I'll take mine with a twist

Netflix- you are the cruelest sometimes

2011-08-20T18:50:00.000-07:00

Could someone tell me why SAY ANYTHING isn't on instant watch? I wanted to get my Lloyd Dobler on, and I'm a bit pissed at being thwarted.

Would it kill them to put it up there? Especially since they want to go to all digital.

In my wanderings, I did find out that they have the entire season/series of MY SO-CALLED LIFE on streaming, and I'm trying very hard to talk myself out of a marathon. I don't need to spend the next 19 hours in a teenage wasteland.

I have to admit, I'm sorely tempted. Jordan is so pretty. Rickie is such a great best friend. Rayanne is a delightful mess.

But I must be strong.

That sounded wrong

2011-08-20T18:45:00.000-07:00

Despite my wangsting to the contrary, my brother's son was a good baby.

As a matter of fact, compared to my new standard* of judging children, he was an awesome tyke.

*My new standard** is going by little Mikey from TRUE BLOOD. So yes, seeing as my nephew didn't pop a blood vessel in my eye, didn't write disturbing messages on the wall, and didn't set the house on fire, I'd say he was downright perfection.

**My old standard is Damien Omen, although I can't really remember him as a baby/toddler, but the kid was evil. Between THE OMEN and THE SHINING, I've been freaked out by little kids riding Big Wheels. Either they're getting up to some shit in a haunted hotel or just waiting for you to climb a ladder before knocking you the hell off it. Man, I'm glad Big Wheels fell out of fashion.

I do refer to the kid in THE OMEN as Damien Omen, and I swear people in my family do too.

I don't care if they're not real...

2011-08-19T19:57:00.000-07:00

They're spectacular.

My new timesink is Texts from Last Night.

Hours of amusement made of solid gold.

The posts almost make me want to get a cell phone* because I have the feeling everyone around me is writing and receiving awesome texts, and I am missing out.

The posts also confirm that people out there are living lives that span the full spectrum of epic.

*I should just say phone, but I can't. It's like I'm in one of those turn-of-the-century books where phone is written 'phone in a quaint way because the tele was left off.

Adventures in babysitting

2011-08-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

My one-year-old nephew was up while his father was at school.

Everyone kept on saying what a good baby he is. The best: good-natured, even-tempered, a regular little effing angel.

You know what? A good baby is still a baby. A good baby is still prone to shitting, peeing, puking, and drooling.

That's why I teach high school. A good teenager is polite, friendly, hard working, and just might change the world.

A good baby can't even change his own diapers.

Whilst the little cherub was here, I caught a lot of subtext from my family about the superiority of women who have children over women who don't. Just little rancid whiffs of bias.

Just enough to make me a freaking basket case when I was tapped for baby-sitting. I had a panic attack while feeding the kid- convinced that I had cut his food wrong, not only wrong but into the optimal size and shape for choking (he lived).

When he started crying and wouldn't stop, I was certain his baby spidey sense had picked up on my childlessness state, and my lack of motherhood had broken his good nature into a thousand pointed shards.

So I started crying with him.*

Eventually he stopped, and when my other brother arrived to take over baby duty, I told him what happened, and he said, "Yeah, he gets moody."

1. Those were some of the sweetest words anyone in my family has ever said to me.
2. Would've been nice to know that.
3. See? Perfect babies are still drags.

*I was having a hard week, but no one believes that someone who's on summer vacation can have a hard week, and while I don't ask people to sympathize (because pretty much the rest of the world doesn't have two months of vacation), I do offer that even if I were on summer vacation and spent the whole time riding a unicorn and getting hickeys from Ryan Gosling, I would still get the blues.

I will cut a bitch or make her a sandwich

2011-08-19T16:23:00.000-07:00

Two things about the concert:

1. I was sitting next to a total douche. He was quite the asshole even during the concert, but after the show was over and ten thousand people were trying to leave, he started pushing me. I turned around and said, "Really? Pushing me is not going to get you out of here faster." Then he said, "C'mon, move. Time is money."

I said, "You're going to go headfirst down those stairs if you don't keep your fucking hands off me."

When my sister Ella shot me a concerned look, I told her, "I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of him."*

He stopped pushing me and even stepped back a few feet because that's what you do when someone gives you the crazy.

2. After the show and in the parking lot waiting for the cars to clear, I jumped up to help two people who were having a hard time getting into traffic. I hate trying to maneuver out of tight spots in my car (or in my self), especially when there's a crowd around, and figured that since I was there and my beer wouldn't run off, I could help.

My fantasy is that one of the drivers is friends with the douche, and when they told each other about their encounters with strangers, they would have no idea that they were talking about the same woman.

*My replies were very unlike me. Most times I keep my anti-social to myself and friends and family. However, this guy had it coming. I even let him have the armrest during the concert.

Looking back on the concert

2011-08-19T16:04:00.000-07:00

It's comforting that when nostalgia goes wrong, nobody ends up bleeding or dead. The closest comparison is to eating stale bread (not moldy, just a bit hard) or drinking milk that's not spoiled, but not Little-House-on-the-Prairie delightful.

We missed all but two songs of Nightranger's set, but since we did catch "Sister Christian," I can't complain. "Sister Christian" was penultimate, and the last song they did was "Still Rock in America." Again, no complaints from me.

Foreigner came out ahead of the three bands because they embraced the nostalgia schtick and didn't play any new shit. The lead singer (a replacement- which kind of sucked because even though I don't know who the original singer was, I was completely invested in his being at the show) thought he was Steven Tyler, but he gave his heart to all the songs. The sax solo in "Urgent" was brutal and killed a little bit of my soul, but I gave the sax player an A for effort even though he should've brushed up on his part before the show. I didn't know musicians could forget or gravely screw up on songs they've performed hundreds of times. Yet they played "Jukebox Hero" and "Cold as Ice," which were my must-play songs, and they played the hell out of them.

"I've Been Waiting" was played as well, and as much as I tried to summon up my high school pain, I couldn't. I could actually see the humor of the situation.

One more thing about the Foreigner set: When they played "Dirty White Boys," they showed a picture of Marlon Brando, Elvis, and James Dean. And they kept on showing the same pictures. How hard would've been to get more examples of dirty white boys and/or different pictures of those paragons of dirtiness and boyness? Don't they have access to google images?

Journey made the colossal mistake of playing new shit. Bands need to understand that they should stick with the oldies because that's why the fans are there. Journey needs to stop trying to make New!Journey happen- it's not going to no matter what they do.

But they did play "Wheel in the Sky" and "Don't Stop Believing," which were my must-play songs for them.

Even though the show wasn't as good as Heart/Def Leppard, I still enjoyed the tailgating and concert. The 80s bands may be showing their wear, but I don't regret this nostalgia phase.

Two star-crossed lovers meet their fate

2011-08-19T15:46:00.001-07:00

This here is my new best friend. Or boyfriend. Or Kenobi.

Don't laugh- our love is pure like the glass half full of rose-colored water.

What a shame two soulmates will be thwarted in this lifetime because of geography.

Mission accomplished: one week, three movies

2011-08-10T19:50:00.000-07:00

I did go see CAPTAIN AMERICA and MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.

I liked CAPTAIN AMERICA- the lead was purty, the story was pretty solid overall, and Tommy Lee Jones did a nice job chewing the scenery (Harrison Ford should immediately netflix all of TLJ's movies to see how to grow older gracefully on the big screen). I thought the ending was kind of risky for a superhero flick, and I'm looking forward to seeing how AVENGERS turns out- it's either going to be a cluster of X-MEN III crapitude or a great surprise.

MIDNIGHT IN PARIS was a pure delight. I've never had a strong hankering to visit Paris, but with all the wonderful scenery porn, I'm leaning toward a trip. Owen Wilson wasn't annoying, and even though Rachel McAdams should beat the shit out of the costume designer (a shirtwaist, really?) and couldn't transcend her role as shrewish girlfriend, the rest of the cast acquitted themselves well. Kathy Bates was outright made of awesome as Gertrude Stein. I loved her and wanted her as my own best friend. I wouldn't even make her read my stuff.

It's interesting that Woody Allen didn't have Stein speak the way she wrote (that might've been tiresome), but Hemingway was a mixture of how he wrote and how people think he wrote. I'm not quite sure that worked.

The movie was utterly charming, and yes, I did enjoy spotting the authors and artists and even got a thrill when Owen's character interacted with them. The funny thing is that I do believe a self-absorbed person would time-travel, meet these incredible people, and then proceed to talk about himself. I'm not saying it's a good thing to do (I promise if I ever meet my idols, living or dead, I will listen to them and not monopolize the conversation), but it's completely believable.

My next movie mission: THE HELP and FRIGHT NIGHT (David Tennant, yay!).

On the book front

2011-08-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

The book I was reading didn't get much better, but two-thirds of the way through, I checked to see if the author was indeed going to end the series in craptastic fashion. Turns out, he's not. There's more coming (I don't know how I made the mistake), and this book was a transition book.

I'm not a fan of transition books because nine out of ten, the author is sick of the character, series, and readers; it's a shit-slide down, down, down until I stop reading altogether because any love for the character has been worn away.

Although I have to say that if Charlaine Harris and Carrie Vaughn have included transition books in their series, they've done it on the sly. I haven't noticed any dips in quality.

My luck in books lately has been decidedly lacking. The last batch from the library included a whole lot of dreary writing. The sole exception was KING RAT by China Mieville. Awesome twist on the Pied Piper tale told from the POV of the rat and set in modern London. Amazing read: funny, sad, horrible (in a good way), stomach-churning (in a good way), and suspenseful. When I finished, I knew I had to order all his books- his writing needs to be owned, not borrowed.

Really, there were parts when I had to tell myself to stop admiring the craft of his writing and get back into the story.

I'm hoping my luck changes before school starts.

There's a bad taste in my head

2011-08-04T17:22:00.000-07:00

I'm halfway through reading the last book in a series I've followed for years. If the book doesn't get better- or if it gets worse- there's going to be a big old dent in the wall opposite the couch.

I ordered this book back in February. After coming in from shovelling a ton of snow and changing out of my cold and soggy clothes, I made a cup of coffee and bought a ton of books online. I imagined what a great freaking gift it would be to get this book in the summer.

Bah. I shouldn't have raised my hopes. What kills me is that this series is one I always recommend for people looking for urban fantasy. I love the hero and have cried gallons over his adventures. I've also revelled in his triumphs- the author has always included at least two crowning moments of awesome in each book. Moments that made me gasp and shout out loud.

Now, as the whole series comes to an end, the author has made the hero an emo, ineffectual, outright-stupid-at-times poor excuse of a character.

I'm so mad I could spit.

I'm not coming from a place of spoiled entitlement or grief transference. I believe that all good things come to an end. All I wanted was a book that stayed true to the character and world.

I'm pissed that the hero is spending valuable pages with his knickers in an angsty twist and has seemed to forgotten a major plot point of the previous book, which would put an end to all his wangsting. The author has made his characters puppets- and they were so real before- and the strings are thick and heavy with clumsy manipulation.

I tell you what, if the book stays the same or gets worse, I will pick it up from where it fell when I threw it and donate it to the library. No, I won't donate it...I'm just going to leave it on one of the shelves. I'll put the memory of it in the same heart-shaped iron box where I keep the last two ALIENS movies and all the MATRIX sequels. The book will be dead to me.

How I hope that I can come back and say the book improved and ended in way that befits this wonderful series.

I'm not holding my breath.

Let Jason Bourne make education policy

2011-08-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

Matt Damon loves teachers, and I love him- here's an interview where he defends teacher tenure and shows that he's wicked smart.

His mom's a teacher, and there's nothing like having a teacher in the family to disabuse you of any delusion that teaching is a twinkie job.

It kills me that people actually think once tenure is achieved, teachers just sit around all day. My teaching has improved over the years, and I take pride in getting better. Tenure and more experience don't add up to automatic laziness. As a matter of fact, newness to teaching doesn't add up to energetic or innovative instruction.

The best teachers in my school have considerable experience, and some new teachers have found the shortcuts even without tenure. If a person has a work ethic, she or he has it. It doesn't disappear with job security.

Take me to the movies

2011-08-03T08:02:00.000-07:00

This week I have the goal to see three movies: CAPTAIN AMERICA, COWBOYS AND ALIENS, and MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.

I saw COWBOYS AND ALIENS yesterday, and disappointment hit me during the last third of the movie and kept growing.

Daniel Craig is fine in the role. He can deliver crappy lines with a certain gravitas that lends them an importance or gravelly sincerity. His character is a solid embodiment of the Western archetype- solitary, morally ambiguous, and grief-stricken. Plus, he looks mighty good in chaps.

The supporting characters were fine as well: it was nice to see Sam Rockwell, Keith Carradine and Clancy Brown (you've seen him- he played the baddie in HIGHLANDER and CARNIVALE, but I think his creepiest role was as the evil father in a TV movie called LOVE, LIES, AND MURDER), and they did as much as they could with what they were given.

I don't even know what's happened to Harrison Ford. I rewatched WORKING GIRL last week and can't reconcile how clumsy his acting has become. Maybe he's in it only for the paycheck, but he should still have some expertise in acting. He used to be so good.

The last third of the movie was absolutely painful. The writers retconned Ford's villain into a crusty war vet (um, didn't he torture and kill a pretty much innocent ranch hand in the beginning of the movie?), and I'm woefully sick of all the newest movie aliens looking like kissing cousins to Cloverfield.

What potential this concept had, only to die upon execution. I'm hoping the next two movies in my goal are better.

Reason #387 for loving True Blood

2011-08-03T06:40:00.000-07:00

This season of TRUE BLOOD has to be the strongest thus far. I picture the writers giggling in pure delight of what they're able to do for every episode.

People around the net are complaining about the number of subplots (about 12 by my reckoning), but I love the storylines for three reasons: the assorted arcs give everyone something to do (and increase the chances of showing the male characters nekkid- keep the man pelt coming!), the subplots give an incredible complexity to the show, and there's a good chance that the lines will converge into a brain-melting season finale.

I'm loving 'NesiaEric, King Bill, and decomposedPam. Not to mention, Fiona Shaw as Marnie and possessedMarnie- two distinct characters.

I was incredibly happy to see Felix (Terry's rescue armadillo) in the last ep. But here's the deal with that: I think the writers mentioned Felix (when Terry was giving Arlene his list of good qualities- a monologue that showed he was more than a one-off character) on a whim. Looking at the scene with Felix, the actor seems to be quite uncomfortable with the little creature. Terry's wearing gloves and at one point, he kind of shakes the armadillo. How much do you wanna be that armadillos pee when they're nervous?

However, I enjoyed that fanservice and all the other fanservice the show is giving us this season.

I can't wait to see how it unfolds.

How the day is spent

2011-07-14T16:10:00.000-07:00

I found a site (I don't even know through what means I stumbled on it) that kills me: The Annals of Dating.

Creepy e-mails from dating sites- they're enough to make you grateful to be married or outright ecstatic to be single. The ways people can be oh so wrong when they're horny are legion.

Playing Doctor

2011-07-14T15:57:00.000-07:00

I went back to the doctor to find out the game plan for my treacherous wart.

Tangent: I also went for my appointment on Tuesday, July 11, which was the wrong day. I glanced too quickly at the card and read only the 7/11. Because reading comprehension is the hard and the difficult.

She came in and said one of the sweetest words in the language: Benign. The-wart-that-wasn't-a-wart is also not a cancer.

Apparently when she told me last time that the thing was a low-grade cancer, she was telling me a worst case scenario.

Which is kind of effed up. It's not like I tell my students when they hand in papers that their work will probably be Fs so that they'll be prepared for the worst and surprised by the better.

Bedside manner aside, she froze the little bugger, and I imagine I'll be able to say farewell to it in a couple days or weeks (I honestly don't know how long it will take and didn't want to ask her. She might tell me a year to lower my expectations).

I celebrated by buying three pairs of flip-flops at Wal-Mart. I now have six pairs of flip-flops. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but it is a huge embarrassment of shoe riches to me. I tell you, come September, I'm going to be very sad to pack them up.

ETA: The doctor asked me if I ever had liquid nitrogen before. I told her not in a formal setting like this. SHE WAS NOT AMUSED. Another thing that cracked me up: she asked me if I was going to be in the sun this week. I immediately went into over-thinking mode. I don't go out in the sun to stay, but the sun manages to find me when I go outside. How does a person phrase that? So I told her that I'd get incidental sun, but not purposefully. She loved that shit. In the exchange that followed, she used the phrase "incidental sun" three times. I love it when someone picks up your words.

Throw your soul through every open door

2011-07-14T15:46:00.000-07:00

I finally made my second CD via itunes. I had hit a block because I didn't know how to mesh some songs with other songs, but then I split it up by gender and every tune fell into place.

The combination is 80 minutes of pure epic (or pure madness, but aren't they kind of the same?).

"Feeling Good" and "I Put a Spell on You"- Nina Simone
God, I love her voice. My ignorance of music is profound, but something inside me wakes up when I hear her.

"Rolling in the Deep" and "Set the Rain on Fire"- Adele
Adele is my new girl-crush. Amazing voice, and I don't care if she's the flavor of the month. I like her and these two songs.

"Gimme Shelter" and "Break It Up"- Patti Smith
Again, my music ignorance is profound; I didn't appreciate Smith when I was younger, but I sure do now. My sisters and I were talking about cool women of rock (who are also of a certain age), and she was number one. I wish I had someone to tell me how she's punk. I love her voice and think her cover of "Gimme Shelter" is better than the original, but I was trolling youtube for her songs and couldn't find one that I would consider punk. I think I'm missing something.

"Bad Romance"- Lady GaGa
How is the transition from Smith to GaGa? Better than you would think. This song is one of those that makes me so incredibly happy and lucky to hear on the radio. I'm also addicted to the videos of flash mobs that dance to it.

