Holy shit!

I'd like to thank the Academy for not being total wankers. For once.

Shiny!

We were driving around yesterday and I suggested we stop at the jewelry store where we bought my engagement ring to look at wedding bands. While we were there (we found gorgeous bands, by the way) they offered to clean up my ring. It's so sparkly!

I don't have anything intelligent to say, because I can't stop looking at my ring for more than five seconds. No wonder people like diamonds so much! I feel like such a girl.

Pat made a post asking if/why people hate ME (Mutant Enemy). I would like to make a reply, because I have many unflattering things to say about Joss Whedon, but I don't care enough about most of the people on the WD who would read it to feel bothered. Maybe I will answer it here, at some point.

It's funny. I still love the WD, but I rarely feel compelled to post there, particularly about the show. I love the people, but rarely feel the need to get to know anyone new. (Not necessarily meaning new to the board, but rather new to me.) Having this blog has given me the outlet I need for just about everything that I want to talk about.

I'm hungry. Bye.

Let's play "Guess That Job!"

I was looking through some job listings, and had gotten bored of the administrative listings, so I scooted over to "miscellaneous."

I found an, er, opportunity to make $5000 in just a few months. There were many requirements, including these:

Non-smoker, NO Drug users!

College student / College graduate

Given the nature of the job, The first line makes perfect sense. However, the college requirement is even more absurd than it is for most jobs. I can understand potential employers buying into the assumption that if you don't have a college education you can't file or answer the phone, even though it is clearly untrue. But for this? All that should be required is consent and good health.

Guessing games be damned. It's egg donation. So I suppose that being female would also be a reasonable requirement...

ALL NEW! Advertising Section. ALL NEW!

Every once in a while (read: just this once) I will be advertising another weblog. One possible reason for this is the fact that I do not have a list of links here, as many blogs tend to. Another is that someone asked me to pass off a few stalkers. You'll never know.

Today I present to you:

Low Oddyseys
Happy reading.

Best. Post. Ever.

And I thought the one I linked to yesterday was brilliant...

Dictionary.com is so silly!

Today's Word of the Day:

raffish \RAF-ish\, adjective:
1. Characterized by or suggestive of flashy vulgarity,
crudeness, or rowdiness; tawdry.
2. Marked by a carefree unconventionality or disreputableness;
rakish.

Where is 3. Like a look-look?

(I tried to email this to Jess, but it got bounced back to me. Which is strange, since I used her non-burninglibrary address.)

In Which Pooh-Bear and Piglet discover that they are more important than Andy Dick.

So. Will and I (er, I mean "Pooh and Piglet") were on the list for last night's star-studded premiere of Starsky and Hutch. Thing is, we both kinda wanted to see the movie, and I wanted to go to a premiere most desperately, but we went to Along Came Polly, which satisfied that itch. And Will's been having a lousy week. Totally overworked and just exhausted. So I told him yesterday morning that if he decided he didn't want to go, that was fine. It would save me the trouble of taking a shower. Besides, all of Hollywood is shut down the week before the Oscars, to prevent the planting of bombs or something, so the premiere was out near UCLA. Traffic between us and UCLA during rush hour on a weeknight is a nightmare. So once I convinced him that I wouldn't care, Will said he'd rather stay home. Then he dropped the bomb: If we dropped out, Andy Dick would get his ticket.

Will has worked for Mr. Stiller for about four years now. (If anyone who reads this was unaware of that, it's probably because it was a secret for a while, and once it became OK for the general public to know it, I couldn't remember who I'd told in confidence. Or possibly I just don't know you.) Andy Dick worked with Ben on The Ben Stiller Show, if not earlier. That's more than 12 years. Yet Will was ahead of him on the list. By me-logic, that means that I am more important than Andy Dick. Which really, I could have told you ages ago, but I could never have proved it until now.

Oh, just shut UP!

That isn't aimed at anyone in particular. I've just been feeling the urge to say it all day.

I promised substance for this update, which was a terrible mistake; I don't have anything to say.

I'm starting to get upset about Angel's cancellation, because Mutant Enemy has a lot of plot threads going and they're all good for once (the most recent one is still uncertain, but that's a given), and I don't know how they're going to resolve things to my satisfaction. And it is all about me.

Last night I made pizza. And it was good. I should make pizza every day.

I've been planning out my dream house, so that I can be prepared for crushing disappointment when we eventually go house shopping. The good news is that I figured out how we can afford to have one. The bad news is that now I have to find a full-time job. By my calculations, even if my take-home is only a grand a month, we can pay off debts within six months, take a little vacation, and have a down-payment within one to three years. We'll probably have to get a second car, which would set us back, but only by a month or so if we buy a clunker and plan to trade it in later. I'm also hoping for some cash gifts at the wedding, but not counting on it, as most of the people we know aren't exactly wealthy.

