The Heathen Commando Mission

Favorite Reads of 2011

2012-01-20T18:15:00.002-05:00

Unbroken
A Discovery of Witches
Bossypants
The Family Fang
The Night Circus

And: not new to this year but:
Graceling
The Mortal Instruments Series
Zeitoun

Facebook: A Minefield for Spinsters Like Me

2011-03-31T23:27:00.003-04:00

Recently, the American Academy of Pediatrics issued a warning about the risks of “Facebook depression” for teens. And while I’ve heard many dismiss this idea as ridiculous, I’m here to tell you that it is very real. And it’s not just for teens. I’ve struggled with it myself as a single woman.

At 29, I’m hardly old, and yet where I live in the South, I am considered a bit past my sell-by date. With zero marriage prospects on the horizon (nor in my past), I count my blessings as they are and have adjusted my life expectations accordingly. I know I’ve been lucky to have a job I enjoy for the past four years, and I don't have a cat ["yet," jokes my friend Schoonie], nor do I live alone. (I share a house filled with mismatched furniture with my "gay husband," Nick, his partner, and two adorable dogs. There’s not a doily in sight.) But while I may not be conforming to the complete stereotype, it seems possible, in fact even probable, that my ultimate fate is an undesirable one: spinsterhood.

“You’ll find someone,” my friends always say. “You’re just too great, too much the complete package to end up alone.” What a lovely thought. I have to counter: “Don’t you think that's what everyone thought about their spinster friends, in the beginning?” I don’t believe anyone one ever looks at a person they love and thinks, “Wow, she’s going to end up alone.” But statistically, it seems this is the fate more and more likely for young women like myself. We come from different backgrounds, religious beliefs, political persuasions. What we have in common is that we’re all fabulous, but alone.

There are definitely advantages to being alone: I can travel, spend money, and make decisions based solely on my whims, no need to consider or seek permission from someone else. I can stay up late finishing a book and hog all the covers without worrying that I’m disturbing a second body in my bed. And to date, my relationships with friends who have married have continued mostly just as before. I never envisioned being married nor a mother at this age, so really and truly, I like my life.

That is…until I go on Facebook. There in my news feed, each and every day, I am overwhelmed by the evidence that my peers are just so much more accomplished in their personal lives than I am: status updates on their engagements, marriage, property, progeny. As my peers celebrate their good fortune, as others celebrate with them, as I scroll through the photos of their happy, shiny, lovely young faces at the altar, in front of the first house, with their first child…a small voice in my head wonders why all of these people seem to have hurdled the obstacles of early adulthood so easily, whereas I…I’m still overwhelmed just trying to keep an African violet blooming. In comparing their lives to mine, as seen through the Facebook lens, I begin to wonder: Everyone else seems to be so good at this adulthood thing…what’s wrong with me? If that's not Facebook depression, I don't know what is.

My friend Kristin is familiar with that small voice inside her head. With four years on me, she’s already been an enthusiastic cheerleader through the marathon of weddings and baptisms, jogging along the sidelines, shouting encouragement for her friends the whole way…all while waiting for her own Prince Charming, and the day her friends can return the favor. Kristin is delightful, pretty, witty, well-read, and nurturing, she's definitely that "complete package" people talk about. So well-liked is she that she somehow managed to accumulate more than 1,000 Facebook friends. And then one day, she realized she had to kiss Facebook goodbye. “I had no more joy in the tank,” she says, “I know it sounds terrible, but every time I logged on Facebook, I felt like I was required to celebrate for everyone else. And my tank was empty."

Call us bitter if you want, because we do have our bitter moments, shared only with each other. People stop inviting you to things, you see, if you remind them that not everyone's life (ahem) involves marriage and a house and babies. That we must stay quiet about our status is one of the main difficulties of spinsterhood; spinsters are supposed to suffer in silence—your solitude is something you never, ever mention, even to those friends with whom you used to share everything. It’s impolite, you see, to make others feel bad about their good fortune. So while it’s completely acceptable to post the following Facebook status:

“Great date night with the hubby—he brought me flowers, and we had a great meal at Malone’s!”(Liked by 8 people, and followed by 2 comments about how great a couple they are.)

My own: “Got stood up by eharmony guy and then drank a bottle of wine before collapsing in bed" would be liked by no one. In fact, friends would probably shake their heads and say, "Someone's feeling sorry for herself. Why is she posting that?"

Facebook is not a forum for honesty. It's not a place to post anything real nabout one's feelings or failures. Between describing your relationship status to uploading photo albums that document every stage of your home renovation and baby’s development, Facebook profiles have become a self-promotional brochure: Look at my husband, my babies, my house. This is my life, isn't it great?

My friend Amanda nearly drove herself crazy trying to create an enviable Facebook profile for one “friend” in particular. When she and her boyfriend broke up, it seemed hostile and immature to “de-friend” him, so she didn’t, maintaining this slight, supposedly benign virtual connection to him. Thus, the ghost from her failed relationship continued to haunt her in her newsfeed, and she felt the constant pressure to show him that her life had only improved without him. Amanda is hilarious, beautiful, and has won numerous awards in her field, clearly her life and her accomplishments speak for themselves. And yet she found herself waging a battle of virtual comparison. The ex posted pictures of himself on vacation, she responded with photos from own recent international trip. She began intentionally uploading photos of herself with attractive males—even if they were just friends. “And don’t forget,” she laughs, “how often I use my status updates to talk about how I’m working out.”

When blogs began, people began to grumble about the narcissism that must be inherent in Generations X and Y if they thought their thoughts were worth publishing online for anyone to read. Clearly, blogs were just the tip of the social media iceberg. Facebook has taken narcissism to a whole new level: it may have started as a way to connect with others, but somehow it's evolved into a lot of bragging, plain and simple. But because everyone is doing it, Facebook has made bragging subtly acceptable when it was always impolite before.

I certainly feel glad when my friends find their life partner, a dream house, their heart's delight, and I’m not suggesting that they should suppress their happiness in some way. It is completely appropriate to share this kind of news with friends, and true friends, spinster or not, will rejoice. But we all know that friendship on Facebook has become another thing entirely. My “friends” include: friends of friends, a cousin I’ve never actually met, that girl I drank with at the bar one night, boys I once loved. Facebook is great in that it enables us to stay in touch with people we otherwise wouldn’t (and in the case of past loves, perhaps, shouldn’t) but in doing so, there are potential hazards. Whereas in ages past, I might have learned of an ex-boyfriend’s engagement from a friend delivering the news with sensitivity, I learn of it now, more often than not, on Facebook. Facebook has become the aggregate trumpeter of such “good” news, multiplied across everyone I’ve ever met, presented to me all at once. The result is an exponentially enlarged view of my peer group and it’s easy to feel that my life doesn’t measure up.

What I’ve learned is, Facebook can be a dangerous minefield for a single woman’s self esteem, and when I log on, I must do so with a certain amount of mental armor. Most of the time, I’m able to chuckle at everyone’s status updates, relish in the blessings that I do have (did I mention my gay husband and lack of cat above?), and quote Emerson under my breath: "My life is for itself and not a spectacle." But sometimes I lose perspective: when I've had a bad day, when I've spent another Friday night alone, when my father died. In those moments, Facebook was too much too take, even for a grown woman. Thank God it wasn't around when I was a teenager.

As for my friends, Amanda figured out how to hide her ex’s updates in her news feed. Kristin has been Facebook-free for 9 months now. The people who truly matter still stay in touch by email, or—it boggles the mind—the phone, and she’s channeled her indigenous GenX narcissism into a delightful blog. Kristin says her mental health has never been better.

Bathing Vampire Hooray!

2011-02-03T23:04:00.001-05:00

First, please be aware that this is not an episode to watch if you're not in the mood to enjoy the male form, because it is bookended by scenes of Ian Somerhalder bathing. Yeah. Apparently vamps BATHE, baby, and our Damon is zestfully clean.

Second, I thought it was the best episode of season 2 so far. All the plot points converging, and they even remembered that Bonnie, Jeremy, and Jenna are alive (though without plots of their own).

Third, Vamp Barbie continues to be awesome. I heart her. And is it me, or are they trying to suggest there could be some Stefan/Caroline?

Fourth, yay for the return of violent Stefan. As you know, he's my favorite!

Finally, I am glad to see that VD continues to conform to the genre stereotype that the lichen are trailer trash. With actual TRAILERS. This type of consistency is comforting for me. And of course this lead to me finding baddie redneck wolf VERY hot.

Freedom review

2010-11-25T23:35:00.003-05:00

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Freedom will feel very familiar for those who've read the Corrections, as Franzen once again takes aim at capturing modern malaise in the midlife, Midwestern middleclass. This he does with unflinching detail, and a fair amount of rage, and some incisive commentary on modern America which is pretty brilliant. Still, this does not make for an alltogether pleasant reading experience. Despite a promising opening, Franzen shifts perspective between 4 characters, each exponentially more unlikeable than the last. It is not an exaggeration to say that there are ultimately no likable characters in Freedom. There's also nothing resembling love in any of its forms. In the Corrections, Franzen still seemed to have some affection for his characters and a good laugh at their ridiculousness, but in Freedom, there's little more than misanthropy, and misanthropy wears thin. A tacked-on, feel good ending comes much too late.

View all my reviews

Book review-The Upper Class

2010-09-16T10:46:00.000-04:00

Just figured out how to link my goodreads reviews here:

The Price of Freedom

2010-09-15T14:30:00.004-04:00

Such mixed feelings on the Burka issue.

At its basest level, it offends me as a citizen and a feminist that the government would tell a woman they cannot practice their religious beliefs as they believe they must. Period. That is a violation of one of our most cherished rights.

Personally, I must confess that burkas freak me out. Beyond the practical implications--how hot and itchy they must be!-- in Western culture there's almost always been something threatening about someone concealing his/her face. On the nightly news, in our fairy tales, it seems that the masked are always up to no good. And without a doubt, I certainly disagree with the origins of the burka--in Islamic extremists' views of women and our bodies, as an invocation to dishonor and rape.

Of course, I also don’t subscribe to the Southern Baptist Convention’s wedding vows in which a woman must agree to be subservient to her husband.

But I cannot tell other women what to believe about their God. They believe they must do these things, and to force them to defy their God is not my right. I cannot order them to drop their burkas or remove their wedding rings simply because their beliefs do not coincide with my own.

My boss says that a woman’s religious freedom is not worth the security risk that burkas present. If a woman's truest wish is to live in a Westernized country, she’ll chose another form of religion, or at least a less extreme one. She argues that if a woman truly believes she must be veiled, she should return to a country where it is the norm. In other words: if you don’t like it…leave.

But isn’t that in opposition to what we democracies have been advertising for 200 years? We bragged about how free we were. We put ourselves up on pedestal and looked down on the rest of the world. You should come here, we said to the world. You can’t be free anywhere else. Dude, you just don’t know how free you will be.

Unless you want to wear a veil. A nun’s habit (which philosophically is very much the same as a burka) is fine. But a traditional symbol of Muslim dress? No go.

We asked for freedom of speech and religion and we got it. We didn’t stipulate that we only meant western speech and western religions. But with freedom comes great compromise. Though someone’s speech might make your blood boil because it is in opposition to everything you believe, you must defend their right to say their peace in order to defend your right to say your own. Though a religion may be completely opposite to yours, you must protect it from persecution in order to protect your own. We cannot be afraid of the “other,” we must be tolerant. We must be welcoming. This is the price we pay to be free.

From those defending the ban, we hear that this is a security measure, a protection of French culture, a promotion of women’s rights. But what is at the heart of these arguments?

We are afraid of you

And We Don’t Like What You Believe

...We're afraid, and so you must be less free than us. This isn't pro-women, pro-culture, pro safety. This is just fear.

Booklist 2009

2010-01-18T23:20:00.003-05:00

A slowish year for me, normally I try to read a minimum of 24. Still, some of these (follett, gabaldon) are real doorstop tomes. And then some are trash. And some were written for much younger readers--and those ended up being the showstoppers*.

The Hunger Games*
Chasing Fire
The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks*
Commencement
The Magicians
Sookie Sackhouse--books 1-4
The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo
An Echo in the Bone
Outliers*
In the Heart of the Canyon
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
Ender's Game
The Lazarus Project
The Pillars of the Earth
The Likeness
In the Woods
The Associate

The Great Gatsby (re-read)

What I was watching in 2009

2010-01-18T23:16:00.002-05:00

TV: What I was watching in 2009
Old friends: The Office, 30 Rock, It's Always Sunny--all have had better years and are wearing thin, but still an enjoyable way to spend 30 minutes.
Guilty pleasures: True Blood, Glee, Jersey Shore, the return of Jonathan Jackson to General Hospital
Best comedy: Modern Family
Best finale: LOST
Best reality: JT/Stephen Bromance and Coach (whether you love him or hate him) on Survivor
Late to the train, but finally watching: Parks and Rec, Breaking Bad
Best drama: Friday Night Lights
Best WTF moment: The James Franco experiment on General Hospital
Best sports drama: 6 Overtime UConn-Syracuse game...and Jonny Flynn's smile after playing 67 minutes, when the Orange finally won!
Best moments: Jim/Pam wedding on The Office, True Blood's Sarah Newlin telling Jason that God told her to sleep with him, Juliet pressing the button on LOST, Godric dying on True Blood, The movie sendoff of Smash Williams on Friday Night Lights, "Don't Stop Believin'" on Glee, anything out of Sue Sylvester's mouth on Glee!

Biggest disappointments:
Flashforward and V (giving up both)
Amazing Race, Top Chef, and Project Runway (meh...all of them)
The Bachelorette--she should have chosen Reid. OKAY?

My Top Ten films of 2009

2010-01-18T23:06:00.003-05:00

My Favorite Movies:

1) Inglorious Basterds--I'm not a Tarrantino disciple, but who wouldn't love this? Beautifully made, wonderfully entertaining, a story noone else would dare tell. And once again, a love letter to cinema and what it has given Mr. Tarantino, and given us all. What more can you ask for?

2) Up!-- I cried during a cartoon. Twice.

3) The Hurt Locker--my heart was pounding the entire time. Well done, Ms. Bigelow!

4) Avatar--despite the thin story, James Cameron movies always promises you an experience, and this was no less.

5) District 9--audacious film-making

6) A Serious Man--classic Coen humor, and their most personal film to date.

7) I Love You, Man--to me, this was the best comedy of the year, far funnier than The Hangover. Paul Rudd was awesome.

8) Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince--best Potter movie yet.

9 (tie) Zombieland or Drag Me to Hell--both wonderfully self-aware, both super fun.

