Today is brilliant!
Skipped yoga. (Morning "quickie" my ass.) Am going to play poker in smoke-filled room. May have fast food for dinner in car en route.
Am completely comfortable with lifestyle.
Stuff and Nonsense of My Own Invention
Skipped yoga. (Morning "quickie" my ass.) Am going to play poker in smoke-filled room. May have fast food for dinner in car en route.
Am completely comfortable with lifestyle.
I am home pretty much every day. All day. I don't leave often. Today I did - to go to the post office. Twice. The first time was for stamps. The second time was because I checked my mail on the way back into my building and found a delivery notification slip. Dated last Thursday. Not only was I home then, but I've checked the mail since. The only day you could have made the attempted delivery is yesterday, when - you guessed it - I was home. This means that you didn't actually attempt anything, just left a back-dated slip and hoped I wouldn't notice. Look, I'm lazy too. The stamps I bought were for Thank You notes for wedding gifts. I am barely inside the one-year allowance. But this isn't about me. It's about your apparent refusal to punch three numbers (my apartment number, on the package) into the intercom and tell me I have a package. That's all the extra work required of you. I wouldn't dream of asking you to come up to my apartment unless I were terribly ill. I always make the trek to the front hall (and it is a trek), because I don't think other people's mail should be held up on my account. Have I mentioned that this is a birthday gift? That's right, your lack of interest in calling me on the intercom could potentially have ruined my birthday. Yes, I am being overly dramatic. You know why? This happens every year around the first week of July. What's up with that?
The other day I said that Rob Zombie's new movie, The Devil's Rejects, has no zombies in it. I withdraw that statement, as the movie stars Sheri Moon Zombie, Rob's wife and clearly a zombie. I mean, Zombie.
Hypothesis: Ninjas and Pirates - there's no difference.
(With sincere apologies to The Ministry of Unknown Science.)
Earlier today my husband sent an email to some friends of ours (hereafter referred to as The Gaming Geeks, or GG) promising lunch and ninjas. The response from one of the GG, who happens to be our BFFN (Best Friend For Now, demoted from BFF - Best Friend Forever - due to curiously timed announcement that he is moving back to Boston [do you think we should be offended that he made this announcement just one week after meeting us?]) read as follows: "Ninjas? NINJAS??? I'm SO THERE. Because as a pirate, I MUST DESTROY THE NINJAS."
I have had just about enough of the ninja-pirate antagonism.
Ninjas are totally sweet.
Pirates are totally sweet.
Now, can't everybody get along?
Conclusion: Pirates and Ninjas - there's no difference.
Not actually. That's next week. (Can you believe it? It really snuck up on me this year.) You'll know on the day because you will hear my squeals of delight all the way across town/the country/the world. I will be at the zoo.
I got a present already, though. A box came from Amazon on Saturday and I decided it was OK to open it. Mommy sent Yoga For Urban Living (DVD), Essential Yoga (book) and The Artist's Way (also book). And not a moment too soon. I did a yoga workout today and it almost killed me.
As a side note, when I look at Will's profile on Friendster, it tells me that we have seven friends in common. Oh, really? Is that all?
Also, I saw a dead cat on the side of the road yesterday. I wanted to stop but I didn't know what to do.
Now I'm depressed.
I have had a crazy-busy week. Monday must not have been too hectic, since I don't remember anything about it. Tuesday I saw Land of the Dead, the new zombie movie from George freakin' Romero, which was TOTALLY SWEET. Wednesday I spent all day writing my review. Thursday I spent almost all day on the long-neglected laundry, then went to a screening of Rob Zombie's new movie, The Devil's Rejects (which remarkably has no zombies in it). Today I am trying to relax. And I know of no better way to relax than to sit in front of the computer for hours, reading stupid shit on the web. But today? Today, dear internet, you have conspired against me. There is nothing to read! No one is updating blogs, posting on forums, or otherwise entertaining me!
It isn't fair.
(and this is apparently a post title I've used before...
Care to help me compile a list? Leave your choices in the comments. I will add the ones I agree with (which is probably any I have read) to my master list.
Birthday stuff is starting to happen. It's freaking me out! I don't mind having a birthday. In fact, I love it. I don't mind getting older. I certainly don't mind getting presents. But I do kinda mind having to wait TWO WEEKS to open stuff that is already at my house. (Or, in the case of whatever I was sent from Crate & Barrel, at UPS because I missed them when I was downstairs folding laundry and avoiding my creepy neighbor who apparently thinks the laundry room is her home office.) And oddly, I'm also kinda minding the attention right now.
If any of you are the sort who don't read comments sections on blogs, you need to make an exception right now and read the responses to my "Dear Alanis" post, particularly Jess's eloquent rebuttal of nearly everything that had been said thusfar (she failed to disagree with the statement that I'm a hooker).