"S&M"- Rihanna
My former friend can suck a bag of dicks for giving me shit about saying S&M instead of SM. If it's good enough for Rihanna, it's good enough for me. Not to mention, she sings about smelling sex. I like songs that acknowledge that.

"Raise Your Glass"- Pink
Because I am too school. How could anyone not feel happy when this song plays? It's a rally cry for freaks of nature, and I'll car-seat dance to it with much joy.

"Back in the Day," "Sick," and "Letdown"- Bif Naked
She was on BUFFY, and when her name (or band's name) showed up on Google, I had to watch a few videos. Love her- love her ink, her muscles, and her Betty Page bangs. Then I read up and found out she's a cancer survivor. Hell yes, she can have three spots.

"Kiss with a Fist"- Florence + The Machine, "Ghost Town"- Shiny New Toys, and "Love in a Trashcan"- The Ravonettes
These songs make a lot of noise and make me happy. I came across them in my googling and youtube-trawling.

"Good Fortune" and "Bring You My Love"- PJ Harvey
I was pissed that Harvey's "Hitting the Ground" wasn't on itunes (I heard it on TRUE BLOOD and needed the song), but these two are nice substitutes.

"Crazy on You" and "Never"- Heart
What? The concert awakened a new appreciation of them. It's a good way to end a CD.

There it is- my second attempt at compiling pure awesome. As I said before, one person's listening treasure is another's pure torture.

Summer Hijinks Ensue

2011-07-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

After a looooong day of helping a teacher friend write a monster paper, I came home to a note on my front door.

Before I get to the contents, a little friend pimpage: While I'm not the friend to go shopping with unless you're in a state of high anxiety or the friend to go dancing (or meat-marketing) with, I am the friend you call if you ever need to get a monster paper finished. I'm a queen of research and research writing, and I'm good for eight hours of work- straight on through, fueled by iced coffee and a need for speed and learning.

The note was from my sister Ella. She and her husband (let's call him Cyclist Brother-in-Law) and my brother went to a bar that night, and if I was feeling thirsty, I could join them.

A welcome end to a long and dreary day. We sat back, played Dropkicks on the jukebox (with a tangent into Bobby Darin because apparently "Beyond the Sea" is one of my brother's favorite songs. I tell you, you know a person for decades and they still manage to surprise).

Into the wee hours, we decided to go back to the house for food. My brother and CBIL refused my offer of a ride home (Why? Why would you want to walk a mile- a good deal of it uphill- with beer in your belly? Who does that? Is it my car? What's wrong with my car?), but Ella climbed in and we headed home.

A sharp turn onto my street and I had to swerve because a car was sitting in the middle of the lane. I asked Ella if we should stop, and she said, "Of course we should."

I pulled over, and she went to talk to the driver. She came back to me with this report: The driver was cocked, and her car ran out of gas. Maybe we could push it out of the way?

I shut off the engine and both of us took our places behind the car. Let me say that the road to my house from downtown is a hill before it flattens out. We were trying to push the car uphill.

No, we weren't drunk. We decided to push a car uphill sober. Maybe it would've been better if we were drunk: we might've been able to tap into some Hulk strength.

We pushed with all our might- nothing doing. I called to the lady, "What gear are you in?" "Drive." My sister told her to put it in neutral. She did, and we managed- with Herculean effort- to roll the car about a foot. Six more were needed to get her car to a safe place.

Ella told me to find the menfolk and tell them the situation. I zipped back downtown to find the boys. They hadn't taken our route because that's the steepest of three ways to the house.

When I found them and relayed the entire scenario, my brother was convinced that I was obsessed with giving them a ride home. CBIL looked at me for a moment and said, "I don't understand." I repeated the story. He said, "I still don't understand."

"Just get in the fucking car already!"

With reinforcements, we undertook to move the car. With much straining and groaning, we managed to move it to the side of the road. Sure, it was the no-parking side, but beggars can't be choosers when they drive big cars.

Get this: CBIL, Ella, and brother decided to walk the rest of the way to the house. Why? What the hell is wrong with my car? Even the cocked driver wouldn't take a ride.

Really, I might not be the best at driving, but I'm certainly not near the worst. I don't even car-seat dance when I have passengers.

We ended up back at home making late night omelets and bacon. I don't know what happened to the cocked driver, but I have a feeling her car was towed, which makes sense. Who the hell drinks without putting aside a couple bucks for gas? Who chooses that last beer knowing the needle is past E? No common sense at all.

Ella kept wondering why we had run into the lady. I figured it was fate. She was in the middle of the lane; I hate to think about what could've happened.

It was one of those weird moments on top of a pleasant evening. Who can really know the why of it?

Envy me

2011-07-07T09:48:00.000-07:00

When I used to have my students respond to journal prompts (before I realized that I fucking hate correcting journals and that one of the bright spots of teaching and tenure is the right to say Hell No! to journals), I would ask them to describe a perfect day.

Most of the entries revolved around food. I am not kidding. Parents should know that they could give their kids perfect days, not by taking them to Disneyland or buying them the newest gadgets, but by having the cherubs create a menu for all three meals. Think of the money saved!

Yesterday, I re-read DEAD RECKONING, wrote some, dicked around on the internet, re-watched most of TRUE BLOOD Season Three* (I was getting my Southern vampire on), and ate buffalo chicken pizza.

I tell you, it was a perfect day.

*The viewing took a long time because the DVDs are chock-full of commentaries. I would have to watch an ep and then re-watch it with the commentary on. Because I'm sick like that. Incidentally, TRUE BLOOD has to be one of the best work environments that I've heard of. Everyone was full of compliments for their co-workers, full-on make-you-blush appreciation. Sure, they could be laying it on for the microphone, but I like to think everybody was sincere. When you think of the typical nightmare actor wrapped up in ego-centrism and pretty dumb, the performers and writers and directors of TRUE BLOOD completely lay waste to that stereotype. Which was an unexpected benefit to listening to the commentaries.

Nostalgia: That deliberate deja-vu that you do

2011-07-07T09:36:00.000-07:00

I've been wondering about the bands who tour capitalizing on all of the 80s babies who are craving the past, and I've been reflecting on nostalgia in general.

Which is sort of like putting myself between two mirrors: Hello, Eternity.

Do the bands enjoy it? Are they fulfilled playing songs from 30 years ago or do they wish they could play entire sets of new stuff?

I'm not knocking them. I'm willing to pay good money (but not insane money) to see them, and I hope they get a kick and a contentment from watching a bunch of Gen-Xers, with a sprinkling of Boomers, get their rock of ages on.

One of the few parts of my teens and twenties that I look back on with any fondness is the music (and even that is decidedly qualified*). I hated high school, and even though my head is filled with sharp edges now (and don't get me started on the effing Molasses Swamp), at least I'm not crawling around on broken glass in the dark anymore.

The fact that I teach at a high school might be a choking hunk of irony, an example of living purgatory, or a tremendous piece of good luck...I haven't decided yet.

I don't want to go back to high school. Even if the angel of time travel showed up in a tardis and said I could do it again with what I know now, I'd refuse. I'm still shedding the skin and scabs of that time.

That said, I don't mind going into the music of the time with what I know now. It makes me happy, and I can't help thinking that going to these concerts (three out of the five shows I've been to in the last two years were of 80s bands) is a way to smooth out some sharp edges and give a rose tint to some terrible times. Not to mention: Tailgating!

*There are some songs from that time that evoke an overwhelming urge to puke. Not because of the quality (I'm not a music snob), but because of the emotional attachments. Case in point: "Waiting for a Girl Like You." Picture sophomore me in the throes of unrequited love, standing by the wall at a dance. As I scan the room for the object of my adoration, I see him on the dance floor. "Waiting for a Girl Like You" settles over the entire scene while I try to see who he's dancing with. He slowly turns and- what's this? Who's in his arms with her head against his chest? My best friend.

The soundtrack of my pain is Foreigner. Which will make going to see them in August very interesting.

The Concert

2011-07-07T08:59:00.000-07:00

The concert was incredible.

Heart knew we were there out of nostalgia, and they owned that shit. Ann Wilson's voice is just as good as back in the day. Nancy's was a little strained, BUT she sang only "In Dreams," and her guitar playing and karate kicks showed her to be in fine form. They played only one new song, concentrating the rest of the set on the stuff they knew their fans would want to hear.

The ultimate Heart fan sat five rows ahead of my sisters and me. He knew every word to every song and wasn't shy about fist-pumping to the sky or playing air drums. He wasn't faking on the lyrics either. None of that make your mouth form general shapes and come in strong on the chorus for him.

I was fist-pumping along with him- tongue in cheek, mind you- until a change came over me. I started to become invested, and sarcasm was replaced by that pure passion that overtakes concert-goers. All of a sudden, I needed to hear "Barracuda" and "Magic Man," and my pointing and air-drumming were decidedly pure of heart. And when the band obliged me and played the songs, it was a dream come true.

Def Leppard was amazing, and although I never thought Joe Elliot was cute before, I did when he took the stage (although I don't understand why men wear V-neck t-shirts; the look doesn't suit most guys). The band didn't play any new stuff (do they even have new stuff?) and kept the energy pretty durn high during the entire show. They also played all the songs I wanted them to play: "Pour Some Sugar" and "Rock of Ages."

Tangent: Does everyone have songs that they need the band to play when they go to concerts? Is this a thing? Because my sisters do it, too.

There was the Ultimate Def Leppard fan directly in front of Emma, who was dancing up on her. My sister Ella also had a guy (not an ultimate fan) dancing up on her, which is par for the course: she always has these guys dancing with her at concerts. The UDL fan in front of Emma kept giving her lingering high-fives and turning to sing at her. I really thought he'd make a move and try to kiss her, which would've been just...Eww. Then he started dancing up and down the row until Good Sister-in-Law (who's also a bit of a badass) shut him down by telling him he was in the way.

Here's the weird thing: during the encore, UDL fan kept shouting, "Don't you forget about us, and we won't forget about you." Which was puzzling until the band finished the song, and as they were taking their final bows, Joe Elliot said...the line. Mystery solved, and UDL fan's status remained unchallenged.

Before the concert, due to the magic of the occasion and much beer, we all bought tickets to the Journey/Night-Ranger/Foreigner show in August. We know Steve Perry isn't touring with the band (but his replacement sounds just like him minus the douchiness. I imagine the Night-Ranger set will be wicked short, and my question is whether they play "Sister Christian" at the beginning or end. Hell, they could play the song at the beginning AND end; I'm sure no one would mind.

Apparently, this is the summer for revisiting- nay, reliving- the 80s. It's a shame I threw out my Flashdance sweatshirts and Converses.

Speaking of Heart

2011-06-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

Does VH-1 still do "Behind the Music?"

There were two "Behind the Musics" that I always managed to catch: The Mamas and the Papas, and Heart.

I was fixated. The show awakened an obssesion I didn't realize I had: a yearning to know all the dirty laundry of any band. Cass Elliot's unrequited love for Denny Doherty, his hooking up with Michelle Philips, and the emotional fallout. Good stuff. At the time of the episode, Doherty was touring with a tribute show to Cass Elliot, and if that's not a whole lot of haunted, I don't know what is.

I'm not sure about seeing Heart tonight. Some of their songs are all right and some make me want to play imaginary Russian roulette. It could be good, or it could be never-ending.

I wish someone would tell me why Nancy Wilson and Cameron Crowe called it quits. They were married for over twenty years- doesn't that put them in the safe zone? Wikipedia says she filed and cited "Irreconcilable Differences." That could mean anything. (But still isn't as much of a puzzler as Renee and Kenny's reason).

I liked the thought of them being married. He loves music, she makes music, and isn't that enough? Apparently not.

Metallica's Behind the Music was also good viewing. I'd say it's better than their most recent doc.

Riding down the highway, going to a show

2011-06-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

What's on tap for tonight?

Pour some sugar on me, emmereffers!

My two sisters, a good sister-in-law, and I are going to see Def Leppard. Heart is the opener, and I'm excited.

We're leaving early to get our tailgate on. Not full-tilt boogie tailgating, which requires a grill and canopy and I don't know- a chaise lounge?- but a low maintenance picnic with grinders and plenty of beers.

Reasons I love tailgating:
1. It puts me in the concert mood.
2. No getting fleeced by the venue vendors- nine bucks for a Bud Lite, indeed.
3. There comes a moment, a second or three of such pure sweetness, when I remember that as good as it is to be drinking and hanging out, the main show, the crowning reason for it all, still awaits.

I have an hour before Ella gets here, and I plan on spending it watching the new SHERLOCK HOLMES. I caught the pilot and am very pleased with what they did with the characters. I was also taken in by the twist at the end.

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- the end

2011-06-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

Denise and Preston outside the diner, summing up the night. Kenny with whipped cream on his nose (heart). Denise admits that fate exists, and Preston drives off to the train station to his summer workshop with Kurt Vonnegut (I'm a little sad).

Nearly everybody's plot points are wrapped up at the diner. Yearbook Girl hooks up with Preston's cockblock friend. William thanks Mike for lying at the police station, and Mike starts to ridicule him. When William leaves, there's a freeze and a little "Where are They now?" caption that says he went to Harvard, was popular, and became a computer millionaire (what about when the bubble burst?) with a supermodel girlfriend. I think the first "Where are They now?" that I saw was at the end of ANIMAL HOUSE. Senator Blutarsky- funny.

Mike ended up losing his football scholarship (why was he afraid of being a loser?) and gets fired from his job at the car wash.

When did Denise change her clothes? The caption says she dumps Kenny five minutes later. Then ten minutes later, they find a bathroom and get back together. Denise reaches her finger into Kenny's whipped cream and sucks it off. Kenny has an immediate reaction, and I love that reaction. Because it's Seth Green and he does good turned on.

At the train station: A voice from behind Preston says, "Excuse me, I think you dropped this." We can tell the Love Hewitt is a new woman because her hair is pulled into a kind of school-marm do on top with the back down. She thanks him with all the sincerity her paltry acting skills can muster. They shake hands because he has to go. She walks away, pausing to turn back, he turns back, then drops his bags and runs after her. There's a later train he can take and he wants to embrace his fate- even if it's with the Love Hewitt. I am not watching their kiss for tongue. I don't want to know.

Their caption says he took a train seven hours later and they're still together. That's why movies are better than real life.

AAHHH! I forgot the X-Philes get beamed up onto a spacecraft. Everyone gets their happy ending, except when they're deserving of a comeuppance. Actually, Mike's the only one who gets an unhappy ever after. Even Klepto-kid got a gumball machine.

Whatever happened to Smashmouth?

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- part four

2011-06-28T19:30:00.000-07:00

The band breaks up in a tiff, and this subplot sets the stage for William's epic rendition of "Paradise City." William says he knows the song and takes the stage. I can't believe Guns and Roses let them have the song; then again, it's not the whole song- it's the chorus and bridge and one verse. He falls down because a girl flashes him, then springs up, microphone jumping into his hand, to finish one more chorus. All geeks should have a crowning moment of awesome. Where's my crowning moment? I want my Guns and Roses moment of epic.

Cut to the bathroom: Kenny has to pee. Notice that he doesn't wash his hands after. The sink is right there. Why didn't the director have him wash his hands? Denise admits she told a girl Kenny was a dendrophiliac. Synchronicity: one of my sister's friends was talking about how she calls her neighbor "Treefucker" because she's seen him in the trees in his gerry-rigged tree climbing gear, sitting in the crook of stout branches.

Mike talks to the kid from STAND BY ME, all creepy and growed up. Jerry O'Connell wears a frat shirt that spells "DIK" (hee).

Amanda's still looking for Preston, talking to two stoners (Jason Segal performing cunnilingus on a slice of watermelon). Thelma gets some props from one of the stoners: "She was a hip, hip lady." Back inside, Mike tries to get back with Amanda in front of everybody. Wrong move. Love Hewitt gives her typical self-righteous hurt face and speech. This is why I dislike her. That freaking cadence- who could like that? How is that a viable choice?

Oh Mike, you're so much better when you're a bleach-blond, vampire-doctor in Forks. His rejection is sealed when someone from the crowd yells, "Fag!"

A slew of obnoxious guys hit on Amanda, which completely screws it up for Preston. He follows her and blurts out that he loves her. Amanda reams him out, kicking her self-righteous hurt up to a painful eleven.

William approaches Mike to lure him to the pool house trap, but all of a sudden Mike is sympathetic. Nice use of "I'll Make Love to You."

Back to the bathroom: They're singing "The Right Stuff," very cute. Kenny cracks on Denise's shoes: "Do they serve an orthopedic function?" If Kenny's goggles were brass, he would've been Steampunk and ahead of his time. He kisses her while they're laughing, and even though they're taken aback, they go back for more.

You know, Yearbook Girl doesn't actually get many people to sign her yearbook. Amanda realizes her mistake and that Preston wrote the letter. Mike and William continue to bond in the piano room. Mike apologizes for one of his many thuggish actions against William (which is made funnier because the incident is later revealed to have happened at graduation).

The police show up, and the band- newly reunited- doesn't get to play a single song. Everyone runs helter-skelter out of the house. Mike runs to the pool house with William following. They are ambushed by the X-Philes (so credited on IMDB), who put them in a suggestive pose.

Klepto-kid steals a police car.

Back to the bathroom: Kenny and Denise in the awkward aftermath of sex. Party hostess interrupts their after-dim and throws them out. Denise leaves first and Kenny follows her in his van. Hey, Oz had a van, too. He apologizes (which is unfair because she started saying the shitty things first). Cute, she apologizes. They kiss in the street. I'm all for a wet-tar, late-at-night, in-the-street kiss.

William wakes up in jail and puts the blame on Mike, after much prompting from the police officer. I got nothing.

