Identity Crisis.

So, on a whim (as I was already on the search page) I did a Yahoo image search for my first name. I have yet to see a picture of myself (er, now, not ever), which is sad.

What is distressing, though, is that I keep nearly convincing myself that the pictures are of me. They have my name! Therefore, they must be me. I keep having to give myself little "talks."

No, darling. Your hair is not blonde.

Sweetie, you aren't Dutch.

Good grief! She's a athlete, for crying out loud. (Incidentally, a lot of the Bizzaro-Me Clones were athletes.)

You're twenty-five, honey-pie. That Annika is closer to mommy's age. Yes, she's pretty. Yes, of course you're prettier. You're the prettiest.

Let's not be silly.

Oh, get a grip.

You know, I'm on page 32 now. Aren't there any pictures of me-me?

I'm such a retard.

I got myself so worked up about a Speed-style explosion that I am almost disappointed that it didn't happen.

What is worse, of course, is waiting another year to see season 3, which I am fairly certain is airing now. It is almost enough to make me want to sign up for cable and cancel it as soon as The Shield is over for the season. But I know me, and I don't know if I'd be able to give it up once I have it. And we do not need cable.

In other news, I am eating a pop tart. This is very unlike me. But damn, it is good. Almost as good as Rancid.

Phillip Morris isn't a brand?

I just got off the phone with a gentleman (whose age I'd approximate at 18) conducting a survey about cigarettes. He asked me what brand I smoked and I told him Phillip Morris. When he repeated it several times and there was a long pause, I realized my mistake and said Marlboro. We laughed and laughed. I must admit that I am surprised that the computer system didn't include company names, only brand names. If it had been a drivers survey, and I'd said I drove a Mazda, there wouldn't have been a problem. I wouldn't have had to say "Protege." Right?

I also did my good deed for the day in telling him that the male smoker in the household would not be interested in participating in a survey. I am expecting thank you kisses and maybe a neck rub.

Good friends make headaches go away.

Annika says:
Well, the ibuprofin is taking the edge off. But what I really need is some good sex. Um, I mean, what I really need is to be properly hydrated.
Beth says:
Good sex, eh?
Beth says:
I've been told I'm a tall drink of water, so I might have a solution for you.

NOOOOOOOOOO!! I have seen Speed FIVE THOUSAND TIMES!

Will and I are finally watching season 2 of The Shield. Not having cable means that in order to watch each season, we have to wait until just before the next one begins airing, and buy the DVD. This is not a problem, because so far both seasons have become available on DVD right around Will's birthday, and also because we love this show like crack, and have to have it. Seeing it for the first time in this format has serious advantages, like not having to wait for the next episode. It also has its downside, in that once you start watching, it is very difficult to stop, and you go to bed late and wake up with a killer fucking headache.

Sometime after midnight last night we finished watching episode 2.5 (for which I would provide the title if I weren't mostly braindead right now). I won't tag this, because I think we're the only fans of the show who haven't seen further than this already, but I'll be vague just in case.

The last scene is of Vic, Shane and Lem going into a house that turns out to be empty. Their extremely dangerous enemy knew they were coming, and tells them (over the phone), once they are in the house, that he's greenlit them. The episode ends with Vic apprehensively, or nervously, or something (man, he is hard to read!) looking around the empty room that they are in. A boombox is playing. The end.

If you've seen Speed, you know what happens to Keanu's partner when he raids an empty house where he thought the extremely dangerous enemy was holed up. KA-BLAM! Bye-bye, Jeff Daniels. Now I know that 1) The Shield can't kill its main characters and 2) they are more original than that anyway, but DAMN IT, I am nervous as HELL, and can't watch the next episode until Will gets home in seven hours.

The suspense is killing me.

Note: Anyone who posts spoilers for any episodes after 2.5 in the comments WILL BE GREENLIT.

p.s. Love you guys. Especially Matt, whose comments don't show up in IE because I never changed the ReBlogger code when Heath told me to. For your kind words, I will refrain from sending HOT CHICKEN SOUP for you to soak your nads in.

Edited for humor and vagueness.

I am a fucking coward.

I feel sick. Physically ill.

I went downstairs to check the mail. Outside the front door I heard raised voices. I looked, and it was a man, yelling at his child. (I think it was a boy.) He was generally berating him, for I don't know what, and called him stupid at least once. He yelled and yelledas he unloaded some luggage from his van (I believe it was an electric company van, but not a major one - probably a small repair company, and therefore his van). He said "fuck" a lot. I stood there, uncertain of whether to interfere. I wanted to tell him that if he tells a child he is stupid, he will believe it. I knew that if I said that, the man would tell me that his son WAS stupid.

I went upstairs and looked out the window that overlooks the front door. He was still yelling. Another man walked by, not blinking. Maybe he was hurting inside like me. I hope so, because if not then he was dead inside.

The man continued to yell at the boy and I walked to my apartment, trying not to cry. I don't know if I was - am - upset for the boy or for myself. If he had struck the child I wouldn't have hesitated to speak my mind. I would have had no hesitation in threatening him with the police, child protective service...anything. But what he was doing is WORSE, barring true (physical) child abuse. And I did NOTHING. I was afraid of him. Maybe because he was another race, but probably because he was so MEAN. And yet, I know that the child is worse off than me. I was able to just walk away to my home. I may never see that man again.

PLEASE don't tell me that it was all right not to speak to him. Barring physical danger, which I doubt I would have been in, it was NOT OKAY. I should have done something, even if it was just writing down his license plate, or making sure that he saw me watching him.

Someone thinks I am cool! Just wait till he meets me...