A WD discussion on Angel's cancellation has turned into a pitch fest for a reality series. I feel that my contributions were priceless and should be read by all.

As hinted on Saturday, the wedding issues pretty much resolved themselves. Will's parents were being very pushy about hosting a rehearsal dinner their way, and we objected. They pulled out, leaving it up to us to come up with an alternative (if we so choose). This is exactly what we wanted, but we're a little annoyed that they didn't let us tell them that. I plan to get my revenge* by going shopping with my sister. What kind of lingerie does one wear with a wedding dress, anyway?

Will and I are starting a Production Company at some indeterminate time in the future. Any possible financial backers are welcome.

San Francisco judges continue to rock my world.

Robert Rodriguez, normally a favorite of mine, is taking on the movie adaptation of Sin City, my favorite graphic novel of all time. I am really not thrilled with the idea. However, Frank Miller (the author) will be heavily involved, so there is some hope. And if nothing else, Batman will kick ass. I think I will die if it doesn't. (Blogger spellcheck wants to replace "Batman" with "Bateman." I loved The Hogan Family and all, but puh-leaze.)


*this is actually a non-sequitur.

My next entry will be of substance, I swear.

In the meantime, here is a little something for my fellow writers:

Will! Bring home some Popov!

adiamondisforever.com:

"Vodka on the Rocks
No one is sure how it was actually discovered, but it is safe to say that at some point someone took the idea of a 'vodka on the rocks' literally and discovered an imaginative way to clean their precious diamonds. Simply let the diamond soak in a glass of vodka. Preferably one you do not intend to imbibe."

Oh, DAMN IT!

Interview: Guillermo del Toro

Guillermo del Toro has broken my heart, though I am sure it isn't his fault. He will no longer be directing The Wind in the Willow, something that I was really looking forward to.

On the other hand, there are only five weeks and four days until Hellboy is released. Now that I have seen Dodgeball (even if it was only an early edit), this is my #1 most anticipated movie of the year. Hell, decade. Hell, ever.

Good interview. Go read.

I guess I don't have a finer understanding of war after all.

In a completely unexpected battle maneuver, Will's parents completely reversed their strategy, leaving us stranded with a lot of rage and no one to direct it at. Damn it. Maybe we could get a punching bag...

In other news, I remembered how to write. As in, actual, honest-to-goodness, I could get this published if I bothered writing. It is utterly terrifying and strangely arousing.

Bathroom reading.

Harmon Leon is basically a lightly less offensive version of seanbaby. Being slightly less offensive makes him slightly less funny, but since seanbaby has been known to make me lose bladder control, I can live with Harmon's funnier-than-most-funny-people brand of humor.

Max Brooks is Mel's son, but don't hold that against him. Remember, before Robin Hood: Men In Tights (which several idiots like me actually enjoyed) there was Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles, to name just two of Mel's masterpieces. Anyway, Max wrote a book that every household needs to have a copy of.

A Satirical Political Beliefs Assessment Test

According to this "quiz," I am a libertarian.

At least, it looks that way about a third of the way through. This question might sway me toward liberal, though:

"What is your vision for America?
LIBL: Clean air, clean water, clean energy, clean food, clean underwear, and dirty movies."

Uncanny physics of comic book superheroes

Suddenly I want to go back to school. Really, though, Minnesota is too far away. I wonder if the course is offered online.

It's raining, it's pouring.

In the north-east, this would be a light drizzle. Here in Los Angeles, however, it is a torrential downpour. I'm cold. I'm wet. I had the porch doors open so that I could air the place out, as has become my morning habit. The damn rain came through the screen (amazing!) and soaked the carpet, which I had to walk across to close the door. I did the only reasonable thing, which was to turn on the heat.

I had nightmares all night. This tension about the wedding is really making it difficult for me to function. I am very close to pushing Will into the car and driving to Vegas. This makes me angry because I don't want to change the plans we've already made. I like the plans we've made. The dreams were so upsetting that when I woke up and tried to call to Will, "monkey" came out "mommy."

My friend Saria and her boyfriend may be coming over for breakfast, but I haven't heard from them yet. I am trying to decide if I ought to just eat something on my own. I'm not actually hungry, but something tells me food would help.

I think I might just watch a lot of TV today. Of course, it's daytime and we don't have cable, so it is DVD or nothing. Thank god for season 5 of Buffy and season 2 of Angel. I'm not really in the mood for either, but then, I'm not really in the mood for anything. Maybe I will watch Aliens and scare myself silly. Maybe I will allow reason to win and watch something comforting and un-scary, like Paper Moon.

Maybe I will follow through on yesterday's threat and spend all day in the bathtub.

I am not a happy monkey.

To be fair, I'm not entirely unhappy either. Mostly just frustrated. There is a wedding-related issue that someone other than Will or I has decided to take control of, and while it may not be a big deal, I feel very ganged up on. So I did the logical (cry-baby) thing and called my father, because I knew that he would agree with me. Now it is just a matter of time and discussion to try to remind everyone else that this is not about them. Yes, I am selfish. Last time I checked, only Will and I had opinions that counted.