Once you've read that, feel free to carry on with your day. But I do hope you'll think about giving comments a chance in the future. Some of the best stuff happens there. (One might argue that the comments are vastly superior to the undercaffeinated lame-o posts I've been making lately, but you should probably say it out of my hearing range, since I haven't had enough coffee this morning. You wouldn't want me to cry, would you? Don't answer that!)
I've kinda forgotten to link to the last several articles I wrote for Creature Corner. Some of them were a little lame, but I should really let go of my disproportionate sense of pride.
For now, read this: Creature Corner - Your Source for Horror: Whole Lot of Bruce
I have spent most of the afternoon trying to purchase a prize for the stupid caption contest winner. (The contest is stupid. The winner is quite clever.) Due entirely to my own inability to click on buttons with a mouse, I have had to start over repeatedly.
The winner should get his/her prize in ten to twelve weeks. (If I haven't had success by then, I'll buy something in a brick and mortar.) (Also, I'm exaggerating. Should be two weeks, tops, barring any unforseen shipping disasters, which seem likely now that I say that.)
Argh. Bad day.
Lady: I'm calling from the New York Post. We'd like to give you a FREE trial period!
Me: I'm from New York. I'm not a fan of the Post.
Lady: Oh! Thank you for your time.
Another Lady: This is the Daily News. We'd like to offer you FREE DELIVERY for one year!
Me: I'm not interested.
A.L.: All we ask is fifty cents a week for delivery charges!
Me: Then it isn't actually free, now is it?
The entire house just shook like CRAZY!
It was slightly unnerving, but utterly fascinating. I tried to walk around while it was still shaking. That was just funny.
It's my birthday in 20 days (yes, this is about two weeks later than I announce it most years).
You do not have to send me presents. I like presents, but I like you more than stuff.
However, if you were planning to send something anyway, I have an Amazon wish list as well as a list at Things I Want. The Amazon list is sortable by priority.
Last Friday, that is.
After driving Will to work, I drove out to Pasadena, which is not that far away. I made it there with time to spare, found a parking garage half a block from the Starbucks I was headed to, and promptly got lost. Which was problematic because I usually don't get lost so I really wasn't sure what to do. You see, the stairs from the garage to street level didn't exit on the actual street but in a little shopping center that was behind some buildings and had no clearly marked exit to the street. I debated just choosing a direction and walking (at this point I had no idea which direction the street was in, though I would have been able to figure it out if I hadn't been so baffled as to how I wound up lost) but came to my senses in time to ask a man who was, er, manning a kiosk how to get out. He pointed me in the direction opposite that I'd planned to take and everything was back on track.
I walked into Starbucks and stood in the entry letting my eyes adjust. A gorgeous woman started waving from the far end of the shop. (Doesn't that sound like a good opening for a Penthouse Letter?)
She was Red of Redsaid.net and we spent the next three hours drinking lattes and chatting. There was very little gossip since we tend to run in different blog circles. Oh, yeah - I met my first blogger. I know I've met something like 50 or so crazy internet people, but I've never met anyone I know exclusively from blogs. So we mostly talked about ourselves which suited us both just fine. Wouldn't you know, she can go off on a tangent even faster and further than I can! Amazing!
When we started getting weird looks from the Starbucks employees, we left and wandered around the shopping center I'd been lost in earlier. We went into several super-duper expensive furniture shops (chairs for $5000 ON SALE) and also a maternity store with such nice clothes that pregnancy looks like a good fashion choice (I am still not pregnant).
I finally had to leave so I could beat rush hour back to Will's office. It was very sad because she is totally my new best friend and I didn't want to say goodbye.
Nevermind that this movie isn't cast, can't keep a director, and may not even have a script.
Just nevermind and feast your eyes on this:
This blog is the second google result for "pirate hooker."
I have never been so proud.
Me: I gained five pounds in my boobs.
Will's (Male) Assistant, after an uncomfortable pause: Oh. I figured you were just wearing a different bra.
When I send myself emails (usually file attachments if I write something away from home), I put hugs and kisses in the body of the email.
Weekend update coming soon.
(Bits in this color written by yours truly. Everything else by Will.)
Is it a dull Hollywood love story, or a look at how all relationships are flawed?
Either way, let's face it: Eternal Sunshine?
Kate Winslet does a spot-on Helena Bonham Carter impersonation, and with a much better American Accent. The Dunst-Wilkinson plot is vaguely compelling. Carrey isn't a bad actor. Elijah Wood is at his best NOT when he is playing noble but when he is playing creepy. The idea that Mark Ruffalo is a "movie star", not just an actor, is fucking hilarious -this does not stem from Eternal Sunshine, it's just that he has been the "rising star du juour" for five fucking years now: and he's a CHARACTER ACTOR. Gondry is a decent enough director, certainly a strong shooter. Kaufman writes very good dialogue...
