this happened, but it did, and so we deal with it. In a way, I'd parallel it to the Virginia Tech tragedy and the absurd, senseless reality of what happened that day and the helpless feeling we all have in knowing that we will never know how a thing like that came to pass.

The man Dana has to save is a white man named Rufus, and over the course of the novel she travels back to in time to save him several times. The complex and painfully simple principles of slavery and the slave-holders of the time period are suddenly thrust upon Dana. How can an educated, modern black woman survive in the early nineteenth century-- knowing what she knows, behaving as she has been raised and saying how she feels in an age where she could be sold or killed for any of those things-- without losing part of herself? The story winds through these difficult situations and it truly gave me a right-there-in-the-dirt viewpoint of the experiences slaves usually dealt with.

It's a brutal read. It wasn't easy to leave behind some of the scenes when I had to close the book to return to work or go to sleep. I don't know how anyone could. Like the majority of us, I have always been simply stunned and horrified by the very knowledge that slavery itself even existed (and still exists)... and to be placed in this world with a modern character who is familiar with the same history I read about, and strongly feel her physical pain and emotional suffering... it's almost too much. But it's incredible and it's necessary.

When I closed the book today after finishing it, I had an unexpected response: I was dismayed to think of how race relations are today, in 2007. I was thinking specifically about the whole Don Imus affair, and how he did open up a critical can of worms for all of us... how complacent we are, in general, about racism and its ugly history. I do believe he deserved to lose his job over this incident, and I also agree with the suggestion that many people have made that it's time that the black culture itself looks at the casual use of the N-word.

It's a disgusting, foul word. It's what they called slaves. I read this book, and even as I grew somewhat accustomed to how the whites spoke as the story went on, but each time that word was used, it still made me feel uncomfortable. I feel very passionate right now about my thought that it would be amazing if black rappers, TV stars, movie characters and just the guys you hear talking to one another in the restaurant booth next to you were exposed to something of this strength. The book makes slavery real in a way all the movies and books I've seen so far have failed to do. I wonder how many of the people who regularly use this word now KNOW the horror of it. I mean, that they really think about it. And I don't even want to get started on how awful it is when whites use this word...oh my God. I can't take it.

I feel hopeful that in some way, people will begin serious discussions about this word, and it will slowly die away as it should, as a result of this dialogue that's been opened by Imus's stupidity. All I know is I can't tell you how disgusted and angry I felt last night, when we pulled up at a light next to a car with its windows down and I heard the N-word in quick succession in the song that was blaring... and I watched the two little white boys from ASU nodding their heads to the music like it didn't mean a thing that they were blasting a hateful message from their speakers and advertising to the world their ignorance. I don't care if right now it's accepted in black culture and it's just an everyday thing to hear one black person refer to another black person as an N-word...I don't have to like it and I will never understand it. And this book has hammered that feeling home for me.

CAPTAIN AMERICA ARRESTED OVER PANTS-BURRITO! Oh, Captain, my Captain. What mischief hast thou wrought?

What would you do if you were approached by a guy in a Captain America costume? And what if the guy had a burrito down his tights? Well, it happened!

This is one of my favorite parts of the story: "The incident, hardly fitting behaviour for a superhero, happened after 54-year-old Dr. Raymond Adamcik went on a bar-crawl with a number of other costume-wearing medics.

Witnesses said that Adamcik was walking around with the burrito tucked into the waistband of his costume, asking women if they wanted to touch it."

Some days, it's just great to be alive. This is one of them. For if I were not alive, I wouldn't have been able to read this story! Unless, of course, I was one of them fancy ghost-readers who float around, reading stuff over the shoulders of the living. And last time I checked, I am not a ghost.

Long live Captain America! Oh, right. He did die recently. Anyway, long live pants-burritos!

"I cannot bear to look."

We took the (bigger) dogs to Petco this morning for the vaccination clinic. While it was the more affordable option to get both of them their shots for just under $70 total, I left feeling angry at the old, dirty, Santa-looking jerk who gave the dogs their shots.