The other day will had lunch with some Agent. I am capitalizing that because I forget his name, and wouldn't print it if I remembered. They were talking about horror movies (I think/presume) and Agent asked Will if he'd been to ComicCon. Will said no, he'd never really been interested in being surrounded by People Like Him, but that we'd probably go this year because I wanted to. Agent was terribly impressed, and later suggested that the three of us go out for drinks sometime.

HA! I fooled him without even being there! People tend to assume that I am a geek, because I can hold up my end of a geeky conversation, but really? I just like being around geeks. I've read, like, four comic books ever (I don't mean individual comics - some of them were series of which I read more than one book). I pretty much only watch obscure movies that Will wants to watch, and sometimes (usually) I let him watch them without me. Until my recent history obsession (or re-obsession, I should say), I only read fiction and none of it was the science variety. I can't do anything with a computer. No, really! Not ANYTHING. It's a miracle I can type.

I am such a fake. It's brilliant.

I'm just going to steal all of my entries from now on.

Stolen (including preamble) from the P@, who stole it from someone else. Ahhh, the internet.

The list is from IMDB, and while I'm sure most of us have an opinion on the rankings (or the order of them), the point of this entry is to bold out the movies that you've seen. HTML ahoy!!


1 Godfather, The (1972)
2 Shawshank Redemption, The (1994)
3 Godfather: Part II, The (1974)
4 Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, The (2003)
5 Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, The (2002)
6 Casablanca (1942)
7 Schindler�s List (1993)
8 Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, The (2001)
9 Shichinin no samurai (1954)
10 Star Wars (1977)
11 Citizen Kane (1941)
12 One Flew Over the Cuckoo�s Nest (1975)
13 Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
14 Rear Window (1954)
15 Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
16 Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
17 Memento (2000)
18 Usual Suspects, The (1995)
19 Pulp Fiction (1994)
20 North by Northwest (1959)
21 12 Angry Men (1957)
22 Amelie (2001)
23 Psycho (1960)
24 Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
25 Buono, il brutto, il cattivo, Il (1966)
26 Silence of the Lambs, The (1991)
27 It�s a Wonderful Life (1946)
28 Goodfellas (1990)
29 American Beauty (1999)
30 Vertigo (1958)
31 Sunset Blvd. (1950)
32 Matrix, The (1999)
33 Pianist, The (2002)
34 Apocalypse Now (1979)
35 To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
36 Some Like It Hot (1959)
37 Taxi Driver (1976)
38 C�era una volta il West (1968)
39 Third Man, The (1949)
40 Paths of Glory (1957)
41 Fight Club (1999)
42 Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (2001) (Spirited Away)
43 Boot, Das (1981)
44 L.A. Confidential
45 Double Indemnity (1944)
46 Chinatown (1974)
47 Singin� in the Rain (1952)
48 Maltese Falcon, The (1941)
49 Requiem for a Dream (2000)
50 M (1931)
51 Bridge on the River Kwai, The (1957)
52 All About Eve (1950)
53 Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
54 Se7en (1995)
55 Saving Private Ryan (1998)
56 Raging Bull (1980)
57 Cidade de Deus (2002)
58 Wizard of Oz, The (1939)
59 Rash�mon (1950)
60 Sting, The (1973)
61 Alien (1979)
62 American History X (1998)
63 Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
64 L�on (1994)
65 Vita � bella, La (1997)
66 Touch of Evil (1958)
67 Manchurian Candidate, The (1962)
68 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
69 Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The (1948)
70 Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
71 Great Escape, The (1963)
72 Reservoir Dogs (1992)
73 Clockwork Orange, A (1971)
74 Amadeus (1984)
75 Modern Times (1936)
76 Annie Hall (1977)
77 Jaws (1975)
78 Ran (1985)
79 On the Waterfront (1954)
80 Braveheart (1995)*
81 High Noon (1952)
82 Apartment, The (1960)
83 Fargo (1996)
84 Sixth Sense, The (1999)
85 Aliens (1986)
86 Shining, The (1980)
87 Strangers on a Train (1951)
88 Blade Runner (1982)
89 Metropolis (1927)
90 Duck Soup (1933)**
91 Finding Nemo (2003)
92 Donnie Darko (2001)
93 General, The (1927)
94 Toy Story 2 (1999)
95 Princess Bride, The (1987)
96 City Lights (1931)
97 Great Dictator, The (1940)
98 Lola rennt (1998)
99 Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003)
100 Notorious (1946)

*I am counting this even though I have only seen about 45 minutes of it. I fell asleep BOTH times I tried to watch it, because it was so. Fucking. Boring. I doubt I will ever try again.
**I can't honestly remember if I've seen this one, but I've seen about three Marx Brothers movies, and if you've seen three, you've seen them all.

I think that I ought to be allowed to count the movies I've got sitting by the television but haven't actually watched yet. However, because I am honest to a fault, I did not do so.

And finally, there is a chance that I have seen a few that I didn't mark. I blame my inability to read any language other than English, as well as my crappy memory.

Places I've been.

This is so neat! (Thanks to Cassy, whose Blurty I found it on.)


create your own visited states map
or write about it on the open travel guide

Some of these states I've lived in, others I've merely driven through. Most are something in-between.

Test.

Blogger is giving me super-annoying error messages left and right.

I've read everything there is on the internet, and now I know all that there is to know.

Well, there might be a few "books" that I should still read. (They still make books, don't they?) For example, I'm sure my collection is missing a Calvin & Hobbes or two. Also, I started reading 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea when I was 13 and still haven't finished. Then again, I don't believe anyone has ever finished that book. (You know what would be great? They should stop making books, so that I can catch up.)

In other news, I watched some crap TV this morning, and I think half of my brain died. This is unfortunate.

I am supposed to roast a chicken this afternoon. That should be fun. ((Damn this text-based communications medium. Imagine that I said that very dryly, as though I were being sarcastic, but with a twinkle in my eye to let you know that I was, in fact, completely serious. I love roasting chickens, I just hate doing things.)