Just didn't love them: An Education, Adventureland, Up in the Air, 500 Days of Summer, Coraline, Where the Wild Things Are, Star Trek was good...I just don't remember it

Still awaiting: The Messenger, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Invictus, Broken Embraces

2009 Soundtrack

2009-12-20T18:37:00.007-05:00

If I were to make a really, really cheesy mix of the pop songs I listened to in 2009, it would look embarassingly something like this:

Already Gone--Kelly Clarkson
Party in the USA--Miley Cyrus
Pokerface--Lady Gaga
Lovegame--Lady Gaga
Waking up in Vegas--Katy Perry
Run this Town--Jay Z
Love Story--Taylor Swift
Death--White Lies
Battlefield--Jordin Sparks
Somebody to Love--Glee Cast
Gives you Hell--All American Rejects
I've Seen Enough--Cold War Kids
Bad Things--Jace Everett
DLZ--Tv on the Radio
The Gossip-Heavy Cross

Albums I was listening to last year--
I and Love and You--the Avett Brothers
A Fine Frenzy
Frightened Rabbit
Florence and the Machine

My favorite things 2009

2009-07-20T17:59:00.007-04:00

Spellcheck, since I cannot spell anymore
Spinach hummus from the Good Foods co-op
365 Powdered Laundry Detergent (citrus scent), which Whole Foods discontinued, boo!
Sephora Double Compact Mineral Make-up
Finding Cushioned running shoes that actually fit me!
The Hunger Games series
Republic of Tea's Orange Ginger Mint-best tummy medicine ever

Electric kettles
Sam Worthington
Modern Family
Nick Coleman-the best hubby a girl could ever have!
Snuggies, slankets, and the like
Hot water bottles
Smashbox Sugar/Spice lip pencil
Real Christmas trees!
Chocolate Peppermint cake
Bechamel Sauce
Peanut Butter and Co. Chocolate and Peanut Butter
Lady Gaga's whole...spectacle
Alexander Sarsgard
JT on Survivor
Terrence Williams finally getting the credit he deserves!

Luke Winn

Finally learning to fix my hair with a round brush

Sylvia Murphy's mad chaufering skills, yo!

Laura Mercier Undercover pot

Cell phones with Qwerty keyboards!

TMATISOTLW

2009-05-31T23:38:00.007-04:00

(The Most Awesome Thing I Saw on Television Last Week)=world premiere of Lifetime's MANEATER.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was complaining about the recent dumbing-down of Entertainment Weekly. This was right around the issue where they featured Adam Lambert on the cover as the annointed savior of American Idol (and about two weeks before he lost it) and maybe America itself, and at least the third time Twilight was featured on a cover in 2009, and I think Miley Cyrus and the Jonas brothers each had some mentions, and he had HAD IT with EW and was questioning its taste level. I laughed at him, told him to stop yelling at Dennis to get off his lawn, and went back to merrily reading my EW. A few weeks later, that same magazine featured a good review of Lifetime's mini-series ManEater starring Sarah Chalke, and I figured Sarah Chalke? Judy Greer? How could it not be awesome? So I put my faith in EW and watched it. And it was. Awesome. TMATISOTLW. Although maybe not in the way that EW thinks it is.

First of all, no men are actually eaten literally or metaphorically in this movie, which I will admit I found disappointing. But-BUT!, ManEater is a literal smorgasbord of soap opera/chick flick cliches. Imagine every chick flick of the new millenium, subtract Kate Hudson, add an unknowing Sarah Chalke who seems to think this is a legitimate use of her time, and then multiply it by the Wayans brothers. ALL IN ONE LIFETIME MOVIE. AWESOME.

So, in summary: Sarah Chalke plays Clarissa or Larissa (I'm not sure which because I was on one REM cycle, so who cares, so we'll go with Clarissa!) who is inexplicably the daughter of a cabaret singer played by Maria Conchita Alonso and this white dude who is constantly in and out of jail for white collar crime. I have to give credit where it is due, and Clarissa has a really good wardrobe, but she also has Daddy issues, and because Lifetime fancies itself the poor woman's HBO fortified with estrogen extract, they've given her three Sex and the City knockoffs for pals--Marla Sokoloff's sweet Jennifer, Judy Greer's pill-popping/married-man dating "Gravy" (I'm serious!), and a hypochondriac named "Polo" (Yes-Polo!), whom I will admit is doing an awesome Kardashian expression and I totally love Polo. These pals, now in their 30s, have grown up in Hollywood and continue to live off their parents without shame and brat about it while sunning themselves on various verandas. Clarissa supposedly is a notorious maneater, though we never see any evidence of her being awesome like that, but when her parents cut her off, she decides she needs a rich hubby pronto so she won't have to get a job, and she begins planning her wedding even though she doesn't have a groom yet. You know, as you do. Clarissa sets her sights on a new hotshot producer named Aaron Mason who comes from some old South money, so she finagles a way to meet him. Aaron has floppy hair, wears cowboy boots, drives a Bentley, and has an entire room for his stuffed animal collection at his mansion, which she doesn't find CREEPY AT ALL. Flash forward two weeks and one trip to Disneyland later, and she is completely pressuring him into popping the question in a way that's also not CRAZY AT ALL by throwing an engagement party at her mom's house without telling him, even though they've not slept together yet. Because, as she tells the girls, "our grandmother's had the right idea. Blue cajones [I can use the spanglish because did I mention my mom is Maria Conchita Alonso!] equals big diamond!" Clarissa's scheme is quickly revealed, zoinks!, but because Aaron has no sense of self-preservation, he follows her to her childhood treehouse and ends up proposing anyway and they totally do it in the treehouse and then announce the engagement to everyone, including her ex-boyfriend Simon, who is not pleased and also not attractive even though my LP thought he was (let the record show that he had an English accent). Later that night, Simon shows up at her house and she lets him in and does shots with him for old times sake? Because she is not very bright. And then the next morning she wakes up to find him still there but she can't remember if she slept with him or not. Oh well, she's totally BANANAS and has a wedding already planned, s0 she and Aaron have to get married quick, but he tells her his parents think he's rushing things and won't be coming or be in their lives. She's a selfish bitch so she doesn't worry about this. The day of, he asks her through the door if she will still love him if they are penniless and Clarissa doesn't really recognize an anvil when she sees one, so she kisses him and they get married at a very tacky wedding festooned with hot pink ribbons. Then there are actual sex scenes, which I guess Lifetime allowed because Clarissa insists on keeping her wedding dress on for all of them, so they are quite comic to watch? So then...they wake up the next morning and Aaron tells her his parents have literally cut him off and they're broke. Clarissa is not happy, but starts returning wedding presents for cash and scheming other ways to make money without having to actually...get a job. Except...she's knocked up. She chooses to give Aaron the big news in his stuffed animal room and then they do it on the animals, which is not CREEPY at all because Lifetime thinks grown men with plushie collections are delightful! So she's married, pregnant, and broke. She decides this baby might be the perfect cash cow, so to undo Aaron's disowning she and Judy Greer venture to the unnamed Southern place where Aaron is from, but I'm guessing Alabama because Reese Witherspoon makes chickflicks too,Kate Hudson! And Aaron's mom is named Cinnamon, which is awesome, and everyone is stupidly happy to see Clarissa because they are every southern cliche on one kebab slathered in molasses, and then Judy Greer "cheney's" a guy while hunting, and because it is ALWAYS about her, Clarissa chooses that moment to tell the in-laws she is knocked up and they are delighted and reveal that Aaron was never disowned. Dun, dun, duh! Meanwhile, back in Hollywood, because there ain't no drama like some babydaddy drama, Simon has rocked Aaron's world with the revellation that the baby not be his, and Aaron punches Simon. Violence is generally frowned upon Lifetime, except in this case it's okay because it's man-on-man and part of a love triangle, and any woman will tell you how hot that is. So Clarissa comes home, and confronts Aaron about his lies about his family, and he confronts her about her dalliance with Simon, the fact that she married him for money, and her general uselessness, and she storms out all sad because the Lifetime audience will always sympathize with a female character regardless of how much they suck. So THEN! Suddenly we flash to Bangkok, and I was like WTF?, and we see that a completely different man is being released from prison, and that man ALSO answers to the name Aaron Mason. And the actor is totally that O-face guy from Office Space, which makes this even more awesome.

So to recap: we've got Sex and the 'Wood minus any actual sex or any actual funny, an overzealous goldigging bride with an ex-boyfriend with an English accent, who ends up married to an imposter with a stuffed animal collection, a trip to Sweet Home Alabama, babydaddy drama, plus Maria Conchita Alonso, and I know you're thinking what else could there be? But we're only half-way done!

So after fake Aaron--I'll call him Fauxron--tells Clarissa she sucks...she goes to Simon's and finds him all bloody. She is touched that Fauxron totally punched Simon IN THE FACE, but because any movie of this calabre is required to have one of everything, she also has to have a miscarriage scare while at his house...so she goes and has the obligatory prayer scene in the hospital chapel and she asks for her baby not to kick the bucket. So...that happened and all her friends join her at the hospital. But PSYCH! Her OBGYN tells her that the baby is totally fine. She probably shouldn't listen to him because he also may not be a real doctor, because Polo asks him about a spot on her shoulder and he tells her it's cirrhosis rather than psoriasis and Lifetime's editors left that blooper in because they love me. But anyway. Clarissa decides she has to grow up for the baby, so she gets a kind of ghetto apartment with a normal next door neighbor who works at a women's shelter, but Clarissa can't get a normal job because that would be gross! And also because chick flicks ALWAYS have women writing for magazines. So that clearly has to happen. So we have the scene where she goes to interview at a magazine and the editor, who unfortunately is not played by Bebe Neuwirth or Meryl Streep, laughs about Clarissa's entitled uselessness, but gives her an assignment anyway--she has to crash a baptism for some baby famouser than Suri and take pictures with her camera watch. So now Clarissa finally has a job, but it's as a paparazzo. In order to gain access, she has to kiss the very beautiful ass of Garcelle Beauvais-Nilon who is playing some powerful lady (about which Clarissa says, "Oh poop! She's such a bitch!" which was my favorite line in the movie. You can say bitch on lifetime, but not shit. You have to say poop.). In the process, Clarissa hears that Fauxron has hired a divorce attorney and she is sad. So Clarissa goes to the baptism and of course Fauxron is there with some new girl, and Simon is there as well for maximum drama. Clarissa has decided to wear a girdle to the baptism even though she's pregnant because she is a terrible, which causes her to faint in the middle of the ceremony and they have to revive her with holy water and the whole scene was rather pointless. If they had thrown in an exorcism, it would have been perfect. Somewhere soon after we also find out that Fauxron and Aaron of the O-face are old childhood friends because Fauxron's dad was the Mason's stable manager. The real Aaron Mason is a fuck-up pothead so he paid his friend to pose as him in Hollywood while he was serving time in Thailand. You know, cause that makes sense, and also because that's as closest they could get to Bridge Jones: Edge of Reason. So then...Clarissa for some reason decides to suddenly go visit her neighbor at the women's shelter and starts giving makeovers to the women, and this is really where the movie really starts to dissappoint because WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY MAKEOVER MONTAGE? But anyway, now Clarissa's all reformed and working and do-gooding and baking muffins for her OBGYN and her friends go with her to see the sonogram and Jennifer steals a picture to show Fauxron and invites him to Clarissa's surprise baby shower. Fauxron takes a stuffed animal because his plushie fetish is the only character trait they gave him, besides being a total pussy who just leaves it at the door. So of course Simon steals Fauxron's stuffed duck and pretends he brought it, and Clarissa starts to make out with him but then she remembers that he used to hit on her mother and that's why they broke up because ew! And then, for absolutely NO REASON at all, Clarissa and her mom are in a cabaret act, and Clarissa is up there wearing a top hat and all full-term pregnant and yet dancing down a flight of stairs, and Simon and Fauxron are both there and smiling wistfully at this train wreck and I got really excited because because no men are getting eaten but I knew we were guaranteed more man-on-man action. Simon's all "My girlfriend!" and Fauxron is like, "My wife!" and unfortunately, O-face chooses to make his big Hollywood debut at this event and he's like "dude, I'm kind of stressed because she's technically kind of more like my wife?" and this time it is Simon who punches Fauxron and it causes a big scene and Clarissa finds out that O-face is the real Aaron Mason. So she realizes she's married to an imposter and she starts runs off like a fat kid after the ice cream truck in August and Fauxron follows her because even he has seen enough movies to know that between the cabaret and the drama and the jogging, she is going to go into labor, which she does. So Sarah Chalke gets to do the quintessential Labor & Delivery scene, complete with screaming and crying and sweating and an unnecessary entourage in the delivery room, while the prospective baby daddies wait outside in the waiting room with different colored teddy bears and flowers. The symbolism, it is killer! So it's a boy...and even though it's like an hour old she can already tell that it does not look like Simon at all, and he admits they didn't sleep together that one time. Paternity problem solved! Then her parents decide to tell her they're getting remarried when her dad gets back from his next prison stint. I guess when you just found out your daughter is married to a fraud and had his baby, you have to figure out some way to steal back the spotlight. So finally Fauxron comes in to see his son and he tells her his real name is Ethan Gumbess and she tells him she just pushed a watermelon out and is so, SO! not in the mood to find out that their real last name is AWFUL. Not in the mood. At all. So that was anticlimatic and we still have 20 more minutes to fill. So she takes the baby home and then Maria Conchita Alonso decides to take a nap and she dies. This was probably my favorite part. Like, she says "I'm tired," and then Clarissa shakes her and realizes she's dead. So then we get a funeral scene, where we learn that Clarissa is Jewish and I think it was just because they thought Fauxron would look cool wearing a yamake with his floppy hair. Clarissa's dad makes a heartfelt speech about how Maria Conchita Alson died from an "enlarged heart," which could only have been enhanced if he had delivered it via satellite from his cell, and all the actors are crying like this will make their Emmy reel. And then, being motherless with a dad in the clink works out awesome for Clarissa, because she gets to live in her mother's house and not in the yucky apartment anymore. Fauxron shows up bearing coffee for her, and she finds out that he was the one who left the stuffed duck for the baby and that the attorney he hired was actually for her dad and that he sold his grandfather's watch to do that, and that makes her horny but because these two kids were irresponsible they have a baby who starts crying and interrupts. And then Fauxron tells her they should name the baby Alejandro Gumbess because her mom was Maria Conchita Alonso. Yeah, I didn't get that part either. Fauxron is racist! So we flash foward some for the end, and the Gumbesses are happy, and Jennifer is marrying her handyman who is also, of course, hispanic and an excon because this has to be as offensive as possible. Judy Greer is at the wedding with the guy she Cheney'ed, and Polo is with Clarissa's OBGYN, and O-face is with that bitch that Clarissa hates, and Simon is with Clarissa's next door neighbor who is the one normal person in this movie and that makes no sense at all because Simon blows goats. And that is it. In four hours, they threw all that and the contents of my grandmother's handbag, with all its stale gum and crumpled kleenexes, at ManEater. Had it featured an exorcism and makeover montage, I would feel complete.