There. Just had to get that off my chest. I won't be giving any details, because for the time being it's a private matter. I just needed a brief rant, and felt the need to explain (albeit poorly) why I am so very grumpy.

Everything else about this weekend was wonderful. Will came home on Friday with his arms full of pressies. He gave me potted tulips, a box of chocolates, a bottle of champagne, an amazingly wonderful CD he made, and another potted flower that I keep forgetting the name of. It's really, really pretty. I made him a nice dinner, and we spent most of the evening sitting on the couch, staring at each other, most likely with goofy expressions on our faces. I think we were entitled. Six years. Gee whiz, that's a long time.

On Saturday we went out for lunch. We ate at an Indian restaurant, then went into Hollywood and stopped off at the Origins store. I'd only intended to purchase their salt butter bath stuff, but was suckered into some really terrific face products. They sell some other things, including an amazing body moisturizer, that I am just dying to go back for, but apparently you pay for quality, and we don't have that sort of money lying around.

That reminds me, I think I need a really nice, long bath.

Saturday night we watched Fritz Lang's M. Unfortunately, the quality of the print combined with the white subtitles made my head hurt, and I fell asleep during part of it. The really sad part is that it was the Criterion edition, which means it's the best there is. It did look very good, all things considered, but the whites just hurt my eyes. Maybe it is time that I looked into getting new glasses. I'm started to get headaches more frequently again.

On Sunday we went grocery shopping. Our fridge is so full! I love that. Sunday evening we went to Alan and Kim's for a Presidents Day party. It was supposed to be on the day itself (Monday), but Corey Feldman messed everything up. Don't ask. It was a nice gathering, and we got to see our beloved Sean. They've given him another episode of Everwood to write, and it sounds like a good one! I am very excited. (Speaking of Everwood, I think there was a new episode last night, but we didn't watch. Yay for Big Sunday!)

Yesterday we met with Emmy to talk about wedding invitations. I'm quite pleased with the possibilities we came up with. We need to send out our "Save the Date" letters soon, but first have to finish looking into local hotels and reserve a block of rooms at one of them. Will volunteered to do this, so I suppose that I will take charge of the dreadfully important (not) task of choosing paper to print them on. I think if we go with something slightly heavier than regular printer paper (around resume weight) we can just fold them and tape them shut, stick on a stamp, and send them off without envelopes. We will obviously address them as well. We also decided to use postcards for the reply cards in the invites, which I am pleased about: less postage and less dainty. I am not fond of dainty. I am also not fond of people who obsess over wedding details, so I am going to go flog myself now. And by flog myself, I mean take that soothing bath and sort the laundry.

Oh! One more wedding thing, and then I promise I'm done. I need some opinions - should I put together a wedding website, with information about hotels and local entertainment and the like? I think it's probably a good idea, as we could put all of the crucial information in one place (crucial as in registry information, of course), but it also has the potential to be a lot of work, and I don't know if everyone we're inviting has computers.

In conclusion, we also watched Alien: Resurrection this weekend, which I liked better the first time I saw it, and Metropolis, which is a two hour pro-union propoganda piece, but very, very neat-looking.

Six years ago today (a continuation)

First, an apology: I wrote the first installment before I posted it here. As in, before I even came online. I did not do that with this one, because I was busy all weekend being in the relationship rather than thinking about its beginning. And now, I am really tired and just want to go to bed, so this is going to be brief* and sucky. Maybe someday I'll expand on it.

Valentine's Day seemed strange that year, having a fiance but no boyfriend (if you know what I mean). I made Will the ugliest (UGLIEST!) Valentine possible, out of pink construction paper and lace and crap. We walked through campus, admiring the fliers our friend Adrain had posted EVERYWHERE. They were photocopies of our marriage license. Yes, the thought of it now makes me ill. I don't know - at the time I just thought the whole thing was hilarious. On the path that led to the library and/or science building (I can't remember which), we spotted a girl carrying loads of balloons. Will doesn't remember any of this, but it is clear as day to me. He did not want the girl to talk to him, so he grabbed me and held me against his chest, bending over me so that it appeared, I suppose, that we were smooching. I felt very odd about the whole thing - who knows, maybe I was beginning to be attracted to him, or maybe I suspected that he was attracted to me.