You may have noticed (probably to your relief) that I haven't mentioned much wedding-related stuff lately. This is because Will and I have been total slackers, and haven't done any preparation in weeks. We've agreed to sit down tonight and make a list of everything that needs to be done, as well as a preliminary schedule for doing it. That should be fun. (This time the sarcasm is a little bit more genuine. It isn't that I don't want to plan the wedding, it's that I worry that I will get myself worked up over it and become Evil.)

In movie news, the Golden Globes were handed out on Sunday and today the Academy Award and Rasberry Award nominees were announced. Incidentally, today is also the New Hampshire Primary election. Guess which of the three got the most news coverage in Los Angeles this morning. No, go on - guess. I am mildly disappointed on the Oscar front that Return of the King wasn't nominated for any acting awards, though frankly they'd have had to fill up the entire Supporting Actor category. (Only Miranda Otto qualifies for Supporting Actress in my book. This is not a dig at Liv Tyler, who was wonderful; she merely didn't have enough to do to compete with Miranda.)

And speaking of Liv Tyler, here is your Annika quote of the day (technically from last night): "Don't cry, Liv! When you cry, I cry...and this movie is SHIT!"

HTML is not my bitch.

I am having a hissy-fit. The hissy-fit itself is unrelated to my HTML woes (it's over the fact that my sister won't give me her stuff), but I'm pretty upset about my lack of skills in the coding department.

Also, I just finished several loads of laundry, and they are totally refusing to put themselves away.

PLUS, I'm out of light bulbs. The lamp by my computer keeps having...issues...and I've broken something like three light bulbs in the last two months.

But anyway. I made several attempts at writing the new code for my blog template, and I couldn't get it anywhere close to right. Chances are it would go better if I started from scratch, but I am just not that good. I know that what I want to do is fairly simple, but I can't seem to get my head around it.

And the worst part? Internet Explorer has decided not to let me view source this week.

Sometimes the Best Laid Plans get trumped by a Better Plan.

Today, Will and I were planning to go have a good cry-fest at the ArcLight. By this I mean, of course, that we were going to (finally) go see Return of the King again.

We woke up and had coffee and did the usual morning stuff (looked up strategies for Vice City, took showers, read Calvin & Hobbes), and then discussed The Plan.

We have decided to first head to Best Buy, because Will has a $250 gift card from his boss for his birthday. After that, we will decide between the 4:00 showing of ROTK and going home. If we choose to go home, we still have the option of the 8:30 movie (which is likely to have fewer children in the audience) or staying home, watching SpyBaby, and going to the movies one night this week.

I like flexible planning.

This just in! PBS is on crack.

In order to own the DVD (Digitally Restored!) of Anne of Green Gables, I would have to fork over $40. I'm sure that does not include shipping.

Now, I love this movie like I love butter, and would gladly pay just about any amount if I had it. But honestly - it is only one of the movies, and to get the whole series I would only have to pay $100-200 on pledge day...if I could catch them on a pledge day when they were featuring Anne. And while I suspect that money paid to ShopPBS goes toward the support of PBS series, I don't know.

Also, I am very disappointed in the complete lack of available items featuring Mister Rogers. I knew I should have contributed last weekend when they were giving away the documentary. It's no Mister Rogers' Opera, but nothing really is.

Maybe I ought to continue to limit my purchases to the Frontline series.

Now is the time on Soundtrack when we dance.

The Dirty Glass Song

Dropkick Murphys lyrics - The Dirty Glass song text

I swear to god, Dropkick Murphys has undergone more genre changes than any band ever.

My friend Tim (who might spell his name Tem) came over tonight. We've been friends since I was 14, though we lost touch for a while. Now he's married and has babies and stuff and his job brings him to LA a few times a year.

We had a splendid time, but that isn't why I am writing. I dropped him off a little while ago, and on the way home I switched to the radio. I heard the Best Song Ever, something like the Pogues. I became as obsessed as one can become with a song that ends as you pull into your garage, when your DSL connection and google searching skills are only three floors away.

To my surprise, it was Dropkick Murphys. I have yet to recognise a song of theirs, because every single one I've ever heard sounds like a different band. (And I've been hearing their songs for years.)

I think I am going to have to buy the album that this song is on. It is just that good. And I never buy music anymore.

Cleaning house.

Not so much in the sense of making the dirt go away - more a matter of making the stuff go away.

I went through the closet and pulled out everything that I am never going to wear again. This is problematic for me, because I used to read Sassy religiously and I still remember an article with Chloe Sevigny, back before she started sucking cock in movies, who said that she never threw any clothing away because it gave her more to work with for those funky, funk outfits she was always wearing. I think I've come to my senses, though, and realized that I am never going to wear funky, funky outfits like hers. In fact, it will be a miracle if I ever wear anything but sweatpants.

During this process I realized something vital: I am so over velvet. Most of the stuff I'm getting rid of is near-identical velvet items that have been worn once, if that. I am also, sadly, getting rid of my favorite dress (which I wore on the second day of college), because my boobs will never again fit into it. I just don't know when they got so big. (OK, I know exactly when, but that is beside the point.)

In conclusion, you guys are just not keeping up with the commenting as quickly as I'd like. So I'm going to do a brief roll call - if you're reading this, please leave a comment.

The poetry thing.

Much as I may try to repress it, I know that I went through a poetry phase at about age 15. Well, it seems that I also went through one at 18. I just found a notebook full of angsty love poems written in the Gateway Diner. What is really hilarious about this is not how bad the poems are (wretched), but the fact that I have no idea who they're about. None! I think that is so fucking funny.

HAPPY MONKEY!