Do you believe in magic?

2009-03-14T21:34:00.005-04:00

I write to you from the ruins of basketball country, or haven't you heard? Apparently, for Kentucky fans, March madness is now March sadness, and we're cancelling Christmas as well.

I was at a "tailgate" party on Friday night, complete with 3 tvs, but in the throng of Kentucky blue, I was the only one still watching the screen. UK had lost the 2nd round SEC game earlier that day, and, as one fan said, "I just don't care now that the Cats aren't in it. It holds no interest for me."

Really, Wildcat fans, really? My tv, gasp, still has more college hoops on it than at any other time of the year, and many of our homegrown boys are still planning to play--for Western, for Morehead, in the case of Preston Knowles, for gosh darn Louisville. You may be boycotting it, but March is still here, and it's still the most wonderful time of the year. Sorry you're choosing to sit it out.

I suppose it all boils down to whether you're actually a basketball fan or not. Some people love baseball, some love the pigskin--I am clearly in the college hoops camp but I'm not judging you if you prefer a sport that takes longer, scores slower, masks its players faces, not at all... But! If you call yourself a basketball fan, don't tell me March is over for you if your team isn't in it. If you are a true fan of basketball, you need only to surrender to the Madness, take off the blinders, and I guarantee you will find magic happening each year.

March gives you all the basketball you can consume, and in many cases it is the first time you'll get to watch the Pac-10 schools or mid-majors that have only been broadcast after your bedtime or on extended cable, if at all. This in itself is fantastic, but it's only a fraction of what makes for magic.

March is when we see young men find themselves and discover how deep they can dig. Or, as Rick Pitino said to his players the other night, how special they want to be. March is when we see yesterdays basketball heroes (Scotty May) echoed in the sons (Sean) they bear and introduce to the next generation of college basketball. March is the time when a team like Binghamton can dance for the first time, and for them, the mere invitation is as exciting as being crowned belle of the ball. March is the time when a team can come together and be its best self, or when one player like Stephen Curry puts his team on his back, becomes Cinderella, and takes his friends with him to the ball. March is when a team can make amends for an entire mediocre season, if only they play their hearts out for a couple days in their conference tournament and win their invite to the dance. March is also when your belief in your team can be shattered, maybe because it turns out there was a team you'd never heard of that was better than your's. Remember when George Mason beat UNC three years ago and went on to the Final Four? Was I sad? Yes, for Roy, but also no, because all true basketball fans know that March is the time when a David like NC State has taken on a Goliath like Houston's Phi Slama Jama, and defied the odds to become the champion. That is part of March's magic and part of why we love it.

Empires like Indiana rise and fall in this game, and this is something UK Wildcat fans have yet to understand. John Wooden, bless him, did wonderful things for this game, but I don't think anyone wants to live through the UCLA era again. The ebb and flow is part of why March is captivating-nothing is certain until that final night. You never know who is going to get injured, whose shot is about to get hot, whose rythmn will fail as teams that have never met before suddenly face off at midcourt with ego and pride and each player's dreams on the line. You never know how quickly a team can rise; UNC was 8-20 in 2002-03 and yet two years later the National Champs. There's never four years with the same starting line-up at any school--this is a moving river, and true basketball fans always enjoy the ride. This is part of what makes it exciting, that amongst the Indiana's and Duke's and Kentucky's, a football school like Texas or Ohio State can suddenly get one amazing guy and become a presence. UCLA can lie dormant for years and suddenly be a force again in the 21st century. Each March the name Gonzaga seems to roll easily off any true fan's lips, even if they can't tell you exactly where it is.

I will admit, having your team in it makes it extra special, and as I write "my school" from birth is projected to face down my alma mater and adopted state in the select group of #1 seeds. But that's never happened before, and it hasn't prevented me from enjoying each and every March since I was a little kid. On selection Sunday, it's not just about your alma mater or state school, sure, that might increase the odds that you will cry (and I will say that if U of L wins and T-will cries, I will cry with him.) But if you're a true basketball fan, it's about each player you've come to know over the course of your season-not just at your school, but in your conference, in each exhibition game, in the nationally televised matinees on weekend afternoons. If you're a true basketball fan, you want it for them as much as you want it for any bragging rights or misguided sense of state pride. For we learn players' backstories, we know their connection to one another, we see it in every jubilant chest bump or every reassuring slap of a teammate's hand after a missed free throw. We want it for them.

Once in a while, a player comes along and steals your heart and March is about cheering for them. For true basketball fans, this love is not just about a player's God-given talent (Blake Miller), freakish body (Thabeet), acrobatics (Jonny Flynn), versatility (Terrence Williams), scrappy hustle (Preston Knowles) or bullish determination (Tyler Hansbrough). They are more than just athletic machines to us. They are kids, and March is about our emotional connection to them, a connection born in what we are free to see raw without the helmets or padding you find in other sports--Danny Green's jumping with anticipation on the sideline, Jonny Flynn's grin after he makes the bucket, T-will chanting to himself before tip, Eric Devendorf's frightening primal yell. We meet them as freshman, and we watch them develop...sometimes, if we're very lucky--we get to keep them and watch them grow for four years. So we know that Scottie Reynolds goes to church each Sunday Villanova is home, we know from how far Hasheem Thabeet has come and how long he's been playing basketball, that Corey Brewer's dad had an amputated leg and had to watch all his games from home, that Wes Miller gave up his scholarship in his senior year so that Roy Williams could take on another recruit, that T-Will claims to hear Jay Bilas's voice in his head, how many knee surgeries David Padgett has had, how many obstacles and personal demons AJ Price has faced. We know that so many of these boys, and their families, have made sacrifices to play, never more than when for the love of their coach and teammates and fans, a team like Billy Donovan's repeating champions in 2007 decided to return to play despite the bigger bucks that were calling.

Sometimes the coaches scream at these young men for a silly mistake, and we scream with them. At other times, we see classic paternal disappointment and we feel it too--perhaps college basketball is more a woman's sport based on our maternal instinct, because I believe the reason it is captivating is because of love and heart, rather than strategic formation on a field. Sometimes we see a coach cry, as Roy Williams did after Kansas lost the title game back in 2003 on behalf of his amazing duo Heinrich and Collison. And we cry too.

So don't tell me you need your team to be one of 65 to enjoy this game. Not if you call yourself a basketball fan. For true fans, there's always talent to admire and respect despite the impact it has had on your own team--a coach like Mark Few or Bruce Weber, a shooter like JJ Redick or Chris Lofton or Derek Rose, a Pittsnogle, a Big Baby, a Bruce Pearl. Personalities you will always remember. There is always something awesome to see, whether its Christian Laettner making that SHOT that still haunts UK fans, or Valpo players piling on top of one another on the floor after beating Mississippi, or Syracuse players finding the grit to last through 6 overtimes in a game I still feel privileged I saw. There is always a team to get behind, a new team to make yours. (For me personally this happened when I adopted Arizona in 1997, thanks to Mike Bibby and Miles Simon; for many others I suspect it was Gonzaga because of Adam Morrison.) Because they are playing basketball. And basketball is always good.

But basketball is best in March, and not just because of the ball swooshing through the net. Because of the drama, the stories, the magic. All you have to do is believe.

2008 TV

2009-01-03T01:17:00.003-05:00

My standards for movies and television are different, in that I am not a serious television viewer. I'm not. If it's a movie, I can handle depressing, experimental, terrible bullshit since I know it's only two hours. Heck, I can even admire it. But with tv, if I'm going to tune in each week, I want one thing--to smile. I want to be entertained.

Therefore, my taste in tv is shallow, and mostly comedic. I don't watch Mad Men (an admirable series, but what is enjoyable about watching misogyny?), or Breaking Bad (meth? Ew) or The Shield, or Damages. I have watched, and enjoyed, The Wire and Battlestar Galactica, but this past year they didn't give me the joy that the following did:

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia hit a new peak at the end of Season 3 with the Gang Gets Whacked (Parts 1 and 2) and the Gang Dances their Asses off. Season 4 may not have reached the same heights, but it was still funnier and more provocative than most anything else on tv.
30 Rock--the end of Season 2, with it's Amadeus send-up and it's Midnight Train to Georgia (he missed it?), is still on my DVR because I can't watch it too many times.
How I Met Your Mother--HIMYM, unlike many sitcoms, is getting better with time. This season, with the revelation about Barney lurving him some Robin, Robin's quarterlife struggles and crisis, it has teetered on the edge of corny territory, but somehow managed to allow for some poignant moments and still stay true to its funny self.
Greek--I had back surgery in August, and this means I had to endure my convalescence during the terrible weeks before fall tv resumes. Luckily for me, ABC Family ran a Marathon of Greek episodes and I was hooked on this delightful show, one of the few to ever suceed in exploring the college setting, which is a true feat! Greek is lighthearted, clever, and truly funny.
Simon Baker on The Mentalist. I'm not saying the Mentalist is good, but Simon Baker MAKES it worth watching. He is just so mesmerizing.
Leverage--a bit hokey, but brilliant dialogue and interplay between its pack of thieves, specifically Hardison.
Chuck--just keeps getting better, with its greatest episodes yet in its second season. Between the return of Bryce Larkin, Sarah's emerging backstory (with Gary Cole as her dad! in an excellent heist episode), and the brilliant Die-Hard send-up for a Christmas episode, it is a joyful hour each week. Too bad more aren't watching.
Pushing Daisies has been truly excellent in its last, final episodes. RIP, sniff, sniff.

That's not to say that some of my old favorites, to which I am still loyal, haven't had their moments. Lost remains interesting, but it's just seems more effortful now. Friday Night Lights had a terrible second season, but two very powerful episodes that made me (and some guys I know) cry and I have high hopes for the third season when it comes back on NBC. And The Office's pairing of Oscar and Andy Bernard was the greatest pairing I saw on television all year.

My soundtrack from 2008

2008-12-29T13:56:00.006-05:00

Singles: I don't necessarily endorse all the songs below, but these are the songs that will always make me think back to 2008.

FloRida's "Low"
Leona Lewis' "Bleeding Love"
NKOTB's "Summertime"--I liked it, shut up!
Mika's "Happy Endings"
Ting Tings' "That's not my name"
Calvin Harris' "Acceptable in the '80s"
Ryan Adams' "Magick"
Robert Pattinson's "Broke"
Blue Foundation's "Eyes on Fire"
Goldfrapp's "A & E"

Albums: I kept these on repeat in 2008.

PopChop
Amy McDonald
Sid and Mark's mixes
Girl Talk--Feed the Animals
Vampire Weekend--Vampire Weekend
Muse--Black Holes and Revelations
Kings of Leon--Because of the Times and Only by the Night
My Morning Jacket--Evil Urges
Bon Iver--For Emma Forever Ago

I simply remember my favorite things 2008

2008-12-29T13:46:00.008-05:00

Robert Pattinson
The fun my friends and I had anticipating Twilight
Movie taverns
London's bus system
Scott McFarlane, since 2004
Pubs
Scotland--the whole freaking country
I'm F*cking Matt Damon and, even more so, I'm F*cking Ben Affleck
Josh Groban's medley of TV theme songs at the Emmy's, particularly the bit with the Baywatch theme complete with slo-mo pumping arms
Music compilations from my British friends
Hot tea with milk
My GP Dr. Haddix for reassuring me I'm not dying
My surgeon Dr. Kiefer
The UK arboretum
Tina Fey
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
The Sarah Palin debacle
2% Chocolate Milk
Lean Cuisine's Peanut Chicken and Lemongrass Chicken
Pedicures...now more than ever before!
LogMeIn remote-control work desktop access
Dansko shoes
Stainless Steel water bottles
Girltalk
Chipotle's free range pork
Penguin balls
Flair for facebook
Simon Saxony Roomba
Sally Hansen Natural wax kit
Days when the sun is out
The American electorate for surprising me!

Movies that were great in 2008

2008-12-28T00:26:00.008-05:00

Man on Wire--using an inspired new approach to the (dreaded) documentary, this was the most transcendent movie I saw all year.

Slumdog Millionaire--the best time I had at the movies all year.

Doubt--overdirected, but a very well-told story, with no simple answers. And Meryl Streep absolutely OWNS as usual.

Iron Man--I prefered this to The Dark Knight. There, I said it.

Tropic Thunder--the best satire about the movie business, since the Player, perhaps even more so. Everyone is at their best here, Robert Downey, Ben Stiller, Jay Baruchel, Matthew McConaghey...damn Ben Stiller for making Tom Cruise seem almost likable again.

American Teen--a touching look at the lives of Americans teens today.

Wall-E--a brillliant satire on our consumerist culture and an amazing work of animation, making this robot romance so touching.

Milk--a great performance from Sean Penn, and remarkably prescient for the film to be released in this year.

The Visitor- Richard Jenkins shines in this as a defeated middle aged man who has lost all his verve. From an unexpected encounter with an immigrant couple, we watch him come alive again and once again experience loss. I thought it looked too much like a message movie, but it's really a touching gem of a film.

In Bruges--the most amazing use of profanity ever.

Bristol Palin and why it matters

2008-09-04T18:37:00.004-04:00

There are many, many reasons not to vote for John McCain, and the biggest is now perhaps the judgement he has shown in selecting his running mate Sarah Palin. Yes, she'll help him pander to the right wing, as an unknown she's "fresh," but I'm guessing the main requirement for the "vetting process" consisted of a gynecological examination to confirm that she was, indeed, a woman, and congrats John, it's a girl! But if he thought her dazzling vagina was enough to appeal to women, he is sorely mistaken. The mere implication that Hillary Clinton supporters would embrace Sarah Palin is offensive, because Sarah Palin does not desire to create the world Clint on envisioned. There are so many, many differences between the two, as women, as mothers, and most importantly, as politicians. But the most personal of these became crystal clear in the announcement that Bristol is pregnant, had made the "choice" to keep the baby and marry the father, and the Palin's requests for "privacy."

There's been a lot of reaction to this story, ranging from the effectiveness of sex-ed programs to Palin's fitness as a mother. And there's been a lot of outrage that it's even become a story. That is unfair. We have no way of knowing Bristol Palin's contraceptive practices, nor what went into her choice, nor should we. She isn't running for office and does not have to explain herself to us. What I do care about is that Bristol Palin had privacy and option to make that choice, and her mother would take away that privacy and choice from all women, Even if they were raped. That is what makes it newsworthy.

I do not believe that I could ever support a candidate who labels themself pro-life.