He was an older fellow in a denim shirt; and he looked kind of annoyed just being there. I know it can't be fun to sit in a folding chair for 4 hours to give shots to long lines of dogs and cats, but he shouldn't take it out on the dogs.

Wait-- I don't mean to make it sound like the guy was punching dogs in the face, or kicking the dogs. It wasn't that bad.

But I watched him give shots to two dogs before it was Hailie's turn, and he seemed to pride himself on how quickly he could jab the needle in and back out again. It really did look like it was the one way he had to keep his job interesting. I was a little concerned, but I knew that it would probably be fine. I've taken lots of dogs to vets over the years, and they never even seemed to feel the needles. I remember my Mom telling me when I was little that dogs just don't feel shots like we do. She said that to keep me from freaking out when our dog Buffy was getting vaccinated and I was probably standing there next to the table like a wide-eyed little overbearing owner. And in a way, she is right. If the vet performs this procedure correctly, the dogs don't even notice it.

Well, idiot vet today (if he was even a real vet... maybe he's a weird drifter who drives around with little vials of killed rabies virus and needles and bribes Petco to let him in once a month in exchange for some kibble. For him. He eats the kibble.) didn't do it right. He JABBED our dogs.

Hailie went first; Greg was holding her and the first needle did seem to make her jump a little. The second one, she jumped even more. It happened so quickly I didn't really see what was going on, but I did hear Greg tell Hailie she was a good dog. And the jackass mutters to himself as he turns away: "Good dog, yeah, almost made me stick the needle in my own arm!" Whoa, guy. Relax. She definitely IS a good dog, and no, there was no way she jumped enough to make him stab himself. STEP OFF. Ain't no one insinuating Hailie is NOT a good dog.

Indy's turn was, in a way, worse. He, too, had to get two shots, and the first one made him jump and wince, and then I look at his back and there is blood on his fur. The asshole grabs a swab with some alcohol and starts sponging it off, saying, "This happens sometimes." No, I don't think it does. Not once I have a had one of my dogs bleed from a shot that much. I held Indy so he would be calm and tried to distract him from the next horrible shot. That one made him flinch but he was OK.

We couldn't get out of there quick enough.

I am so glad we opted out of bringing bony little Malcolm today. That douchebag would have stabbed the needle right into one of Malcolm's internal organs for sure.

Right now, everyone is fine and no one is bleeding or being a bad dog in any way. The only thing that's happening is I am once more using my blog as a platform to bitch about stuff. :)

I posted a review on Movies.com for Year of the Dog. And I managed to screw up the formatting so it looks awful. Still, if you want to know what I really thought about that film, feel free to go read it.

OK, so we went to the Phoenix Film Festival and saw some more movies, and overall the thought on my mind is this: Why celebrate mediocrity? WHY? Is it someone's attempt to get into heaven someday by being "nice" to the people who don't measure up to the rest of their peers? Well, eff that. It's stupid.

It's because the movie we watched last night was HORRIBLE. Bad writing, flat, uninvolved acting, crappy music and even bad lighting. The movie was so bad that I don't even want to name it here, lest someone search for this movie and I inadvertently give it some free, blogosphere-press.

Yet the film festival CELEBRATES the everloving crap out of these filmmakers, and I believe it is only because they are local boys. I think the festival believes it needs to showcase at least one showy Arizona-based film so that it shows its support for the Phoenix film industry. That's all fine and good, but for the love of God... don't bestow glory of the best kiss-ups or best schmoozers. Give it to someone that really is doing something WORTHY of praise. Even if it's just a very well-done short film, or a documentary... put that in the spotlight if you ever want this festival to gain any true clout within the film festival community. You cannot celebrate junk anymore, Phoenix Film Festival. You have to step up to the plate now that you've grown into an internationally-recognized organization and are getting better and better submissions every year. Raise the bar. Don't lower it for the locals, PLEASE.