The next day was a bad day. I went shopping with two friends, and we were harassed by a man who worked at the shop. It's a long story, but I assure you that it was far more of an ordeal than the typical abuse by salespeople in crappy stores. (Er, I do not mean to imply that all salespeople are abusive, just to say that when they are, they are generally not as bad as this guy was.) When the three of us arrived back at campus, we went to a remote location where people did not tend to walk around, and broke bottles. When we'd sufficiantly relieved our stress, we went to Adrian's room. Adrian had kicked his roommate out (well, his roommate had moved) and pushed three or four beds together to make one huge bed. There were several people sprawled about watching the end of 12 Angry Men or Hung Jury or some movie with a name like that. Except it wasn't 12 Angry Men, because I'm fairly certain it was a western. ANYWAY. Will was there, and Robin and Hilary and I joined everyone. The next movie was Event Horizon. If you've seen it, you know that it is absolute shit, but the last 20 minutes alternate between being comical and absolutely terrifying. At some point during the movie I had started leaning on Will's shoulder, as he was sitting in front of me. Toward the end, we both came to the somewhat distressing realization that we were holding hands. When the movie ended we (separately) retreated quickly, hoping no one had noticed.

So. Today (six years ago). When I said Sunday was bad, I meant without Monday for comparison. Monday was one of the worst days of my life. I lived in North, in Randall Hall. There was a hall phone, a door down from mine, for all incoming calls. It started ringing at about eight in the morning - quite unusual. I was prone to ignoring the phone if I felt the hour was unreasonable, but something made me answer it. It was my friend Emily from back home, in hysterical tears. Before I'd left for Antioch I'd been a nanny to two splendid children. That fall, their mother had given birth to twins, David and Henry, who I had met over Christmas break. Emily occasionally babysat, and was best friends with my replacement, another good friend, Lara. They had just been woken up by a call from Melanie (the mom). Henry had died of SIDS overnight. They had just returned from the hospital (and Paul, the father, who found Henry, from the police station, which is procedure but MY GOD, how awful). Melanie was a wreck. Emily was a wreck. And I went into shock. There was a table sitting outside my door, and half an hour later two of my hallmates came out of their rooms and found me just sitting on it, not speaking. They got me to tell them the basic jist of what had happened, and practically dragged me to the cafeteria, wisely deciding that I needed at the very least some juice, and definitely to not be sitting on the table anymore. Liz and Tyler? I don't know where you are, but thanks.

I spent the rest of the day in a daze. I skipped my afternoon class (aikido), but had to go to my evening Lit class, because the professor only allowed three absences. I had already missed one class because I'd fallen asleep with a migraine, and I thought I'd probably have to miss at least one more to go back to New York. I pulled her aside before class and explained, fibbing that it was a relative (he might as well have been, as I considered his siblings my children), and I left at break time. Back in Randall, Hilary and Robin were painting their nails (it's amazing how one remembers the inane details) and were very solicitous - how did I feel, was I all right, et cetera. I couldn't take any of that, and told them I was going for a walk. I told Hil not to worry if I didn't come back (her room was right next to mine and she was the RA), as I might stay at Adrian's so as not to be alone.

This was a patent falsehood, though I am not certain if I knew that when I said it.

From the back door of my dormitory, Adrian's place was to the right. I took a sharp left and walked directly to West, where I found Will in his neighbor Jake's room. A girl named Lela was also there, and offered me some Bushmills. I had purposely avoided alcohol all day, but accepted a sip to help me calm down. Will asked me into his room, and I went. It should be noted that he was terrifically drunk. He showed me some new lyrics that he and Cliff had written to "Birdhouse in Your Soul," which had me rolling on the floor laughing. Alas, sadness set in again. Though I would deny it with my dying breath if anyone else said it, Will is not the smartest guy on earth when he's had a few too many, and he decided that the best way to cheer me up would be to kiss me. I slapped him.

Yes, I did.

From there things get fuzzy. I believe he announced that he needed to introduce me to his next-door neighbor Rachael; we knocked on her door and he introduced me as his fiance, and gave me a quick smooch. All I know for sure is that at some point after this, I was quite agreeable about the kissing stuff. I even slept in his bed - but it should be noted that I never undressed. I just sort of fell asleep, though I had, of course, every intention of staying. Will was an utter gentleman, and even wore sweatpants to sleep in, which must have been wretchedly uncomfortable in that over-heated room.

And that has you all up-to-date until about five a.m. on the 17th.

to be concluded...next month.


*Did I say brief? Ha ha ha ha ha.

Marriage spree!

Gay marriage opponents fail to block San Francisco's gay marriage spree: "But in San Francisco, with the mayor's blessing, at least 256 same-sex couples had married as of Friday afternoon."

That's over 500 hundred people in two days. In only one city. And they say that not allowing gay marriage isn't hurting anybody.

Six years ago today (a love story).

FACT: Will and I were introduced by mutual friends at college.

FACT: One of our mutual friends, whom we lovingly refer to as "Crazy Jen," was off campus during the semester that Will and I met.

FACT: Jen was about as anti-romance as you can be if you are still, somehow, boy-crazy. She was also really goth-y.

FACT: When Will and I, still merely acquaintances, discovered that Friday the 13th and Valentine's Day were happening in conjunction with one another, we decided that we'd have to fetch Jen from Indiana, or go to her, or something.