First, speaking as a person, it's not that I hate pro-lifers, I believe many deep down are inspired by a deep religious faith and truly believe they are saving expectant mothers and society from committing terrible evil. I just find their name to be misleading. They are not pro-life, they are pro-birth. I ask that they care about the life of unwanted children as much after birth as before. I ask that if they picket a clinic, they offer to adopt and love the babies that would be born to each woman visiting. I ask that they not protest taxes that support programs for these children as they grow up. I ask that they help us solve the problems of children already born before adding to their population.

Some people propose limiting abortion to extreme cases only, but how does that make sense? I've never been raped or molested, so I cannot know how I would react in that situation, but do we really need to create a situation where women must prove they've been abused in order to abort a unwanted child created without their consent? How would that work? Would we have to develop abortion police, and abortion courts and abortion attorneys? Do we want to open that can of worms? Other people suggest that abortion should only be available to protect the life of the mother. But if you really believe a fetus is a life that needs protection, why is that life suddenly less important than the mother's? These half-way positions are not solutions. Speaking as a woman, I'm part of the 51% of the population who can say that abortion is something I have had to consider personally. With access to contraception and a supportive family, I cannot say I've ever considered it a real choice for myself should I become pregnant. But many women are not in my circumstance and I cannot dictate choices for them. How dare the 49% of the population who will never have to make such a choice for themself. How dare anyone? How dare Sarah Palin?

Election '08--Why should we care?

2008-09-04T15:52:00.003-04:00

Last weekend my friend David, an expatriote, was explaining to me his recent conversion away from party politics in favor of a more laissez-faire form of government (a la Ron Paul). David will make a choice, in the end, and vote for either Obama or McCain, but he said his choice will be only for the "lesser of two evils." He said he has come to "oppose the idealized worship of an authoritative figure who claims to offer change within 4 years."

I understand David's point. No matter which party you belong to, all of us have had our hearts broken in modern politics. Presidential candidates we've idealized have either been defeated, or elected and then let us down through a combination of inaction and wrong action. I understand his cynicism. And yet I still care about this race.

Yes, the presidency is just one/third of federal government, and four years isn't much time. Each cycle, we see candidates make promises for change while knowing full well the checks and balances will make it unlikely to happen. But hasn't the presidency--from Washington to Lincoln, from FDR to Kennedy to Nixon--always been more of about symbolism than anything else? The election of the president is a symbol of how Americans are defining themselves at that point in history, and what we wish for the future in our country's ever-unfolding narrative. In monarchies and dictatorships, the people might not feel so responsible, so wrapped up in the idea that the leader reflects the electorate. But there's a unique emotional investment in democracy, because people feel like they have a part in the telling of this country's story, casting villains and heroes, determining our role in history (no matter how little their vote actually matters.) That's why we take it so personally when the president messes up/reveals themselves to be human, because it's a reflection on ourselves. And it makes for one stormy love affair

So I find the presidential elections to be interesting, and important, because of what it says about the electorate, both in how we see ourselves and how we wish the rest of the world to see us. And if we're talking symbols, I still believe that it would have been an important message to the world to crown a "new king" in 2004 instead of Bush, and I believe it will be an important message now in 2008 if the rest of the world sees us rejecting Bush's party as loudly as possible. And I believe it will mean something powerful if we elect Barack Obama.

I don't worship Barack Obama, I don't idealize him. I agree with many of his positions and his plans, but I recognize that congress and the changing times may not allow those plans to become reality. But his candidacy has always been more about what he represents (change, diversity, hope, stewardship). And so what? That's all the presidency has ever been. If I have to choose between symbols, I choose him. And for now, at least, I choose to believe that the electorate will too.

Tunneling out of hiding

2008-09-04T15:46:00.001-04:00

After more than a year, I'm reviving the blog because I think otherwise, my friends are going to block me in an effort to keep me from filling their inboxes each day.

Books I read in 2007

2007-08-19T15:32:00.001-04:00

1) The Book Thief*
2) Elsewhere
3) View from Saturday
4) Dragonfly in Amber
5) Voyager*
6) The Ruins*
7) The Road*
8) The Kite Runner*
9) The Namesake*
10) Nineteen Minutes
11) Persuasion*
12) The Eight
13) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
14--21) Re-reads: Bel Canto, Harry Potter 1-6
22) A Thousand Splendid Suns*
23) The History of Love
24) Thread of Grace
25) The 13th Tale*
26) The Golden Compass*
27) Loving Frank
28) Peony in Love
29) The Sparrow*

* Favorites!

Movies of 2007: Where the Oscars got it right, and where the Academy didn't get it.

2007-08-19T15:31:00.001-04:00

A bit late on my "Best Of" lists for 2007, but yesterday's Oscar nominations prompted me to think back and reflect on last year in film. I'd say 2007's filmscape was strong, deliberate, filled with quality, dark, serious films for serious people. We got good film overall, though maybe not enough joy. The Oscar noms reflect this tendency toward darkness, which I'm okay with...this isn't the People's Choice awards, afterall. But still, I feel that the Academy missed the mark and missed some of the high parts of the year, which I sum up in my Best List:

There Will Be Blood--absolutely the best film of the year.
Juno
No Country for Old Men
Once
Into the Wild
I'm Not There
No Country for Old Men
The Assasination of Jesse James
Sunshine

I can forgive the ommission of Hairspray--even though it was the best time I had at the movies all year--without the artistry of Chicago, it didn't really measure up as a FILM and couldn't compete with the narrative films on the slate. I definitely didn't expect Sunshine to make the list, the Academy has never really loved sci-fi and Sunshine is brought down spectacularly because of the wtf turn it takes in its third act. I can even understand dismissal of Once as "too trivial" and The Assassination of Jesse James as a visual achievement, but not a total one. But I am stunned by the ommissions of I'm Not There and Into the Wild in favor of the brittle, disjoined Atonement and the servicable thriller Michael Clayton. I'm Not There was the most audacious film of the year (maybe the past several years) and a tremendous achievement. Though less showy, Into the Wild was an achievement as well, an exploration of the human condition, of life's thirsty inspiration to venture and the bittersweetness of both human connection and solitude...through narrative, imagery, score and pacing, Into the Wild was an experience that made you glad to be alive.

Things I love--2007

2007-08-19T15:22:00.001-04:00

Entertainment Weekly's--"Fall Movie" and "Fall Television" Previews

Facebook

Movie theaters where you can enjoy beer and wine with your movie

Buying fresh tomatoes and cucumbers at the Farmer's Market

Multi-grain tortilla chips

Homemade Pimento Cheese

James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser

That people, across the globe, were so excited to send Harry Potter off into adulthood

Alaska!

Hot Corn Dip

Zachary Levi

Shows 2 (Marcellus, Schoonie) out of 3 funny boys recommend--30 Rock, It's Always Sunny

The Landlord

Guitar Hero and Wii

TV

2006-12-14T23:52:00.001-05:00

While 2006 was a bad year for film, in terms of television it was spectacular.

As many of you know, I usually give every show a chance before deciding on my line-up. So in most cases, I saw the pilots, but here is a rundown of what actually made it onto my DVR.

The Amazing Race, Big Brother All Stars (Schoonie's fault), How I Met Your Mother, Heroes, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, Dancing With the Stars, Friday Night Lights,Veronica Mars, Alias (R.I.P), Lost, the Nine (until it got old), Project Runway, Top Chef, Ugly Betty (sometimes), The Office, Scrubs, Grey's Anatomy, Survivor.

And now...my picks for the best shows.
Project Runway: Look, I'm a fashion nightmare. For serious. For myself, I just don't care, ya know? Much better things to do with my time. But I am compelled to watch Project Runway nonetheless, whether it's to gape at Santino's antics or bow at the altar of righteousness that is Michael Knight. This is compelling television, no doubt, and full of surprises. Who could have predicted that the final collections would have me abandoning my season-long favorites and rooting for Santino and Uli?

Top Chef: I'll admit that I'm a foodie and a cook myself (and I don't mean from the box) so I could argue that liking this show is pretentious, but I really don't think it is. I think it must be entertaining for anyone to watch these chefs use their mind-boggling creativity to come up with dishes under extreme circumstances and pressure. I can pull off a gourmet meal after careful planning and preparation--pulling off something under these conditions is unfathomable to me (I guess it helps if you don't have to worry about the mess or dishes you're creating) and extremely entertaining. Also, guys who can cook are the hotness. Harold, here's looking at you, kid.

Scrubs: I'll admit that I could do without the double whammy of Turk HAVING a baby and JD expecting one, but is this show never not funny? Zach Braff, Donald Faison, John McGinley, and Sarah Chalke are comic geniuses and the writers and producers are long overdue their awards--for five seasons now, they've kept it fresh, funny, and even touching at times. Many a show has gone south in less time.

Heroes: What a stunning first season. With a concept that could have gone very, very wrong and campy, Heroes managed to become the epic tale it hoped to be. There are still some "weak" heroes--Petrelli bros, I'm looking at you!--but between Claire and her horn-rimmed father, Micah, and the delicious villain Sylar, the suspense and structure of this show has been pretty immaculate, getting better each episode!

The Office, especially the Season Two finale: IMO, Season Three so far has failed to ascend to the heights of Season 2, but that failure still does not lower the Office from its rank as one of the best shows. It's still better than the rest of what is out there. It's just that Season 2 was so fantastically funny and moving. For anyone who's ever had feelings for a 'friend,' Jim's confession of love to Pam was so funny and painful and honest and true. And that kiss was the most heart-stopping kiss of the year--sitcom or no.

Friday Night Lights-I liked the movie adaptation, but had my doubts about the viability of a series on Texas high school football. However, I've never been so happy to be so wrong. This show deserves every bit of critical kudos it is getting. It is not just a trite sports story, and football fandom is not a must to enjoy it. From the gritty camera work and spot-on mid-American set detail to the fine, realistic acting and unsettling score, this show has moved beyond its seemingly limited scope to become something resembling art--this is not a show built to showcase one 'star,' this is not a show that simply entertains. This show is a portrait about an America we all know and understand-- the freshness and extremity of teenage angst, the intricacies of small town politics, the pressure of 'having potential' and the sadness of wasting it. It speaks to all of us who remember our youth and its promises and disappointments, it speaks to all of us who rely on distractions as trivial as sports (or sex, or alcohol, what have you) for any taste of glory and joy in our all too unglorious daily lives. Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton are fantastic as the High School football coach and his guidance counselor wife--two likeable, well-intentioned adults trapped like deer in the headlights in the insanity of small town obsession. Their marriage, as acted, has a chemistry and naturalness rarely glimpsed on screen and I have to remind myself often that these are just actors and not a real couple. Zach Gilford is also compelling and sympathetic as the put-upon new Quarterback. Most surprising is the excellence of Scott Porter, who plays Jason Street, the original golden boy QB now paralyzed from the waist down after a football injury. Porter looks like another pretty face (Taylor Kitsch, I ain't complaining!) but he has brought true grit and pathos to his role in the wheelchair. Thanks to the sensitive handling of paraplegicism, Jason's story brings me to tears nearly every week. I feel this is the finest new show of 2006, and it is certainly my favorite.

Survivor's "Segregated" Season: At first, I was up in arms about the plans for this season. My supposedly liberal values recoiled at the purposeful segregation simply for purposes of "shock value." But then a different perspective occured to me, and that was the need to face the very reality I claim to know all about--racism still exists in this country, and perhaps as a way to avoid it, self-segregation is an all too common social phenomenon visible in neighborhoods and middle school cafeterias. As it turned out, the ethnic segregation element turned out to be a relative non-factor in this season of Survivor, though the sucky people on Raro (the whitey tribe) definitely did their best to despell any myths of white superiority. The relegation of the ethnicity issue is partly due to the amazing flexibility and good nature of the competitors, but also due to the fact that Survivor's twists, for once, worked to sustain intrigue and excitement in the viewer and the results of these "twists" were so entertaining they superceded the ethnic segregation gimmick that took place in the beginning. In the end, this was a very inspiring season for Survivor, and I don't even require inspiration to classify it as good t.v. But it sure was satisfying to watch as this season's underdog Aitu tribe of 4 ticked off the bullying horrible Raro's one-by-one. And this season's winner, Yul, was everything you could ask a winner to be--hot, self-deprecating, kind, polite, humble and masterful at game strategy---all while maintaining the perspective that this is 'just a game.' In the end, the person with the MOST INTEGRITY did win and that NEVER EVER happens on Survivor. It's okay when it doesn't, but it was certainly more satisfying when it did. Yul and Jonathan will be the Survivors of my heart for a long time to come.

Cancelled too soon:
Smith

Frustrating:
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip: I can't stop watching, even though I know there is so much wrong with this show, starting with its own inflated sense of self-importance. In Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme's eyes, the entire world is riveted by the writers/producers/stars/antics of a late-night comedy sketch show and its network president. Wrong. Even a tv head like myself can't name the president of NBC, nor do I care who he/she is married to or what he/she does in bed. Also-the show has failed so far to even provide evidence that the comedy show in question is actually funny or worthy of such adulation. And don't even get me started on the arrogance and pigheaded dominance of the male characters. And yet, I still cannot stop watching. What is wrong with me? Is it the Matt Perry?

Veronica Mars: The move to the CW has been a painful one and in VM's quest for new viewers, they've alienated this old faithful one. Veronica Mars is one of the rare 'high school' shows that I felt could make a successful transition to college, and I was looking forward to it. But dragging last season's one-episode story on campus rape into a season-long arc was repetitive, distasteful, and boring. Not to mention too gloomy for words. Veronica has always been surrounded by dark and seedy characters, but their crimes and misdeeds were always enjoyably campy and ridiculous before. Now, the show has chosen more 'realistic' types of sin for investigation, and in this transition, some sort of innocence and charm has been lost. This disease has seriously affected rancis Capra's Weevil and Jason Dohring's Logan, who have always the series' guiltiest pleasures. We now never see them, and when we do, they are mopey and dull. Perhaps removing Veronica from the confines of Neptune High was a bad move after all. Before, we could relate to Veronica's feelings of claustrophobia in scandal-ridden Neptune, but now that she's in a larger place with more possibilities, it's hard to understand why she insists on being such a pill.

Schmoovies

2006-12-14T23:50:00.000-05:00

Favorite Films of 2006:
Not a great year for movies, in my mind. I can't come up with 10--you will note that I leave The Queen, We Are Marshall, and The Pursuit of Happyness off my list--not because I didn't see them but because I did and they ain't top ten material.