Amanda remakes her life. You can totally tell she's serious about getting to know Preston and getting to know the real her because she's changed her hair from down to a side braid. She's also throwing out old photographs of Mike and her.

ETA: Amber Benson also shows up as a stoner chick, which puts the icing of the BUFFY alum cake.

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- part three

2011-06-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

Eww- Amanda's cousin puts the moves on her. It's all very GAME OF THRONES. Preston sees and draws a mistaken conclusion, even though Amanda is not having any incest-by-marriage.

So many subplots. I haven't even talked about William's friends who are on top of the pool house waiting for William to lure Mike into their trap.

Preston threw out his letter. The letter travels by various means to get in the Chex mix in front of Amanda: on someone's shoe, stuck to a beer keg, thrown- I love that sequence. It's fate.

Back to the bathroom: Denise and Kenny start out hostile. They were friends when they were little, but things changed in middle school. Denise's recount of his rejection hits him hard. Another reason to love Seth Green.

Cut to Preston: He hears the radio announcer say that callers can talk to Barry Manilow and hastens to a pay phone.

Cut to Amanda: the letter is in the Chex mix (probably smelling of salt and Worcestershire), begging to be read. Okay, what the hell would it be like to receive a letter like that? Tangent: I wrote a killer love letter to this guy- I'm talking a work of art (guy and letter). We broke up later, and because I worked with his girlfriend- the one after the one after me- I found out he gave her my letter, passing it off as his own.

I didn't tell her the truth.

Jenna Elfman appears in the fog as a stripper dressed as an angel. According to the commentary, there was confusion over whether she was a real angel or not. I have to say, her portrayal could be taken either way. She hangs up just as Preston gets through because she needs a cab. Here's why people think she's a real angel: after Preston says that he's a loser, she looks up to the sky and says, "Like I couldn't feel any worse."

Amanda looks for Preston and talks to a crunchy hippy girl (who is the second alum from POPULAR).

JennaAngelStripper talks about her crush on Scott Baio, which has an unfortunate implication nowadays (google "Chachbag"). She says, "There is fate, but it only takes you so far. After that, it's up to you to make it happen." I like that sentiment.

Preston heads back to the party, hope renewed.

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- the party, part two

2011-06-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

Mike's friends can't break up with their girlfriends and Mike's pissed. I just read a statistic that groups of friends who have divorces become more likely to divorce.

Denise sits on the couch, insulted by the girl next to her who took a bet on whether she went to their school. I feel Denise's pain. I wasn't memorable in high school. Ask anyone who was in school with me, and if they remember (that's a honking big if), they'll say I was quiet and bookish.

Kind of makes me sound like a serial killer.

Loveburger- that's the name of the band!

Why would anyone throw a party at their house? You're only asking for trouble.

Girl who's crying and willing to have sex (another BUFFY alum) is hit on by Kenny. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom to prepare. He doesn't hear that the door is broken. Best use of "It's Tricky" in a movie or television show.

The bathroom scene- with Kenny practicing from the Kama Sutra-is a great piece of physical comedy and one of the many reasons I still love Seth Green.

Boy who licks Denise's head after she's hit with a brownie? Yup, BUFFY character.

Denise goes upstairs to wash off and she and Kenny are locked in the bathroom after she catches him in an embarrassing position. I love that set up. Could it work in a book?

Amanda pours her heart out to her cousin- that's a lot of exposition for a scene. Poor misunderstood popular girl- I wonder if they had this trope in ancient Greece?

Preston breaks the fourth wall to talk about Amanda. See, this is what is incredible about unrequited love. It shows the insides of the adorer. When you look at your ideals, you're looking at yourself. ETA: Oh wait, he's not breaking the fourth wall. It only looks that way; the camera pulls back, and he's really talking to the foreign-exchange student who says, "Will you touch my penis?"

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- The party

2011-06-28T18:13:00.000-07:00

Preston and Denise's friendship is well written. They're purely platonic, and you get the feeling they've been friends for years and will always be friends. Denise doesn't have a crush on him (skillfully used for Watts in SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL, less so for Ducky in PRETTY IN PINK), and Preston doesn't have a crush on her. The writers didn't cop out by making her gay. Just a nice friendship.

Preston wants to give Amanda a letter he wrote years ago, and as they're in the car, Preston hears "Mandy," by Barry Manilow. Yes, magical thinking figures heavily into unrequited crushes.

I don't think there's a girl who wants everyone in school to sign her yearbook (played with nausea-inducing perkiness by Melissa Joan Harte).

Ah, the band appears: their dissension adds another subplot on top of a hundred. I don't remember their name- something burger?

Mike and his friends enter, and their girlfriends scream. All the couples are height coordinated- that's very weird.

Jennifer Love Hewitt. I think she's fine for this role- perfection is supposed to be bland- but I don't like her as a performer. I wasn't even fond of her in PARTY OF FIVE. I can't say what it is about her that flies up my nose, but there it is.

I forgot that Preston and Denise had gone out. In eighth grade. I don't know what going out at that age entails. Texting? Facebook status? Holding hands?

Amanda's friends comfort her by saying she's pretty than Gwyneth and Mike is no Brad Pitt, not even Brad from TWELVE MONKIES (hee, he was disturbing in that movie. Terry Gilliam is so overrated).

"The beer has gone bad!" Hugely funny!

Kenny is talking to the girl-werewolf he'll later kill. Yay, for BUFFY cross-over!

Clea Duvall (another BUFFY alum) spurns Kenny. Aw, I feel bad for him.

Preston sees Amanda and sits down next to her. His friend does a total cock-block on him by relating an embarrassing story. Why do friends do this? Why do they pull that move right when the stakes are incredibly high?

Do I do that?

CAN'T HARDLY WAIT- first post

2011-06-28T17:47:00.000-07:00

I love this movie- it's one of my top five teen movies. Seth Green, Ethan Embry, Lauren Ambrose...and every single actor who was within spitting distance of 20 years old in the 90s.

Credit scene: Graduation. Conversation about a party, no faces until Preston Meyers (our hero) learns that the love of his life broke up with her boyfriend. Amanda Beckett is one of those perfect high school girls who people always expect peak in high school. That's not necessarily true. Usually their lives just keep getting better and better.

Ah, love unrequited. The time that I've spent on loving from afar can be measured in years. But at least I don't have to worry about catching herpes from a crush. Preston recounts the first time he saw Amanda to his BFF Denise, who listens with patience and irritation. Man, I think that I thought I was her when I was in high school. Cynical, worldly wise, and self-possessed. Plus she has red hair. Tangent: As I've said before, if my parents had let me dye my hair red in high school, I probably wouldn't've got into half the shit I did.

Kismet: Amanda reaches into her bag and pulls out a strawberry pop-tart. Preston is eating a strawberry pop-tart; it's fate. Yay! The teacher is one of the Pink Ladies from GREASE! She asks for someone to show Amanda around, and Mike Dexter (who will later become a vampire and a doctor and move to the state of Washington) thwarts our hero.

I love Preston's friendship with Denise. They have such a great friend chemistry.

Oh my, I forgot that this movie is epic for BUFFY crossovers. The first was the guy asking if Denise wanted to save her tassel and the second is one of Mike's friend. I swear he was on BUFFY. There's also that guy from ZOMBIE PLANET and UNCORKED. They make a bro pledge to break up with their girlfriends, following Mike's example of breaking up with Amanda. It's nice to see male-bonding, but they are such douches.

William Lighter- Charlie somebody- makes a nice riff on President Bill Pullman's speech in ID4 (he became president after Meg Ryan ditched him for Tom Hanks). He vows vengeance on Mike Dexter. Apparently Charlie somebody quit acting after this movie and became an MIT-graduating, mother-effing physicist. With a penchant for really right-wing politics.

Kenny Fisher (SETH GREEN in da house) wants to have sex tonight. I love him, love him, love him. Complete crush and the commentary of this movie is worth listening to if only to wallow in the joy of Seth Green. He's a wannabe gangsta- can I tell you how much I hate the real life version of this stereotype? I can't believe showing your undies is still a fashion statement. It's been at least a decade.

I didn't notice Klepto-boy was in this scene. He's the nondescript guy who shows up and steals things. That's all he does.

Those are the major characters. I'm gonna post.

How to solve a baby dilemma

2011-06-28T17:26:00.000-07:00

I was going to open with an abortion joke, but I don't know any. Besides, that would be in ill taste.

You can fill in your own abortion joke. It's okay, I'll wait. I have all night and no school tomorrow.

When last we left our intrepid and uncouth heroine, she was in a dither about going to her brother's for two weeks in August to watch his kid. Much anxiety was had.

Then my subconscious served me an option on a silver platter. There are times when I love my subconscious. Those silver-platter ideas have been some of the best and are a welcome change from the usual shit it gives me.

The idea was to have the baby come up here. My mother, who's taking the first shift of baby-watching, can bring him up, and the whole family will be able to see him (most of us for the first time) and love him and call him George.

I was nervous about my brother's reaction (he likes change as much as I do), but he was entirely amendable to the idea. He said he had the same thought (it's like we're related or something).

So my nephew's coming up, my anxiety's coming down, and everything is ponies and rainbows. I know a great tattoo parlor that could do some really rad dragon ink on the tyke.

Drinking, mindsweeper, and recaps

2011-06-28T17:18:00.000-07:00

One drink I'm missing (because of my pledge to my bones) is my Sprite and Jameson. I kind of solved that dilemma by cutting open the juice boxes I have on hand for my nephews. Fruit punch juice box and Jameson? As disgusting as it sounds. Newman's Own lemonade juice box and Jameson? Very tasty.

I feel guilty for taking the beverages out of the mouths of babes, but guilt's a waste of emotion. When my sister brought El Destructo over yesterday, he took the last lemonade juice box (spurning the fruit punch, of course) and promptly spilled it all over himself. I don't even know how he did that.

I've also made it my mission to make excellent chai ice tea. This quest is like scaling Mount Doom. After following the directions on the box and devoting fifteen minutes for the making and a good hour for the cooling, I ended up with weakass, piss-tasting chai.

No, it didn't actually taste like piss. It just made me feel like I was drinking piss. The evil fairy in my head whispered, See, that's what happens. You spend all this time and it's all for nothing.

To that evil fairy, I say No. As the heavens are my witness, I'm going to have a decent glass of chai ice tea without resorting to coffee shops.

My last obssesion was to get twenty-five percent on Mindsweeper, and before the virus ate my computer, I managed thirty percent. A bit of irony is that it took me a shitload of games to get to thirty percent (if you're thinking a thousand, add some more to that), but now (because of the virus and a reload) I'm at sixty-four percent with thirty games.

You might scoff at my ineptitude, but keep in that I'm not a logical or spatially aware person. Sixty-four percent is pretty impressive to me.

I'm also revving up to recap CAN'T HARDLY WAIT. I kind of want to start recapping TRUE BLOOD, so I need the practice. Recapping is a tricky mistress, and it's my mission to own that bitch.

There will come a day when I'm all grown up

2011-06-28T16:53:00.000-07:00

I've decided to give my poor bones a break by giving up soda. Or at least not drinking as much of it as I usually do.

I'm picturing my skeleton looking like driftwood- the hole-y kind.

But my quest of a soda-free life begs the question: What do grown ups drink?

I don't like drinking water as the sole beverage at meals. I don't think I could handle milk. Although beer and wine and Jameson are fine, my liver is begging me not to do it wrong for the good of my bones.

My sister Emma gave me one option: It turns out she partakes of the mighty seltzer.

I don't like seltzer- it tastes like dead soda. However, I'm told it's a taste that can be acquired and there are all sorts of nifty flavors out there. I expect I'll have to pick me up a case and get to acquiring the taste for it.

Ask what your healthcare professional can do for you

2011-06-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

What do I look for in a dentist or doctor? The same quality I look for in a hairdresser: Please, don't make me feel like shit.

My last haircut was over a year ago (might be closer to two) because the hairdresser sneered at my color choice and told me I wasn't using the right product. I've been cutting and coloring my own hair ever since even though I still have twenty bucks on the salon giftcard someone gave me. She accidentally cut off a huge chunk of hair, but hair grows back and curls hide a lot of flaws. Her words are what I hear every time I think about getting my hair done.

I love my dentist. In fact, I've recommended him highly because he has a great sense of humor and doesn't make me feel like shit. I also love his dental assistant: she cracks me up and sings along to the radio. And- most important- doesn't make me feel like shit.

I know I live in a world where I'm the only person who doesn't floss every day and can't manage to brush her teeth without fucking up her gums. I'm an idiot who deserves to have her teeth repossessed and given to someone who could take better care of them. I realize that and don't need reminders.

At my last appointment, a new dental assistant was there. I grew to hate her by the end of the session.

1. She's one of those late fortyish women who treat other women as if they're babes in the woods. When she asked me who was singing on the radio (okay, why would you ask someone a question while you have your fingers in her mouth?), and I said it was Frankie Valle, she gave a gasp and said, "How do you know that? You're just a baby." Really? I have 43 years to her 49 (yes, I found out her age, her weight, and shoe size because she wouldn't shut the fuck up). Do I look like I'm insecure about my age? Do I look like I need some condescension in my compliments?

2. She asked me if I had my tongue pierced, and when I told her yes, she said she'd make a good detective. Really? Because you'd somehow have to be Sherlock-fucking-Holmes to see the divot in my tongue and notice the corresponding divot on the other side and realize, "Aha! Methinks the tongue was pierced at one time!?"

3. She made me feel like shit. My hair was too long and was in her way. I had too much spit that she had to vacuum. And I didn't take care of my teeth.

I was clearly the lowest of the low, unfit for dental health, human consumption, and life as we know it.

I hope this was a one-time deal. I miss the regular dental assistant, and I promise to floss all the livelong day if I could just get her back.

Adventures in healthcare

2011-06-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

I made an appointment a couple weeks ago to have a wart removed from my forehead.

Tangent: When I told Tattoo Queen this story, she said that she never noticed a wart on my face before. That's one of the reasons I love her: True friends are always surprised by your warts- literal and figurative.

My appointment was the day after school ended, and in the grand tradition that I forget about, my body decided to celebrate by staging a coup against me. I woke up with a wretched headache, dizziness, and the imperative to watch anything I put in my stomach on rewind.

But I didn't want to cancel the appointment because sometimes I get a notion in my head and the morning's notion was that if I didn't go, I would have to pay the cancellation fee (why that $20 seemed huge is beyond me) and I would probably never get the wart removed.

Shaky and woozy, I went to the doctor's. She took one look at my wart and said, "That's not a wart. That might be a low-grade skin cancer."

WHHHAATTT?

I tell you, it's just like a wart to be an innocuous lump of flesh only to turn and be an effing nugget of cancer.

I'd like to think that I was cool with the news, but the way she talked to me made me wonder if I didn't have freaked-out written all over my face. She said she'd need to do a biopsy and started cautioning me on the injection ("This is going to sting. It might hurt"). I went into fear mode because that is my go-to reaction during any doctor visit, even the ones that don't feature turncoat warts.*

The needle didn't hurt,** and the area was numbed up fine. She did the biopsy and told me the results would be ready in three weeks.

I made two faux pas: 1. When the doctor asked me if that was my natural haircolor, I laughed and said it came from a box. She frowned because hair color can determine fairness of skin and skin was very serious business; 2. She asked me how long I had my wart and I told her two years, which was completely wrong because tracing our relationship back revealed that my wart had been a companion for at least seven years.

The nurse was very nice, God bless her. She did make me worry when she started telling me how to care for the wound (Again, maybe I thought I was composed, but my face screamed high anxiety), and I really started to wonder about how big a chunk the doctor took. I was fully expecting to see cranium when I removed my band-aid.*** The only reason I worked up the nerve to take it off was that I didn't want a crusty band-aid circle on my head along with the gaping wound.

The divot was tiny.

Three weeks and the test results will be in. The doctor said we could decide on a treatment (?) then; I really wouldn't care if she took a razor and scraped the little mother off. I want this shit over with.

*Betrayal would best describe my feelings. I had a certain fondness for that little piece of skin even though I wanted to get it removed.

**I'm a victim of needle amnesia. When faced with a shot, I succumb to anxiety and forget about my tattoos and piercings. This reaction is ridiculous, and I need to work on it.

***Why do the doctors give those telltale circular band-aids? If I had a regular rectangle band-aid, I could've pretended that I was in a bar fight. I wanted to ask if she had any cartoon band-aids, but decided not to risk it. Doctor's visits are very serious business.

It's not you, it's me

2011-06-26T06:50:00.000-07:00

In an effort to put off my annual summer book-buying orgy, I took out a hefty stack from the library.

The first one was from an author who is killing her series. She's jumping sharks and burning bridges. It's starting to retroactively affect the enjoyment I once had. She's actually trashing my memory of her books and characters because of the bullshit she's heaping on the pages. At the halfway point, I started skimming because I don't like to leave books unfinished.

The second one was testament to the fact that hitching your wagon to a trend is a big old slap to the reader. I'm still waiting for the steampunk romance that fits the expectation I have in my brain. I've read steampunk that fulfilled all my expectations of the genre, but they tended to be too dark for the likes of me. I want a steampunk heavy on the pretty clockworks and brass and lighter on the soul-scorching punk. I do not want some wannabe bullshit with goggles and airships thrown in last minute. Despite my cardinal rule of finishing all books, this one fell into the life-is-too-short-and-isn't-there-something-on-instant-watch-that-could-eat-up-my-time? category.

The third book is a modern day fairytale and I've stalled on page 127. I don't want to give up because I'm afraid what failure might mean. What if I've lost my ability to enjoy books? What if these three books are really great, and I'm too cynical or ignorant to partake of them?

I have four more in my stack. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

What would you do #167

2011-06-26T06:36:00.000-07:00

You're sitting on your porch steps, enjoying a cup of coffee, and you see a bug struggling in the spiderweb under the porch railing.