FACT: Several of our friends had seen The Replacement Killers the weekend before, and told us that it was terrific. We made plans to go see it together on Thursday.

FACT: The following things happened on Thursday: 1. Jen replied to my email, in which I had sneakily suggested that I was going to call her and wondered if she'd be home, with the bad news that she was scheduled to work all weekend. 2. Will and I, independent of one another, realized that going to the movies together was not unlike a date, panicked, and both backed out.

FACT: Since kidnapping Jen was now out of the question, Will and I tried to come up with a new plan for the weekend, since we felt obligated to amuse one another. (Note that this, somehow, did not strike us as being too date-like.) Will suggested that we drive to Vegas and get hitched by Elvis. I responded favorably, being an Elvis fan. We talked it over, coming to the conclusion that we wouldn't get back in time for classes on Monday. We then decided (at least one of us may have been drinking) that it would be a good idea to get married locally, and have it annulled on Valentine's Day. We went to the local police station, having deduced that it was the only place at which we could acquire information about the Green County, Ohio, marriage requirements at approximately midnight. They told us where to go (the county courthouse).

And this brings us up to date (the date being Friday, February 13, 1998).

I had told Will that I would only marry him if there was coffee involved. He arrived at my dorm and woke me up at about 7:30, bearing a thermos of weak coffee. Really awful coffee. The worst.

We drove to Xenia (the same one from the They Might Be Giants song) and went into the courthouse to find out what we needed to do, if anything, and where we could find a justice of the peace. We left armed with the knowledge that we needed only our drivers' licenses, $40 for the license, and our parents' consent if we were under 18 (we were not). I believe we were told that we ought to look in the phone book to find an officiant.

We went back to school and ate breakfast in the cafeteria (something that I think I did a total of three times while at Antioch), then found our friend Hilary, who was going into Xenia and offered to drive us back to get the license. (I am really not sure why we didn't get it the first time we were there. Maybe the office was closed, or maybe we panicked a little.)

When we sat down in the office, we grabbed hold of each other's hands and held on tight. I think I almost broke his hand. He was so nervous that the capillaries around his eyes swelled so that he looked hungover, or perhaps as though he'd been in a fight. We signed the paperwork and handed over our forty dollars.

When we returned to campus, we were both a bit sobered by the knowledge that we actually had a piece of paper allowing us to legally get married. I suggested that perhaps, since we knew nothing of annulments or their cost, we ought to wait and get married the following month. February being (usually) 28 days, March would also have a Friday the 13th, and we could get the marriage annulled on April Fool's Day instead. Will agreed, and we set about notifying everyone of our upcoming wedding.

The reactions were very funny. Some people knew it was a joke. Of those people, some thought it was funny, and some warned us that we would almost certainly fall in love, because that would just be even funnier. Some people thought we were already in love. A lot of people suddenly knew who I was. I guess that's what happens when you announce your engagement to an infamous senior.

That night, Will came to my dorm again, with an "engagement ring." He had driven to Wal-Mart, or possibly Meijers, with our friend Adrian, and given him several dollars in quarters for one of the machines that gives you jewelry in little plastic bubbles. From that selection, Will chose a purple ring - one of the little metal ones. I know you've all seen them. I made him get down on one knee, and he proposed. I accepted, giggled a lot, and didn't take the ring off for about four years.

to be continued.

I have been instructed to update my blog, because "it's boring."

Lucky for him, the person doing the instructing is one of the few who has not yet found a way to offend me for more than three seconds.

Therefore, an update. I am afraid it will be of very little substance, as I have next to nothing to say, but I aim to please, and shall endeavor to do my best.

What do you mean, big words aren't going to cut it? I'm trying here.

I'm afraid that my outfit is not nearly as cute as yesterday's. Though I have once again opened both doors, I did not come upstairs until afternoon, so the warm weather has had time to creep in. I am wearing a sweater of Will's, if that helps any.

The day before yesterday I sadly informed Will that the computer I want costs $2600. He said that if he had the money, he would buy it for me. I then bravely told him that if he had $2600 I would prefer it go toward the purchase of a house. As much as I hate my current computer, and as badly as it needs replacing, I would rather have a permanant place to hang my hat. I can't think of anything (material) that I want more than a house. Maybe a wedding ring, but that will cost a few hundred dollars at the most.

House, house, house, house, house.

When we were driving to the airport on Friday, Will pointed out a house that he thought was pretty. It was pretty much exactly the sort of house I want! We are clearly meant to buy a house together.

Um, I also want a baby, but not nearly as much as I want a house. *Runs downstairs in a panic to make sure last night's birth-control pill was taken on schedule* Er, clearly I am a wee bit conflicted on the matter.