1) The Illusionist-more people saw The Prestige, but the Illusionist was the magician movie that really made you believe in magic, the magic of love and longing, the magic of happy endings. With an ever amazing Edward Norton, and a surprisingly good Jessica Biel, this was a romantic fairy tale and my favorite film of the year.
2) United 93--I cringed when I first heard of this film adaptation, but in the end Paul Greengrass's name drew me to the theater and for good reason. This was the finest film of the year and the most respectful treatment that could be given to the subject. For two hours, I sat there filled with dread, hands gripping the armrests, as the doomed flight was boarded, risen and crashed. However, though the ending is a foregone conclusion for any American, the film was not predictable. I learned things as we went inside the FAA and truly came to appreciate the extreme chaos of that day, the true state of FUBAR that our government faced because what happened was a tragedy beyond our comprehension.
3 and 4) Matt Damon Movies--The Departed and The Good Shepherd. Both are entertaining, well-made thrillers and the Departed's cat-and-mouse play between Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon's characters is a fine acting show-down from two of our best young actors. However, The Departed loses points for Jack Nicholson chewing too much scenery and being a fun flick without much larger to say. The Good Shepherd, in contrast, is more than an entertainment. As a tale of fathers and sons, it is also an elegy to America's lost innocence in World War II and the post-war era. The Good Shepherd demonstrates that the corruption and sins of an older generation, in both family and country, will unavoidably be passed on to the next. The screenplay is a bit over-wraught, especially at the end when the father-and-son allegory is stretched a bit too far, but the fine direction (this is a fine-looking film with backlights and smoke) and Matt Damon's performance, altogether an about-face from the Departed, is a study in understatement. He has truly emerged as an talented actor who can play anything.
5) A Prairie Home Companion--a perfect swan song from a truly under-appreciated humanist genius. Campy Virginia Madsen aside, the Meryl Streep/Lily Tomlin sisterhood is a beauty and Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly make quite a team. The music is wonderful and so is the nostalgia for a time long forgot.
6) Happy Feet--The concept is silly, but the cuteness of penguins cannot be underestimated. I watched the whole thing with a smile on my face.
7) Snakes on a Plane--This, for me, was the most fun I had at the movies all year. It is more about the viewing experience than the film itself--I equate it to being my generation's Rocky Horror Picture show. The anticipation for months, the ridiculousness, and the final release when SLJ yells out "I've had it with these motherf--king snakes on this motherf--king plane!" was a truly memorable experience for me. I highly recommend watching this with a group of drunk frat boys.
8) The Prestige-- Though not as mysterious or magical as The Illusionist, this is still a great story with a great twist at the end. The period detail is dazzling, and Christian Bale gives a great performance as usual.
9) Inside Man--the most enjoyable popcorn thriller of the year and a lovely penitent nod from Spike Lee to the "establishment." Way to say "screw you, I can do commercial" Spike! Tell me--is there ANY thing that Clive Owen can't do? If only the Nine had been so much fun.

Disappointments:
Little Miss Sunshine--Brilliant acting from Paul Dano and Steve Carell, but loses points for the severe underdevelopment of Toni Collette's character. The never-ending car horn brought tears to my eyes, however, I must say.
Casino Royale-- I don't understand the hype about this one. Daniel Craig, good in other roles, did not please me here because he seemed to have no charm or humor.
Babel--Hated. Really hated.

Spam was nasty in a can...

2006-07-06T20:57:00.000-04:00

And it's even worse all virtualized. Spam in your e-mail is just nasty, and annoying, and unnecessary. But have you ever actually read it? It's AMAZINGLY and fascinatingly hilarious.

I have the ordinary random spam in my hotmail account, but then I also have regular spam that I can expect daily. The regular offenders are a very ironic group, considering the fact that the Heathan Commando is one of their recipients. Just look at the three different groups that constantly bolster my self esteem with their messages day after day:
1) Meet BIGBEAUTIFUL people! (but how did they know?)
2) Christian Lenders--(but do they lend to Heathens?)
3) Meet Black Singles! (hmmm...)

My favorite e-mails are from Meet Black Singles, as I actually read those. First of all, when I hear singles, it makes me giggle because it makes me think of shingles, but I digress. But I've been kind of flattered, thinking--well, I don't know what I did to get on a mailing list that recognizes interacial dating interests, but, all right! Much better than being on the Big and Beautiful list, right? This means that someone, somewhere out there acknowledges my need for love and the fact that I am probably more open-minded that then average lillywhite person. This means I'm down, right? I'm down in internet world!

Unfortunately, the other day, I realized that Meet Black Singles doesn't think of me that way at all. For the other day, Meet Black Singles' sent me an e-mail with the subject line, "Meet African American People." Which was just...so...."hey, [stupid, backwards, white person] come to the exhibit! I've been you've never seen one of THOSE before. Isn't it FASCINATING?" So I realized Meet Black Singles doesn't know me at all.

However, whomever "DickSOlarge" is, he knows me really well. Only a true friend could come up with the subject line: "Mutant Dick--she is scared!" which provided me with laughter for hours, even if it was just me laughing maniacally, alone, in my apartment.

The Ultimate Pre-Memorial Day Self-Flagellation Improvement Plan

2006-05-15T12:37:00.000-04:00

So...I've been in a bit of a self-destructive rut lately. No surprise there, really, since my LP is moving back to Espagna in less than a month, and who knows what tragedy will follow?

And so, in THE bell jar, I've been resorting to some classic Heathen Commando defeatism. And drinking entire bottles of wine. On weeknights. While Schoonie eats the dinner I've made for us. I've known this was bad behavior. Oh, I've known it wouldn't help matters. I've known the wine vitamins can't really compete with that of a salad, and Death Cold Six that I'm currently fighting proves it. And yet I've been drowning my sorrows and staying off the treadmill just the same. And feeling really guilty about it. Why do I court heart disease for my already broken heart? Is that my way of living dangerously?

So yesterday, as my hero Mr. Cope and I reported on our respective weekends to eachother, he mentioned that he might go on an intense fitness, dieting and sobriety kick between now and Memorial Day. His motivation is the donning of some particularly fitted and intimidating formal army pants. My motivation would be....to get laid? To actually be able to remember Saturday nights when I wake up Sunday morning? I don't know. But anyway, it sounds pretty good to me. I mean, last week when I attempted running at the gym, I started seeing stars into my third mile, and I'm TWENTY FOUR. So obviously, there might be merit in taking care of my body a little bit better so that it is a bit more capable than that of the CRYPTKEEPER.

So....here we go. I will keep you posted on the results. It's not like I haven't South Beached it for three weeks before. I can do this. Of course, that was before I lived with LP and had SCHOONIE, the devil on my shoulder, right next door. Mr. Cope warns me there will be challenges and trials along the way, and I must resist all the temptations of the civilian world.

Easy for you to say, ARMY MAN.

When people stop being polite, and start being alums

2006-05-01T13:10:00.000-04:00

So last weekend Classy Lady and I went down to NC for her five-year reunion. Long-time readers may recall that I attended my own last year, and mass debauchery ensued. This year the (temporary) residents of 107 Bes Wes Smokey Park were one year wiser and things were a bit more tame. We were dismayed to find Los Volcanes (where last year Beth and I were passed around like whores on the dance floor) closed, and certain unwelcome faculty members and ex-boyfriends attending. Nevertheless, thanks to the presence of Caits and Rave-o, it was fun nonetheless.

Some highlights included:

Classy: "Tennessee is such a joy," (after seeing the third "Meth Destroys" billboard in Tennessee.)
An hour-long check-in at the Bes Wes thanks to incompetents at the front desk.
John: "So all those tables in the lobby are covered with pins. And old people are searching through them. It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen."
Classy: "All I want to know is, who is the homeless bum at your table?" on Andy.
My follow-up on Andy: "All I want to know is, what happened to his hair?"
The ineffective "How to Say No to Sex if You've Had it Before" pamphlet conveniently provided in the LIBRARY.
Caitlin on Saturday morning, "Sarah, you got some ass and some Ash."
Me on Saturday morning: "Um...I can't find my keys. Or, actually, my underwear."
Scary Army Man, when Caits rebuffed his advances, "But I'm in the army....!"
Raven: "Mandy, why don't you do something with your hair? Starting with a brush."
Raven and I confusing a commemorative wine-stopper with a paper-weight.
MCP and Rave-o stealing Harloe's pink drinks.
HotforTeacher to Caitlin: "I'm moving to Russia. We can make this work."
Taking my birth control at the table during our black tie optional event.
Heedy's boyfriend: "so would you and your husband like to go to Scandals?" Husband? Scandals? Really? REALLY? I look that old and miserable?
Undressing and changing clothes in front of Leah's boyfriend, whom I'd known for all of five minutes.
Me, Beth and Rave as the Wake-Up Patrol on Sunday morning
Caitlin's "classy, weather-appropriate" outfits.
John's explanation for Andy's lack of phone: "He threw it into a crowd at a concert trying to impress a girl."
Andy's socks with flip flops, "at least they're La Coste."
Rave: "Mandy, I'm proud of you. At least you're not a whore like your friends."

One person fooled at least. :).

Too cool...for so many things

2006-04-24T22:22:00.000-04:00

So last weekend, a guy friend and I were discussing the fact that my roommate is inevitably more sex-worthy than me. This seems to be the generally accepted perception of us--Sarah is the one guys always consider to be sexy, and I am not. I mean, I don't think it's any big secret that I am single and have been for quite a while, mostly because no one has seemed interested.

In analyzing this historical fact, he grasped for some way to make me feel better.

His explanation?: "You're just...too cool to sleep with."

Wow.
Wow.
Wow.
Is "too cool" what they're calling fat these days?

Seriously, this whole new derivation of the "you're one of the guys," (actually, I believe he may have stuck it in there as, 'you're one of the dudes, man!' in this particular instance), OR "I don't see you as a girl," OR "you're such a great FRIEND," explanation is quite possibly my favorite excuse ever.

When I was younger, I was too smart. And then I was "too intimidating" for guys. And then I was "too good of a friend," and most recently, I've been "too stand-offish." But now, I'm TOO cool. In the efforts to correct all the other deficiencies (or actually, not deficiencies--EFiciences) listed above, I've downplayed my intelligence and assertiveness, and tried to temper my friendliness in a sense that I'm just casual and extroverted enough. All in an effort to be cool. And now, I find out I've too far. I've come out the other side to the effect that my COOLNESS makes me less attractive?

My friend assures me I should be complimented. And he has a good argument. Rather than making the point about how sexy Classy Lady is (and I don't deny it, because whoa, hold up, wait a minute!) he bases his argument on how I exceed her in a different category: coolness. It becomes less about what I'm lacking and more about what I have in surplus, which in this case, is being totally freaking awesome.

So what can you do? Cry? Maybe I would have reacted that way years ago, but this time it is different. This time, I choose to be amused and embrace what he has said with a great sense of relief.

Being "too cool," is the best thing I've ever heard. I always thought that the point of being cool was to get laid. I mean, isn't that why the rockstars do it? But think about it, when you're just-enough-cool, along come groupies and stalkers and a cocaine addiction here and there and before you know it you're in rehab all washed up with your nose hanging off or you're dead at 33. So being cool has its liabilities. But the great thing about being cool is, if you're TOO cool, it can work in reverse. You can actually be TOO cool for sex. Too cool for it. Like have a coolness so frightening that it is repellant! You can actually drive away all members of the opposite sex!

So since my coolness renders me unattractive and unworthy of male attention in this way, I figure this can only be the tip of the iceberg. I might as well put it to use in other ways since I'm gonna have so much ALONE time. Maybe my apparent OVERWHELMING coolness is a way to get OUT of other things. So I'm gonna use it. What else might I be too cool for?

"Hello, landlord. I'm sorry if you were expecting rent, but I'm so cool I don't have to pay for my housing. Everyone knows this."
"Toothbrush! Long time no see! I know you might not understand this, but I don't really need you anymore. You required rinsing and paste, and it just doesn't seem the effort is necessary. My coolness even extends to my breath and makes it inherently cool and minty."
"Hi, Aunt Cynthia. Yeah, still not married. No, it's not because of the diet. No--I'm not interested in my cousin's chiropractor--No, no, no. You know, actually? I'm way too cool to be nagged this way. So just step off, old lady!"
"Hello auditor! What are these tax things you speak of? I'm so sorry you weren't aware, but my coolness prevents me from paying those."
"Death! What's up? You say it's my time to go? Naw, naw, naw....look, I don't know if you know this, but I've got this whole coolness thing going, so I'm kind of exempt from your normal rules."
"Officer, why are you arresting me? That whole nudity law doesn't apply to me! Ask my lawyer, I'm protected by the "coolness clause. I am allowed to be naked."
"Oh, dear guy friend. You know, with me being too cool to sleep with and everything, I'm thinking I'm also way cooler than you. So from here on out, I'm the one who will control the remote! We are totally watching General Hospital re-runs every night!"

Behind the Music: Patricia Wolfkill

2006-04-22T10:49:00.000-04:00

This is the sad, true story of the world's greatest airband that ever was...or wasn't.

Narrator:
The story begins in a two-story office building where next door neighbors and pop culture enthusiasts Ryan Schoonie and Mandy found themselves working in the Spring of 2006. Patricia Wolfkill was off to an official start when Ryan aka "Schoonie" answered the phone at the spa association where he had a dayjob. The woman on the phone was named "Patricia Wolfkill," and that gave Ryan an idea.

Interview:

Mandy: So I was sitting at my desk that day, and Ryan wrote me he'd just spoken with Patricia Wolfkill, and he thought that should be the name of his new band.
Mandy: I liked it. So I immediately volunteered to lend my help singing.
Ryan: But I insisted on being the lead singer. It is far more ironic if the male lead singer of the band has the name Patricia.
Mandy: I was a little upset.
Ryan: I told her she was going to have to learn the play the drums. And help me pick out tight pants for myself.
Mandy: He already had those, actually...

Narrator:
The next day, Mandy launched a campaign to convince Ryan to let her sing. She wore her awesome Fender guitar-pick earings to work and quickly gained interoffice support for the lead singer role. As work went on that day, Mandy proposed that Ryan invite two other friends join Patricia Wolfkill: Scotty, Ryan's roommate as the taciturn, mysterious bassist, and old drinking buddy Bianchi as the hilarious and possibly un-necessary triangle player. In response, Ryan indicated that Bianchi might be better as a drummer. Mandy knew that meant Schoonie was open to the idea of two lead singers (although who was Patricia and who Wolfkill was never clear.)

Interview:

Mandy: I was really touched when Ryan started talking about two lead singers...I wrote him we would be just like Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks...
Ryan: Without the whole divorcing and getting back together ad nauseum.
Mandy: I quickly had to add, 'Or the "sleeping together part'
Ryan: That's how you can tell we are a little more awesome than everyone else. She totally faced me [about the sleeping together issue] before I could say anything.

Narrator:
As the Spring progressed, Mandy found herself hit with a bit of anxiety about the future of 'Patricia Wolfkill.' Schoonie seemed resistant to organizing a band meeting or even practicing.