That is to say, Happy Year of the Monkey.

I have until February 17th to re-register as a Democrat (or not), so keep those opinions coming in. I am seriously not going to make this decision myself, so for once, your vote counts.

I don't understand why last night's Angel disappointed so many people. I admit that the writing was not top-notch (as I understand it, the writer was a former stunt guy), and that ME has the potential to take the latest developments down the Path of Sucky Plot Lines (aka The Left-Hand Path™), but I really, really enjoyed the episode. And I am always right.

Anyway, Will and I got a shout-out. Don't ask what it was, I already forget. I really ought to tape the damn show, but we only recently started getting decent reception. I think the PlayStation2 is to blame.

I think we are finally picking up our Deadlands game on Saturday. This should be interesting. I created my character with the intention of having Will kill him off. I didn't care a fig for the boy. However, due to some strange twist of fate, I played him ridiculously well and everyone (myself included) has fallen madly in love with him. I managed to retain mad gamer credit by not spending points to negate the damage done last game session when he was shot in the stomach with a Buffalo gun (I spent one chip to ensure that he would not die on his horse, because he is loyal to the trail boss), which is fine and he might live, but now I have to create another character. Boo. I think I'll go through one of our several old west books and just steal somebody.

Apropos (of nothing)*, I am really procrastinating on that template change. I know what I want it to look like, but I haven't looked up any of the html, because I suck. What's really sad is the fact that the changes ought to be pretty simple. The most complicated part (as far as I can tell) will be deciding whether to make a graphic for the title or just leave it as-is. (Except, y'know, I might change it again. I've got a theme going.)

Last night Will and I had a discussion about finances and housework. I have a list of Things We Need To Do, which Will is already breezing through. Guess how much I've done. Go on, guess. I SUCK.


*According to my dictionary, it is correct to use the word "apropos" by itself here; however, "apropos of nothing" sounds neat-o. Are both correct? Just one? Neither?

Should I change my political affiliation?

Well, it wouldn't so much be a change, more like a brand new thing. I've been registered undeclared forever, but the Democratic primaries are coming up (March 2nd in California). I don't consider myself a Democrat, but I am certainly leaning about as far left of the Bush Administration as is possible without falling over. On the one hand, I almost feel that "Anyone but Bush" would be an improvement. On the other hand, I feel that I ought to go ahead and vote in the Primary, since I've been looking into the candidates and all. On yet another hand, I don't want to get mail from the Dems, which would most likely happen on a regular basis if I affiliated myself with them.

I don't feel like making a decision. Tell me what to do!

Viva Netflix!

CHUD - Cinematic Happenings Under Development

I'm a happy little puppy. I never did get to see Freaks and Geeks or Invader ZIM, and now I can. Well, soon I can. Well, whenever we get through the 120 DVDs that are already on our queue. Which will happen whenever we watch the three that have been sitting on our television stand since 1983.

Now I'm depressed again.

In other news, I get a letter today from the Christian Science Monitor, offering me 45 free issues. I would kill myself before I would read 45 issues of any publication by those fucking hypocrites. (Yes, I have issues.)

In other, shocking news, today God saw fit to show Matty some of the love.

Oh, and the President gave some speech. I watched most of it, and now I am repressing.

Select all. SELECT ALL!

Grrrrrr.

This entry was brought to you by self-indulgence and annoyance.

Valentine's Day 2004

Valentine's Day 2004

This is what, according to MSN, women want for Valentine's Day. The list includes roses and candy (predictable), 'heart' jewelry (also predictable), underwear, some Burberry perfume thingy, and a COACH leather handbag.

OK, I wouldn't mind the handbag.

This Valentine's Day weekend will also be Will and my sixth anniversary, and the last time that we can celebrate that particular anniversary (apparently you can't have two, and we'll probably go with the 'norm' and celebrate our wedding anniversary, even though at our one-year anniversary we'll have been together eight). We're planning to go eat sushi. I don't expect a gift. Is there something wrong with me?

Won't somebody think of the cowboys?

I am so fucking sore. Since my last entry, I have taken two very hot baths full of epsom salts and nice-smelling bubble bath, and several hundred (let's be honest here - thousand) milligrams of ibuprofin. I have a heating pad on my back and am moving as little as possible (with the exception of stretching my legs as often as I can stand it).

I just don't know how the cowboys survived without these modern(ish) comforts. John has suggested whiskey, which seems quite plausible.

This week on Alias: Annika fails to recognize Griffin Dunne.

As predicted, I will not be recaplet-ing Alias as I did last week. This substitution will have to do.

[spoilers for tonight's episode]

W: Is it worth pointing out that passenger jets can't outmaneuver heat-seeking missiles?
A: Honey, I pointed out so many mistakes and inconsistancies in the last two minutes that it's practically irrelevant.

W: So, do you think it's really Lauren, or is it one of those thingies like Francie?
A: I dunno.
W: You mean you don't care?
A: Yup.

A: Sydney's in trouble, so he instant messages his ex-wife?
W: Yeah, 'cause that's not interceptable.
A&W: [rolleyes]

W: Not Uncle Arvin!!

A: How did we live without Alias to make fun of before?
W: We've always made fun of shows.
A: Not like Alias.
W: I think it's because we didn't love it before. Like, with Buffy, we were bitterly funny when we started making fun of it, but we were bitter.

A: That's not a very good dressing if it's still bleeding.
W: Sydney didn't go to the Sarah Connor school of field dressings.

A: Poor Vaughn doesn't have any sunglasses.

A: What just happened?
W: Either he has ceremonial chopsticks or he eats his food with knitting needles.

A: Sark is a dirty, dirty liar.
W: I like him.