We watched the movie last night, and at the end the audience clapped and cheered, and the filmmakers were in attendance to answer a Q&A. A good number of people--my husband and I included-- filed out of the theater even as the filmmakers started talking. I'm glad that at least some members of that audience weren't lulled into a false sense of enjoyment just because local people wrote and filmed this movie in our fair city. I'm relieved at least some people have some semblance of self-respect and sense of what's good and what sucks. The people who left give me hope that next year's festival might not give such shitty work a showcase of such large proportions. The people want quality. Not "oooh, look, that's my bank in the background, they filmed that near my house!" bullshit.

Oh, and one more thing: Year of the Dog? Skip it.

I won't get into it as much as I could because I am about to leave for the day, but I went into this film with such high expectations. The movie promised to discuss topics like factory farming, fur, shelter euthanasia and animal rescue, and I was so happy to see a mainstream movie tackling this stuff in the context of a plot. BUT...it quickly veered off track. It became about how nuts people who are into humane treatment of animals can be. It was a showcase of all the cliched ideas of 'animal rights people' and how they go too far. It ended up making the main character into a completely psychopathic lunatic who winds up going so far with the animal thing that she has 15 dogs living in her house, she loses her job, stops washing her hair and lives in a bathrobe until the city impounds her dogs and she winds up with an open bag of snail poison (it's integral to the plot) and a hunting knife, waiting for her hunter- neighbor to come home so she can kill him. YEAH... thanks for that, movie. Thanks for going there. You really helped shine a light on the animal welfare issues; you helped the movement along so much.

I only hope this movie gets limited distribution, and bad reviews. Trust me, it sucks.

Well, on that note, I leave you with this: "Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way...TURN."

Now THERE'S a film.

The Pergola, the Hair in the Projector and Me: My Weekend

I’m sick of having headaches. I am on Day 2 of a bad one right now. It’s likely a migraine, but it seems to be centered around my right eye. I probably have glaucoma or a brain tumor. Never a dull moment! Stupid headaches and stupid possible glaucoma or brain tumor.

Despite the headache, it was a decent weekend. I sealed our pergola. Which sounds like something dirty. “And then we got busy sealin’ the pergola, if you know what I mean!” It’s a redwood structure Greg built off the back of our house and up until this weekend, the wood had never been treated. I had already sealed the other redwood items on our property (two planter boxes and a redwood and bamboo screen by the pool to hide the filter), and I have been meaning to do the pergola ever since. I finally got to start it on Friday after work—got out of work early, changed into my ugly painting clothes, pulled out the ladder and started the project.

It takes a LONG time to seal a pergola. Keep this in mind the next time you build a pergola. Factor in seal-time. I had only finished about 1/6 of the thing by the time the sun went down and I couldn’t work anymore. So, on Saturday morning I got out there early and picked up where I left off. For some reason, I estimated that I would be finished by 11:00, 11:30. Nope. I wasn’t done until sometime around 2:30. And I was so tired of sealing the pergola I wanted to kick something by that point!

I think it took so long just because a pergola is pretty intricate. All the little wood crossbeams have multiple surfaces to cover; and there is maybe a foot of space between the crossbeams for me to fit my head, shoulders and upper torso through so I could brush the sealer onto the wood on the very top. I’d brush the sealer onto as many surfaces as I could reach, climb down a few steps, do the undersides, and then move the ladder. Over and over again. Just so damn time consuming. Not hard work, I don’t think, but it’s definitely maddening work. Especially when you realize that a long drip you didn’t see before has been making its way quietly down the other side of a plank while you were busy working on another section of the pergola. So you have to go back and try to “blend” it in somehow. And all the while, you are constantly knocking your giant German cranium into the crossbeams as you go up and down the ladder. I knocked the base of my skull so many times as I headed back down the ladder. Could my headache woes be from the constant banging of my head?

I’d say no. I didn’t really hit my head hard; just repeatedly. More likely, the relentless sun and the hours of working without eating probably contributed quite a bit. I have a sunburned forehead, nose and back of the neck, and my arms are splotchy because I didn’t quite apply the sunblock evenly, it turns out. I’m a dummy. I also only used SPF 15, which is like using nothing, really. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was focused — I was going to get my ass out of the house and seal that goddamned pergola if it killed me. So is it any surprise that it almost did kill me? I think not, good sir!