Interview:

Mandy: He wouldn't even consider taking official band photos! I really started to worry. One day, I was talking to Ryan about my failed 'Great Sobriety Project,' and he mentioned that it too would be a great band name. And I thought, 'Wouldn't it?' And then after a freak hailstorm, I started to really like the name 'Hailstorm fatigue.' So I started thinking that maybe I should just take my talent and go off and start my own band with a different name.
Mandy: Then Ryan told me that he couldn't really commit to Patricia Wolfkill, because he was already committed to two other fake bands: Dusty's Fake Intervention and the Spreadsheet Hippies. I was a LITTLE upset to learn that.

Narrator: Faced with Patricia Wolfkill's uncertain future, Mandy fell into a deep, dark depression.

Interview:

Mandy: I just didn't know how to deal with our failure. When you love a band that much, and it seems to be falling apart...you end up with so much pain. So much pain, man. I didn't know how to deal with it--and that, that's when I started--
Ryan: --Please don't talk about this, Mand. It's too much.
Mandy: I have to talk about it, Schoonie! I think it's important that every aspiring air-bander out there learn from my mistakes!
Ryan: --But to admit it publicly...
Mandy: I'm not ashamed anymore! I was 24! And yes, yes! I started listening to Savage Garden. I started listening to them everyday.
Ryan: Oh God...it's so painful to remember...[cries]
Mandy: It was so hard. I didn't know where Patricia Wolfkill was going, and I just needed something, I think. So I started Savage Gardening...and I just couldn't stop.
Ryan: It was horrible. It really was. We didn't know how to bring her back.

INTERVIEW:

Narrator: Mandy, what was it about Savage Garden that made it so hard to stop?
Mandy: [singing softly].."When you feel all alone---and the world has turned its back on you..."
Ryan: Mandy, no! Not again. Please don't start again!
Mandy: [singing] "Give me a moment PLEASE, to tame your wild, wild heart...."
Ryan: Oh God. Oh, God. I thought she was over this. Stop filming! Stop FILMING!
Mandy:[Rocking out!]"Let me be the one you call, if you jump I'll break your fall...lift you up and fly away with you into the night! If you need to fall apart, I can mend your broken heart. If you need to crash, well, crash and burn you're not alone...!"

[Footage interrupted.]

Narrator:
Still suffering from an onset of bad musical taste, Mandy decided to leave Patricia Wolfkill for a while in April 2006. Without their pragmatic, dynamic co-lead singer, the band faced an uncertain future.

When we come back, the next chapter in the story of Patricia Wolfkill...

"So, his cooking philosophy is 'Just add water'?"

2006-04-22T10:20:00.000-04:00

So the other night, a guy I know bragged to me that he cooks.

When I was incredulous, he went on to say: "No really, I made beef stroganoff tonight."
Me: Beef stroganoff, really?
Guy: Oh yeah, Hamburger Helper beef stroganoff is delicious.

Oh, ew, ew, ew....

Me: Was there powder involved?
Guy: Duh!
Me: No powder! NO POWDER! At 25, it's time to stop!

Don't get me wrong. When I was younger, my favorite meal was Hamburger Helper Cheesburger Macaroni. Then again, I was five. I also used to love Vienna sausages, Beenie Weenies, Fish and Chips, and anything made with Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup.

With the dalliance in vegetarianism, followed by the onset of hyperinsullinitis, however--I came to find processed food REALLY disturbing. Preservatives....ew. Hormones....ew. Chemicals...ew. Cannot deal. DISGUSTING. Give me something that just left the farm or give me death. I mean, really--the other night I ate SEVEN vegetables for dinner, while he was eating powder, preservatives, noodles, beef and a side of hormone.

But then again, I'm pretensious. I know this. So for a BRIEF second, I wondered if my reaction was a bit extreme. So I decided to ask around, and see what other people thought.

Here are the reactions I got from some of my favorite people when I told them the story of guy's delicious stroganoff.

Pam: Ew. That is DISGUSTING. But then again, my boyfriend won't eat anything that didn't "have parents."

Sarah Whitney: Well, at least it means he can follow the instructions on the back of the box...My fiance would probably get out the Helper and tell me to make it for him.

Kristin: Wow. Hamburger Helper? That is K. Fed stuff right there. Are you going to start dressing like Britney?

Ryan: Hamburger helper is DISGUSTING. But Tuna helper....

Ian: I like Hamburger Helper in terms of ease of preparation...It is very helpful that way. But it's friggin' disgusting! It's the Taco Bell of homecooking. No, I don't think you're wrong to make fun of the hamburger helper glove.

Elizabeth: So, his cooking philosophy is 'Just add water'? My boyfriend asked me about making Hamburger Helper once. And I said NO. I don't want to make it, I don't want to eat it--I don't want it IN my house!

Scotty: Hmmm...I haven't had Hamburger Helper since I was five...(bites into some Chef Boyardee.)

Hee.

Carolina Basketball: An Ode

2006-03-22T23:19:00.000-05:00

So...that's it. The 2006 NCAA Men's Basketball tournament is over. I suppose it was a memorable year. As a nation, we came to believe again in the underdogs, in the little guys, in David instead of Goliath. For a second, we held our breaths and believed that it was enough to pull yourself up by the bootstraps, and that passion, pure passion and grit, was enough to achieve anything. Even a championship.

But things are not fair in love, war or basketball, and so it was that the 2006 Tournament ended with a whimper. It ended with three puzzling games, and reminded us that sometimes teams have unlucky nights. Sometimes, you cannot explain what is going wrong on the court or in the minds of these young (so young!) men and messing up their shot. And so you see freaking Florida end up climbing the ladders and cutting down the nets.

And when you compare this year's champion to last year's, there's just a clear difference. And I'm not just saying that as a Carolina fan. The UK and U of L fans who surround me agree.

Florida winning seemed like a fluke, whereas Carolina's victory felt like a predestined return to the divine order of the basketball universe.

Please recognize that I have a certain sense of objectivity and worldliness as I am saying this. I am not Tar Heel born, and I am not Tar Heel bred. I did not spend my youth cheering on the University of North Carolina. I grew up worshipping Denny Crum, not Dean Smith. So I cannot recount tales about past UNC victories and glories and I cannot list for you all of the greats or retired jerseys.

But I believe my love of Carolina basketball is pure. It is a chosen adult love, rather than something instilled in me by my parentage or geography. It is a love grounded in Carolina basketball's present, but still cognizant of the great history of its past. I have walked the hallowed cavern that is the Dean Dome and congregated with the fans streaming on Franklin Street, and I can tell you--the program is among the classiest in college ball. Even today, Carolina's crisp uniforms and well-groomed players reflect a pride in the program, the game and themselves…a pride that is never confused with ego or aims for personal glory.

Carolina fans recognize the importance of sportsmanship, of loyalty, and so they have taken the lean years along with the good. Through decades, Carolina fans have loved their coaches, and its obvious that Carolina coaches have loved their teams.

We love our coach now. We love him something awful. We felt bad about stealing him for about five seconds, and then just surrendered to adulation. And he has proven himself worthy of that love. We watched him cry at his former school when they lost the Championship game, and we knew he wasn't just crying for himself, but for his players. We know he then agonized about leaving Kansas to come home, and that internal struggle proved his integrity and his humanity. After arriving on our campus to parades and a few grumbles, he gained the trust of another man's recruits, harnessed their talent, and ran with it all the way. We love Roy because he's taken a chance on the undersized Wes Miller, he's helped non-factor Reyshaun Terry realize his talent, and he recruited the best freshman in the country as well as a team to back Tyler up. But we love him for the smaller things too. We love Roy because when Quentin Thomas is quivering at the free throw line, he looks right at Roy for reassurance and Roy gives him the thumbs up. We love Roy because he claps for the good done by his players just as he yells for the bad. We love Roy because when he wants a player to lose weight, he goes on runs with the player to help him do it. We love Roy because he is ultimately like us, just another Carolina fan, dazzled to be pulled from the crowed and appointed our coach. He remains humble and prostrate with this powerful basketball love and forceful pride that we cannot explain or rationalize, but that is with us for life.

As though some divine being blessed us with it and intended it this way.

So I may not be Tar Heel born, nor Tar Heel bred. But this year's basketball tournament confirmed for me that I will be a Tar Heel dead.

Sweet Sixteen serenade (or how I learned to shrug it off and just love my Heels)

2006-03-22T22:25:00.000-05:00

Okay, so color me surprised (and shades of purple rage) on Sunday. With the first two rounds of the tournament over; I have only two teams left in the brackets.

Only one of last year's Final Four teams even made it, (and let's remember that TWO, TWO of last year's final four teams were knocked out by George Mason.) We've got four teams from the Big East in the running, and its possible you could have three in the Final Four (either Georgetown or Nova are going to have to lose in the Minneapolis bracket). We've got two SEC teams (traditional powerhouses Florida and LSU, both of whom? HATE); two ACC teams (the old demon Duke and new brat Boston College); two Pac-10 (old faithful UCLA and cresting Washington); 1 Big 12 (Texas) , no Big 10; and then representatives from five of the much-maligned "minor" conferences: Gonzaga (WCC), George Mason (Colonial), Wichita State (Missouri Valley), Memphis (Conference USA), and Bradley (Missouri Valley).

And frankly, I couldn't be happier. 2006 may be remembered as the Underdog Sweet Sixteen (or perhaps the inaugral year of an Underdog tournament), and I do love Underdogs, being a lifelong U of L fan. I would love to see Memphis take the whole damn thing even though they're not one of mine (currently, all I've got left is West Virginia and the Zags).

Yes, my Tar Heels are out. They're out because they played young, they played bad, and because they SHOULD be. I might have been delighted to watch UNC pull off the most unlikely repeat in the history of sports, and delighted for Noel and Wess. But the mass exodus of our talent following last year's win proved that what keeps these kids going is that championship ring, dangling out of reach. Once they've got it, what's left to want?

While we still feel the glow of the 2005 championship upon us, we must ask ourselves if another Sweet Sixteen or another Elite Eight or another title is really that necessary. We have the most talented young big man in the nation. We still have Roy, who by all accounts may be named Coach of the Year. We surpassed everyone's expectations and then stupidly developed unreasonable ones of our own. We beat Duke, at Duke, on JJ's senior night.

We must not be greedy, but look ahead. What would it mean for the program if Frasor, Hansbrough, Green, and Ginyard all got a taste of the dance on their first try? What would prevent Hansbrough from considering the NBA? Where would be the hunger for next season? Can we really afford to chance apathy in our talented soon-to-be sophomores?

No we cannot. And next year is gonna be AWESOME!

Great Line: 3/14

2006-03-16T20:10:00.000-05:00

So the other night, while watching a movie, I decided to confess my damnation as only Heathens should. So I gently informed Ryan and Scotty that I'm well aware and resigned to the fact that I'm hell-bound.

Heck, I'm a conductor on the train.

Ryan's response:

"No, no, no. Jerry Falwell is gonna be hanging out with Hitler in hell while you and I are up in heaven drinking margaritas with Jesus!"

So yeah, obviously my friend is a heathen just like me. But at least we're fun.

Don't talk about the ROY

2006-03-15T23:17:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I've always maintained a rather short, reasonable list of what I require in a man/boyfriend/lover:

Must love dogs (but hate that movie)
Must hate Bush
Must like the Rolling Stones
Must concede that no kid is cuter than my nephew
Must like basketball

Not too much to ask, right? Really, quite low standards, if I must say so.

So imagine my chagrin when last night, the guy who's been trying to get in my pants (I'm sorry, virgin readers, I truly am, but really there's no better way to describe it!) uttered the following two sentences:

1) I don't really have a team, so I don't like basketball (which of course prompted much Tar Heel cheerleading from me), so he dug himself further in the hole by going on to say:

2) Roy Williams looks like a child molester.

#!#!@&&*((((!!!!!

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I know I'm not the best person, but the list is SOOOOOO short, God. Really. That's all I ask of you. And yet you had to send me this one? This one, who not only is lacking requirement 5, but then goes on to bash a man I love like my own father?

DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE ROY, fellas. EVER. Because if you do, you're snapping shut my chastity belt. And it ain't unlockin'.

I know most of you, dear readers, will affirm my decision to end it, right here and now, with anyone who DARES defile the Roy in that way. I'm sure many of you were left gasping by the blasphemy just as I was.

But if not, if you're gonna get on my case for "never giving guys a chance," and "choosing to be alone," perhaps you should head over to So Hot Right Now (updated with New! Hotness!) and ponder if someone this hot could ever truly be satisfied with mere mortals or any earthling besides Wentworth Miller.

Yet another unwanted Valentine

2006-02-21T22:25:00.000-05:00

So, devoted readers, have anything to confess?

On Wednesday, February 15, Classy Lady arrived home to find a bouquet of roses (white and red, of course, because THAT's not boring) and a giant hershey's kiss (milk chocolate, not dark=ew) festooning our patio.

There was no card from a florist, but instead the tell-tale plastic wrap of a Kroger last-minute floral purchase. So the package was obviously hand-delivered. To our door.

Furthermore, there was no card at all. There wasn't a card from the sender, and there wasn't a card to indicate for which LP domiciler the "present" was meant.

But c'mon...given my history of Unwanted Valentines, everyone immediately assumed that only your Heathen Commando could be the intended recipient of such a gift.

As Classy Lady and I stared at the creepy trinkets in horror and fascination, many questions arose:

Who gives Valentine's Day presents the day after? Is it a crazy person who's lost track of their days, or are they just really cheap and waited for the sales?
Who knows where we live?

The answer would be our immediate family members, my best friend Lib, Lib's boyf, our friend Gail, Schoonie, Scott...and their frat buddies (if they are at all cognizant that we the term "neighbor" means we live next door), including [Bag].

Since all in all only about 10 people know our address, and none of them had reason to do this, nor the tackiness to do it the day after....Are Schoonie and Scott so bored they're doing this to mess with us?

(The answer was maybe, but they're too cheap.)

Could someone have mistakenly delivered an annonymous, belated gift to the WRONG apartment and gone so far as to open the wrong gate and put them in front of the wrong door?
Does someone else know where we live? Someone we don't know about? Like an old man down the street? Does he know our schedule well enough to know when we're not home?

SHUDDER.

Since none of the questions or scenarios above are particularly attractive or comforting, was one of my devoted readers inspired to appoint a local proxy to pull-off this prank and give me yet another blog entry to write?
Are any of my blog readers that bored/or pathetic? And yet, ingenious?

If so, come forth, February 15th Bandit! Reveal thyself! Perhaps it will mean love for you and I. Or perhaps a restraining order--depends who you are.

But it will definitely, definitely mean better sleep for me and Classy at night.

My Funny Valentines: And yet more creeps from High School

2006-02-14T23:03:00.000-05:00

Me: I guess the problem is that I'm too nice. I shouldn't be so nice to them.

Schoonie: Mandy, you're only nice to them so you can tell a story about it afterwards....

Ouch. And, judging from these entries---touche, my friend.