This bug isn't pretty. It's not a fuzzy-wuzzy or butterfly. It looks vaguely beetle-ish or roach-ish.

Do you:

1. Let fate take its course. Nature is red in tooth and claw, and far be it from you to interfere.
2. Free it with the expectation of it returning the favor because you try to live your life as close to a fairytale as you can.
3. Free it, but as soon as relief registers on its little buggy face, crush the hell out of that sucker. You are not a merciful god.
4. Free it and wonder if you haven't made the situation worse because it's limping due to the sticky strands around its legs and body.

I need to sweep the railing of the porch, but I have only one broom and don't want to make it an outdoor broom without having an indoor broom on hand.

Remember my reward? (SUPER 8- spoileriffic)

2011-06-21T14:25:00.000-07:00

I did leave the house and see SUPER 8.

My disappointment is as filled with bitterness as a mouthful of baker's chocolate when I was expecting the sweetness of Hershey.

Can you say manipulation? I think you can, and the last third of the movie tied ropes around my limbs and jerked. Not in the good way.

I liked the interactions with the kids. That little Fanning girl is going to be somebody, and I wonder if Dakota is fully supportive, passive-aggressively supportive, or outright threatened by her sis. Because Elle is a better actor. Sure, Dakota has the composure and self-possession that are always delightful and precocious in a child actor, but her sister has the chops.

I also liked the homage aspect of the movie. It felt like THE GOONIES and STAND BY ME, and Abrams really knows how to film a small town so that it seems familiar and warm and gooey.

But the end of the movie shit on all the good feelings. First off, if you're going to use the misunderstood monster trope, try not having the creature eat people. The minute your monster chows on the townspeople, whose only crimes were being wrong place/wrong time and not having the kevlar of childhood innocence to save them from an alien's maw, is the moment your monster has gone beyond the boundaries of woobie.

Not to mention the very ending. The alien flies off and the townspeople gape in awe and respect and who the fuck else knows. I wanted to scream at them. This alien just trashed your town and ATE your neighbors and relatives. Do not gaze in wonder. Open fire on that mother and blast it out of the sky. Or at least scowl some.

The main kid, whose mother died four months prior, gets a long sequence of holding onto the mother's locket, which has been a sort of talisman for him during the events, and then letting go and letting it fly to be assimilated by the neighborhood-trashing, neighbor-chowing alien's ship. Why? Why was this significant? Why did he need to let go of the locket? He wasn't obsessed with her death. Her death didn't prevent him from making a zombie movie or getting hot for Fanning. How was this action symbolic?

The reason I knew it was meaningful and symbolic was that the fucking soundtrack told me so. Oh God, the soaring upsweep of the music bitch slapped me with the meaningfulness of the moment.

At the end, emotionally remote and largely absentee father engulfs the main character in a bear hug and says, "I got you." Excuse me, but what? No really, what? The father doesn't rescue the main kid, his friends, or little Fanning. He's pretty much a douche to the kid after the mother's death, and there's no redemptive or conciliatory action on the part of the father. Except for the hug and the soundtrack, which should burn in all the fires.

I left the theater and wanted to punch a puppy, that's how pissed I was at the blatant and unapologetic manipulation of the ending.

I left the house for this shit. I corrected my exams for this shit. Fool on me for getting my hopes up.

End of Days...2011

2011-06-21T13:58:00.000-07:00

I got no speech.

My end of the year speech is pretty much "Have a great summer and take care." Woefully uninspired, I know that to the bottom of my heart.

You know who was the king of year end speeches? My dad. When my school ended before his, he would let me come to the last day of his school. He was an elementary school teacher for a city, and it was always a great treat to go with him and hang out with the big kids.

Is it my imagination or did kids seem bigger and more mature in the seventies?

His speech would have those kids rapt and shiny-eyed. I'm surprised none of them stood up and sang "To Sir, with Love."

I wish I had copied at least one of his speeches down. I would steal the crap out of that mother.

He'd say how great it was to be a part of their lives and that if they ever needed him, they could call on him. But my paraphrase doesn't do it justice.

I sometimes think about what I'd like to say: It's been an honor and a privilege teaching you. You've challenged me. You've made me weep and made me laugh, and I'm so grateful for the opportunity and dumb luck to have spent a year with you.

I can't. I stand up to deliver and choke and cover by saying, "Take your feet off the desk and don't line up at the door."

If only they knew. If only I could overcome this shyness or nervousness...but am I not falling into a trap here? I'm succumbing to that teacher flaw that one word at the right time can make the difference in a person's life. Are my students missing out by not hearing an up-and-at-em speech at the end of the year? I don't know. I honestly don't know.

Anyone else going to see SUPER 8?

2011-06-19T09:28:00.000-07:00

I corrected most of my exams and plan to see SUPER 8 as a reward. The movie doesn't start for another hour, and I'm burning time until I have to leave.

Tattoo Queen has been watching SONS OF ANARCHY, and after talking to her yesterday, I decided to watch some episodes. Some episodes turned into a whole bunch of episodes, and the show done ate up my day.

HBO has ruined my brain- I was expecting a lot more sexing and found myself wondering when the nekkid times would come. That's my profound conclusion about the show: needs more of the nekkid.

I would also like to see more bike porn on it. A show about a motorcycle gang should make me want to run out and buy a bike, but so far, the urge hasn't taken me over.

Other than that, I kind of like it. Katey Segal is rocking her character on all the good levels. She's a Lady Macbeth, Jocasta, and Marmee parfait. Tattoo Queen hates the way Ron Perlman plays his character, but I don't mind it. I like gravelly-voiced cliches.

I finished nine episodes, and I feel the same way I did when I reached a certain point of watching THE WALKING DEAD: the writers need to raise the stakes. Someone familiar needs to die.

On another tangent, I'm kind of mad at Netflix for being a total cocktease. DOCTOR WHO Seasons 1-6 are listed in the description on instant-watch, which made me insanely happy, but when I sat down to watch season 6, it wasn't on the list of episodes. I had to shake my fist at my computer.

Last week in a hard little shell

2011-06-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

I keep on meaning to do a yearly reflection because the end of the school year is closer to what New Year's Eve is supposed to be; however, I always forget that the end of the year brings a crap-ton of doubt and evil thoughts. Who can reflect under those conditions?

Last week was such an unholy mixture of bright spots and black spots that on Wednesday my brain threw up its hands and decided to melt down.

The good: moments of pure joy as I planned for next year's classes- I'm excited about my new schedule, the grace and kindness I witnessed in students, a couple of e-mails from parents that warmed my heart, and the feeling of just kicking back and enjoying the camaraderie of fellow teachers.

I should list specifics, but in all honesty, it's taken me a lot to write this post.

The bad: shit from the administration, shit from students, shit from parents, and the persistent doubt in my abilities as a teacher and a functioning human being.

Wednesday night I couldn't really do anything but cry. I felt like I was cracked and one more thing would shatter me. The only comforting thought was that I hadn't shattered, but holding myself together from the inside was taking everything I had.

Teacher insomnia also decided to have its merry way with me, and by Thursday, I didn't even try to sleep. Instead of staying in bed, I re-read some Nora Roberts and dicked around on the computer until it was time to get ready for school.

I could blame the full moon, the lunar eclipse, or PMS, but that seems like a cop out. I guess one of my goals for next year should be to end the year without letting the end of the year best me.

The original title was a little too severe*

2011-06-10T15:22:00.000-07:00

Meghan Cox Gurdon wrote an article a couple days ago in the Wall Street Journal about how darkity-dark-dark-dark YA was getting. Her anecdotal evidence is that a friend went into a chain bookstore and was totally unable to find a YA book suitable for her daughter.

Sherman Alexie wrote a response that I want to hug and feed and call George. If you haven't read any of his long or short fiction, please do. He's one of the best contemporary writers out there, and (for those of you who are like me) I've only heard good things about him as a person. His writing is incredible; if you haven't read him, rectify, rectify, rectify.

Gurdon's article comes at the same time as Naomi-Fucking-Rapist-Defending-Wolf's article that presents another attack on YA. Between the two of them, a person is supposed to absorb the following facts: YA is too dark, glamorizes the wrong lifestyles, and won't someone think of the children?

I really think that YA authors these days are thinking of the children.

Here's why:

1. Some teenagers crave darkness. Some of my most well-adjusted, privileged students list A CHILD CALLED IT as their favorite book. Teenagers, and adults, crave the extremes. Even if it's just to say thank all the powers in any pantheon that my life is good.

2. There's a tremendous amount of relief and affirmation to find out you're not the only one. I'm speaking for myself, but when I am lucky enough to find a book that talks about a trauma I've experienced or shares a darkness that pervades my heart, I'm damn grateful that I'm not a freak. To me, the words "You're not alone" are the ultimate salve.

Both of those authors can suck my dick. Their articles show a woeful ignorance of YA literature and come from a incredibly high pedestal of privilege.

If Gurdon doesn't understand that teen readers want to know the dark side of reality from the safe space of a book, and if Wolf doesn't know that extremes can be tantalizing without influencing, they should both get on their knees and thank whatever deity enabled them to escape their teen years unscathed- even vicariously unscathed.

The comments for the Gurdon article are defuckinglightful because of all the ways ignorance can manifest itself. One commenter clutches her pearls (AND AREN'T ALL THESE WOMEN CLUTCHING THEIR PEARLS?- and not even in a good way) and says that she disdains modern YA lit and recommends solid, virtuous lit like THE DRAGON RIDERS OF PERN.

I love Anne MacCaffrey and I love the hell out of them dragonriders. Geez, for the longest time I wanted my own little hatchling to impress. I would've even settled for a dragon lizard. But those books contain some pretty thorny issues: child abuse, bullying, the slaughter of a family, rape, forced seduction (that is referred to as rape), and sexual content (when a dragon needs to fly- and I think you know what I mean- the rider has no choice of the deed or the partner. The dragon decides).

What kills me is that the articles don't acknowledge the fact that this time in history is an mother-effing boom-time in YA lit. Anything, anything young readers want is theirs for the taking. Sweet or sour, realistic or unrealistic, dark or light, it's all there.

I don't know how these women live with their ignorance. I guess their privilege makes one hell of a shelter.

*Original title: I want to piss on their faces to put out the fire of their ignorance

Moving to the state of education

2011-06-07T14:29:00.000-07:00

There's a huge push in education for differentiated instruction.

What is differentiated instruction? Good question. Let me know when you find out.

Tell me what to do, and I'll do it, but the rub is that no one knows how differentiated instruction looks at the secondary level. The administration and my department head mouth the words like chimps on an apple, but when it gets to the concrete, no one has any ideas.

I've been reading about teaching literacy at the high school level, and one author said we shouldn't be focused on content if there's no state mandate. That depresses me. One of the reasons I teach high school is to be able to teach canon. I'm not hidebound (ah, but even saying that shows how non-adventurous I am), but letting the students read anything? That messes with my mind. Therein lies the problem: my reactions to these approaches come in two flavors- "That's impossible; I en't gonna do it" and "But I already do that."

I have to change my way of thinking.

Another initiative is intervention, and if I was the parent of a decent student, I'd be pissed. If you're a highly motivated, high-performing student, you'll be in the advanced classes that tend to have small populations. If you're a knucklehead who would sooner kiss a dead fish than complete an assignment, you'll be in the intervention classes (wicked small class size). If you're a solid B-C student on the college prep track? You'll be in a class of 25-27...Good luck with that.

And it's the outliers that enable my school to boast that the average student-teacher ratio is 12:1. I'm calling shenanigans.

I don't know why we're catering to the students who choose not to work. There. I've said it. I want the same efforts exerted on the students who do their work, who feel as though school is a necessary torture (and deal with it with good humor and grace), and who would never dream of calling the teacher the C-word.

Why don't they count? Why isn't the same amount of money being spent on them? Why is being decent and good not good enough?

I'm just so pissed that the powers that be feel comfortable giving teachers an expectation with no guidelines or definition. I'm angry that the students who make my day are overlooked.

Maybe I'm too stuck in my ways. Yes, I most definitely am. Luckily, I have an entire summer to scout the internet and the bookstore for a path out of the woods.

A thought occurred to me-

2011-06-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

I keep my beer in the veggie drawer with the juice boxes I give to my nephews.

Is this egregiously wrong?

Am I teaching my nephews to equate beer with other tasty beverages? Would people clutch their pearls and call Family Services if they knew where I lived?

It seems normal to me, but with the child-caring gig my brother has me doing in August, I want to get my ethics straight.

None of my little nephews- the ones who partake in the juice boxes- can work a bottle opener, so I don't think they'll be breaking into my stash anytime soon. Or is that a massive justification?

On my doorstep

2011-06-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

A box was on the stoop when I got home.

My shoes, I haz them!

They are beautiful and fierce, and I can't wait to go clomping up and down the halls in them tomorrow.

I really have to hand it to Zappos: I ordered them on Saturday afternoon and received them today. They really do employ shipping elves.

I don't know nothing 'bout taking care of no babies

2011-06-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

My brother, who lives in South Carolina, has his son for the summer, and he's recruiting help from the family.

My mother's going down in June to stay for a month, and I've been asked to go for a week in August.

I don't want to.

He's an excellent brother, as all my brothers are, and he'd help out sans hesitation if I needed him to watch my kid. Except I don't have a kid. The only things I have for him to watch are my DVDs, and they're pretty good about staying on their own as long as I keep them away from the liquor cabinet, which is not problem since the booze is in the living room closet with the vacuum and my DVDs don't have feet.

I think the reason he asked me was that I have ovaries and must naturally be inclined and able to take care of children. I also have the summer off, which puts my brothers, who are far more experienced and capable, out of the running.

I floated the idea of making the week a Girls' Trip, but my sisters are giving me the unenthused vibe.

A week on my own with a one year old. The marrow in my bones freezes at the thought. I think I can be trusted not to get him drunk, pierced or tattooed, but the whole meals and changing diapers and entertainment factors make me uneasy.

I don't have maternal instincts; I have aunt instincts. I can keep my nephews and nieces amused for short bursts of time and throw them presents and money on the right occasions. This here gig is another thing entirely.

Stop me before I shop again

2011-06-05T08:20:00.000-07:00

Tattoo Queen turned me on to Zappos, and the minute I saw the hundreds of clogs available, I was hooked as surely as the first time I did heroin.*

I wear clogs because they give me the sense of height without the treachery of stilettos. They are my go-to shoe for school.

I bought a nice pair and saw another that completely captivated me. They were Harley Davidson clogs with studs on the heel, a big-ass S&M buckle, and four inches of towering goodness. Ugly? Yes. Incredibly fierce? Yes, yes, yes.

Then when I went for a comfort browse through the selection yesterday afternoon, I noticed the pair didn't have my size anymore.

I DIDN'T KNOW THE STYLE COULD SELL OUT!

(My feet make me kin to Sasquatch. I find it weird that the shoes sold out because that means that big-footed women and great minds think alike).

In a panic, I scoured the sight for similar models and latched onto another Harley Davidson pair. Similarities: black leather, big-ass S&M buckle, and studs- on the sides, not on the heel. Differences: the aforementioned stud placement, three inch heel (instead of four inches, which would've been the death of me), and the Harley Davidson logo on the inside, outside, and on the sole. Which means I could step on someone's neck and leave a lasting imprint.

I'm a little worried about the money I'm spending on shoes. I bought four pairs this year- two in the last month- and I'm afraid it's the first step down a slippery slope, which ain't good because I'm wearing heels.**

Questions I ask before I make a big purchase: Does it come in my size or preference? Can I afford this? Do I truly want this? Am I going to use this? No really, am I going to use this to a consistent degree? Do I deserve this?

The last question is a stumper and serves to weed out most impulses. In order to answer correctly, I need to come up with a few achievements (yesterday's were finishing my correcting on Friday, making two tests yesterday morning, writing the finals for my classes yesterday morning, and cleaning out my closet) and can't have any major screw-ups to mess with the balance.

I don't want to be one of those women you see on TV: The ones who use shopping as therapy and spend themselves and their families into the poorhouse. My evil former sister-in-law is one of them, and the less I have in common with her, the better.

Four pairs of shoes is a banner fucking year for me, and buying shoes that I like- not for how long they'll last or for their utility- is a huge deal. I'm just afraid a year from now I'll be fathoms in debt and nothing to show for it except a closet full of shoes.

*I meant heroine, as in the first time I saw a kick-ass woman save the universe (Ripley from ALIENS- not so much the "Let me take off my clothes and show my seventies undies even though the music should be telling me to look for that mothereffing alien" Ripley from ALIEN).

**I'm going to try to hold off on the shoe puns.

Am I eating week-old birthday cake?

2011-06-05T07:49:00.000-07:00

Why yes, I am eating week-old birthday cake.

When I think about possible deathbed regrets, which I am wont to do, throwing out True Blood cake would be one of them.

It's tangible proof that my family loves me. And chocolate mousse!

Well, at least he bought a house in New Orleans

2011-06-02T13:15:00.000-07:00

I watched THE SORCERER'S APPRENTICE the other night. I was thinking about recapping it, but then realized that I had 40 essays simmering in my bag.

I don't understand why you would start a movie with the incredible Ian McShane doing a voiceover and NOT have him in the movie. Why, why would the director toy with my emotions that way? Why would he give me a hard on and leave me to wag my wood in the wind?

I feel kind of bad for Nicholas Cage. I feel like he's the type of actor who thinks he could be De Niro but for dumb rotten luck. I don't think he's reached the Michael Caine I'll-Do-Anything-For-A-Check stage yet, and that must bother him.

I have to say, the first 37 minutes pretty much suck (exacerbated by the tease of the McShane), but just when I was going to turn it off, it sucked me in. I don't know how or when exactly, but I started to become invested in the tale of an underachieving physicist realizing his true potential and power as a sorcerer.