Anyway, the pergola looks awesome if I don’t say so myself. It looks very redwoody now. I celebrated my accomplishment with a long shower and nap. Naps make me happy.

Yesterday, Greg and I went to the Phoenix Film Festival for a few hours. We missed a lot of the festival, but we are planning to go back tonight and Wednesday to check out a few more films. I was so psyched to get not one but two press passes to the event. I wrote a couple of articles about the PFF and film in Arizona a couple months ago, and I kind of forgot the PFF was coming up so soon. When I realized it on Friday night, I took a chance and wrote to one of my contacts there and asked her if it was too late to get a press pass, and she called me back ten minutes later to say no, it wasn’t too late, and two press passes would be waiting for me at the press check-in. Sweet!! These passes give us unlimited access, so we don’t have to purchase passes or tickets to anything. Plus, we got vouchers for free drinks (always a plus) and t-shirts. It’s so cool getting freebies. We had a good time.

The movie we saw was a feature called “Swedish Auto.” It was about a mechanic played by Lukas Haas. It was a romantic drama, I think. I have such a hard time classifying movies. If anything, it reminded me of the tone of “The Station Agent.” Which I liked. So it was a decent movie and it was cool to see something like this, which may or may not get full distribution.

Two things were weird, though: One was the Hair in the Projector. Good God, is all I can say.

Apparently a “hair” was stuck in the projector and it was bothering the director, who was in attendance. So a few times during the opening of the movie, the screen would go black and a guy came out to tell us what was going on. It seemed like they got the hair out, but that didn’t stop them from blacking out the screen again to try again…I guess the hair was still stuck in there, even though I sure as hell couldn’t see it. I doubt 99% of the audience could see it, either. The final blow came about a half hour into the film, when once more the screen went dark and the lights came up. Everyone groaned, and the same guy from before came out and said, “The director has requested we stop the film momentarily to remove the hair.” They FINALLY got it, I guess, because the movie started up again a minute later.

But man, what a way to ruin your own movie, Director! It’s hard to believe he thought it would be better to black out the screen and interrupt the mood, flow and pace of the story just so you can get a friggin’ miniscule ‘hair’ out of the projector, rather than just let it go and let the movie itself play out. The hair itself looked like nothing more than a little scratch on the one side of the film…you didn’t even notice it unless you really looked for it. But I guess the hair distracted from the pristine gorgeousness of the director’s “vision” and so, the audience paid the price. Stupid movie, guy.

The second weird thing was that Lukas Haas appeared to be sitting right in front of us. When he came in, I spotted his big ears and eyes right away, even though he was hiding under a hat and glasses. I don’t think anyone realized the star of the movie was sitting right there. The weird thing was, Greg motioned that “he was the guy from before.” There had been an asshole dancing in a show-offy, “look at me, aren’t I so funny” way outside of the event, blocking the walkway with his shenanigans. I hadn’t paid much attention to the dancing jerk, but apparently, Lukas Haas was the dancing jerk if you put two and two together. Never would have thought the little boy from Witness would grow up to act like THIS!

So that was our weekend. Tonight, we are going back to the festival to see a screening of “Year of the Dog.” OF COURSE I am dying to see this one! I was really excited to see it on the schedule for the festival, since it was one I planned to pay money for. Check out that link, especially all the dog people who read this here blog-thing.

In my next blog, I may share a little of my hatred for Iron Man Arizona. They should call it Iron Selfish Jerks Arizona, and I might tell you why I think that, if I feel like reliving some sheer torture and frustration any time soon. Suffice to say, Iron Man Arizona is NOT COOL. Trust me!

I experience a surge of joy when I think about the prospect of a new Indiana Jones movie. I know they are making one, and that makes me happy. Those movies are just awesome... they are what movies are all about. If any one of the 3 movies are on TV, I can't NOT watch it. Especially if it's Last Crusade, because that one, as the Germans (not Nazis though) would say, "rocken die Hause." I love, love, love Sean Connery in that part. I know Connery has done some great things and played some tremendous roles in his career, but for me, his best work will always be as Indy's Dad. He and Harrison Ford had such perfect chemistry, and nothing was better than whenever he would call out Indy for something with that Connery-esque, "Junior!" So adorable.