A: Zurich's pretty. How did he get there so fast?
W: What I want to know is why a North Korean officer would have a western-made firearm. They get their weapons from China, and that was a Baretta.
A: Maybe he bought the Baretta on the same Black Market that sold the plane that got Jack to Zurich so fast.
W: And the one that dodged the heat-seeking missiles.

(Sex, Lies and Videotape joke on ad for The Practice)
A: That commercial made my brain sad.

A: Ahh, the obligatory "shove the prisoner." You know, they usually don't do that unless you refuse to walk in the direction they want you to walk.
...I mean, in my limited experience being held prisoner by the North Korean government.

A: I just love a man who says "Thank you" after you punch him in the nose.
W: I could be that man for you!

W: That was...weird.
A: Gay. The word you're looking for is gay.

W: Meanwhile, Griffin Dunne looks shocked to be in an actual Hollywood agency.

W: I have to say, Isabella Rossalini kissing him got one of the least wooden performances out of Victor Garber ever.
A: You mean there was no wood?
W: I'm just saying, even though she's old enough to be my mother...that was really good, honey...that is one hot woman.

[/spoiler]
I hope you enjoyed that, even if you didn't understand any of it.

In conclusion, we want more Pudgy Spy!

First, a very sad story.

We waited for six hours and didn't get an encore. (That sentence sums up the story and gives away the sad, sad ending. I want my readers to be prepared for the ultimate sadness.)

On Thursday night I was on the computer and Will was downstairs, doing something else (presumably playing Vice City). I started shrieking and probably scared Will half to death. The reason for my excitement and temporary inability to speak was that I had checked Jesse Dayton's website for tour dates, hoping to see if he'd be back in LA soon, and found a Road Kings show listed in Anaheim for Saturday night. The Road Kings are his rock 'n' roll band, who have not played together (except possibly in Texas) for a few years. They are the way that we discovered his music, and put on the best live show ever.

Now, you all probably know that Will and I don't leave the house much if we don't have to. But at 7:00 last night we were in the car, headed to Anaheim. The website said that the doors opened at 7:00 and there were several bands, but it did not say when the music began or what order the bands would be in, so I was rather tense when we encountered heavy traffic on the 5. It took us nearly an hour and a half to drive the 27 miles, which is sadly quite normal around here. We paid our $10 each and went inside the aptly-named "Doll Hut." It might as well be called the Doll Shack, but I loved it. They pretty much only served beer, so I didn't drink much, but that's OK. They allowed smoking inside despite state law prohibiting it, which was very weird and uncomfortable at first. Then it was just happy-making.

Anyway, the music hadn't yet started when we arrived, and in fact did not start until about 9:30. The first band, Skeeter Truck, was great. They played for about half an hour, and then there was a wait of about another half hour for the second band, whose name I didn't catch. I am referring to them as The British Invasion, because the lead singer was British and they annoyed me by playing for an hour and a half. Don't get me wrong - they were very good. But there is only so much psychobilly that one can take, especially when crammed into a teensy space. The third performer was called Lee Rocker, or Johnny Rocker, or something. He was also excellent, and did a lot of Hank Williams covers and the like. He finished playing just before one in the morning.

The Road Kings finally took the stage at about 1:15, and they were FUCKING AWESOME. They played the one song that I'd decided I couldn't live without hearing, and a few others that I like almost as much as "Gunslinger." The stage was too teensy for Jason to do most of his tricks with his double bass (he does wheelies and stands on it and stuff), but he was still rocking out.

At five of two they left the stage. Everyone yelled and clapped and called for an encore. And we waited. And waited. And then the "DJ" music came on and some guys who I didn't care about it started setting up on stage for an "All-Star Jam." I "booed" very loudly and we left.

Of course the 40 or so minutes that we got were just terrific, but I am so disappointed at the same time.

And that was my sad story.

I was going to tell another story, but it is almost time for Alias. I am going to try to pay enough attention to be able to comply with P@'s request for a recaplet every week, but I am not sure it will happen. In addition to being out until 2:30 this morning and sleeping fitfully (due to a sore back, neck, and hip), we went horseback riding today. It was excellent, but I am SO stiff right now, and feel as though I could sleep for a week. I guess that will have to do for a second story: I rode on a horsie. It was nice.

a sixpence in my shoe?

Turns out that the whole saying is �Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, with a sixpence in your shoe."

I found this out at the most evil site on the entire internet, which for some reason I am still using. The "sixpence in your shoe" part was a link, which I followed, thinking perhaps it would explain the traditions (I know I've seen explanations before, I just can't remember where the sixpence thing comes from).

That was not to be. Oh, no. It was a page where I could buy a Lucky Sixpence. The price? $10.35 for ONE. I'm sorry, but isn't a sixpence worth, like, six pennies, British? Which is what - ten cents?

So tell me, dear British readers: do they still issue sixpence? Because if they do, I am willing to bet that it would cost a lot less than $10.95 to mail one to me.

Of course, there is also the issue of walking around with a freakin' coin in my shoe. But it sounds so romantic that I am willing to try.

testing.

I just love Margaret Cho.

"I asked God about it, and He just laughed. Laughed for a long time, until He started coughing. God and I have some good shit going on. I have a church in my house and I go up and talk to Him everyday. We get our groove on. He is telling me everything is going to be alright. He told me to remember that my name is ancient. "Margaret" is a Roman name, which means 'pearl.' "Pearls before swine!" He said, and then laughed so hard that milk came out of His nose. (We were kicking it with some Strawberry Quik.) God love to laugh at His own jokes, but they are truly divine."

She writes this in response to...oh, no, it's too good, just go read Margaret's blog.

The internet is full of strange and interesting crap.

MSNBC - Statement adds twist to Billy the Kid saga

My apologies for the number of updates lately, especially considering the limited audience I'm sure some of my recent ones have interested, but this is too good to not blog about.