The special effects were okay, although I kept on telling my computer (who's the only one who listens to me) that they could've saved some bucks if they chose cheaper cars and less CGI.

I wish the females lead had been more dynamic. They had the great Alice Krige but didn't take advantage of her.

However, it was an enjoyable waste of time, and I always like seeing Alfred Molina when he pops up.

ETA: "Sorcerer" is a word I can never spell on the first try: How that vexes me.

Hell, it's good to laugh

2011-06-02T13:03:00.000-07:00

I don't even care if they're real, but Damn You, Autocorrect is some funny shit.

Crying, I'm crying from laughing so hard right now.

Happy Birthday to Me

2011-05-29T18:41:00.000-07:00

I am 43 today. Wish I had something profound to say, but I don't.

My family and I celebrated all the May birthdays yesterday in a combo birthday/Memorial Day bash.

I made some killer baked mac and cheese. I'd stolen Ella's recipe, but became internet curious and found several places singing the praises of this recipe. It's Martha Stewart, yet I have to say that it's idiot proof, which is what I need in a recipe. I want a lot of room for flakiness and fuck-ups without poisoning my family.

It's a fantastic dish, as long as you like mac and cheese, and I plan on making it for holidays. It's hard to find a staple in a family of good cooks, so I'm clinging to this one (even though I ganked the idea from Ella. Believe me, I feel kind of guilty about usurping this dish).

I had just been telling Tattoo Queen that a bummer about celebrating all the birthdays together is that I will never again have a say in the birthday cake. Which is a teeny-tiny complaint, because really, I don't care about celebrating my birthday. But on rare occasions, I miss deciding cake flavor.

That thought wasn't in my mind ( I had expunged it in a weekend chat with TQ) as I sat on my sister's deck, enjoying my beer and family. Then Ella came down the steps with a cake.

Do you ever have those moments when you can actually feel the wheels of your mind turning as sight gets processed into actual thought?

That's what happened. I thought the cake looked weird, then noticed it had a bottle on top, then noticed the bottom looked like a book, and then- OMFG! MY FAMILY GOT ME A TRUE BLOOD CAKE!

The bottle was a bottle of True Blood (made of cake and covered in ganache), the bottom was the hardcover of DEAD UNTIL DARK with the title written on the binding and the cover on top. It was a thing of truth and beauty, and I was stunned, absolutely stunned, with happiness.

You know how pretty desserts never taste nearly as good as they look? Au contraire. The cake was chocolate mousse and delicious. I took a ton of it home and plan on eating it for lunch every day this week.

Of course I didn't have my camera, but Ella took some, which I'll post because ain't no one ever had a cake as purty as that one.*

*Well, maybe at least one person. Ella's sister-in-law's sister had the first TRUE BLOOD cake. My family got the idea and bakery's number from her.

Your heart is true

2011-05-29T17:46:00.000-07:00

Tattoo Queen has been one hell of a giver this week. She angsted over whether my birthday present would get across the country in time and fretted over whether I'd like the contents of the box, but it arrived on Wednesday to my fiercest and fiery joy.

Inside the box:

1. Seasons One and Two of DOCTOR WHO. Watching them on TV beats watching them on the computer, and can I just say two words? Special Features.

2. An avalanche of Kona coffee. Kona is my favorite for a ton of reasons. The most recent reason is that there was a little coffee shop a couple miles down the road from our hotel in Florida. Sitting on a chaise on the lanai while sipping Kona iced coffee and looking out at the Gulf made for a beautiful morning. The first and foremost reason was that I first tasted Kona when I worked at a coffee shop, and even though those were some hard times, I remember them fondly. My best friend (who turned out to be adder-poisonous) and I managed the shop and ended up rooming together. I felt like we owned the town sometimes when we would go out and see customers who would do double takes because they didn't recognize us without the baseball caps and with our hair down.

I was wrong in saying the most recent reason is the coffee shop in Florida. The most recent reason is that TQ thought enough to send me a ton of my favorite coffee.

3. Rollos. I had mentioned I loved buying a big old bag of Rollos after collection day on my paper route, and TQ kindly obliged. I popped those suckers in the freezer immediately.

4. Two CDs of Lykke Li. You know the song playing when Katherine's trapped in the apartment, and she decides to get drunk and dance? That's "Get Some." Insane video. Awesome song.

A fantastic mail day for me.

The finale of TVD season 2 (SPOILER)

2011-05-21T20:53:00.000-07:00

I don't mind being wrong when the payoff was so fine.

Damon didn't need Tyler's blood; he needed Klaus'. I have to say I didn't see that coming, and usually I'm good at the foresight with the TV.

The scene with him and Elena on the bed was nicely done, and I want them to get together, but I hope the writers don't grant my wish. I'd be sad if Elena cheated on Stefan.

However, with Stefan taking the train to Ripper-town, who knows what'll happen next season.

I've enjoyed TVD much more than I ever thought I would. It's funny to remember my sister telling me about it last fall and saying I'd probably hate it and me agreeing with her, only to find out that it's a great show.

I do have to discuss Stefan's decision to sell his soul for Damon's life. The idea of morality in a paranormal world has been kicking around my head for a while. I really think that once the supernatural enters the picture, normal ethics are shot right out the window like that poor baby with the bath water.

He killed that girl for his brother, yet I don't think anyone is going to start thinking that Stefan's a bad guy- not when the pure-D evil is right beside him while slinky evil Catherine lurks somewhere. Right now, Stefan's only little evil, still wearing his white hat, although the white may look a little dingy in certain types of light.

That's the reason Elena could tell Damon that she liked him just the way he is. Put any mundane in a paranormal situation, let alone when the freaky becomes everyday, and something has to break. Her morality snapped like a wishbone way before the bed scene, and chances are, not many people were shrieking at the TV telling Elena to jet from the bed and wash Damon's sweat out of her hair because he is a psychotic serial killer who is not redeemed for the love he has.

It was a tender scene, and I cried along with her when Damon said all the right words to make us forget that even though he has the sweetest hipbones in the US of A, he is still an evil pixie maniac.

Then again, one of Elena's besties is a killer, so our girl is proof that when the environment begins to change and abnormal becomes the norm, morality takes on the consistency and quirks of Silly Putty.

Another new CD of epic

2011-05-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

I want to put together another CD of happy tunes.

Somehow, I have to get from the Dropkicks' "Fields of Athenry" to Rihanna's "S&M," and I'm quite flummoxed on how to go about doing that.

I also wanted to throw "Janie's Crying" somewhere in the mix.

And "Jukebox Hero."

I do believe the combination of tunes will be so mighty as to bring on the end of days.

You know, since nothing and no one was raptured today. Someone needs to fill the void.

Upon watching the last episodes of Vampire Diaries

2011-05-21T19:20:00.000-07:00

I was three episodes behind on VAMPIRE DIARIES and now have only the season finale to watch.

SPOILERIFFIC HALF-DONKEY REVIEW

I'm writing this now, not having seen the finale, but I want to say that my steady chant through the Damon scenes (aside from the one at the graveyard, I was too busy crying just a bit) is BLOOD OF THE DOG THAT BIT YA!

If I'm right, I'm going to crown myself queen of something. If I'm wrong, there'll be no shame in admitting the writers of TVD are smarter than I am.

And might I add:

JENNA'S DEAD! JENNA'S DEAD!

My word, I'm all sorts of happy that suck-job actress and character are with us no more. She made a piss-poor aunt (and I am predisposed to love aunts of every flavor), a shitty girlfriend, and she even gave us time to see that she would've made a lousy vampire. I conflate the character with the actress because I think the actress gave the writers nothing to work with and thus created a huge cycle of suck.

Now Alaric can get himself a new sweetie, and any semblance of parental figure for Jeremy and Elena won't be needed.

I love the scenes with Matt and Caroline. When he told her that he couldn't deal with her vampishness, I was struck by the thought that the subplot in itself would make a decent YA.

When I heard a major member of the cast would die this season, I never thought it would be Jenna. I thought the writers would keep her around to torture the fans.

I read on the little description at the CW that the finale's setting will have something to do with GONE WITH THE WIND (anything to spare us from another Founder's Day). GWTW is my guilty, shameful pleasure. I ship Rhett and Scarlett...and Melanie.

An icky fact-

2011-05-21T19:08:00.000-07:00

Netflix has CALIGULA listed as a "steamy romance." I kid you not. Apparently, someone at the 'flix thinks the whole fist-pumping, lesbians peeing where they shouldn't, incesty shitfest would make a good date movie, especially if you wanted a little something, something.

Can I tell you?

2011-05-19T14:56:00.000-07:00

I'm so happy my computer is healthy, and I can spend the night ignoring the essays screaming to be corrected in favor of rewatching DOCTOR WHO on Netflix streaming.

I want to stop taking the parts of my life that bring me happiness for granted. That includes my blog, my writing, and my health.

Another minor eff-up to my week was that I couldn't find my driver's license. I couldn't remember when I had it last and retraced my steps to the few places I had been during the week, asking tellers and cashiers if someone turned in a license and feeling like a scruffy nerf-herder the whole time.

I hate when I do shit like that. Losing my license put me right back in my twenties when you could open up the dictionary to the definition of irresponsible and you'd see my picture next to the entry.

A shameful fact: I spent two years with an expired license, praying that I wouldn't get pulled over, but not really giving a shit because I was an idiot.

I never want to be that person again. I don't now if circumstances forced me to change, if I made an unconscious choice to change, or if I outgrow my assholery, but I'm not that person anymore.

Until I reached into my back pocket and realized I was one precious piece of plastic short.

I scoured my room and the living room and the trash. Then I prayed to Saint Anthony something fierce and resigned myself to going to the DMV for a replacement.

Saint Anthony came through (as he does), and I found my license on the table in the spare room. I don't know how it got there, maybe my sister found it on the floor and put it there for safe-keeping, but my knees went weak in relief.

I'm not the same person.

Why don't I go to more concerts?

2011-05-19T14:40:00.000-07:00

Way back in March (March 18 to be exact), my sisters Emma and Ella, my two brothers, the good sister-in-law, the good brother-in-law (but really, they're all good), and I went to see the Dropkick Murphys at the House of Blues in Boston.

We bought the tickets last fall at my urging, and the band happened to play nearby the weekend before the concert. I was feeling like an idiot for being impulsive and buying the tickets for the HOB.

Here's what happened: My brother drove us to Boston, and we parked in our super sekrit awesome Boston parking garage, right in the heart o' the city. Some pints at Kitty O'Sheas (the Black Rose was packed that Friday), and we were off to the concert.

At the House of Blues, I despaired because the people lining the railing on the second floor meant that I'd spend the concert staring at the back of strangers instead of the band. I was already feeling angsty because of my knee-jerk decision to buy the tickets when we could've seen the band at home.

Emma is a consummate concert goer, I kid you not. She disappeared for five minutes, and when she came back, she beckoned us to follow her. Turns out she went up to the bouncer who was guarding the gate to the sweet seats that faced the stage and asked him if we could sit there. He said YES!

Perfect view to the band. They came out and launched into the concert as if the fate of the world was in the balance. They had the cutest Irish dancers come out and jig to their tunes. If you've never heard the Dropkicks, picture an Irish song five times fast and turned up to 11. The dancers' little legs were a blur, and I honestly expected at least one of them to burst into flames.

Halfway into the show, my brother received a text from my brother-in-law that there was going to be a special guest star.

A couple songs later, the lead singer brought out his mother and told the audience that he wrote "Peg O' My Heart" for her, but he needed help singing it, so he asked a friend from New Jersey to help.

AND BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN WALKED ONTO THE STAGE! HOLY SHIT!

They sang "Peg O'My Heart," then they sang "Shipping up to Boston," and Bruce started to walk offstage until he doubled back, and they launched into "Badlands." HOLY SHIT!

Bruce played that song harder and faster than he ever had to do- he was practically sweating blood.

One of the best concerts I've ever been to, and that's including the one that gave me a true groupie experience.

What did I learn from this adventure?

1. I should have more faith in my decisions.
2. I should go to more concerts.
3. Men in kilts and tattoos are hotter than hell.
4. Nothing beats seeing a band in their hometown.

If you're in the mood for doing some ass-kicking jigs: Shipping up to Boston.

Hello, My Friend, Hello

2011-05-19T14:15:00.000-07:00

When last we left our intrepid heroine...Who am I kidding?

Since my last blog, I've:

1. Gone to Dropkicks at the House of Blues. Can you say epic? I think you can.
2. Spent April vacation in Florida and proved to myself that I can have a good time.
3. Caught a big honking virus on my computer and had to spend more than a week- nine whole days!- unplugged and at loose ends.

I want to talk about the virus.

I don't understand the reason for them, and all I can say is that anarchy is alive and evil in the UK and in the ether. I'm lucky that my sister Ella is a computer pro, and of course, she was the first one- the only one- I called. She said to bring the ailing computer over, and she'd get it cleaned up. Oh, and did I back my files up?

I said yes.

I lied. Because I didn't want her to know what a fucking idiot I was. On my computer at the time were three things, about 100,000 words, that I've started but haven't finished. Two novellas and one thing that might expand into a book.

Did I mention that shit wasn't backed up?

I don't know what's wrong with me. I kept meaning to save my stuff, but never got around to it, which is a piss-poor way of living and writing, and I can't even blame it entirely on Thanatos.

In case you're wondering, I do back up my school files at least twice a year (at Daylight Saving Time), and why that diligence doesn't reach my writing life, I'm not quite sure.

In the more than a week that she had my computer, I had that stomach clenching anxiety that my stories were gone forever. Right on the heels of that came the painful certainty that I deserved to lose my files. If I was too stupid to back them up, I didn't deserve to have them. Those two reactions were knocking boots in my head all week.

I got my healthy computer back last night. My files were fine.

I backed my shit up and made two promises (please, can I keep them? I'll hug them and feed them and call them George): I will always have a copy of what I write, and I'm going to finish these things this year and send them out.

Tell me there's a special circle in hell for the assholes who create and spread computer viruses.

The epic on my car stereo

2011-03-05T18:02:00.000-08:00

Yes, I made my awesome CD and am very pleased with the results. The only pill in the jam is that I underestimated the times of the songs and had an extra fifteen minutes I could've filled up, but it's not as if the last song ends and I have to endure fifteen minutes of static.

My happy tunes:
1. Carry on, My Wayward Son- Kansas
    -Because I love the montage in SUPERNATURAL that used this for a soundtrack and for the line "And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know."
2. Wheel in the Sky- Journey
    -SUPERNATURAL, again. When I listen to these songs, even though I'm only on the way to school, I feel as badass and world-weary as any demon hunter.
3. Werewolves of London- Warren Zevon
    -I first heard this song in THE COLOR OF MONEY and fell in freaking love with it. It's crazy and funny and always makes me happy.
4. Holding out for a Hero- Bonnie Tyler
   -Because I am...and he better know how to play chicken with tractors.
5. All Summer Long- Kid Rock
   -This song made me wonder if "Sweet Home Alabama" samples "Werewolves of London" or vice versa. My sister taught my little nephew to sing it, and it never failed to crack my shit up when he sang, "And we were smoking funny things." Because toddlers and drug references are funny.
6. 4TH of July- Shooter Jennings
   -Redneck poetry: "And there you were, like a queen in your nightgown." It was on the hundredth listen that I realized he's talking about a memory of this girl. She's not there beside him anymore. I like to think she died to really amp up the bittersweet.
7. Brown-Eyed Girl- Van Morrison
   -My favorite pool-shooting song. There was a bar on St. Peters in New Orleans that had a jukebox and a heavy pour for servers. I loved that place and playing shitty pool and getting hammered after work.
8. Kryptonite- 3 Doors Down
   -I have a fondness for songs that are pretty much a desperate scream for someone's love during madness. Not to mention, the video is a bit on the effed-up side.
9. Voodoo Child- Rogue Traders
   -Because of Doctor Who. You can hear me belting out "Here come the drums, here come the drums" on the highway during the early hours. An excellent song for carseat dancing.
10. Love/Hate- Betty Blowtorch
   -I wish, oh how I wish, more of their songs were like this one instead of going for the easy joke. I swear Bianca opens up her entire throat to let loose a primal scream of tortured love. The doc about the group is one of the movies I've most recommended.
11. Use Somebody- Kings of Leon
   -Because I could, you know, use somebody...someone like you.
12. Somebody to Love- Queen
   -I like the movie ELLA ENCHANTED (I haven't read the book yet). I also like Anne Hathaway's version of the song, which made me start to love the song. Desperate pleas for love and sex seldom work, but I'm a sucker for anything with operatic proportions.

One of the neat parts of a mix is that my idea of a blissful hour is somebody's idea of ear torture.

I haven't blown hundreds of dollars on iTunes (I'm glad that fear is unrealized) and hope I'll venture out to make another one soon.

Oscar liveblog- last post

2011-02-27T20:40:00.000-08:00

Steven Speilberg for Best Picture: Black Swan · The Fighter · Inception · The Kids Are All Right · The King's Speech · 127 Hours · The Social Network · Toy Story 3 · True Grit · Winter's Bone

Neat that Speilberg said the nine who didn't win would join an illustrious company. Sometimes the best don't win.

Those were some good movies. I wish they were on Netflix streaming; I would watch the hell out of them right now.

The winner is THE KING'S SPEECH! I thoroughly approve!

I wonder if the audience is absolutely dying to get out of the auditorium and go to the amazing parties.

I'm glad the third guy had a chance to talk.

Well, I did it. James and Anne weren't as painful as I thought.

Aww, the fifth grade chorus from youtube. I have to be up in five hours, so they'll be singing without me.

Post.