Anyway! Big news today: Shia LaBeouf is going to be in the next movie. They haven't said what part he's going to play, but I think my vote would be for him to be Indiana Jones' long-lost son from Marian. That was his best broad. Marian. So in my book, that's the one coupling that could have resulted in a kid. Well, whatever. I don't care how they introduce this mystery character because I trust in the story and refuse to believe anyone would fuck it up. I'm staying positive here.

Up until two days ago I couldn't pronounce Shia LaBeouf. I was saying, "She-a Le Boof." Apparently it's more like, " Shya Le BUFF." I think. I don't really know, for sure. It's an intriguing name. Almost as intriguing as Pilot Inspektor Riesgraf-Lee, but not quite.

I had a baby bee in my hair today!

I was in the bathroom, washing my hands, when I glanced in the mirror and saw what looked like a fuzzy piece of lint on the side of my head. I reached up and quickly realized it was an insect. Using a paper towel, I removed the little beastie and realized it was a bee...a BABY bee.

It was pretty cute, really. I didn't kill it. I set him-or-her free in the hallway. I know that there were better options, like taking it outside, but for some reason I just shook out the paper towel in the hall. "Godspeed, little bee!" Who knows where that baby bee goes on its journey? Maybe it will land on another person's head for a visit. One thing could lead to another and that bee could wind up on the President's head! It could happen. Six degrees of baby bees and what-not.

The imagery in this story changes when you realize that THIS is the baby bee that was in my hair:

This is interesting. According to some website I stumbled onto today, the symptoms of seizures sound a LOT like what happens to me during a typical day. In fact, I'd say most people in the population experience this stuff, too. Could it be we are all seizuring and we don't even know it? Or are the Seizure Police (I made them up, so don't bother searching for them) just trying to scare us into some sort of paranoid lockdown? I'm not sure.

Here's the list I copied from the website; pay special attention to the ones I bolded:

What are the symptoms of a seizure?The person may have varying degrees of symptoms depending upon the type of seizure. The following are general symptoms of a seizure or warning signs of seizures. Symptoms or warning signs may include:

staring

jerking movements of the arms and legs

stiffening of the body

loss of consciousness

breathing problems or breathing stops

loss of bowel or bladder control

falling suddenly for no apparent reason

not responding to noise or words for brief periods

appearing confused or in a haze

sleepiness and irritability upon waking in the morning

nodding the head

periods of rapid eye blinking and staring

I don't know... I suffer from everything on this list except for loss of consciousness (except when I take naps), breathing problems (except when I wheeze while hiking), and loss of bladder/ bowel control (except, OF COURSE, when I wet my pants while laughing-- a cruel curse). Should I be concerned?

Ehhh. No. There's no reason to go all hypochondriac here. I mean, this is a website I landed on by accident when searching for information on "property seizure", after all. (It was for an article, not because our property may be seized.) And of course, once I was on the site, I poked around a bit...couldn't help it. But no matter what I read there, there is absolutely no reason to believe that because I often stiffen up and my muscles jerk, and I am in a constant daze and I am irritable upon waking that I am about to just have a seizure all of the SSSufk;sdaaaaaa.mnasadsddddddddddd

I am so slow to get to things people lend and/or give me. Don't make the mistake of lending me a book; chances are you won't get it back for approximately 6 months- 3 years. Got a CD you want me to listen to? Make a copy of it first, because I will probably put it in some obscure place in my house or car and not find it for about 2 years and 4 months. You'll think I'm an asshole because I never mentioned how much I liked the CD or the book, and you'll probably screen my calls after awhile because I am a thoughtless, ungrateful broad.