But so fucking what? I mean, seriously: this movie is such an overrated lump of "huh? Why? What is the point!?" I mean... I'd rather rewatch What Lies Beneath (which at least plays like a text-book of how to shoot/edit/score a thriller) or even that cheaply and horribly saccharine What Dreams May Come...
I just don't get it. And with further disappointment, I want to present my Wife, Mrs Grumpy Critic:
First of all, I will NEVER watch What Dreams May Come EVER again. Manipulative piece of saccharine crap...
Second of all, I think my husband just called me a disappointment.
I'm going to rail against Hollywood for a second. Eventually it will tie into the discussion.
There is a formula to Hollywood movies. I know, I know - you're thinking, "Duh," and rightly so. But what I mean is the way the stories are plotted, not the actual stories. Call me a Pollyanna (not to be confused with Mary Sue), but I do believe there are original stories out there. In a Hollywood movie, there are three acts, and the first one isn't more than 15 pages or the executive (and I include the one whose blog I'm writing in right now) tosses the screenplay in the trash and it never even gets to be a movie. It's not really anyone's fault, but it's a problem. Only once in a blue moon do we get a Sin City or a Motorama or, god help me, a Being John Malkovich. That was not a particularly good movie, but it was DIFFERENT and the cast was outstanding. (The same sentence could be written about Reservoir Dogs, but that's another rant.) So Charlie Kaufman keeps writing these "wacky," "out there" movies that don't follow formula. Yay! Now can we get someone who can do that but without being manipulative and without failing to get to the goddamn point?
I don't have any eyes.
Now, I've read a couple of Charlie's scripts (thats what we're like here in the Biz: 1st name basis) and he writes terrific dialogue and funny moments and... well those are all well and good. What about character?
I seem to recall some intriguing characters in the script for Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, and I've heard that there were great characters in the script (and the feature film) of Adaptation... but what about in the much lauded "romantic" comedy, ESOTSM?
I hated every single character in the movie. And not in that "they're so well developed and effective that I disliked them" way. No, I HATED those motherfuckers because there was nothing to like. They were one-dimensional caricatures. She was a flaky alcoholic and he was dull. Possibly because he was so insecure that he couldn't even talk. Ooooh, deep.
And romance? Yeah, if you like your romance to smell of "people are fucked up and you should have the opportunity to continue making the same mistakes over and over again because, um, you don't remember. Sucker."
What? That wasn't the message of the movie? The message was Love will overcome anything?
At least mine is somewhat original for the movies.
And there we have it folks! The truth is, I really am this dull, and Annika really does drink that much. Maybe we hate the movie so much because it reflects the fact that we regularly beat each other severly due to grave disappointment. Or maybe, just maybe: We're Smarter Than You.
What a week this has been.
Some very bad things. A few lovely things.
And not to trivialize any of them, but I just have to say this.
Switching back and forth between this piece-of-crap PC and the Macs at Will's office, where I've been spending a lot of time, is HELL. I have got to get an iBook so I can be mobile and stop dealing with fucking Dell products.
A - Age you lost your virginity? 18
B - Band listening to right now? N/A (Which reminds me, I made a totally hilarious NWA joke the other day.)
C - Dream car? Practically, Honda Civic Hybrid. Impractically, '56 Chevy. I am also quite fond of the Mini.
D - Dads name? Lou
E - Easiest person to make laugh? Will
F - Food you miss most? Nachos. I haven't had any all day.
G - Any encounters with ghosts? Yes.
H - Person most hated at the moment? God. And whoever runs Fox TV.
I - Interesting unknown fact about yourself? Dude, I don't think I have any secrets left.
J - The first letter of the last person who broke your heart? I'll let you know as soon as I work out what the hell the question is.
K - Kissing with eyes opened or closed? It depends.
L - Last time you did LSD? The Night that Pittsburgh Attacked. Which was about 6 years ago.
M - Most memorable moment you can think of in a minute? That's private.
N - Nicknames? Monkey, Puppy, Poodle, Pie, bettie, noirbettie
O - What's the most valued possession? Um.
P - Position of choice? I have got to start reading these things through before I reply.
Q - The last quote you heard? Look, I watched the trailer for Rent, OK? Leave me alone!
R - What are you allergic to? Goldenrod. By which I of course mean Matty.
S - Song you sang last? Um. I had a song from Rent in my head earlier.
T - Time you woke up? 7:00am
U - Fav. pair of underwear? Er...