Best words out of my mouth recently (in response to Stacey's comment on Buffy & Spike's sex in "Smashed" being the good variety): Oh, no. I've had that sex. It only ends in rawness and pain.

This was, of course, followed up by Will asking me just who, exactly, I had that sex with. He's a dope.

And...I'm done.

Brrrrrrr!

According to Yahoo! it is currently 58° (fahrenheit) and "Fair" in Los Angeles, with a high of 72°. While I realize that this is quite toasty compared to other parts of the world, I am really chilly! This is most likely due to the fact that I have both porch doors wide open in an attempt to air out the apartment (and myself). The fresh air is doing me a world of good, but I am wearing an absurd amount of clothing considering that I am just lounging about at home. I have on sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, house shoes, and Will's bathrobe.

I hope that was satisfying to any of you who I'm sure are tempted daily to ask what I am wearing. S-E-X-X-Y.

In other news, I took care of my "your" friend and the wedding stuff. I wrote a nice email and forced John to let me read it to him. He made a few suggestions and I sent it off. Haven't heard back, but I think I've done all I could. And I was nice. Thank you all for your suggestions. Now if you could just tell me how to handle my future mother-in-law, that'd be terrif.

In still other news, I have come to the conclusion that my early successes with html were just beginner's luck, or some such rot, because I cannot seem to accomplish anything with it now. So I hope no one else finds my current blog layout as repulsively boring as I do, because it looks like it's here to stay.

In conclusion, Duskfire is coming over later. You may all proceed to be jealous.

Hypothetical.

Let's say that you are getting married in October. It's February now. You've written out a guest list, but have not finalized it.

An old college friend, who you have not been in touch with much, sends you an email. She has to put in her vacation requests, and wants to know if she ought to request the wedding date.

Would you feel that she was effectively saying "Tell me NOW if I am invited," and possibly guilting you into saying "yes" even though you are not prepared to do so yet? Would you perhaps feel inclined to tell her she wasn't invited, even though she probably would have made it to the final list if you weren't feeling pressured?

Or would you think that she was a good friend at one time and is merely asking because she has to, and respond in kind? And would it make any difference if you felt that she had been manipulative in the past?

Bad house! Bad!

One of my favorite sub-genres of horror is the Evil House. Not the Haunted House, necessarily, but Evil.

Shirley Jackson's most famous novel is The Haunting of Hill House. Rightfully so, because it scared the piss out of me. Every single time I read it. Though it is said that the people who die there don't leave, it is not exactly implied that their ghosts haunt the premises, while it is stated that the house itself is not right.

Richard Matheson (author of I Am Legend, the best vampire fiction I've come across to date) wrote a book called Hell House. I didn't care for it so much, as it read like a rather disgusting rip-off of The Haunting of Hill House, but Will was quite terrified by it, so I assume it must have had plenty going for it. It is not entirely clear in his book whether the house has become evil or the Bad Things are caused entirely by the 'ghost' of the original owner (and possibly other dead residents - it's been a while since I read it), but it seems to be the latter.

In 1963, Robert Wise directed The Haunting, based upon Shirley Jackson's novel. It's a fairly faithful adaptation, and quite a good picture.

Oddly, the 1963 Roger Corman movie The Terror was, according to imdb (not the most reliable source), called The Haunting for its television airing(s).

In 1973, John Hough directed The Legend of Hell House, based on Richard Matheson's novel. I've never seen it, but again, Will was terrified.

In 1999, Jan de Bont directed The Haunting, supposedly based on Shirley Jackson's novel, or on the original The Haunting, or possibly on a weird dream he had one time. It is fucking awful. I couldn't sit through the whole thing. He added ghosts and a ridiculously contrived reason for the Evil/Haunting of the house. It was a typical modern horror movie, relying too much on special effects and giving no credit whatsoever to its audience. Waste of time. There is a terrific theory here that Mr. de Bont mistakenly thought he was making Hell House: the movie with the characters from The Haunting of Hill House. Easy mistake. Hell, Hill - almost the same word.

Interestingly, there is a 1999 film, directed by Mitch Marcus, called The Haunting of Hell House. It is based on a Henry James story. I have not read the story or seen the movie, but you can bet that I will be looking into both. I certainly find the title suspicious, but Henry James died the year Shirley Jackson was born, so I'm not sure where to aim my suspicion. Oh, nevermind, I looked it up. The original story was called "The Ghostly Rental," and Roger Corman is apparently to blame for the new title. I certainly can't begrudge any attempts he makes to get people to watch his movies.

A great entry from a terrific blog

Sassypants on "cunt" and "carbs" - don't read if the word cunt offends you (in which case, what are you doing here?) or if you don't want to hear a denouncement of Atkins.

In conclusion, I really ought to write about stuff when I think of it.

Because I had about eight billion things I was going to blog about last night, but I opted to go to bed instead. I can't really be blamed, as it was Will's first night home and I wanted to snuggle. But now I forget everything I was going to say. I guess I will just have to wing it.