Anyway, tonight I finally got to give a proper listen to a CD my friend (and seamstress extraordinnaire for my wedding dress) Brianna gave me back in November. I'm ashamed that it took me THIS long to get to it. Especially since it's really good music.
(This poor girl has been sadly wondering why I never e-mailed or called to share my thoughts on the music she so selflessly shared with me. How could I do that to someone this sweet? I'll tell you how: Lisa = asshole.)

The band is called the Gothic Archies, and she gave me 22 of their songs from two albums. One is entirely made up of songs inspired by the Lemony Snicket "Series of Unfortunate Events" books, and one song in particular is stuck in my head SO hard I'd pry it out with a rusty crowbar if I didn't enjoy it being in there so much: The Reptile Room. So catchy.

Which reminds me-- I actually own books 1-10 of the Unfortunate Events series, but I've only read book 1. My friend who works for the publisher of the books mailed me a box full of them a couple years ago, and I have YET to get to any of them. (I'd already read book 1 on my own before she sent the box o' books) Maybe I should get to reading those books sometime.

I'm wasteful. But I LOVE buying books. Love it. It used to be all about buying CDs but lately I am thinking of bookstores and Amazon and Borders Rewards cards and-- I'm doomed. I try very hard to get rid of some of my books, but it's not easy. What is it about books that does this to a person? I am 95% finished reading Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman- in fact when I finish here, tonight I plan to read the remaining 5%. But that book sat on my shelf for at least 6 months before I got to it. And it's been a fun book! I could have read all this fun a long time ago, and right now I have at LEAST 7 books I can think of off the top of my head that I want to read next and I am getting anxiety just thinking about choosing which one it will be... I need more hours in the day to read, a stronger attention span so I can cut back on quick-fixes like magazines and the internet and more quality time with my books.

Oh, and I really need more money and bookshelves. So I can get more books.

Yeeesh. I just don't like the look of this guy. He's the Mascot for the Arizona Diamondbacks, and for some reason his heavy white eyebrows, weird scowl and stance that reminds me of an overenthusiastic youth-group leader who will wind up inappropriately touching some kids on a camp out... it all really creeps me out. I'd piss myself if this thing was outside, looking in the windows at us, slowly pawing at the glass.

They should make a horror movie with this thing.

My all-time favorite Office moment: "PRISON MIKE"

"Oh, you my friend would be da belle of da ball."

Once more, it's Good Friday. I've said it before, but I really don't understand what's so Good-with-a-capital-G about it. It wasn't such a good day for Christ. It was probably the worst day of his life. I'd switch it; I'd go with Good Sunday instead of "Easter," mostly because Easter sounds like keister and that's another word for a butt, people.

Anyways and what-not, I'm having a nice day so far. Last night was a good TV night, what with The Office and 30 Rock being on back to back. I love 30 Rock. And last night was especially great because Will Arnett was a guest star and good old Baldwin got to do a very cool Thomas Jefferson impression. Nothing beats seeing Thomas Jefferson flip double-birds to a studio audience on a fictional paternity show. I'm still giggling at the image this morning. I wish I could find it so I could put it on this blog post.

This morning we both woke up early and went into work before we were supposed to. Today we are going to meet with a travel agent to get some cold hard facts about taking a cruise for our honeymoon. We are definitely only interested in FACTS. Numbers, charts and possibly graphs, depending on the situation. I plan to keep my face in an expression I'd call "stone-like" and I admit I hope that my sweet husband will show up in the fake beard and serious glasses, and possibly the orthopedic shoes for the full effect. I'd like to see this travel agent lady TRY to make us smile and open our wallets extra-wide. We are NOT going to let the potential "fun" and "excitement" of a cruise shake our resolve to get a good price. Only amateurs fall for that "Fun Ship" shit. We'd prefer to sail on the Frugal Yet Elegant Ship, for we are classy people with discriminating tastes. If I need to, I will slap a lady today. I'm not kidding around here.

