I give this movie fifteen more minutes

I'm currently watching THE INTERNATIONAL. This has to be one of the most boring action movies in the entire world.

Movies like these make me doubt if I really need netflix.

Clive Owens is a cutey, but really...wait a second- someone just got shot. Naomi Watts is running. Oh, neat aerial shot of the crowd dispersing.

Okay, maybe this isn't boring; however, it's taken 39.43 minutes to get here.

Doesn't help that the other movie atop my TV is THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG.

Movies like that one make me certain that I really need netflix.

That movie was utterly charming and enchanting. Gotta say, I was teary at a couple places. Didn't hurt that it was set in New Orleans and the soundtrack sounded as if Randy Newman had a heck of a lot of fun writing the songs.

My one complaint is I didn't see it on the big screen.

The movie's back to boring.

Ten more minutes to snag my interest or I press eject.

We're so superior

My brother sent everybody the link to the website that features Wal-mart shoppers.

It's supposed to be a laugh riot, but I wouldn't know. I don't feel like mocking people when I could easily be one of them. I go to Wal-mart. I don't always look my best when I'm there.

In fact. last week I decided to pick up dinner without changing out of my sweatpants, which I also wear as PJs, or doing anything except putting my hair into a don't-give-a-flying-ponytail. The plan was to get in and out in no time. The best laid plans go to hell when the restaurant forgets to put in your takeout order. I didn't and don't hold it against them because I go there all the time and they never made a mistake before.

My wait, however, was particularly long and uncomfortable since I was unwashed and pretty much in my PJs. The only thing that would've made it perfect was to see an ex. Which I didn't, but some people from my old restaurant came in. They must've thought teaching didn't pay all that well.

Besides, even though I'm supposed to hate Wal-mart for some teacherly or principle-ly reason, I like the place. I bought David Bowie, hair stuff, creamer, and two cheap shirts- truly I'm living in consumer paradise. Plus, if I'm there, it means I have free time, money in me pocketses, and a respite from stress.

So I don't go to the website.

Everybody Eighties Dance!

During a trip to Wal-mart, I gave in and bought Bowie's greatest hits.

I am the type of person who buys greatest hits.

Even though it had "China Girl" and "Let's Dance" (two songs that prove video killed the radio star), the marks in its favor were "Suffragette City," "Golden Years," and "Ziggy."

I popped that puppy in and carseat-danced all the way home.

Tangent the first: "Modern Love" is included. I didn't hate the video, but it pissed me off. Some fan hands Bowie a bouquet of roses, and what does he do? He nods thanks and then throws them back into the crowd! That's gratitude for ya.

Tangent the second: I was wondering- as I sang my little heart out to "Major Tom"- if the car next to me could tell what I was singing. "Can you hear me, Major Tom" makes a pretty distinctive lip shape. Remember Mel Gibson in CONSPIRACY? He was stalking/protecting Julia Roberts while she worked out and tuned in the radio until he found the song she was singing ("You're Too Good to be True").

All in all, quite the successful consumer expedition.

A curl on my forehead

One curse of a blog is that when I go off in a spectacularly petty or spiteful way, I'm tempted to delete the entries.

Then I'm tempted to delete the whole thing. And that's thanatos getting his way.

So I bitch about teaching and show the warts and hairy moles. I can't decide if it's cathartic, pukey whinging, or a bit of both.

Oui, Shoshanna

I just finished watching INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS for the umpteen-seventh time. Ain't sick of it yet.

One reason I love Tarantino is that he likes his actors; you can tell from his movies.

I don't think many directors do. SHERLOCK HOLMES was such a colossal disappointment because Guy Ritchie doesn't like his actors. Sure RDJ and Jude Law were charming- a director would need to have the suckage of Lucas to wring the charm from them- but I got the feeling he thought they were a necessary evil to tell the story. The female characters? Well, he must've thought they were in the way.

But Q brings out the best in his performers or has the insight to let them bring out the best in themselves. He allows them to be golden.

Will you marry me?

WHITE HEAT was one of the best Harry Dresden's.

There were at least three Crowning Moments of Awesome. The first one was so intense I said, "Shit!", threw off my Snuggie, and read the rest of the book upright on the couch.