"ALBUQUERQUE, N.M. - Legend has it that Billy the Kid was gunned down by a sheriff in 1881. But was he?

Homer Overton will tell you that the dead man was an unwitting impostor, a drunk shot point-blank in the face by two unlikely chums � the lawman and the legendary gunfighter himself.

Overton learned this some 63 years ago, at age 9, from the widow of the sheriff, Pat Garrett."

The reason for this article is pretty damn fascinating. Click the link!

Suddenly I feel the urge to watch Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid again.

Holy Horse-love, Batman!

Hidalgo

The above link will take you to the trailer for Hidalgo, a new movie starring Viggo Mortenson. It is, unfortunately, "based on a true story," but if we overlook that, it looks like a good bit of entertainment.

Now, anyone who has seen the extended version of The Two Towers knows that Aragorn's one true love is in fact not Arwen at all, but Brego the horse. After watching this trailer, I am beginning to suspect that this particular foible of Aragorn's was not from the book at all but a characteristic brought in by the actor.

Watch the trailer. You'll see. Viggo + Horsie 4EVA. I'm off to do a google search for NAMHLA.

I didn't watch Angel tonight.

We went to a dinner party instead. And you know what? I don't care. I played with a baby and ate good food and met good people. Angel? What's that?

I need pants!

How did it get to be this late? I have to put on pants and a shirt that isn't Will-sized and be ready to leave soon!

I blame you. Yes, you.

And to think I'd been using OnThe Issues.org!

Xia linked to this handy page featuring extremely important information about the Democratic candidates. Everything I needed to know!

This just in!

The entire cast of Firefly (with the possible exception of Jewel Stait) are GIANTS.

At the party last night following the premiere of Along Came Polly, Will and I noticed Summer Glau (River on Firefly). She towers over me at approximately 6'8 (+/- 1') and is drop-dead gorgeous. She did, however, look terribly uncomfortable until her date brought her a glass of wine. I'm sure the discomfort had nothing to do with me staring at her while shoveling free food down my throat. Nothing at all.

The other big news of the evening is that we got to walk down the red carpet. If you see any photos of Alec Baldwin from last night, look closely - we were behind him for a minute or two. I was shocked - SHOCKED! - to see that his hair is considerably less greasy than I had been led to believe.

OH! And we were in the elevator with Stephen Root. Will didn't notice, but I was all giggly. "Detention! Detention, detention, detention." And people say the Buffy movie sucked.

The movie (I'm back to Polly now) itself was fun. Nothing spectacular or ground-breaking, but certainly more original than most of the crap that gets foisted off on us regularly in the "romantic-comedy" category.

The party was saved from being totally lame (there were eight billion people there) by a fantastic salsa band. Even Will wanted to dance. We didn't, but that's beside the point. We left early and went home, where we came up with a genius pitch for a horror movie based on the Ladies' bathroom at the Chinese. I can't say anything further - you're all criminals and will steal my brilliant idea.

Challenge

Someone challenged me: write eight "e" thingies regarding the subject me likey. Me unsure me likey.

If life were fair, TWOP would post recaplets instantly.

I guess I'll have to do it myself.

[spoiler for tonight's Alias]
Sydney gets kidnapped by...Kendall, who unfortunately isn't evil. He does, however, know where she was. He didn't tell her because she asked him not to. In your face, Big Lips! The covenant never brainwashed Syd, because when she was a kid Daddy!Spy used something called Project Christmas (*puke*) to brainwash her against brainwashing (yes, my head hurts too), so she faked it. She worked with Lazarama to find the zzzzzzzzzz...Oh, sorry, the Rimbaldi Box, but the hiding place (five hundred years old, with modern key-locks) was booby-trapped and the producers of Alias missed out on a great opportunity for a Lara Croft outfit. Seriously, half the episode was in flashback, and one ONE wig? Lame. Where was I? Right, Syd chopped off LazaNobodyLovesRaymond's hand to save his life, and they escaped with the Box, which she was supposed to deliver to Kendall. Instead, she sent him a CD of Elton John's Greatest Hits, and a videotaped message explaining that the Covenent always steals everything so she is hiding the box and having her memories removed and don't tell her anything. Syd and Kendall figure out that, because she is The Chosen One (note to producers of Alias: Was Sarah Michelle Gellar not available?), the Covenant plans to mix HER EGGS (Syd figures out what her scar is from months after the rest of us, and somehow manages to look shocked) with RIMBALDI's DNA! They're going to create a MUTANT GENETIC BABY! At the Oops Center, the team gears up for what should clearly be a SEAL mission. Dixon tells Syd that he knew everything too, and was under order not to tell her. Then he tells her he loves her, and everything is OK, because Tiny Syd cannot handle more than one emotion at a time. The team parachutes out of a plane somewhere over South Park, Colorado, or wherever it is that they make the MUTANT GENETIC BABIES, and they proceed to kill everyone but Sark. Dixon tells Syd that they are supposed to bring back all of the DNA as evidence, then turns his back so that she can torch the place. They find Lazaray (I don't know how the normal recapper comes up with all those names for him), Not Dead. Sark, speeding away in his car, calls someone and tells them that "They've got [my] father; take care of it." In the ambulance, Lazaray tries to tell Sydney something Very Important, but he doesn't make any sense. As they are wheeling him into the hospital, a sniper kills him dead, dead, dead. And the sniper is...Lauren. A hundred thousand Vaughn/Sydney shippers sigh in relief, "I knew she was evil." The end.
[end spoiler]

Domestic Goddess 101

This weekend in the Culinary Adventures of Annika and Will:

Meal #1

• Roast pork loin with Barbeque sauce
  
• Baked beans
  
• Vegetable casserole
  
• Corn bread

Meal #2

• Fried chicken
  
• Chicken soup with dumplings
  
• Apple pie

The first meal was shared with our friend Ted, who is never in town long enough. The second one was just for Will (except for the pie), for his birthday. I had to massacre a whole chicken (it is indeed possible to hold a massacre with only one victim, already dead, if it is me holding the knife).