When I am not daydreaming about slapping ladies and cruises, I am thinking about the cool surprise I found in my car this morning! I got in to go to work and found not one but 2 issues of the new Buffy comic book on the passenger's seat! I got so giddy and smiled the whole way to work. It wasn't the Front Wheel Drive Fairies or the GloveBox Sprites this time, either, it was Greg. He's awesome. If you see him today, give him a pat on the back and possibly a nice cold beer, and tell 'im what a good man he is. The total wrong thing to do would be to let some spiders loose on his clothes. So please, do the nice thing and not that dick-move thing with the spiders.

I had another surprise today, too: this morning when I was getting dressed, I suddenly remembered that last summer, when the big sales were going on in the shoe store, I bought a new pair of Birkenstocks. They're so cute, too-- white with cherries on the straps. I know it can be hard for Birkenstocks to be cute, and I know they most likely make me look like a fool hippie, but they really are comfortable and I appreciate a shoe I don't have to touch in order to put it on.

Anyway, when I bought these shoes, I didn't even take them out of the box; I just put them away in my closet for this summer. This was a good idea. I pulled the box out today and it was like getting a present. Wow-- imagine going to your closet and finding brand-new shoes! I can tell you that I had one word for it this morning: Sweet. Now I am happily wearing my new shoes, typing away all clickety-clack on this keyboard and thinking about cupcakes.

Oh yeah, I should mention that the mailroom here today is loaded with cupcakes. It's the mail-room-lady's birthday, and they sent an e-mail out while I was writing this telling us we may go partake in cupcakey goodness. Maybe it really IS a Good Friday! It might seem sacriligious, but I think I'll go to the mailroom and eat one cupcake for me and one for my Lord and Savior. Yeah. That's what I'm gonna do!

Meowmeow, I wuv cupcakes and putting me wee kitten-cheeks in 'em.

If there's one thing that can be said about a dame like me, it's that I like to share things that I find funny. I realize that a lot of things from the 1970s have made a profound impression on my sense of humor, and it's awesome to remember them from time to time and find 'em on the wonderful interwebs.

And so, without further ado, here is a special treat for all of us: the actual text of Steve Martin's immortal Cruel Shoes essay, taken from his book of the same name:

Cruel Shoes
Anna knew she had to have some new shoes today, and Carlo had helped her try on every pair in the store. Carlo spoke wearily, "Well, that's every pair of shoes in the place."

"Oh, you must have one more pair..."

"No, not one more pair... Well, we have the cruel shoes, but no one would want..."

Anna interrupted, "Oh yes, let me see the cruel shoes!"

Carlo looked incredulous. "No Anna, you don't understand, you see the cruel shoes are..."

"Get them!"

Carlo disappeared into the back room for a moment, then returned with an ordinary shoe box. He opened the lid and removed a hideous pair of black and white pumps. But these were not an ordinary pair of black and white pumps; both were left feet, one had aright angle turn with separate compartments that pointed the toes in impossible directions. The other shoe was six inches long and was curved inward like a rocking chair with a vise and razor blades to hold the foot in place.

Carlo spoke hesitantly, "... Now you see why... they're not fit for humans..."

"Put them on me."

"But..."

"Put them on me!"

Carlo knew all arguments were useless. He knelt down before her and forced the feet into the shoes.

The screams were incredible.

Anna crawled over to the mirror and held her bloody feet up where she could see.

"I like them."

She paid Carlo and crawled out of the store into the street.

Later that day, Carlo was overheard saying to a new customer, "Well, that's every shoe in the place. Unless, of course, you'd like to try the cruel shoes."

Broiling vs. Grilling: A Comparison
By: Lisa

Since the dawn of time, meat has been cooked in a variety of ways. Before humans even crawled out of the primordial ooze and discarded their flippers in exchange for hands and feet, anything that was made of meat could be cooked. Whether it occurred when a saber toothed tiger fell into an open volcano and was thereby roasted, or when a wooly mammoth was standing around under some trees during a storm and was hit by lightning, when the muscles, bones and tissues of animals were heated up, they were cooked.

Cooking meat has evolved over the eons, which is probably a good thing because if we were to wait around for saber tooth tigers and wooly mammoths to become chance victims of fire-related accidents, we would have a serious problem on our hands. Not only because these are extinct animals, but because it would mean that the human race was so dumb it couldn’t figure out that there were other animals we could eat.