I've been thinking about how easy it is to dislike the first-person narrator. There's a subtle resentment in reading "I" and thinking, "No, it's not me."

Not to mention that it's easy for the narrator to appear weak and whiney because the reader's in only one head.

But I think one of Butcher's many strengths is that he lets other characters aside from Harry have their moments in the shining awesomeness. Not many first-person authors do that.

He also has a way with the deus ex machina. When he employs the trope, I never feel like it's cheap. I'm always relieved because Harry deserves it.

I'm a little scared because I heard the end of the series is supposed to be no holds barred. I'm hoping it's not a kill 'em all finale.

Then again, even if it is, I have faith Butcher'll be able to pull it off in style.

Because I need to talk about the Oscars

James Cameron has me scratching my head.

He's a jerk. Completely egotistical. Remember when TITANIC was up for just about every award, and his behavior became more and more overblown as the evening went on?

"I'm King of the World!" And the moment of silence for the casualties of the Titanic that went on a little too long- because he needed to show his powah?

Then he starts talking up Kathryn Bigelow. It's great when divorced couples can act more-than-decently toward each other, but I can't help but wonder what his motivation was.

1. He wanted to seem like a good guy and was cocksure that AVATAR would win no matter what he said or how many compliments he gave.

2. He genuinely recognized that THE HURT LOCKER was the better film on all levels and put aside his ego to tell the world.

Don't talk to me about box office. When you get to his level, money's sweet, but recognition and critical acclaim are necessities.

Either way, I'm sure his actions gave the Academy permission to vote for THE HURT LOCKER. Damn if I don't wish I could know the reason for what he did.

Ask me why

Yesterday I spent $176 at Staples.

All for my classroom.

I needed poster paper, magic markers, pens, a flash drive, and copy paper.

Budget cuts are hard.

If I ever need to justify the years spent in the restaurant biz, I say it toughened me up to be in a job where people think it's a piece of proverbial. That I don't earn my money. That I suck and I'm mean and any monkey could do what I do better and cheaper.

I think it's funny that my brothers and sisters all have that in common. We work in jobs that bring on the public's contempt: police officers, nurses, and teachers.

But what else do you expect from a middle-class, Irish-Catholic family?

I guess if anyone questions my dedication, I can show them some receipts.

When I'm on the internet

I shouldn't read teachers' blogs.

Most of them describe how they're the most wonderfullllllest teacher in the world. How they can fix a steely gaze on the worst troublemaker and have the asshole behave for the rest of the year.

Then there are others.

I read a blog about a guy who's been teaching for 18 years and is still wondering if it gets better. Still wondering if teaching is the right job for him.

Shit.

I end up depressed either way. I'm better off losing myself for hours on TV tropes or trawling Television Without Pity.

Dear Esteemed Colleague

Some fraternities like to play a game called "Don't fuck your brother." I know it sounds vaguely incesty, but the mechanics of the game involve imbibing or consuming some hideous concoction. The players drink or eat as much as they can so that the next person in line- their brother- doesn't have to.

Could you tell me how the most fatheaded, liver-hardening, roofie-giving stereotype of a frat boy can understand the concept of loyalty while a supposedly educated teacher can't?

Your actions affected me. I had to deal with the shitty fallout. And as much as I love to identify with Harry Dresden, I didn't fucking need this.

Oh yeah. You know that 15-page research paper that was due last month? I know for a fact that one of my homeroom students filled 10 pages with song lyrics and a literary analysis he did for English. I told him not to. I told him he would get caught and probably flunk the quarter. He didn't listen.

You didn't notice. You gave him a B+ on the paper.

You're a disgrace.

Dear Concerned Mother

I'm really glad you insisted on the meeting yesterday to discuss Jimmy's performance in my class. I was happy to hear the rationalizations about his failure to turn in assignments, and the evidence of your enabling him touched my heart. I was under the misguided impression that an 18 year old should be able to take responsibility for his actions. More the fool me.

By the way, Jimmy's been acting awfully short-tempered lately, and I've noticed a fiery outcropping of acne on his face, as well as the bulking up. Hmmm...I wonder what could be making this happen?

Oh well, when your son's dealing with tumors from 'roid abuse fifteen years from now, I'm sure you'll be happy that you confronted his mean and unfair English teacher.

at the liberry

Last Sunday I checked out a big old stack of books from the library and felt that guilty joy of doing something decidedly wrong.