• Cassie and I were going to have a Cary Grant marathon. We watched His Girl Friday, which I somehow had managed to never see previously, and The Philadelphia Story, which is still terrific. Then I was pretty sleepy, so we watched the first episode of Joan of Arcadia, figuring that 44 minutes was about all I could stay up for. That was at about 10:30. At 1:30, we went to bed. That show is great! We watched several more episodes in the morning. I think seven in total. I just love that Joan is constantly listening to music with headphones, because it reminds me of "Bigmouth Strikes Again" by the Smiths.
  

  And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
  Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
  As the flames rose to her Roman nose
  And her walkman started to melt...

  
  
• When I got home, I immediately got angry. I had a sign up next to my door, by the bell, which is broken and has been forever. The sign read "Bell out of order, please knock." It's from The Wizard of Oz. It was necessary because when we get deliveries, they'd press the button and never notice that there was no accompanying bell. Someone took it down/stole it. I doubt it was the management, because it's been there for 6 months and I'm pretty sure they'd have asked me to remove it if they had some big problem with it. Plus, it happened on either Saturday or Sunday. So I am composing a letter to my neighbors in my head. It begins,

  Dear Cowardly Neighbor,
  
  Though your heart is made of tin and your brains of straw, I'd have expected enough decency from you to at least leave my shit alone.
  
  I'll get you, my pretty.

  
  It's still in draft form, obviously.
  
  
• Dodgeball is as great as I'd hoped it would be, and then some. Seriously, I started laughing about 2 seconds in (the opening montage is killer if you find people getting hurt amusing), and at points I was laughing so hard I cried. I told Will it was the funniest movie I'd ever seen, but he reminded me of BASEketball. Well, anyway, Dodgeball is sure to reach a wider audience. Apparently some people weren't amused by BASEketball. Weirdos.
  
  
• I have a little bit of a dilemma. It seems that Will's mother was this close to using a picture taken at Thanksgiving (of Will's parents, Will and I, and Will's sister, Sarah, and her boyfriend) for their Christmas card. They want to do so next year. Sarah said that they couldn't use a picture of Jason because she isn't married to him. Will says that he tried to object to he and I being on their Christmas card as well, and met, um, resistance from his mother and his usually reasonable aunt.
  
  How can I put this? I WILL NOT BE ON THEIR FUCKING CHRISTMAS CARD AND NEITHER WILL MY HUSBAND IF THEY KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR THEM. So how do I approach them on this subject? Clearly it isn't necessary to do so immediately - I think that after the wedding would be just fine. Also perfectly clear is the need to be a bit more, er, delicate about it. It's very simple to me - I have not joined their family. Will and I have created a new family, and the families that we came from, while still part of our lives, are not the families that we belong to.
  
  Is it still acceptable (er, as much as it ever was) for Sicilians to whack people and leave things like horses' heads in their beds? 'Cause I could probably do something like that if I had to.
  
  
• Tonight on Everwood, there will be sex. Am I the only one slightly grossed out by this? I have no good reason for it.

Gimme! GIMME!

Yesterday when I got out of the shower Will was watching the KTLA morning news. I never, ever watch KTLA news, because it's generally retarded, but all I cared about was coffee, so whatever.

The television quickly grabbed my attention when I realized that Peter Jackson was sitting in one of the chairs at the news table. Barefoot, of course. I think he might have had a footbath or something on the floor. Hee! We have one of those. They're great.

Anyway, they were talking about the Oscars (of course), and he was saying how weird the whole thing was, because he's busy working on the King Kong script now. He's done with Lord of the Rings. He's finished cutting the extended edition of Return of the King.

He's finished cutting the extended edition of Return of the King.


I WANT IT NOW! It's not fair.

I mean, OK, it's still in theaters and I still haven't gone back for a second viewing, but damn it. I want that DVD. There isn't even a release date yet.

I should start a gossip column.

Of course, that would most likely involve leaving the house. But I did that today and I survived (barely!), so I guess anything is possible.

Anyway.

In LAX news, I discovered today that Harvey Keitel wears a man-purse. Not one of the briefcase sized ones, but the little cloth bags with the crocheted straps. It's black and very nice. I couldn't identify anything in it other than his plane ticket. I would have tried to get a closer look (he was standing right next to me), but all I could think was "I've seen your penis." So I pretended not to notice him at all. Something tells me he'd appreciate that if he knew.

I was at the airport to pick up my little monkey Saria, who I haven't seen in three and a half years. We get along as well as we ever did, which is very, so let's call today a good day, even if my shoulders hurt so much that they feel like they're on fire. I'm sure that if I got any exercise whatsoever I would not be in this sort of pain, so it is entirely my fault.

I have to go to the airport again tomorrow to drop Will off. He is leaving me for two whole days, which might not sound like much, but I really like being around him and it's making me sad. I shall compensate by going down to Cassie's. That way I won't have to be home by myself as much and I'll get to see my sweet Cassandra.