In this report, I will discuss the pros and cons of two of today’s most popular methods for cooking meat: broiling and grilling. While both involve heat that is derived from flames, both require a certain level of technical knowledge in order to successfully cook meat. There are inherent perils in using these cooking methods, and unless proper precautions are taken, one could wind up with severe burns, smoke inhalation issues, scorched hair, or undercooked bacteria-laden meat that would kill even the strongest old man you know.

BROILING

Scientists are not entirely sure where the practice of broiling came from, but most say it probably happened at some point in our history. Broiling happens when the meat is placed under the heat source. This is the primary difference that separates it from grilling: the heat is up in broiling, whereas it is under the meat when grilling.

So one might ask: what is the big deal about where the heat comes from? Logic would dictate, to this author at least, that as long as there is heat coming from somewhere, the meat will find itself cooked eventually. But it is flawed logic like this that has led to the countless deaths of millions of people in meat-cooking blunders over the years. It turns out it matters a lot where the heat is coming from. Even though this annoys this author greatly, let us take a look at what makes broiling so “special.”

Since the meat is cooked using thermal radiation when it is broiled, this means that the meat is cooking very fast. Although many people might be wary of eating anything that is subject to radiation, master cooks and chefs have assured the world that this is a safe form of radiation, much like sunlight and AM/FM stations. This method of cooking is preferred by many because it is a low-fat way to prepare meat, since extra oil is not needed. As meat is broiled, it often develops a “crust” that is both crunchy and delicious. Louis Armstrong, also known as Satchmo, sang a memorable tune called “Biting into That Ol’ Broiled Meat Crust” that was a big hit during Prohibition. Most recordings of this song have been destroyed, so it is mostly pointless to look for them.

GRILLING

Ah, the joy of cooking over an open flame! The image of families huddled around a campfire, roasting a small animal caught in a snare earlier that day… the sight of Dad standing over the backyard grill, turning hamburgers over and drinking a lot of beer…these are all things we Americans see in our Oreo-addled brains when we think of cooking over flames.

Grilling is an American pastime as beloved as baseball, apple pie and putting our elderly into rest homes when they are in need of incontinence undergarments and feeding tubes. Millions of dollars are spent each year on the grilling basics: gas grills, charcoal grills, George Forman grills, and other types of grills. We also buy many large pointed forks and knives so we can stab and grip our meat as it burns over the flames. And finally, we purchase a lot of meats and poultry, as well as marinades, rubs, chips, dips, chains and whips.

In grilling, the meat is placed over the heat source, which is usually described as “very very hot”. The meat is also cooked very fast, and it tastes delicious when it is done because it has that outdoorsy, grilled taste. Meat on a grill should not be left unattended, as it is common that hawks will swoop down and steal the meat. Not only does this mean your meat is now gone, but the high temperature of the meat will burn the tender talons of the birds and you will be left with a guilty feeling, knowing that somewhere out there a hawk is suffering from burned feet all because you were careless with your meat.

When grilling, many people use chemicals like lighter fluid or propane to light their fires. This is a mistake, because lighter fluid is highly flammable when flame is applied to it, and if you get any on your person you too can be burnt up. If you don’t turn off the propane gas valve, you can flood your entire backyard with gas fumes and when a match is struck, your entire block can be wiped out—including the cars! So it’s best to just stick with wood and charcoal, which “stay put” inside the grill and have little chance of covering your body or floating all over your yard.

CONCLUSION

It is a matter of personal taste, when one gets down to the proverbial “it.” Some people like to grill their food because they see the fire and they feel like they have control over the savory meat as it cooks. Others prefer the “see no evil” aspect of broiling, since in most cases today we broil by shoving the meat into a drawer at the bottom of our ovens, and we don’t visually watch it while it’s in there. Both methods have been scientifically proven to cook meat, and both produce a charred crust. Choose your broiler or grill wisely, and always remember to carry a gun and/or knife so you can fend off any potential meat thieves.