Oscars liveblog- XII

2011-02-27T20:32:00.000-08:00

Jeff Bridges for Best Actress: Annette Bening · Nicole Kidman · Jennifer Lawrence · Natalie Portman · Michelle Williams.

Did Nicole go back to the botox? Not a smart move. PleasepleasepleasenotNataliePortman. How is performance different from any other performance she's ever done (barring STAR WARS, because Lucas sucks the talent out of everyone, and THE SPECIALIST, when she was too young to get in a rut).

The winner is Natalie fucking Portman. Sad sad angry face. That half pony is driving me crazy. Okay, her speech is heartfelt. I can't fault her for that. Maybe she did deserve an award for becoming anorexic and playing a character she's played too many times before.

Anne's dress looks like kissing cousins to the one the Diva wore in THE FIFTH ELEMENT: all blue and vinyl.

Sandra Bullock for Best Actor: Javier Bardem · Jeff Bridges · Jesse Eisenberg · Colin Firth · James Franco

She worked up quite a load of phlegm for the "Ha" in Javier; however, she's very cute with her intros for the actors. Man, Colin Firth deserves this award; he was so good. Did Geoffrey just wipe a tear from his eye?

I wonder if James Franco thinks he's going to win? He played James Dean and never quite got over it.

But I have to say, upon seeing these clips, that there were some tremendous performances this year.

The winner is Colin Firth!!! He's the awesome! "I'm feeling stirring in the upper abdominal which are threatening to transform into dance moves." I'd pay to see that. That's a nice side shot of Colin, kudos to the camera-operator.

Post.

Oscars liveblog- XI

2011-02-27T20:09:00.000-08:00

Hilary Swank introduces Kathryn Bigelow for best director nominees: Darren Aronofsky · David O. Russell · Tom Hooper · David Fincher · Joel Coen and Ethan Coen.

The winner is Tom Hooper for THE KING'S SPEECH. Yahoo! Aronofsky didn't win! Hooper shouldn't taunt Helena. She'll cut a bitch. What a nice tribute to his mum, who saw a theatrical production of THE KING'S SPEECH. The moral of the story is to listen to your mother. Damn straight.

Annette Bening for the Governor Awards. I'm not even going to try. I will say I think it's weird Francis Ford Coppola tried to make an actress out of his daughter when she was really a director. I wonder what he thinks of her work.

Commercial already? Post.

Oscars liveblog- X

2011-02-27T19:58:00.000-08:00

Tribute to the dead (or what I like to call "I didn't even know they were still alive." I'm going to hell. I hope I get a fire far away from the Jamester. Or maybe that will be my hell. I'll spend eternity listening to him read from his goddamn short story collection).

I wonder why Julie Andrews and Blake Edwards divorced.

What would've happened if Halle Berry wore the exact same dress and hair as Lena Horne? Tacky or tribute?

Commercial? Post?

Oscars liveblog- IX

2011-02-27T19:49:00.000-08:00

More song nominees.

Jennifer Hudson in her tangerine. She's seems very uncomfortable. I'm not impressed with the song from 127 HOURS. Gwyneth Paltrow trying, but ultimately failing with her song- the Oscars is no place for sour notes.

Nominees for best song: "We Belong Together” (TOY STORY 3), “I See the Light”(TANGLED), “If I Rise” (127 HOURS), and "Coming Home" (COUNTRY STRONG).

The winner is Randy Newman. I'm glad. His song was the only one that didn't put me to sleep. "I want to be good television." (because he has a list, but he didn't read from it) He's a spunky guy; I thought he'd be more serious, which is stupid considering he shows a sense of humor in his music and must have a sense of whimsy considering he does songs for animated movies.

Commercial and post.

Oscars liveblog-VIII

2011-02-27T19:38:00.000-08:00

Billy Crystal gets a standing ovation when Kirk Douglas didn't? Somebody needs to line up their priorities.

I don't know if he's presenting or just wasting time. A tribute to Bob Hope? I wonder what the run-time on the early awards were. Eeeeww, Bob Hope's a hologram. A bit creepy. Dubbing in his voice? Freaky creepy.

RDJ and Jude Law are very cute together. Oh Jude, wotta burn with the closest you would get to a superhero is back in 2001 with the woman dressed up as batgirl. Nominees for achievement in visual effects: ALICE IN WONDERLAND, HARRY POTTER, HEREAFTER, INCEPTION, and IRON MAN 2.

The powers that be must have been pretty sure IRON MAN WOULDN'T WIN.

Winner is INCEPTION. Four people? How will they all talk? Only two had mike time.

Achievement in film editing: BLACK SWAN, THE FIGHTER, THE KING'S SPEECH, THE SOCIAL NETWORK, and 127 HOURS.

Winner is THE SOCIAL NETWORK. I can't believe INCEPTION wasn't nominated. Daughter Bronte? Pretty cool name.

Yay, commercial! Postpostpostpost.

Oscars liveblog- VII

2011-02-27T19:24:00.000-08:00

James, I hate you, but am comforted by the fact that you sold your soul and will be roasting your toasties in hell some day soon.

Jake Gyllenhaal and Amy Adams for documentary short subject: POSTER GIRL, KILLING IN THE NAME, STRANGERS NO MORE, SUN COME UP, AND WARRIORS OF QIUGANG.

Winner is STRANGERS NO MORE. Actually, I was going to blow this award off and go to the bathroom, but I started hearing the topics and felt guilty.

Best short live film: THE CONFESSION, THE CRUSH, GOD OF LOVE, NAWEWE, and WISH 143.

Winner is GOD OF LOVE. I thought NAWEWE or WISH 143 would win judging from the clips. The guy is funny: "I should've gotten a haircut" ('cause his hair is a fursplosion). His mom did craft services, very cute.

"NYU, what's up!" Yes, James. We all know you've gone to a bajillion colleges and you're a fucking academic. Don't forget the devil has you on speed-dial.

Okay, ECLIPSE and HARRY POTTER on auto-tune is funny.

Anne, you're not really talking to friends. You're better when you're more nervous.

Oprah Winfrey for outstanding documentary: GASLAND, EXIT THROUGH THE GIFT SHOP, INSIDE JOB, RESTREPO, and WASTE LAND.

The winner is INSIDE JOB. Oooh, political speech: "Not a single one of [the crooked and evil financial officers and executives] are in jail."

RDJ is coming up!! Post.

Why did they cut to someone scratching their ear? That's a meancam.

Oscars liveblog- VI

2011-02-27T19:07:00.000-08:00

James' smile is one centimeter away from the Joker's.

Marissa Tomei for technical awards.

Man, the backlash against her was something fierce. The best, most awful rumor was that Jack Palance read the wrong name for supporting actress and accidentally gave it to her.

Cate Blanchett for achievement in makeup: BARNEY'S VERSION, THE WAY BACK, and THE WOLFMAN.

It looks like some small animal peed on her shoulders. How sad.

The winner is THE WOLFMAN. Who gives a shit; that was a horrendous movie and there's no way they can make up my wasted time. Both got to talk and both thanked their wives.

Costume Design: ALICE IN WONDERLAND, I AM LOVE, THE KING'S SPEECH, THE TEMPEST, and TRUE GRIT.

The winner is ALICE IN WONDERLAND. I wish the winner was wearing something snazzier. Remember when that winner wore that tremendous dress of credit cards? That was incredible. Oh geez, she's reading off a scrap of paper in deader tones than my students reading Shakespeare.

Didn't they used to cut the mikes when the speaker went over?

The common people reminisce over their favorite songs- wait a sec, Obama?

Kevin Spacey, stop singing, you big giant ham.

Randy Newman with a song. He's an acquired taste. I didn't like him when I was a teenager, but I have to say he grew on me. I started to love him because my sister put his "Baby Days" on the New Orleans CD she made for me.

That was a jaunty little tune.

Mandy Moore is wearing some serious ruffles for her skirt- like a smurfy wedding cake; her dress would have been cooler if she had sleeves made of serious ruffles. Her song from TANGLED was largely forgettable.

Posty.

Oscars liveblog-V

2011-02-27T18:52:00.000-08:00

Oh wow, Anne's dress is fantastic, gray and black and layered and floaty! Her hair is looking pretty fetch as well.

Hugh Jackman and Nicole Kidman for original score, but first- we don't need a rehash of sound history; we know movies used to be silent. Don't they know I want to go to bed before 12:30. But the orchestra music is v.v. pretty.

Original score: HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, THE KING'S SPEECH, THE SOCIAL NETWORK, 127 HOURS, and INCEPTION.

Please let it be Trent Reznor. I want to hear his acceptance speech.

The winner is TRENT REZNOR. Please be insane, pleasepleaseplease. HE WAS BORING HE WAS TAME. I am disappoint. At least he gave time for the second guy.

Scarjo and Matthew McConaughey for sound mixing: INCEPTION, THE KING'S SPEECH, SALT, THE SOCIAL NETWORK, and TRUE GRIT. SALT was up for an Oscar?

They are annoying, someone needs to drop a sound board on them.

Is Scarjo stoned?

The winner is INCEPTION. Three people at the microphone. There will never be enough time for all of them to speak. That is giving me anxiety. The guy refers to Nolan as the architect...I see what you did there.

Achievement in sound editing: INCEPTION, TOY STORY 3, TRON LEGACY, TRUE GRIT, and UNSTOPPABLE. What the hell was UNSTOPPABLE?

Winner is INCEPTION. I like how everyone who is winning for INCEPTION has given Nolan props, but I wonder what would happen if a person didn't.

Post haste.

Oscars liveblog-IV

2011-02-27T18:36:00.000-08:00

Anne has changed into a tux. Her pony is not really rocking. Is she going to sing? Yes, she's singing a parody of "On My Own." Her shoes are absolutely gorgeous.

She's bagging on Hugh Jackman. Is that her real voice? Color me impressed.

James in drag. Hmmm, offensive or funny? Discuss. And he received a text from Charlie Sheen.

Who decided to pair Russell Brand and Helen Mirren? I hate the Brand. Helen's wearing a dark gray, interesting sleeves.

Best Foreign Film: Biutiful, Dogtooth, In a Better World, Incendies, and Outside the Law.

The winner is In a Better World. I have no idea about them except that I read a review of Dogtooth and it scared the shit out of me. Parents tell their children they can't leave the house until they lose their canine teeth. Judging from the picture accompanying the review, at least one kid decides to take matters into her own hands. Horror show.

Reese Witherspoon for supporting actor: Christian Bale · John Hawkes · Jeremy Renner · Mark Ruffalo · Geoffrey Rush.

If you were at the Oscars, what expression would you wear when they cut to you after your clip? A smirk? A wink? A humble, stoic face?

The winner is fucking Christian Bale. He's going to be insufferable now, worse than before. He mocks himself by referring to his tirade. Why is his hair a different color than his beard? A commercial for the guy he portrayed- how generous? Okay, my heart was a touched by the mention of his little girl who taught him so much more than he'll teach her and the little chokey sound he made.

Yup, it's post time.

Oscars liveblog- III

2011-02-27T18:23:00.000-08:00

Josh Brolin and Javier Bardem for adapted screenplay and original screenplay.

Yikes! White bowties, white shirts, and white jackets! They look like they should be selling ice cream.

Nominees for adapted screenplay: 127 Hours, True Grit, Winter's Bone, Toy Story 3, and The Social Network.

Winner is The Social Network. I love the chutzpah of people who ignore the music playing them off.

Nominees for Best Screenplay: Another Year, The Fighter, Inception, The Kids Are All Right, and The King's Speech.

Winner is THE KING'S SPEECH!!! Please let this be the first of a bunch. David Seidler asks where the microphone is and then says his dad told him he'd be a late bloomer. Aww, those are the best kind of flowers. A very sweet speech.

Postapostaposta.

Oscars liveblog- II

2011-02-27T18:08:00.000-08:00

James Franco is trying to give the camera the side-eye, what's the deal?

Apparently Kirk Douglas doesn't merit a standing O. C'mon, you lazy people, get off your asses! The poor man had a stroke!

Nominees for best supporting actress: Amy Adams · Helena Bonham Carter · Melissa Leo · Hailee Steinfeld · Jacki Weaver.

What the hell was that expression, Helena? Humble doesn't have to cross the line into self-hatred. It becomes no one. Poor Melissa Leo with that abortion of an ad campaign. Hailee is looking like a priness. I hope she's having fun. Hugh Jackman is laughing, but Colin Firth isn't because he's British (cut to Colin Firth and his dimples).

The winner is Melissa Leo! Color me surprised! Everyone thought she shot herself in the foot, maybe it was a keen strategy! Helena is clapping, but she looks like she'll cut a bitch. Oh my god, Melissa went from "Golly Gee" to dropping f-bombs! I thought she was about to thank God, but she was thanking the Academy. That last line- "Selling motion pictures and selling the work"- didn't have the oomph! I think she thought it would.

Melissa's and Anne's reaction to Kirk Douglas- kindness, friendly, or overcompensation? Discuss.

Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis for animated short: DAY & NIGHT, THE GRUFFALO, LET'S POLLUTE, THE LOST THING, and MADAGASCAR (not the one my nephew watches).

The winner is: THE LOST THING. I have no idea; however it's their first award and they look like nice guys, so I'm happy. I hope of them both get to speak. Aww, second person did get to speak.

Animated feature film: HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, THE ILLUSIONIST, and TOY STORY 3.

Winner is TOY STORY 3. The TOY STORY movies have been such a part of my nephews' childhoods; I'm happy beyond happy to see them get their credit.

I know I said I wasn't going to list the other awards; I can't seem to help it.

Commercial and posty post.

Oscars liveblog- I

2011-02-27T17:49:00.000-08:00

Yay! It's starting!

Clips, a plethora of clips! I'm glad I saw these movies (except THE FIGHTER).

Okay, parody of INCEPTION- pretty cute. Alec Baldwin...I'm so sad I'll never be able to make out with you. Wait a second, didn't Mike Meyers do this for the MTV movie awards about 20 years ago?

Morgan Freeman, that's good. The dance of the bronw duck is cracking me up (but that might be because of the Jameson).

I still think they're gonna suck as MCs, and this schtick is going on a little too long.

Oh no, Anne's dress is not working. She doesn't have hips; why would she wear a dress that made her look she had twelve? James just said she looked beautiful and hip (heh).

This is really awkward, and they seem to be trying a bit too hard, and I just realized I need to become nicer or this will be a four-hour malice fest.

BUT HOW CAN I HELP IT? Anne just called out her mother. Oh god, this is like community college coffeehouse awkward.

Tom Hanks to present the award for art direction. Nominees are ALICE IN WONDERLAND, HARRY POTTER, INCEPTION, THE KING'S SPEECH, and TRUE GRIT. The winner is ALICE IN WONDERLAND.

I didn't like that movie. Tim Burton needs to stop with the daddy issues and the effing up of classics. I'm always worried when two people go up to accept the award. I'm always worried the second person won't be able to talk. Shore nuff, that asshole didn't let the woman talk.

Cinematography: BLACK SWAN, INCEPTION, THE KING'S SPEECH, THE SOCIAL NETWORK, and TRUE GRIT. The winner is INCEPTION. Yay! INCEPTION gets some props. Enjoy it; it's probably the only one.

I don't think I'll be able to type all the awards. I have the biggies in a separate doc, and I'm sweating keeping up with the announcements.

Commercial. Post and another drink!

Oscars liveblog- pregrame III

2011-02-27T17:26:00.000-08:00

THE ADJUSTMENT BUREAU looks like INCEPTION LITE. Yet right now, I want to see it. Unfortunately trailer don't often hold as much sway as weekend agoraphobia.

Someone took a weed-whacker to Scarjo's head. I read on a blog recently that she can't act. I'm glad to have that affirmation; I feel free to express my disdain about her acting.

Oh gosh, SECRET MILLIONAIRE- should be heartwarming, but turns my freaking stomach. Let these cash-ready clowns deign to live among the poor and bestow their riches on who they deem deserving, patting themselves on the back all the way. Screw them.

Halle Berry is wearing Marchesa- I think it's beige or peach. It's layered, floaty, and strapless, and since I'm derp derp derp about fashion, I can't say much more. I'm glad she went sans neckwear. Too many women see strapless as an excuse for atrocious chunks of jewelry.

Three minutes and change. Imma gonna post.

Oscar liveblog- pregame II

2011-02-27T17:11:00.000-08:00

I do want Geoffrey Rush to win because I'm used to seeing him in crazy shit, and he was subdued and beautiful in THE KING'S SPEECH.

But a part of me is rooting for John Hawkes, who was in BUFFY as a janitor and Star on DEADWOOD. He was powerful in WINTER'S BONE.

Jennifer Hudson is stunning in Versace (I kind of wish there was less boobage). She looks very thin- is she a spokesperson for any diet or did she do it on her own?

Natalie Portman is looking constipated and boring in purple. What's with the side pony? She's wearing tassel earrings, but I don't know- that hank of hair is bothering me. She's a couple affectations away from Madonna's British accent.

James Franco looks nervous. Why is he giving the interviewer the side eye while he talks? Why isn't he looking at her? He is going to be soooo bad. Unless he's saving all his charm.

I wish I had started the posts closer to blastoff. There's 24 more minutes, and I'm afraid about shooting my wad before the real show starts.

The same shade of red is infiltrating the gowns. Sandra Bullock is wearing the same shade as Jennifer Hudson (ETA: I can't tell colors. Tim Gunn just informed me she's wearing tangerine) and Anne Hathaway. Sandy's gown is strapless, and the bodice is a little too big- the fabric is standing out from her chest.

I'm gonna get something to drink.

Oscars liveblog- pregame

2011-02-27T16:58:00.000-08:00

Even though I wanted to talk about the end of the tenth Doctor (my heart still hurts) and how much I hate the new doctor (I hate the way he talks, I hate his face, and I hate the way he drives the Tardis), I decided I wanted to liveblog the Oscars.