At our final stops on the tour of a Heathen Commando's Crazy Would-be Romeo's, you may notice we have circled back. We are once again having to deal with CREEPS who went to high school with me.
(Boarding school---so deceptive. It's really just a haven for disasters.)

First....The Older Man Lech
At last year's alumni reunion, I got irresponsibly drunk and fell in with an older alum because I confessed I'd found him good-looking in high school. (Never start a conversation in this way.)

Cut to massive deception and conspiring on his part to get me into a car and jetting away from my friends. In the car the hands would NOT STOP. They came at me from the back, from the side, from above--it seemed the hands were everywhere. Thankfully, when we wound up back at a public place, my friend from the Army Special Forces was around so I made him my bodyguard for a while, but once he passed out, I was prey again.

The creep busted into our hotel room and would NOT leave. Of course, I should point out that MCP was no help then, even though he was in the next bed. (And he's not really a lot of help either when we go to bars and he decides to play, "Have you Met -------?", where he goes and finds the nastiest, creepiest guys at the bar, tells them that I am just DYING to talk, and sends them my way. I'm normally stuck hiding in the bathroom for a few drinks while MCP chuckes to himself outside. )

But still, even MCP might have stepped in this past SuperBowl Sunday, when Classy Lady and I faced the most challenging psycho yet: The Younger Boy Loon

Bag (short for douchebag) was a couple years behind Classy Lady and myself in high school, and up to this point, we have regarded him like a little brother of whom we were particularly fond. As a frat brother to our neighbor boys, Ryan and Scott, he's been around a bit. They like him, so therefore, we like him. But Sunday no one seemed to like him, and stupid me and stupid Classy Lady felt sorry for him. At first.

He seemed harmless enough. I mean, he's no taller than me. He's kind of, as Marcellus said, Oompa-loompah-ish. And yet, a couple beers and shots into the party, he became particularly persistent about CLOSE-TALKING and GROPING. I mean groping IN PLAIN VIEW. Magically, I would find a hand on my ass, or my back or hooked in my beltloops. I told drunk [Bag] that the hands were not welcome, to keep them in his pocket. He complied...for about five seconds.

"Lesss go back te your place..." he drooled, every five seconds. No, no, no, no. Please go away. I know you're upset that some fetus rejected your frat boy advances and she is at this party too but do you really think that fondling ME is going to make her jealous? You are making me look bad....please stop, lil' guy.

My favorite part was probably when Sarah told him to CUT. IT. OUT. and he said, "But I went to movies with Mandy in high school!" referencing an event that I don't recall and believe is entirely fabricated but might have been somewhat possible if there were a bunch of underformers ALSO involved. In any case, it was not romantic, it was not special, and it was definitely not memorable.

As Sarah replied : "you went to ONE movie and she doesn't even remember it!" But apparently [Bag] imagines that we had some sort of "connection" in high school. Which continues to this day.
Later at the party....

Bag: (whispers in in my ear) "Jussss come outside, for a, for a, for ONE second! ONE SECOND! Please!? I promiz I won't touch ya, I will put my handz right, right, here. In my pants. K? K? Please?"

Okay, outside we go. Maybe the cold air will do him good.

Scott (steps outside): "What's up [Bag], why don't you leave Mandy alone?"
Bag: "I jus wanna talk to her! I jus wanna t-t-talk!"
Scott: "Okay, well you guys can talk in the kitchen."

Kitchen:

Me: All right [Bag] what do you want to talk to me about?
Bag: ummm.....(leans into me all of a sudden, sticks out his tongue and UNZIPS my pants.)
Me: "Oh My God! Okay [Bag] you are disgusting!"

I ran away to the protection of Sarah and Scott, and we decided our best move was to go home. So we stealthily slid away while Ryan distracted [Bag]. We locked the gate on our 9-foot fence and locked our front door before heading to bed.

But wait...
Knock, knock, knock. Omigod do you hear that? You hear it too? Ryan and Scott would call first, wouldn't they? Do you think it's [Bag]? But how did he get in? We locked the gate right? We did! So how is he at our front door? Sarah, grab the fireplace poker! Like seriously.....let's hide upstairs and watch him. Maybe he will go away? Omigod he is not going away. I'm calling Scott. Sarah, don't call him, I can handle this myself. Mandy, he climbed the fence! But he's what, like 4 foot tall? Give me the poker! AAAAAHAHHHHHH!

The boy lunged at me once I opened the front door, but luckily I had the poker in hand and Scott had arrived. Scott told the VERY DRUNKEN [Bag] that it was time to go home. [Bag] agreed as long as I would walk them there. As it is NEXT DOOR, I agreed and ran ahead.

At their fence.....

Bag: (grabbing my arm)"Mandy, I'll let ya go if you just, if you jus...kiss?"
Me: "What?"
Bag: "Jus a kiss. C'mon. C'mon!"
Me: [Bag] there are many, many reasons why that won't happen.
Bag: "Wha reasons? There's no reasons.....reasons? you're just, you're just....SCARED."
Me: "Scared? Of you? Okay, first, you're younger than me and second you look like an oompah-loompah, so there's two reasons. Shallow reasons, but still reasons."
Scott: "[Bag], it is time to go inside now."
Bag: ( yelling as I walk away): " "But will you call me tomorrow to give me the real reasons?"

THE END.

Or not, because he totally came back about twenty minutes later and was stalking the perimeter of our fence. Sarah went out and threatened him with the poker. He skulked off, but came back a final time, climbed our fence, and rattled the door handle for about twenty minutes. Then, according to Ryan and Scott, he came back to their house, made a ketchup sandwhich, and they kicked him out.

And that's just the latest "romeo" in my life.

Wow. Happy FUCKING VALENTINES DAY. AIN'T LOVE AND ATTRACTION AND SEX JUST GRAND?

I started out attracting men who were delusional, but ambitious in their own ways (an ecstasy lab is an enterprise, right? Radio dedication requires a certain amount of thought!) A To-Kill list requires its own type of organization!)

Then they were just frightening and misleading (a sexual harasser mascerading as a cab driver? A straight crazy pretending to be all non-hetero to befriend un-suspecting girls like myself and then stalk them?)

But in the past year, they've been mainly OUT OF LINE, OUT OF CONTROL AND SCARY.
Paging David Padgett. Your bodyguard duties are needed.
Or Dr. Ruth. Can you please tell me how to turn the pheremones off?

My Funny Valentines: The Gay Stalker

2006-02-13T23:02:00.000-05:00

Me: I mean, do I always find myself in these situations because I have a problem? Am I too nice to guys? Is the problem that I'm not mean enough?

Marcellus: No, the problem is that you attract CRAZY people. It's like you have a pheremone that only they can smell and they just act crazier around you.

Me: Stephen King should write a book about me.

I thought this week I should honor Valentine's Day by elaborating for you some of the reasons why I am glad NOT in a committed, co-dependent, or unwanted relationship.

My count of stalkers/sexual harassers extends onto a second hand. My past is littered with uncomfortable encounters brought on by freaks with some kind of physical deformity (shortness, underbites and the like) or mental deformity (delusions of grandeur, complete lack of self-awareness, NO social skills, apparent disassociation with reality). And I'm growing quite tired of it. So it's time to call each one out here at the Heathen Commando Mission.

Each day between now and Valentine's, I will be recounting for you some of my former, unwanted Valentines:

And now we will study a previously unknown delight: The Gay Stalker

I call him the GAY STALKER because I only befriended him initially because I thought he WAS gay. I was in a stage where I wanted no other hetero male friends, and this guy was in my film class. His astute observations about movies and chatty nature made him seem a perfect candidate, so I actually decided to end my mute avoidance of all classmates and talk to him in class. Oh what fun we had!

And what a great coincidence when the next year he turned up in my journalism class as well! All members of that class had eachother's e-mail addresses and suddenly an e-mail popped up in my box so we began corresponding. I was ecstatic. Then he invited me to a party. Well, okay! Duh, dun, dun! I show up at the party and guy is all guiding me around with his hand on the small of my back, introducing me as "the girl I was telling you about," and pawing me like a dog after a bone. Confused about my gaydar, I decided to dismiss the incident and thought maybe he had bi tendencies when drinking.

Oh, but no. The phone calls started coming. The phone messages. Like angry "Mandy, are you avoiding ME? Mandy, why don't you CALL ME BACK? Mandy, aren't we FRIENDS anymore! ? Mandy, I'm starting to feel like I don't mean very much to you because you're always TOO BUSY for me. CALL ME BACK!" Messages that made me shiver.

I continued to play dumb as if it was all just friendly and then there was the MOVIE incident. I mentioned to gay stalker I was going to see a movie one night and was all happy, sitting in my chapel by myself, when suddenly GAY STALKER plops his uninvited ass down besides me. Flustered, I called my ACTUAL gay friend and talked to him as though he were my boyfriend, just to make it clear that the paws were NOT welcome during this cinematic experience. But instead, out they came---the slinkly, sneaky arm around the shoulders gunning for the boob grope.

I threw the arm off and said, "Please---I don't like to be touched, " to which gay stalker replied, "I bet you let [ACTUAL GAY FRIEND] touch you!" Well, yeah! Because he's gay!

Anyway, gay stalker finally went away when the semester ended and we no longer had classes together and I blocked him from IM and stopped taking his phone calls. But in the meantime, I did learn that he had only signed up for the journalism class because he found out I was taking it beforehand. Shivers....

I sure know how to attract 'em!

Happy Fucking Valentine's Day!

My Funny Valentines: The Cab Driver

2006-02-10T22:45:00.000-05:00

Me: I mean, do I always find myself in these situations because I have a problem?Am I too nice to guys? Is the problem that I'm not mean enough?

Marcellus: No, the problem is that you attract CRAZY people. It's like you have a pheremone that only they can smell and they just act crazier around you.

Me: Stephen King should write a book about me.

My Funny Valentines: Country Music Dedicators and Cape-Wearers

2006-02-08T22:45:00.000-05:00

Me: I mean, do I always find myself in these situations because I have a problem. Am I too nice to guys? Is the problem that I'm not mean enough?

MCP: No, the problem is that you attract CRAZY people. It's like you have a pheremone that only they can smell and they just act crazier around you.

Me: Stephen King should write a book about me.

I thought this week I should honor Valentine's Day by elaborating for you some of the reasons why I am glad NOT in a committed, co-dependent, or unwanted relationship.

My count of stalkers/sexual harassers extends onto a second hand. My past is littered with uncomfortable encounters brought on by freaks with some kind of physical deformity (shortness, underbites and the like) or mental deformity (delusions of grandeur, complete lack of self-awareness, NO social skills, apparent disassociation with reality). And I'm growing quite tired of it. So it's time to call each one out here at the Heathen Commando Mission.

Each day between now and Valentine's, I will be recounting for you one of my former, unwanted valentines.

And Now For:

High School Stalkers

After I left Kentucky (no doubt encouraged to get out of town since I had already been STALKED at the age of 13) I began life at my small conservative boarding school. At orientation, the boys all seemed so normal, nice, and unlikely to join cults.

Two weeks later a complete dork from Eastern Kentucky, whom I didn't know at all, declared his love for me on the country radio ten o'clock dedication and asked me to "Be His Baby Tonight!" (Fellas, don't do this. Ever.) The whole school listened in, except, for yours truly, of course. But just in case ANYONE missed it, MCP was kind enough to bring a tape recording to the cafeteria and REPLAYED it for anyone who asked. The dork was given an award at assembly the next week, while I became the formerly promising freshman girl that could no longer be touched with anything shorter than a ten-foot pole.

Fast forward to the humiliation from that finally dying down (and after I had finally constructed a complex map of all the campus routes I had to take to AVOID the goober entirely) and suddenly I was asked to prom by someone I actually DID know. But the reason I knew him was because he was the guy in my class who had a "To Kill" list and wore a cape! We were out in the woods practically by ourselves for some science project and he popped the prom question and laid his stinky-ass-need-a-bath arm around me. He said I should feel honored that he'd removed me from his "To Kill" list and now listed me as a "foxy friend."

Ew.

I know how to pick'em!

Happy FUCKING VALENTINES DAY. AIN'T LOVE JUST GRAND?

My Funny Valentines: Cult Member/Drug Dealer Guy

2006-02-06T17:52:00.000-05:00

Me: I mean, do I always find myself in these situations because I have a problem? Am I too nice to guys? Is the problem that I'm not mean enough?

Marcellus: No, the problem is that you attract CRAZY people. It's like you have a pheremone that only they can smell and they just act crazier around you.

Me: Stephen King should write a book about me.

I thought this week I should honor Valentine's Day by elaborating for you some of the reasons why I am glad NOT in a committed, co-dependent, or unwanted relationship.

My count of stalkers/sexual harassers extends onto a second hand. My past is littered with uncomfortable encounters brought on by freaks with some kind of physical deformity (shortness, underbites and the like) or mental deformity (delusions of grandeur, complete lack of self-awareness, NO social skills, apparent disassociation with reality). And I'm growing quite tired of it. So it's time to call each one out here at the Heathen Commando Mission.

Each day between now and Valentine's, I will be recounting for you one of my former, unwanted valentines.

We will start with:

1) 8th grade boyfriend:

As MG was later indicted for running an active ecstasy lab, my taste for the notorious was apparent at an early age. At the time, he claimed to be involved with a cult (yeah, I know, WHAT WAS I THINKING?) and yet I thought it was all exaggerated. At first. Next thing I know he tries to give me an ugly ass Lord of the Rings/Hobbit ring bought at a gas station or something. When I wouldn't take it, he got all crazy-like. He would roll it between his fingers and stare at me in class.

Then one night I woke up at 2 in the morning to find him staring in my bedroom window. Needless to say, I decided to break up with him. Accomplishing this took a while. It took mean-ness and imposed distance. It took me completely avoiding all phone calls, refusing to speak or acknowledge his existence at school and some threats from one particularly tall and muscular (for an 8th grader) friend.

In 2002, I got a call from my mother, my best friend, and a childhood friend and all were laughing hysterically. Boy was ON THE NEWS! For GETTING ARRESTED! For making ECSTASY!

I know how to pick'em!

Happy FUCKING VALENTINES DAY. AIN'T LOVE JUST GRAND?

Paging David Padgett. Your bodyguard duties are needed.

Or Dr. Ruth. Can you please tell me how to turn the pheremones off?

Ow--It hurts, it really hurts

2006-01-31T18:52:00.000-05:00

So after numerous complaints and entreaties about posting more, I am coming out from hermit-dom to post the following updates:

1. Sometime right around my 24th birthday, I did something to my knee. Something painful on the inside. It may be cartilege around the joint, but it may also be tendons (less serious) so the sports med guy thinks we should take a wait-and-see-and-waste-your-time-at-physical-therapy approach, when all I really want is some pills, a brace and permission to get back to pounding the treadmill. Instead, I hobble around. My runs have ended (hee...that kinda sounds like diarrhea, right?) I think this injury in the first bit of 24 signals the descent into "requiring elder-care." So yeah, I have lots more time to sit around on my ass and blog. But then there's DVR and a bunch of Veronica Mars and Firefly recordings--which would you choose?