We pigged out on leftovers for the other mealtimes.

Well, this site seems to think I'm a democrat.

For the record, I have been registered Undeclared since I turned 18. I do not wish to be affiliated with either party at the moment.

Anyway, here are my results. I chose "Not sure/prefer different solution" on several questions, which may explain why I didn't have a closer match. Then again, given what I know about Dean, that's probably what we have in common. (Side bar: I like him.)

1. Your ideal theoretical candidate. (100%)
2. Dean, Gov. Howard, VT - Democrat (76%)
3. Clark, Retired General Wesley K., AR - Democrat (70%)
4. Kucinich, Rep. Dennis, OH - Democrat (66%)
5. Sharpton, Reverend Al - Democrat (66%)
6. Moseley-Braun, Former Senator Carol, IL - Democrat (65%)
7. Edwards, Senator John, NC - Democrat (57%)
8. Kerry, Senator John, MA - Democrat (53%)
9. Libertarian Candidate (50%)
10. Gephardt, Rep. Dick, MO - Democrat (42%)
11. Lieberman, Senator Joe, CT - Democrat (32%)
12. Bush, President George W. - Republican (27%)
13. Phillips, Howard - Constitution (18%)

Too much information.

Will is listening to Bad Religion and lifting weights. I am so hot and bothered right now.

It doesn't count as sugar!

Right, so I'm doing this whole "no sugar at night" thing, and I'm eating banana bread with molasses.

I figure the sugar in the banana bread baked off, like alcohol does, and the molasses doesn't count because...um, because. Besides, I only stopped eating sugar because it made me crave bread and salt, and I was already eating bread.

Incidentally, mere days after I made this decision, Val on What I Like About You tried to give up sugar. I told you! They're listening to me...

"IT'S DIE HARD IN A WHEELCHAIR"

CHUD - Cinematic Happenings Under Development: "'IT'S DIE HARD IN A WHEELCHAIR'"

*Yawn*

I am so bored of studio execs following me around. Seriously - every time I have a hilarious or clever idea for a movie, it is announced within weeks.

OK, so I didn't exactly come up with "Die Hard In A Wheelchair," but neither did Fox. That was Nick Nunziata's spin on the franchise. I did, however, spend about an hour last week recommending Die Hard spin-offs to Will. I think my best was Die Hard In A Grocery Store. OK, so I'm pretty sure that was the only one I came up with, but I spend about an hour pitching it. (By "pitching it," I mean laughing hysterically at myself and asking Will, "Aren't I funny?")

It's Thursday?

How the hell did that happen? Last time I checked it was Tuesday - does that mean that I missed yesterday? I couldn't have! I blogged!

Where is my mind?

On Monday, it is Will's birthday. In addition to this, he is taking me to a Hollywood premiere - though we may be shuffled into the unglamorous secondary theater. I'm not sure if I am more bothered by the fact that the main theater (The Chinese) is prettier or the fact that it is less likely that anyone will mistake me for a celebrity there (in the run-off theater). I want to be Cosmo Brown in the beginning of Singin' In The Rain! Of course, Ben and Jennifer (not that Ben and Jennifer!) are no Don Lockwood and Lina Lamont.

Don't I look like a dog person?

I guess not. I mean, I'm little, and a girl.

I was walking home this morning from cashing my check and buying milk, and there was a man on my corner with a beautiful, beautiful dog. I stepped aside a little when I stepped up onto the curb, because I didn't want to invade the pretty dog's space, but I guess the human thought I was avoiding her, because he said "She's all right," presumably meaning that she wouldn't bite me. Of course she wouldn't bite me! She was totally calm, just enjoying the sunshine. Still, I guess it was nice of him to assuage my nonexistent fear. I mean, supposing I was terrified of dogs! Of course, then his reassurances would probably not have helped. Anyway, I said, "No, she's beautiful," and asked what breed she is. I am terrible with breeds, even purebreeds. She was a Rottweiler-Beagle mix, which I really can't imagine except that I saw it with my own eyes.

I don't really understand why people are so terrified of Rottweilers. I've known a few, and they were the nicest dogs I have ever met. Ditto Pit Bulls. In fact, my favorite Rottweiler was about twice as big as me (seriously, he was enormous) and was the most mellow, friendly dog on earth. I think his name was Randy. His owner is the only person I've ever known who was murdered.

Anyway.

I have a pressing problem. I am up to Fool For Love on my Buffy season 5 DVDs, and I don't feel like watching it. I have had enough Spike. But I don't want to skip! I've gone totally in order so far!

NO MORE SUGAR!

I had some fudge a little while ago and am suddenly starving. I had a good dinner and was totally full, just wanted a nummy treat (hence the fudge).

Sugar SUCKS! It totally fucked me up and now I am eating pretzels. In the grand scheme of things, a few pretzels isn't so bad, but I should probably stop eating sugar (at least after meals) if this is what is going to happen to me.

I'm also mildly hyper, but that's mostly manifesting itself in super-fast typing, which I won't complain about.

What is wrong with me?

Everybody knows that John is one of my best friends in the entire universe and that, short of breaking off my engagement so that he could turn Will gay, I'd do anything for him. Right? Good. So today he called me and over the course of the conversation I became convinced that he needs to go into film archiving (something that he's shown some interest in - I didn't come totally out of left field here) and looked at the USC and UCLA websites to see if they offered related graduate degrees. I was looking for something along the lines of film history, because he is already an amateur film historian, and I found this (click on mias). It is more perfect than anything I could have dreamed of. AND it would mean that he'd stop thinking about moving to LA and actually move to LA (assuming that he was accepted to the program, but he's brilliant and they will fall over themselves to admit him).