On Sunday I go back to the airport to pick Will up from his return flight. Then I have a respite of a week and a half before John arrives. Forget a gossip column, I should run an airport shuttle.

In crappy news, I might be off the list for the Dodgeball screening. Poop. More on that when I find out for sure.

Oh - I had to un- and re-install MSN Messenger. I think I successfully saved my contact list, but they're doing "routine maintenance," so I don't know for sure if I'll be able to import it. We shall see.

I don't think I had anything else to say.

I actually said "Welcome to sunny Los Angeles." But that's OK.

Nick Nunziata runs CHUD.com, my favorite movie site. You probably all knew that already, since I link to them about once a week.

The other night I was reading his daily column, "The Steady Leak," which is the new version of his old column, "Piss and Vinegar." He's currently visiting LA from his home in Georgia, hanging out with Guillermo del Toro, who's finishing up Hellboy (my #1 most anticipated movie of the year, followed by Dodgeball). I wasn't tired enough to go to bed, so I sent him a quick email. Er, Nick, not Guillermo. Trust me, if I had Guillermo's email address, I'd probably also have a restraining order against me. It was basically a lame sort of "I love you, I love Guillermo, be my friend" sort of email, and after I wrote it I managed to completely forget that I'd done so.

He printed it in today's column. This isn't anything unusual, as he always prints a few letters, often with hilarious responses, but MAN ALIVE, was his response to me nice. Unfortunately, when he copied & pasted my subject line, he pasted a sentence from a nasty letter he'd printed a few days earlier instead of mine (which you can see above).

All is forgiven, as it is not a big deal AT ALL. I'd say that I plan to attend whatever sort of get-together he plans for Friday, but Will might decide not to marry me if I meet Nick and go to the Dodgeball screening on Sunday.

Stop saying that!

I was going to watch the news this morning while I drank my coffee, but I had to stop. When I turned on the TV, a reporter was saying that two escapees had been recaptured near the I-5 without incident.

I had to drop everything I was doing (not literally) and say No. Not without incident.

In conclusion, go watch Equilibrium now if you haven't seen it yet.

For once, I am thrilled that I don't work in the film industry.

Usually I am fairly neutral about the whole thing, but today I am jumping for joy. You see, on Sunday there is to be a non-industry screening of a movie I have been excited about since, oh, forever or thereabouts.

I never read the screenplay (wink, wink), because that would have been bad of anyone who might have given it to me. I did pimp out the original Terry Tate: Office Linebacker short to anyone who would watch it, and gushed about the remake(s) for Reebok. That Rawson Marshall Thurber is going places.

I just hope to god this movie is as good as it ought to be.

It's the same movie that Will and I attended the wrap party for back in December (where we met Alan Tudyk). Will is out of town this weekend, so I'll be dragging a posse of friends over to the Fox lot on Sunday afternoon to watch The Movie Will Discovered sans Will.

I'm trying really hard to feel as bad as I ought to.

However it goes, I plan to laugh my ass off through the whole thing. Fox hasn't started their ad campaign yet, and I don't want them to kill this movie the way they've been known to kill one of my favorite television shows.

Goodbye to my old comments.

After nearly three months of procrastination, I have changed my ReBlogger code so that comments from all (hopefully) browsers will show up. This means that all of my old IE comments have vanished, though you can still see them if you remove the [blogitemnumber] from the URL of the comments page. I am fairly sure that all of the (old) Netscape-based comments that didn't show up before will show up now, which I find amusing.

Let's see if I managed to do this without screwing anything up...

Happy-Sad.

Will brought me a present yesterday. It was a Velentine card made by a homeless man. The man asked Will for spare change, but insisted on "selling" him one of the cards he'd made, because he's "got [his] pride." I just think that is so sad. I want to go over to the coffee shop where the man was and see if he is still there, but there isn't anything I could do for him except buy him a cup of coffee.

I just got an email from my friend Saria who I haven't seen or talked to in over three years. Not only did she track me down, but she'll be in LA in a few days. Yippee! She now replaces Tim/Tem as my oldest friend that I am currently in contact with. Now I have just to track down Riva, who I met in the sixth grade.

For those of you able to view my Yahoo wedding thingy, there are more photos now. For those of you not on the list, my apologies. If you really, really want to see the pictures, pop me an email with your Yahoo ID. I'm not promising anything, as I want to keep this semi-private, but I know I left some people out. Rest assured, it is NOT very exciting. Mostly ideas.

There is information out about Angel through episode 17, which I guess is shooting now. I hate it that spoilers are so accessible! Hate it.

Last night's Everwood was awesome, even if Berlanti nixed Sean's shout-out to me and Will. Damn you, Berlanti!

I feel like having a party. This is really weird, because I don't like parties.