V - Vegetable you hate most? I can't actually think of any vegetables I hate.
W - What are you the most afraid of? Losing my loved ones/being alone
X - X-rated love life? Well, it's no hard R.
Y - Year you were born? 1978
Z - Zodiac sign? Cancer
I am adopting this policy because it is hilarious and also fairly sound.
The Gawker Policy on Anonymous Sources
Or, in my case, a Modigliani.
Karma Jones died on Saturday. She was my friend. I didn't know her very well and we hadn't spoken in a while. She was pregnant. The baby died on Friday.
Karma could make me laugh or cry or sometimes both at the same time. Once she made me pee myself a little.
She loved Little House on the Prairie.
I don't know what else to say.
If I got an extra husband, the whole thing would backfire anyway because Battlefronts has multiplayer.
Will's been tired and grumpy all week. Like me, only he has to actually put on pants every day and go to work, whereas I sit around in sweatpants and type on my computer all day.
So yesterday he was feeling particularly grumpy. Do you know how he decided to deal with that?
He brought me flowers. Pink and white lilies and irises (which were, as per usual, purple).
Welcome to Thunderdome. Fametracker :: Celebrity Vs. Thing
My back aches. My hip (pelvis, really) is in constant pain.
I conducted three interviews in 24 hours. They didn't go too badly, as Will swooped in on his white charger and helped me come up with questions, but I had to resort to primitive recording methods. Now I have to transcribe the tapes, which is something like a game of Mad Libs with a French accent (two of the interviews were with native French speakers). I hate transcribing under the best of circumstances. This is pretty much a nightmare. Oh, and one of them should have been typed up yesterday, another tomorrow, and the third ASAP. I'm screwed.
This weekend is Fangoria's Weekend of Horror Con, which I am looking forward to. I'm really nervous, though, because I'm not good at doing anything for eight hours straight (hence the lack of day job). I get tired. There's never anything good to eat. I have to carry around a huge, heavy bag, and still always wind up not having the thing I need most. I just hope there are places to sit down. If not, you just know I will show up at some poor sucker's table and demand to be allowed to sit with him while he signs autographs. Or her. But probably him.
(Lest you think I am totally unappreciative of my mostly awesome job, yesterday I talked to Jennifer Tilly on the phone and this weekend I GET TO MEET BRUCE CAMPBELL.)
Last night we went to a fancy-pants screening of Ninotchka, another movie in the list of proof that 1939 was the greatest year on record, war be damned, at the Orpheum Theatre on Broadway in the Historic District. It was hosted by the Los Angeles Conservancy and Turner Classic Movies, and featured a newsreel restored by the UCLA Archivists and of course a cartoon. It was generally awesome, though the seats were really uncomfortable and my back is really aching now. Unfortunately, like Most Things Hollywood, there was a catered cocktail hour beforehand. We got there at 7:00, half an hour before our average dinner hour. I had not eaten, since I don't tend to get hungry until it's time to eat (convenient, isn't that?), so we headed straight for the "food." Even with the quotes, I can't rightfully call it food, and wouldn't even call it provender. It was DISGUSTING. First of all, nothing was vegetarian. There were these little pastry-like things with spinach (I THINK) in them that were vaguely edible, though I could taste what was either bacon or disgustingly blue cheese. That is, edible until the second one, which had HUGE PIECES OF PIG IN IT. Everything downtown closes at 7:00. Even the convenience stores. I'm sure there are restaurants open for dinner, but not where we were. I had to settle for Burger King french fries (the most disgusting of fast foods) to keep my stomach from eating its own lining. I know that if it weren't for the fact that I knew I couldn't eat, I'd have been fine till after the movie and we could have just stopped somewhere on the way home. But no.
The catering was provided by Ciudad Restaurant on Figueroa. They are on the BOYCOTT FOR LIFE list.
I'm really just a little bit grumpy today.
The Big Yellow House: Quote of the Day
And here I had such high hopes for Episode III. (Link contains no spoilers.)
Last night Will and I watched Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. I didn't really expect much. I assumed it would be funny, but not as funny as Dodgeball or BASEketball, the two funniest movies ever made.
In fact, it was like the hospital scene from BASEketball, only it lasted a couple hours and had Steve Carell, who may be the funniest man on earth, with Will Farrell in close second.
Sweet Lincoln's mullet! I haven't laughed so hard in ages. We had to pause the DVD several times to catch our breath.
FOR EXAMPLE, Ron's dog talks (barks) to him. This is Ron's response:
"What? You pooped in the refrigerator? And you ate the whole wheel of cheese? How'd you do that? Heck, I'm not even mad. That's amazing!"Seriously, if you haven't seen this movie yet - RUN to the video store and rent or buy it.