This is not the problem. Obviously, I am thrilled that I found this and I hope it really is what he wants.

The problem is this: I can talk to any of my friends about their interests and find ways to help them get to where they want to be. I am the go-to girl for advice in certain circles. But when it comes to myself, I am absolutely stuck. It isn't that I don't know what I want to do, it's that there are too many things that I am passionate about and I simply cannot narrow it down. I become overwhelmed and wind up just doing nothing. And frankly, I need to break out of this obscene level of laziness. The only thing I accomplished today was surprising Will with a nice dinner (and dropping off the rent check, which hardly counts as it was due on Thursday). The fact that I am content to just make dinner for my sweetheart helps, but I might not always be happy this way. I am afraid that I will turn around one day and discover that I have a nice home and a wonderful family and nothing else. And part of me only wants that, but part of me doesn't want to wake up in 20 years and realize that I never followed any of my other dreams. I have no regrets and I don't want to set myself up for any down the road, no matter how unlikely it might seem now.

My time is so poorly managed that I was actually thinking today that I ought to go find a full-time job so that at least my days would not be wasted. I honestly think I might be able to do more of the stuff I want to do if I had less time. And that, dear reader, is just sad. It goes against everything that should be true. And yet, there it is. When I worked at USA Today, a small part of me died every morning, but my apartment stayed clean and I occasionally got some writing done. I went out on a regular basis and had fun. Of course, I was also a functioning alcoholic who hated her life so much that she dated a man she didn't even like, but that's sort of beside the point because he was really quite easy on the eyes. Actually, I take that back - it is exactly the point! I am happy and stable now, and I am accomplishing less. I've become complacent.

Plus, my calves are still sore. I need my sister to come visit and force me to learn good stretching methods. Orbitz says it'll cost about $300. I'd better work on getting that job.

Owwwww.

My calves are very sore.

On Friday we hiked through The Devil's Punchbowl, a strange formation of rocks in the Angeles National Forest. There are pictures of it from last year in my Yahoo photo album, but I forgot to bring our camera this time. Wanda took some photos, though, so maybe I will eventually have copies.

Saturday was a day of (physical) rest, as we played Deadlands and then had dinner with Jenn's sister Morena and assorted friends. Sunday we drove to Malibu and went to the beach. Our preferred beach is accessed by a long set of stairs. I didn't go in the water (it was cold, damn it), but Will did, and Wanda too (she's crazy - she went in the water), and Shelby built a sandcastle. We also saw dolphins.

I did some leg lifts this morning but had to stop rather quickly as I couldn't breath. I think I'll just go up and down the stairs a few times later, and maybe walk around the block. If I keep exercising my legs, they'll get stronger and stop hurting, right?

As we all ought to know, I don't make resolutions. However, on January 1st I did keep a promise I'd made. I've had my bellybutton pierced for seven and a half years. It never healed properly. The scar tissue around the piercing is pink-ish, and it gets infected at least once a year. The last time it got infected, in December, I made the same vow I do every time: As soon as it's healed, I am taking out the jewelry and allowing it to close up. For the first time, I followed through. I kind of miss having it there to play with, but I suspect that such behavior was contributing to the infections, so it is for the best. Next time I will pierce my snood instead.

In closing, a note to my stalkers: I will be working on a new and improved template over the next week or so. If there is anything you've always wanted to see here, please tell me now.

The saddest words.

"But you are my heir; all that I had and might have had I leave to you."

Will came to bed last night to find me in tears. I finished the story and cried in his arms. Today I am all right. After all, I have the appendices.

And now for something completely different.

Oh, man. GTA Vice City has great music and the voices are done by most of my boyfriends. Giving in on the PS2 was the best idea I ever had!

A snippet of conversation:

Annika: (hearing shrieks coming from the TV) Are you beating up a hooker?
Will: Um...yes. I know it's very bad of me, but I beat up a hooker to take her money.

Yup. Best game ever.

Creepy Internet People are the BEST!

Today as I was getting dressed UPS arrived with an Amazon box for me. It contained Christmas gifts for us from Jason (Thunderstrike). The lateness was no fault of his, though I would certainly not have minded late gifts for any reason. He sent The Anti-Bride Guide, a fun book on having an alternative wedding that actual fits your style instead of the norm, and Buffy season five.

Also today we went to the desert. I would like to write all about it, but I am so tired that I can barely remember my name. It is certain that part of my exhaustion is due to the hike we took through the Devil's Punchbowl. I am so out of shape that it's a miracle I made it. I think it was one mile. True story.

Two-thousand-Amy is shaping up very nicely. Now if only my guests would go away so I could watch Buffy vs. Dracula, or, as I like to call it and was its original name, Before Dawn.

I don't do resolutions.

I am also not certain why certain people seem to think that January 1 is included in a blogging every day in December challenge, but oh well. I was going to blog anyway.

So our power came back on this morning, and nothing in the refrigerator is destroyed, so 2004 (or two-thousand-Amy) is all right thus far. Of course, I will be writing the wrong date on checks for the next couple of months, which will be exceptionally annoying. I guess it could be worse. (He could be driving the bus.)

Will, Shelby and Wanda are out walking. I have chosen to usher in the new year by not taking off the clothes I slept in (which also happen to be the clothes I wore yesterday). I might take these clothes off later, but only because a bath sounds nice and I find that those are less gross if you are naked.

In other news, Rian got me high last night. She is no good. No good at all.

In conclusion, my fingernails are dirty and I am considering a fourth cappuccino.