Who cares that I have school tomorrow. Anne Hathaway and James Franco are hosting, and that shit is going to be painful.

I'm only in it for the bigger awards (although who am I to sneer at the other categories), so I imagine this won't be the marathon I think it will be. Hell, I did a run of John Hughes.

Right now I don't have any liquor (school night and all). I don't have any beer and am doubtful about drinking the Jameson when I have to work tomorrow. Somewhere in time, the 20something me cries out and feels ashamed.

Anne Hathaway is wearing archival Valentino, and I have to say it looks very flattering on her. She doesn't look quite so pale, and I like her choice of lipstick- a darker red.

Who do I want to win? THE KING'S SPEECH FOR EVERYTHING. I loved that movie and the actors in it better than any of the others I saw.

Heavy rumors say Natalie Portman is a sure thing, and if she wins, a part of me will die.

I still can't believe Nolan wasn't nominated. I'm not a Nolan fan (I hated DARK KNIGHT), but come on, INCEPTION was incredible. There's a backlash against it now, but remember the first time you saw it?

If Colin Firth was more dashing, my chest would cave in.

Reese Witherspoon is wearing a demure and classy black number with a wide white band across the top (Armani). Good choice for her, and she's rocking a wonderful pony...I'm really appreciating the ponytails I've seen lately. Lena in VAMPIRE DIARIES had a great one a week or two again.

RDJ! RDJ! OJAOIPJPFKANLKNQRGOH! He's so great. I'm not sure about the white long tie on his white tuxedo shirt, but monochromatic seems to come back from time to time. His hand is on his wife's butt. I wish I was the seat of her dress.

Commercials. I'm getting kind of thirsty. How good does RED RIDING HOOD look? If it's half as good as it looks, I'll be a happy girl.

I'm gonna post.

I'm still using rocks

2011-02-13T15:25:00.000-08:00

I want to make a mix CD for myself. For two months I've kicked around the idea of getting songs that make me happy, that make me feel lucky when I hear them on the radio.

I'm at the mercy of an antiquated radio station that has a morning show with bells and whistles and honey-tongued DJs who probably don't look a thing like their voices. I'm a luddite and the thought brings me simultaneous shame and pride.

I've never gone on iTunes and have a fear that once I start looking, I'll start buying and won't be able to stop until thousands of dollars later.

Now that I've sat down to write the list, I know I shouldn't worry. All I need is 15 songs for this particular CD, and I've stalled at the thirteenth. I can't think of two more songs that make me happy (these have to be songs I don't already own).

The first song on my list is "Werewolves of London." "Holding out for a Hero" is on there, along with "All Summer Long" and "Fourth of July." I also need "Voodoo Child" because it's a crowning moment of awesome evil in DOCTOR WHO.

The cools kids would sneer at my mix, but I'm counting on at least an hour of happy when I finally get it done.

What it's like in my little town

2011-02-13T15:15:00.000-08:00

I was on the porch and the church bells were chiming "Danny Boy."

The snow still covers the ground, and I'm not sure it'll melt by spring. I want to catch the day it's all gone, as opposed to have the fact that I'm seeing green dimly register before I notice.

When I was in elementary school, the library used to have movie nights on Wednesdays. I'd walk down the street, the smell and chill of fall urging me on, the champagne feeling that anything could happen. Just to be out of the house and into the night- on a school night, no less- was a thrill.

I don't know the words to "Danny Boy," I don't even like the freaking song...but oh, the crushing beauty it brings to my chest.

When fiction is better than flesh

2011-02-11T16:50:00.000-08:00

I need to stop falling in love with fictional characters. It hurts.

I've been burning through the first four seasons of DOCTOR WHO. I have a fondness for Christopher Eccelston, but my attachment to him is compromised because I didn't watch his season in order.

(The Doctor is a Time Lord who can regenerate into a new body if he dies. There have been a bunch of actors who portray the character while adding their own special touches to the portrayal).

Explaining DOCTOR WHO is an exercise in not caring if you sound crazy or ridiculous because the show is so completely effing awesome that you want to explain it or tie up your friends and family and park them in front of a few episodes- the greatness must be shared even at the price of rope burns.

My first Doctor (and I've heard that everyone has a special feeling for their first Doctor) is David Tennant.

As in Barty Crouch, Jr.

It took half an episode for me to forget the side-tongue flick and Barty, and two episodes to fall in love with Tennant. Now that love is full-grown and overwhelming and a little painful.

The realization that I will never hear the beautiful VWOOMP-VWOOMP sound of the Tardis (The Doctor's time/spaceship) or get to make out with him hit me yesterday.

Tennant has a Scottish burr in real life, and a ton of youtube videos that testify to the fact that he has a great sense of humor and is utterly brilliant. I watched his HAMLET in little ten minute snippets on youtube.

He's going to be in MUCH ADO this summer with Catherine Tate, and I expect that my summer won't be as bright considering I have no way of going.

Yep, I'm in love with both The Doctor and David Tennant, and my heart won't be convinced that it's not real.

Silly, silly organ.

Welcome to my crazy

2011-02-11T16:34:00.000-08:00

The past two weekends I've been going a bit crazy, and even though I try to shake myself out of it, the madness keeps on keeping on. I've been fighting against agoraphobia and other shit, but I remain 'flicted and tetched.

1. My goal is to see all the movies nominated for Best Oscar. Weekend before last, I had made up my mind to see THE KING'S SPEECH. The only ducks I had to get in a row were doing laundry, correcting one class of essays, and taking a shower. I finished the laundry no problem, but my feet dragged at the correcting and showering. The lead in my chest started expanding and grew heavier the minute I entered the final grade in my gradebook and snagged a towel from the linen closet to chuck into the bathroom. Suddenly going to the movie was a dangerous thing and something horrible would happen if I went out of the house. I forced myself into the shower. I wanted to go to the movie. I wasn't being placed in front of a firing squad, but it felt that way.

I did end up going, and the worst thing that happened was that I forgot to bring kleenex (despite being warned that it was sad) and I had to cry into my coat until the nice lady behind me (I swear I WAS NOT sobbing) nudged my shoulder and handed me a tissue.

2. Last weekend I couldn't face the stack of correcting in my bag. It lumped on the armchair, staring at me and accusing me all weekend. Instead of saying Fuck This Noise and accepting the fact that I wouldn't do a lick of work and would spend Saturday and Sunday doing whatever the hell I wanted (going to see THE FIGHTER, watching DOCTOR WHO, or buying a shit-ton of books to read), I put myself in limbo because I couldn't give myself permission to do what I wanted when I was shirking. Limbo consisted of re-reading a book I didn't want to read and dicking around on the computer.

Then Monday arrived. I woke up at four, pounded out a chunk of grading, and finished the rest at school before first bell.

Aaah, the fuckery of my head.

A night and passers-by

2011-02-11T16:16:00.000-08:00

I was out on the porch last night, watching a woman walk her three dogs.

An SUV slowed down next to her and stopped. I heard the guy behind the wheel ask her if she'd seen a 13-year-old girl walking down the street.

She said no and that she'd keep an eye open for the girl; he drove on.

I wondered if they had gotten into a father-daughter fight that ended with the girl storming out into the freezing night, and I felt bad.

But then I thought, What if he isn't her father?

Blargh and GRR

2011-02-11T16:12:00.000-08:00

This week was weird in that I found myself holding back an enormous amount of anger at the oddest times and for the smallest things. I was usually fine by the time I got home, but during school my poor tongue was almost bitten in half.

1. A student of mine has a habit of mansplaining. He's a great kid, and I think he thinks he's a pet of mine (no, I don't have pets. I have some students that I build a rapport with, but no pets). He'll question my grammar and play devil's advocate and explain something I already know. I'm trying to think of specifics...but I'm drawing a blank (or repressing the memories). Usually this doesn't bother me, but this week, I found myself wanting to say, "Look, I want you to know that what you're doing makes you sound like a jackass. It's going to cost you friends and make your girlfriend break up with you. Please stop." Even if I changed the thought into a more school-appropriate language, I couldn't express it because it would hurt him too much.

2. There's a teacher who thinks I'm her best friend. She is my closest friend at school, but best friend? Can't I get some say in that? Can you be best friends with someone who doesn't count you as a best friend? She drives me nuts sometimes, and this week I wanted to shriek at her, "His name is pronounced YATES AS IN GATES, YOU FUCKING COW! HOW CAN YOU PRONOUNCE IT YEETS AND CALL YOURSELF AN ENGLISH TEACHER?!"

It's not PMS; it's me all the mean way day. I also have a dread that once I think about saying these thoughts, I'm one step closer to actually saying them.

I don't want that day to come.

What not to say to someone who is shovelling

2011-01-12T10:06:00.000-08:00

I don't know why people feel compelled to say something when they walk past me while I'm shovelling. Much as I drink deeply from the cup of human kindness, I find it hard not to bash these passers-by upside the head with my shovel.

Comments that make me want to go all red-rum:

"When you're finished with that, could you come to my house?"

"That looks heavy."

"Working hard?"

"Isn't the snow beautiful?"

"Don't you have anyone to help you?"

"You're almost done."

"Wow, that's a lot of snow."

Really, a number of people should be grateful that they escaped the day without serious injury.

What's wrong with the smile and nod? I'm a big fan of the smile and nod: it's appropriate for so many occasions, fulfills the need for brief social interaction, and never makes me want to do bodily harm.

If hatred was hot...

2011-01-12T09:59:00.000-08:00

Those fluffy bunny flakes would be evaporating before they hit the ground.

Four hours, four hours and a bajillion shovel-loads, I can finally move my car. Not that I want to go anywhere (and I'm uncertain if anything is open), but knowing I could go somewhere lessens the cabin fever.

I'm currently quaffing my Irish coffee and waiting for my back to hurt. Hopefully the liquor and Aleve will nip that in the bud. Or maybe I'll be too drunk to care.

I'm wondering if school will be canceled tomorrow. It's been a looong time since we had two snowdays in a row.

Every winter begins with the hope that we won't use our snowdays and will get out earlier, but that never happens. In March last year, when I thought we were in the clear with one day to spare, the water main broke and we had to cancel.

I have a stack of papers to grade, but even if my spirit was willing, I don't think my arms have the strength to support a pen. They're noodles right now.

The latest in snow-shovelling fashion

2011-01-09T08:10:00.000-08:00

What does the well-clad woman wear while shovelling the driveway?

I have a great pair of old, broken-in boots in black and brown. Nothing makes me feel richer than a sturdy pair of boots, especially since my poverty years were marked by a scarcity of appropriate footwear.

Tangent: INTO THIN AIR, a great read about scaling Mount Everest contains an incident that's become a metaphor for my life. One of the people on the expedition climbed the mountain in new boots. NEW boots- barely worn before. His feet were effed-up pieces of hamburger meat by the end of the trek (but the horrendous frostbite he was dealing with took precedence). In situations when I might be ill-prepared, I ask myself if what I'm doing amounts to climbing Everest in new boots.

A hat is a must. It took me more than thirty years to realize wearing a hat keeps me warmer than going without. I have my trusty black hat and my Notre Dame hat for snowy days.

I don't like shovelling in a winter coat. I prefer layers: shirt, sweater, and winter sweater. My winter sweater used to be my dad's, and the good feature of a winter sweater, the definitive feature of a winter sweater, is that you can wear it without a coat. It's thick enough by itself.

I wear jeans even though they aren't the best pants for winterwear, but I'm only shovelling; it's not as if I'm climbing Mount Everest.

The couple down the street were having a massive argument while I shovelled. The only sounds at seven this morning were the intermittent traffic on the street, the plops of snow from trees, the long scrapes of my shovel against the driveway, and their shouting.

I was intent on not appearing to listen, so I didn't really hear what they were saying. When the male half of the couple stomped past me, I couldn't look at him. Nothing to see here, nothing to hear here, only me and my shovel.

A stitch in time

2011-01-09T07:57:00.000-08:00

The only reason I shovelled yesterday was that more snow was in the forecast. I knew that yesterday's soft and fluffy inches would become a solid layer of PITA under the new snowfall.

When I woke up today and saw that the night had dumped a new layer, I was giving hardy thanks to yesterday's Kaye for having the foresight and actually carrying through.

It's funny what you think about during mindless tasks. As I shovelled and pushed the snow, I remembered my brother and I shovelling my mom's driveway last year. He lives in Florida and of course New England welcomed him back with a snowstorm. We didn't talk much during the shovelling, but when we got near the end, he turned to me and said, "Is it good enough for county work?"

That's what ran through my mind this morning, and as I started on the last few feet, I told myself, "It's good enough for county work."

Shiny Sunday- the last day of vay-kay

2011-01-02T11:18:00.000-08:00

How did I spend my Christmas break? Ignoring the work in my bag and inbox. Rereading Stephen King (DOLORES CLAIBORNE, THE DEAD ZONE, and THE SHINING). Forgetting to return my Netflix (I swear, if it weren't for instant-watch, I'd cancel my subscription). Rereading THE DRESDEN FILES. And my favorite, dicking around on the internet.

I also read the new DEXTER and FULL DARK, NO STARS. About the latter: people have been bagging on "Big Driver," but I have an outright fondness for the way King writes his heroines. I think he's one of the few male authors who can write from a female point of view and not eff it up. He's come a long way since CARRIE.

I forced myself to grade the classes I have tomorrow by holding up the carrot of DOCTOR WHO. It's on instant-watch, and I want to find out the secret of Big, Bad Wolf.

I also need to work on my geek-cred. How can I even wear the badge if I haven't watched enough of the good Doctor to understand the references?

Then again, I'm the one who always messes up lines from Monty Python and has to stand there while someone else re-recites them word perfect.

To which I respond with a groin shot.

You know what's funnier than someone repeating what you just recited with the difference of a few words? That person rolling on the ground, gasping like a fish.

My goal for today is watching a few episodes and buying a desk calendar for school (cuts to the budget mean teachers have to buy their own).

Reason 477 why the internet is dangerous

2011-01-01T17:50:00.000-08:00

I don't know how it happened, but I developed a new fear over the past couple months. Whenever I click on a video, I'm terrified that it's going to be one of those screamer vids that make my skeleton jolt against my skin.

Does anyone else have this fear?

I started reading Mark Watches, a blog by this wonderful blogger who started out reviewing Harry Potter chapter by chapter and then went on to reviewing Firefly. Now he's reading CATCHING FIRE (boy, do I want to warn him about that) and watching DOCTOR WHO.

I never watched DOCTOR WHO, but Mark keeps mentioning this foreshadowing and repeated mention of "Big, bad wolf" in the show. I got curious and googled it to see what it meant.

I went to a site that came on with a crash of creepy whispers and music, and a picture slowly started to come into focus on the screen-

I got the fuck out of there.

I will never stray from known sites. I will never click on strange links. I will never get off the boat.

Flashback to Thanksgiving

2011-01-01T17:39:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving was a much kinder holiday to me.

Tattoo Queen flew all the way out from the West Coast to spend a chunk of time with me. She helped me make the holiday potatoes and the baked mac and cheese (both recipes called for the timely administration of much beer), and the Friday after the feast, we didn't bother getting dressed.

We spent the entire day in our PJs watching a season of VAMPIRE DIARIES. With much beer and leftovers.

I didn't do a lickspittle of grading, and we were on the same wavelength of vegging out and falling in love with our favorite psychopath- Damon, who is ever so much hotter than Boone.

It was amazing to have her around, to talk and read and watch TV in the same room. All the things that were common when I lived in Portland, but incredibly rare now.

I am going to have to get my ass to the West Coast this summer.

A Christmas for the Books

2011-01-01T17:28:00.000-08:00

Christmas found me hung over and making holiday potatoes and baked mac and cheese. Cooking for me is not fun when I'm cold sober, but since my liver was waving a white flag from Christmas Eve, I decided not to imbibe.

I was spooning the potatoes into a pan when I heard a hot hissing from the oven.

My mother was roasting two turkeys and bent the aluminum pans to make them fit in the oven, as you do. We pulled the rack out and fixed the pan.

Or so we thought. (DUN DUN DUNNNN)

The turkeys coming out of the oven coincided with the rest of the family coming in. The potatoes and mac and cheese went in the oven, the baked brie went in the oven, and my mom's extra-special cauliflower went in the oven.

The smoke from the turkey spillage was a little heavy, so we kept the oven door opening to a minimum.

Brie came out, and I waited by the oven to be ready for the perfect browning-crispy-on-top minute. Apparently my minute was too long because the top of my mac and cheese burned. As I scraped off the carbonized parts, I bitched to myself that this is what happens- you work for hours on something and it turns to shit in a minute.

My sister Ella opened the door to put in the sweet potatoes-

-And flames leaped out. Honest to God flames of the fiery, scorching, FUEGO! kind.

She started laughing, I started crying, my sister Emma started screeching, and we all fumbled around looking for something to put out the fire. Fire extinguisher? Nope. Baking soda? Nope.

My brother found the canister of gourmet sea salt, uncapped it, and stood ready to douse the flames. He opened the oven door, and we all let out a sigh of relief that there was no more fire, then promptly started coughing our guts out as thick, black, acrid clouds billowed out of the stove.

More fumbling for fans and opened windows. My two brothers and my brother-in-law hauled the stove out the kitchen door, down the porch steps, and onto my mother's side lawn.

The smoke cleared after awhile, and we sat down to dinner.

My family found the funny waaaayyy before I did: so many effing jokes about "I've got the black lung" and cauliflower.

And my mother kept on saying that we've been lucky that this hasn't happened before. Really, I think she was dropped on her head. It's not luck that the stove doesn't catch on fire; it's normal. People go their whole lives without stoves catching on fire.

I felt stupid about knowing the turkey leaked and not doing anything about it, but I don't know what I could've done. The turkeys needed to roast and stuff needed to get cooked, and I had no idea- absolutely none- that the shit was flammable.