It felt good.

The stack I got out during February break was pretty disappointing. I used to be of the mindset that once I started a book, I had to finish it, but with reading time a scarcity, hell no on that.

I should've just checked out a bunch of Jim Butcher; I wasn't much in the mood for anything else.

On Sunday, that's what I did. Three Dresden books. Two Discworld. One Lovecraft (I tell myself it's research because it's my right as a New Englander to explore Cthulu mythos and steal steal steal). One Patricia Briggs.

Tangent: Briggs' ALPHA AND OMEGA- what a great story! My one complaint was that it's wicked short. But it's still packed and complete at that length- I'm just a greedy bitch.

Now I'm reading WHITE NIGHT. I love Harry Dresden- almost as much as Dave Robicheaux and Sam Vimes. He has to answer for shit he didn't do. People distrust and dislike him. He's an outsider.

Oh yeah, there's an extreme amount of connection I feel with the character. And I get the comfort that although I face those obstacles, no one wants to chew my ass or cut off my head. Compared to Harry, I reside on Easy Street.

I'm reading the series out of order, which is slightly bewildering. But I figger when I buy all the books in paperback, I'll be able to reread them the right way.

Tattoo Queen gave me the first three books years ago and I wasn't into them. Then I bought one on a whim and a giftcard a couple years back and was hooked.

It never ceases to amaze me when I have to be ready for certain books and authors. Some change in me brainpan and all of a sudden, I get it and must have.

Sure the money's there

Things I've talked myself out of buying this week:

1. a pimped-out flat screen TV with a kickass sound system

2. HORNS (by Joe Hill)- I'm saving that for a special occasion

3. a motorcycle- this desire is getting awfully hard to ignore. My brother has one helluva Harley and Jesus, do I envy him when the weather warms up. I wouldn't even need a Harley; any bike would do.

4. a highfalutin' camera. I've been taking yearbook photos (oh my effing God, this is my purgatory), and although some pics have turned out wonderfully (let's say 25 out of 2000), I need a camera that can take action shots.

Looking over the list, I realize my bank account would be hurting if I indulged. Instead, I'll pat myself on the back and put the urges in their little boxes, because those suckers bite something fierce.

Saturday Morning Ritual

Pretty much every Saturday morning will find me chatting with Tattoo Queen. If I'm industrious, I get up at the usual and pound out some correcting before the 9am call.

I'd be miserable without our talks.

Today I bitched about my week at school for thirty minutes and she listened. She's the type of friend who will wholeheartedly agree, and even if she disagrees, she offers correction in the gentlest way possible so that it feels like agreement.

A tonic to the soul, I tell you what.

She believes in me. She believes I'll write again. She believes I'm a great teacher. She believes I'm a great friend.

I don't want to think about the ledge I'd be living on if she wasn't in my life.

Big screen, good news

Two bits of Hollywood gossip warm my cockles:

1. They're making ROME into a movie and Lucius will be in it! I don't know how they'll put him in, but I have the utter faith they'll succeed.

2. PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN numero four will add the character of Blackbeard...played by IAN FUCKING MCSHANE! When the news reached me, I thought my heart was going to explode. Sigh. Ian, the man who could put his boot on my neck anytime.

It's nice to be asked

It's a universally acknowledged truth that teachers sink to the levels they're teaching.

Which means I'm in high school forevah.

I overheard two teachers making plans to meet the rest of the gang for drinks after school.

They were outside my door. My desk with me behind it is clearly visible.

No invite.

So I'm feeling a little butt-hurt that I was ejected from the clique without an explanation.

I'm outside in the snow, staring at the scene inside and not caring if the tears and snot cause my face to freeze on the glass.

Times like these, I actually miss the restaurant biz. Sure, there'd be awful fights and nursed grudges, but at the end of a shift, nine outta ten, somebody would put the question of drinks to the group. No one excluded.

Then again, the staff at the restaurant had left high school behind.

My week in a nutshell

The two most common reactions this week were What the Fuck? and I Hate Everybody.

Sometimes they combined into a what the fuck are you doing- oh yeah, I hate you.

I'm glad it's Friday.