Lesson learned.

It's still wick

2010-10-08T18:34:00.000-07:00

I didn't want my poor blog to become a ghost town.

Truth is, I wanted to blog about the Aerosmith concert. And the start of school. And my blog-iversary. And the finale of TRUE BLOOD. And my new adoration for VAMPIRE DIARIES.

Good intentions and the like.

I wanted to blog when I was happy during these past two months and when I was sad.

Right now, I'm feeling neutral and tired, which is a good setting for popping my blog-cherry again. It grows back, dontcha know.

THE GLASS RAINBOW- major spoilerage

2010-08-11T20:59:00.000-07:00

I just finished the book about a half hour ago. Twenty of those minutes have been spent bawling my fool eyes out and trying to breathe through my nose, which is impossible right now. The last ten minutes have been spent trying to find a little hope on the internet.

The front of my shirt is sopping.

I thought first person was pretty much narrative Kevlar. Silly rabbit.

The writing is absolutely beautiful from page one and doesn't let up at all. In the future, when I ponder mortality, I'm just going to re-read certain pages because Burke's thoughts on life, death, and everything in between are worth claiming as my own.

But I probably won't be re-reading this book because it destroyed my heart and it's going to take some time to grow back. There's only so much masochism that I can take.

And I didn't see it coming. I mean, every time (Jesus, the tears just keep coming- I'm having difficulty seeing the screen) Clete said Dave couldn't die, and when they're driving in the car after Clete saved his life and Dave reaches over and cups Clete's neck- really, it killed me.

I read the last page and a half three times before I surrendered to the sobbing. After that (because INCEPTION used up all my tolerance for ambiguous endings), I went to Burke's website where his fans were in various stages of profound grief and appreciation, which is a very strange combo of emotions.

And very powerful. Speaking for myself, my brain feels like it's throwing itself against my skull.

People seemed accepting of the deaths (notice that plural- and here come the waterworks again), but hopeful.

Then I came across a comment from the Big Man himself: "Clete said the Bobbsey Twins from Homicide are forever. He's not a man who speaks idly."

Okay, I can take some comfort from that. But my heart still feels like two good friends are gone.

I'm going to make cinnamon toast and sink into a Meg Cabot book for restorative purposes.

My methadone

2010-08-10T22:54:00.000-07:00

When I can't have the black tar that is actual episodes of TRUE BLOOD, I rely on the methadone of youtube, interviews, forums, and recaps.

The interviews from ComicCon are pure gold (not as golden as an actual ep, but fairly convincing gold-plate). First of all, I think Deborah Ann Woll has a massive crush on Eric. When Alex says he'll make out with her, doesn't she look as if she's taking him seriously? Second, I loved seeing the adorable Charlaine Harris on the panel. It's cool she sat next to Alan Ball. If I had been an author of her status, I would've demanded a seat next to ASkar right before I demanded a bowl full of M&Ms with the brown ones taken out.

The forums on TWP are frustrating. Some people cannot be pleased no matter what, and the commenters who complained that the last episode was boring (HOW THE HELL COULD YOU CALL IT BORING?!) must be really hard to satisfy in real life. I'm glad I'm not their waitress, girlfriend, best friend, or daughter.

My sister Emma has recently succumbed to the dark thrall of TRUE BLOOD. She blew through the last two seasons in a couple days and caught herself up on the third. Coincidentally, I stumble on a post about why junkies make bad friends. One of the reasons was that they want to hook you on the drug of choice so they feel normal. Yes, Emma's nearest and dearest were after her for months to watch TRUE BLOOD, and now she's as hooked as we are.

She was the one who told me that ASkar was in the "Paparazzi" video. Sure 'nuff, he is. I had to watch it again (and again) to make sure.

Tangent: While trawling youtube, I came across this. Do you see those girls behind him? Don't they look bored for the most part? It shocked the hell out of me when they started clapping. Maybe my students aren't bored in my class. Maybe I'm misreading their expressions and they're really one note away from bursting into applause.

Walk this way

2010-08-10T22:29:00.000-07:00

Sisters Emma and Ella and I are going to Fenway on Saturday to see Aerosmith (J. Geils is the opener). We're kind of nervous that the band's going to break up before then.

Well, at least we'd get to see J. Geils.

Our seats are far away from the stage, but I'm glad because I recently saw a picture of Steven Tyler and the man needs distance to keep the magic alive.

Some tidbits:

1. For the longest time, I thought the song said, "Born to sway." I was singing along one day and one of my friends started cracking up and told me I was an effing idiot for mis-hearing the lyrics. This was not my first or only mis-hear.*

2. "Freeze Frame" was a great song to dance to at school dances. We'd be hopping around and the minute Peter Wolf said the words "Freeze Frame," we'd freeze. Because that's how we rolled. How glad am I that dancing with the same sex if you're a girl doesn't carry a stigma? If it did, I probably would've spent those dances glued to the wall.

3. I think "Dream On" was the first epic song I ever heard.

4. When we bought the tickets in May, I was all happy that my summer would end once again with a concert. Now that the time's is here, I'm bummed because school starts in two and a half weeks.

*Another example: There's a song called "The Things We Do For Love." Here's what I heard: Like walking through the rain and the snow,/ and there's nowhere to go,/ and you're feeling like a robin who is dying**/ and you're looking for the answer in Orion***

**a part of you is dying

***and you're looking for the answer in her eyes

When you find a hair

2010-08-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

My sister Emma bought the kids and Chinese over tonight. One moment, we were enjoying the sesame chicken, rice, and lo mein; the next, she was sputtering and lurching to her feet to dump her plate.

Her actions weren't exaggerated or over-dramatic. She found a hair in her noodles.

I blame my dad for this aversion. If he found a hair in his meal, he'd swear and stomp like a big old baby. Because the idea of a hair in his food grossed him out to the nth of the nth degree, he attracted Bad Food Karma.

If one meal contained the magic hair (hee- sort of like Button, Button, Who's Got the Button), he would get it.

I think that might've been one of the reasons he always made me get my hair cut as a consequence for my misdeeds in high school. My hair never reached past my ears for all four years. This is why I waited until a few years ago to get my hair cut above my shoulders: I wanted to have long hair for as long as I had had short hair.

I didn't ask my sister if the noodle hair could've been mine- she looked this close to throwing up.

Is there any meal that is so good, a hair in it would be a momentary incidental? I'm thinking of my steak from last week and my dinner at Emeril's. Those dinners were of such surpassing delight, I might've plucked the hair from my mouth and kept on eating. Chances are pretty good the hair would've been clean.

Some love for James Lee Burke

2010-08-10T22:04:00.000-07:00

James Lee Burke's newest novel- THE GLASS RAINBOW- came out in July.

I was all set to buy it and save it for one of my last books of summer. Then I started coming across some mentions of the book.

And now I'm too terrified to read it.

I'm afraid Burke's going to kill of Clete in this one. The bell's been tolling for the big man, and I didn't think he'd make it out of the last one alive, although I was oh so relieved when he did. But his luck can't hold.

If I don't read the book, Clete will always be alive. The Bobsey Twins of the Big Sleazy will still be wreaking havoc and going full-tilt boogie against the evils of the universe. I don't think I want my heart broken.

The curse of the re-reader is knowing the end of a series. When I take another trip on the Hogwarts Express, I can almost supress the upcoming deaths, but it's hard to look at Dumbledore with the same eyes when the last books gave me an ambivalence toward his character. The heady escape in PRISONER OF AZKABAN brings a joy followed quickly by sadness.

I feel horrible being scared of the book. I love James Lee Burke. I think he's one of the greatest contemporary writers. I'm in love with Dave Robicheaux and have been even before he became sober. Burke's prose is magic- some of his passages take my breath away with their beauty, and I wish I had the head that could automatically save those words. He ends a book (I can't remember which one) with Robicheaux at Jazz Festival, and in a moment of redemption and utter faith in humankind, describes the soul-illumination of the people around him who are shining in such brilliance. Completely reminds me of El Greco's paintings- those pale, elongated faces that look like candle wicks burning with the light of their souls.

Burke did a reading for PURPLE CANE ROAD in Portland when I was living there. He was incredible: he read a chapter and had the audience laughing, was humble and warm to everyone, and even though I was poor and my money in the bank was promised elsewhere, I scrounged up a few bucks, raided my coin jar for all its silver, and went back to Powell's the next day to buy the book in hardcover. Because I had to give this wonderful man and writer something back for all he had given me.

Now there's a new one of his in the store, and I'm too much of a coward to buy it.

I'll read the recap

2010-08-04T20:55:00.000-07:00

I love Jacob's recaps of TRUE BLOOD (even when his opinion differs greatly from my own), and I've started reading his recaps of GOSSIP GIRL.

I won't watch the show because it gets pretty tiresome, and I wish I had a friend who could tell me the eps that are worth watching (and that friend could also tell me which VAMPIRE DIARIES are Damien-centric) because I don't want to wade through hours of cheese to get the one nugget of mixed metaphor.

But Jacob's recaps of GG are things of joy, truth, and beauty. They remind me of the Elizabeth Bishop poem that describes a mediocre painting, but because the poem is witty and awesome, the fictional painting becomes transcendent.

Jacob reminds me of Dan, this incredible guy I worked with. We'd have 45 minutes to set up the dining room and wait for the early customers, which was enough time for him to recap (before we knew to call them recaps) a movie. He used to see a ton of movies.

And they were usually movies that I wouldn't want to see, but I loved to hear him tell me the storylines. He was one of those few people who knew how to tell a good story. His recaps were always magical.

I imagine his retellings would become even more inspired once he graduated from college and gained more life experience. He was too big, too classy, too much for our po-dunk town. My imagined future for him was that he'd move to NY, get a fabulous job, live in a fabulous apartment, and be surrounded by incredible people who recognized his great spirit.

We lost touch when I left the restaurant, and he's one of those people I always thought about calling. Then I lost his number and his last name was impossible to spell. But I always comforted myself that he was living a fairy tale life.

I ran into a co-worker of ours years ago and asked her if she was still friends with him. "Dan? You didn't hear?"

He was in a car accident and suffered a severe TBI. Last she heard, he was relearning how to walk and talk.

She said this in the calmest way, which I understand because the news was years old by the time she related it to me. No, she didn't have his number.

I tried to find him after I talked to her, but couldn't. I've tried to look him up on Google and Facebook, but no luck.

Jacob reminds me of him. Two incredible storytellers who make gold out of hay.

How cool is this?

2010-08-04T20:37:00.000-07:00

I mean, really, how cool is this?

Let me tell you about how hard I make it for myself to submit comments. I'm extra-introverted in real life and that shit carries over online. Making a comment is a thing of doubting and second-guessing (ridiculous, I know!), and I'm in awe at the ease with which others make comments.

I always think my comments will make my computer vomit and explode. Or they'll kill a thread deader than Cooter (poor Cooter, ya redneck, V-addicted, poor excuse of a werewolf. We hardly knew ye).

So a comment of mine gets me free books! If that's not positive reinforcement, I don't know what is.

I love the Smart Bitches. They're my go-to blog (along with Dear Author), and I'm touched and incredibly psyched at their generosity.

Reason 367 for loving youtube

2010-07-29T09:06:00.000-07:00

I've written before about how youtube makes the whole world kin (and not in the snarky way Shakespeare meant it) and how that is a good thing (in a Martha Stewart, comforty way- back before she revealed her cyborg undercasing).

But now I love the 'tube because it gives people a chance to take control and own the performative aspect of living in a post-industrial society.

Gender, race, religion, and profession are all social constructs, and we're meant to perform accordingly. Not to mention, being aware of the I behind your eyes- the thinking-on-all levels self- is a man-behind-the-curtains experience. I understand that I'm acting with all my actions, including thoughts, and sometimes the separation between the I behind my eyes and my performative self is a chasm.

There are standards of teaching that everyone who becomes a teacher must adhere to. These standards blur the line between professional and personal making persona that much different from true self.

And persona, to my mind, is always glossy and palatable while true self is the rock removed and the creepy-crawlies revealed. It's a gross simplification and doesn't do me or anyone who runs into my judgment any good, but I believe everyone has a boneyard in the closet and familiarity breeds a knowledge that's hard to reconcile.

Anyway, years ago when I waitressed and taught, I got into a vicious shouting match with another waitress. It ended when she started crying and I had a brief WTF moment of what I was doing. Later on that night, a cook told me I should know and do better because I was a teacher.

That burr's been in my mind ever since.

I imagine I'm not the only person who feels as if what they do is an act. I think this is endemic to society, and sometimes it's fine, sometimes it's neutral, and other times the expected performance is a soul-killer (what's the appropriate response when you look in the mirror? To say, "I'm one smoking chick?" Or to identify flaws and give a few moments to a loathing you wouldn't visit on anyone else?).

That's the reason for my hearting the 'tube. Although people might regret what they put up there and some of the sights are odious (but that goes back to making the whole world kin if only in a shared horrified fascination), a lot of the stuff is people alchemizing the performance of self. Performative becomes transformative by taking this fake responsibility we have and making it golden.

Transcendance is another human characteristic that gives me hope for the world.

People are wonderful

2010-07-29T08:35:00.000-07:00

This cracked my shit up:

When I stumble on stuff like that, the world doesn't seem like such a bad old place.

Believe me, the night before last- after reading the latest on the oil spill (really, we're supposed to believe the oil magically disappeared and that the ocean can take care of itself because oil seeps through cracks in the floor all the time) and Iraq, and hearing about the latest pure D crazy of my former SIL (the Eldritch horror), I just wanted someone to press the button.

But then I think of all the wonder in the world: the golden New England light at 5:00 pm in the summer, playing games with my nephews (the latest craze is Ambulance: they pretend to be hurt and I pretend to drive the couch to the hospital, far more entertaining than it sounds), taking my mom and Ella to a fancy-schmancy steakhouse for birthday and awesomeness, and beholding the nekkid eye candy of TRUE BLOOD.

Those give me hope, and as much as I scorn hope as a masochistic emotion, it does the heart good.

Thinking about catharsis on a beautiful day

2010-07-27T09:45:00.000-07:00

I love the concept of catharsis- it's one of my favorite ideas to teach, although students get fouled up by thinking the character has to go through the purging of excess emotions instead of the audience.

It's a handy-dandy feature of tragedies: the playwright sees the audience laboring under excess emotions and gives them a chance to get rid of them.

I don't think catharsis works as well when the purging is directly connected to the event causing the excess emotions.

It feels good to vent, but I've never found that the feelings are gone after a good venting. They always build up again. I need to ride out the emotions, but I also need to work on the emotions. Haven't you ever seen a friend, after purging to you, go to the next person, tell the same exact story, and put themselves into the same tower of rage or despair?

In that situation, catharsis (and I don't even think it's a real catharsis) doesn't work unless you or I or they reconcile, accommodate, or assimilate the experience. Otherwise it's a rut to be retread, and kind of tiresome for all involved.

The best catharsis comes from imitations (plays, songs, movies, or books), not real life. Either I'm unaware of my excess emotions or I have a lump in my chest and throat that will not dissolve. Then comes the movie or the song, and I'm weeping- letting go and restoring balance.

My favorite catharsis came from reading SECOND NATURE. My dad had died and my grief wasn't on a surface level anymore, but when I read the description of a character's death, the tears started and didn't stop until the front of my shirt was sopping. Which is one of many reasons I love, and will always love, Alice Hoffman.

Balance was ever so important to the ancient Greeks, and excess emotions were unseemly. In fact, one of the major complaints from the chorus chucked at Medea's head was that her feelings were over the top (this was before the killing of the kids entered the playscape). I love the concept of equilibrium, and one of the purposes of simplifying my life is always an effort to get me in balance. But I'm usually a gnarl of internal excess, consciously and unconsciously, and thank the gods that catharsis is available.

Cathartics off the top of my head? The song "I Will Remember You", THE ROAD (only once because that shit stays with you), the ending of THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING (Sam Gamgee, I heart you), The end of BUFFY- second season, and the part in THE LION KING when Mustafa talks to Simba about the stars.

INCEPTION- reviewish and spoilerish

2010-07-27T09:15:00.000-07:00

What a gorgeous hunk of a movie! Even when I couldn't get into the state of total absorption, I found myself admiring the scenery.

The star of the show was Joseph Gordon Levitt. He was charismatic and brought the comic relief when things got a little too deep or dark. The choreography of the hotel room and hallway must've been the short end of thankless stuntwork (I would've preferred to buzz around on the snow mobiles or skis), but ended up beautifully.

And his clothes! I didn't even know there was such a thing as suit porn, or that I was susceptible to it, but now I think every movie should have JGL in a suit. With him as a sidekick...kissing someone.

The first chunk of the movie is exposition heavy and clumsy in parts (but the scenery, effects, and characters are so purty!) because Nolan had to build the necessary layers. So while I griped about the clunky dialogue and had to keep reminding myself of Ellen Page's purpose (her character accomplishes important and cool stuff- OFFSCREEN, but she kisses JGL, which was very cute), the last third of the movie is pretty much perfect. The layers are in place and come together like awesome cake.

I like how Nolan emphasizes the importance of catharsis, but gives the audience a huge mental coitus interruptus. I tensed at the wobble and laughed at the black screen. I think he expects the viewers to do their own purging as they figure out the end of the movie and talk about it.

I'm a sucker for things that split people into two distinct groups. The question of whether it fell or not is more than half empty or half full because it goes into the view of reality we all have (which while not unique, must be at least slightly different from the person next to us). It ties into our trust of the storyteller and the story.

I thought it was a little brushstroke of genius amid the broad strokes of his great ending. Nolan must've felt very pleased to do it.

What do I believe? I'm a simple woman...it wobbled, it definitely fell.