2. Also on my 24th birthday, my cruel friends went up to a diminuitive guy (MCP likes to call them midgets) at the club and told him I was DYING to dance. So he asked me and I did. This may or may not have been when I REALLY hurt my knee. It could also have happened during platform dancing, though Classy Lady testifies that the only thing I really hurt during that event was my dignity when I started attempting to perculate....

3. Basketball season is not going well for my teams, except for Morrison and the rest of the Zags, but I mean, c'mon. WCC. It would be sinful if they lost a single game.

Starting in-state, my basketball woes are...woeful.

It looks like U of L, of last year's Final Four, may not even play in the Big East tournament at this point, unless Notre Dame really messes up in the next few weeks. I am sad because it turns out my new love, the Padge, is no second coming of Nick Collison (even though both are #4's) under the basket. And he damn well should be, as he's 7'! If there is one thing I can't stand it is lack of rebounding. Especially offensive rebounding. Follow the shots, boys. Of course, not as easy to do when Rick's plan lives and dies on Dean's threes, which is part of the problem. You've got an enormous guy in the paint and he's built. Use him--let him pile on the easy points! Like Sean did for the Heels!

UK is struggling without Chuck and his leadership this year (congrats to Chuck however!), though they seem to have gotten their heart back and are making a turnaround of late. The sports psychology seems to have turned them around a bit. Still, to prevent this problem in future seasons, I gotta say that if Tubby wants to focus on defense, it would behoove him to recruit some players that will work in that way, rather than ending up with a guard-heavy team.
The young Heels have exceeded my very low expectations, though old man Wes remains my favorite and I'm glad Roy has discovered that its necessary to use him this year. Some of us recognized Miller's talent right off during the First Late Night with Roy three years ago, only to find out he was the transfer who was red-shirted. Still not sold on Hansbrough despite his points---there's just something so hoss-like about him. I may end up abandoning big-man lust in this case and instead sticking to some Aw-he's so pretty Reyshawn Terry love.

Arizona is still in my good graces since they've put my old friend Miles Simon on the staff (perhaps the only time in my life that I've been polyamorous regarding two members of the same team was in 1997 when both Bibby and Simon ruled that squad), but they're not quite as poetic without Stoudemire's threes. Self's program at Kansas seems to be a mismatch between coach and school....too many players have checked out in the past two years for me NOT to feel guilty about Roy leaving the JayHawks in a lurch. And Indiana, off to such a promising start this season, looks to be hobbled significantly by injuries in the tourney.

At least Duke lost on my birthday. And you can be sure as hell that come tournament time, I won't be clapping for any of the orange offenders, like Tennessee, Texas, Syracuse or the eye-searing Illini.

So looking ahead to March, that leaves me to root for....West Virginia? Who'd have thunk? The best thing to ever come out of the god-forsaken land may be this team of Mountaineers. As Briggs said, Gansey can hoop, ya'll.

4. Oscar Noms are out today. I gotta say, the Academy is mostly right. As there are few good roles for women, I'm not gonna get up in arms about the North Country noms (and also, I didn't see it, so it's possible the acting WAS that good).

But it's just frustrating to think of all the great male performances that could be filed under Best Actor in addition to the deserving nominees that did make it. I mean, Viggo Mortensen totally sold A History of Violence, Munich hinged on Eric Bana, and you really should have Jeff Daniels up there for The Squid and the Whale too. But who you gonna cut to make room? Phoenix, Seymour-Hoffman and Ledger have gotta be there, and David Strathairn is up there as a kind of career-honoring award because the man rocks. I haven't seen Hustle and Flow yet, but I have seen Terrence Howard in many other things and I'm sure that he should be nominated as well. More about this later, when I begin my "Road to the Oscars" entries....which, thankfully come before March Madness, so they might actually get posted.

2005 recap: My lame soundtrack

2006-01-04T11:52:00.000-05:00

I had a hard time even figuring out what songs OTHER people heard in 2005, because I had the radio on so little. (That, and the fact that I spent a ton of time rocking out to Hootie and the Blowfish's Greatest Hits and Monster Balads.) That, and when you've got PMurph to tell you what's hot---why research it yourself?

That said, I think these songs might be defined as BIG in '05:

Gold digger
Hollaback Girl
Holiday--"Now everybody do the propaganda!"

Now, of those songs, I like exactly one (Holiday) And that's all I can really remember? What? As I established a year ago, I'm not a music afficianado. I don't buy albums often and I don't like the radio, and I don't go to clubs and hear the newest stuff. I'm still just fine listening to my Rolling Stones.

So if I'm gonna be really honest about what songs defined MY 2005, I'll fess up that I was listening to the alternative, somewhat outdated soundtrack this year:

"Oh my Sweet Carolina" (Ryan Adams' Heartbreaker)
"Parting Gift" (Fiona Apple 's Extraordinary Machine)
"We Used to be Friends" (the Dandy Warhols)
"Crimson and Clover" (Cher & Elijah Blue Alman)
"Angel" (UNC ClefHangers)
"Beast of Burden" (the Stones)
"Footloose" (Kenny Loggins)
As always, "Pour Some Sugar on Me" (Def Leppard)

I really need to get on the ball with the music this next year. I am happy to take recommendations below!

2005 recap: My lack of reading

2006-01-03T11:56:00.000-05:00

So David asked me to post this, and because I have the love, I will do as requested. However, it's embarassing because...um....I haven't read much. I have a job, okay?

This year I read books that were not actually published in 2005. I'm very, very slow.
I read:

The Time Traveler's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger), which was maybe one of the better love stories I've ever read. So maybe I cried. Yeah, I did. Whatever.
Train (Pete Dexter), which was disturbing and a one-night read.
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (Michael Chabon), as good as everyone promised. I especially loved the tie-in with history and Citizen Kane.
Godless (Pete Hautman). Pretty much un-memorable.
The Egyptologist (Arthur Philips), which was a bit of a let-down and a frustration.
The March (E.L. Doctorow), which is actually NOT going to eclipse the author's earlier works as my favorite, but is still good and probably the most accessible offering for the unfamiliar Doctorow reader.
Marathon Man (William Goldman), which I loved, loved, loved.
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling). I read it before the film, thank you. It was good.
I also re-read To Kill a Mockingbird and The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, which were as good as my childhood memories had indicated.
I read every single Entertainment Weekly. You may think that's a lot of words about Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, but they have a book reviews section and I do peruse it. I just don't always (okay, never) go on to actually go procure the books that are profiled. But still, at least I read enough synopses to know what's hot and what exists. That counts for something right? No? Lame excuses are not becoming? But they're my specialty!

I was feeling really bad about my lack of literary samplings, but I did go back to my list of PLANNED reading for 2005 and saw that I hit two of the books on the list (Godless and The Egyptologist.) To my credit, I also tried to read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell but it was too damn boring so I gave up.

So now I guess I will need to spend 2006 reading what I had planned for 2005 and fall yet another year behind.

2005 Recap: Television

2006-01-02T11:54:00.000-05:00

So I, in part, kicked some of my television habit this year. Gone from my life, gladly, is General Hospital (except for the episode when Liz and Lucky got married, because c'mon--I had to watch that.) I am a much better person without that misogyny in my life. Also gone is any watching of the O.C. Scrubs has been gone in a forced way. And thanks to the work of DVR, Lost, Alias and Arrested Development have gone from being must-see television to whenever I get around to it. The Office and Reunion, however, are appointment television, no doubt.

The best:

JJ Abrams mind-fucks: For example...
Lost Season 1 finale---"We're gonna need the boy."
Alias Season 4 finale---"My name isn't really Michael Vaughn..."---CRASH!

the Logan (Jason Dohring) on Veronica Mars, Season 1's second half. First, Classy Lady's boyfriend punches out special guest-star JTT. Then he and V mack. Bathroom make-outs. Yum! He asks her on a date--they mack. She thinks he date raped her, and leaves him stranded on his yaucht with champagne and "Crimson and Clover". But then she finds out it wasn't him, but instead a guy who thought she was his sister. She apologizes, and as Classy Lady and I put it, he gives her his hand. Pool house make-outs. YES! Yum. And then in Season 2's premiere, he begs her dad (watching them make out through a telescope) for five more minutes. Aw. And then weirdly, no more Logan in favor of Duncan? The hell?

Reunion--so effing awesome. So far this series has featured two illegitimate children, two children actually born IN WEDLOCK, three marriages, two unrequited loves, FBI wire-tapping, one movie star, an abusive relationship, adultery, one kidnapping, two imprisonments, one war veteran, one dot-com scandal, one political campaign, one drug habit, one attempted murder, two actual deaths, one gun, one priest, one faked-paralysis, and one totally awesome wedding sequence set to Roxette's "Listen to your Heart." And possibly one actual murder. But we may never know.

Jason Segel's return to television on How I Met Your Mother.

The Office's Jim and Pam....just keep getting better. Also, Dwight---"question, where do I put my terrarium?"

Dancing with the Stars. Come on. It was summer. What else was I going to watch? Evander Holyfield hoofin' it? Fantastic.

Wentworth Miller of Prison Break. What is Fox thinking? Offering no pretty in the cold, dark winter while the show is on break? That's its own type of prison for me.

The worst...(in a good way:)

Point Pleasant: It doesn't get much campier than a show that is literally about the spawn of satan. It was almost as good as Reunion, so of course Fox has cancelled it.
Nip/Tuck: I pretty much hate this show because it makes me so nauseous. I'm no prude, but I cannot stand any of these people. However, as the Season finale was one of the worst things I've ever seen in my life, I'm glad I saw it.
Trading Spouses' GOD WARRIOR episode: Never have I been more filled with glee than to watch the true face of the Republican party, revealed on television for all to see.
R. Kelly's Trapped in the Closet: Wow. There are no words. I'm waiting for the "midget" episode with bated breath.

2005 Recap: My Favorite Films

2006-01-01T11:49:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I got nothin' really to talk about this year, because I think this year was a shit year for movies. There simply wasn't much to say, and that's why there've been no reviews.

I was thinkin' and thinkin' about it, and the list below reflects pretty commercial, low-brow taste, and yet this is all I really liked in 2005.

My hopes are that this list will change as soon as all the films that are technically released in 2005 to merit Oscar consideration are actually released near me in 2006.

Crash
You could see my review for more information, but I'm hard-pressed to name another film this year that focused on something so ugly in such a beautifully, impacting way. And anything that can make Matt Dillon and Sandra Bullock seem like TALENTED actors is something to be considered.

Serenity
Humor? Adventure? Dashing Leading Man? Ass-kicking females? "Aiming to misbehave?" It was all there in Joss' directorial debut. I've seen it twice so far, and smart friends might considering gifting it for my birthday next month.

Pride and Prejudice
Who knew I could watch a Keira Kneightley film and forget to be distracted by her teeth? This adaptation of a much-hated book (by me, anyway) was most palatable. Of course, the only thing better than a man determinedly strolling the moors in a waistcoat is TWO men determinedly stolling the moors in waistcoats.

Walk the Line
I was pretty riveted by this, what might have been a very standard rock-biopic. They usually have all the weight of Keira Kneightley. However, Joaquin's performance was expectedly fantastic, and Reese Witherspoon's unexpectedly so. The music almost made me long to be a country-music fan. But just ALMOST. Then I reminded myself that June and Johnny are both dead.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
The first Harry Potter film to totally get it. I liked Cuaron's effort a lot, but this one finally realized the balance that made the Harry phenomenon. We don't read them because we like magic; we read them because Rowling gives us magic in a world that is like our's. A world where a relatable boy must juggle his genetic heritage and his magical powers at the same time he discovers that the high school dance is a huge event, and that the night never ends without some girl crying. Harry's world and problems are universal and the fourth film (and book) really capitalize on that. His is a world where you attend a huge event like the Quidditch World Cup (or the Final Four) and you just know that it is a memory in the making. But it is also a world where competition and jealousy and rivalry can test our faith in ourselves.

Capote
Philip Seymore Hoffman was fantastic and disturbing, and Catherine Keener actually managed NOT to annoy the hell out of me. It was a smart choice to examine Capote as a person through a lens focused on the defining moment in his life, and one that also spoke to that louder, chilling reality about America and what we celebrate. We celebrate and encourage the nasty, until a person is destroyed.

The Wedding Crashers
I can't believe this is on my list, but it really was the movie OF THE YEAR. The opening wedding crashing montage (set to Shout!) was one of the best pieces of comic work ever recorded, solely for Vince Vaughn's facial expressions cut after cut. I list this movie not because it is great, but because I think deep down, I wish I were a thirty-year old womanizer myself. A little bit louder now...a little bit louder now....

Brokeback Mountain
I haven't seen it yet. It doesn't open here for 4 more days. But for sheer audacity, I'm on board. Also, I'm hoping its marketing team will create a shirt for Katie Holmes that reads:
Michelle Williams got nominated for a Golden Globe, and all I got was a crazy clam midget fetus?

Give them a latke, they'll call it a hashbrown!

2005-12-26T22:35:00.000-05:00

My favorite Christmas 2005 moment:

Definitely when my siste--ahem, I mean Santa--put a dreidel in my nephew's stocking.

Lil' Nate pulled out the dreidel, looked at it in confusion, and set it down, preparing to move on to the next stocking surprise.

"It's a dreidel," I told him and knelt down to demonstrate how it spins. He loves things that spin. I began to sing the song, and looked up to find my fam staring at me blankly.

My sis: "Oh...that's a dreidel? It's so hard to find one of the old-fashioned spinning tops these days. I thought it was just a top and Pier One put weird symbols on it."

I can't wait until someone buys a menorah thinking its a nine-part candelabra.

The longest lines...for The Longest Yard?

2005-12-24T01:14:00.000-05:00

So today, since I was technically* off work and on vacation, I bravely went to Best Buy to buy my niece the Adam Sandler/Chris Rock remake of The Longest Yard, because she told me back in whenever it came out that she had seen the BEST MOVIE of her life and it turned out she wasn't being sarcastic and actually meant it, and so I feel I really need to buy it for her and tie her in front of the tv and torture her with it until she realizes how sad it is that her taste in movies is so very, very bad.

Except my whole plan was foiled. Why? Because Best Buy was SOLD OUT. All copies of The Longest Yard had been bought. By actual adults.

I'm officially frightened.

*I was only technically on vacation because I still worked even though everyone ELSE in my office (and probably my whole company) felt they could take their vacation. Bitter? Me? No!

Blog Makeover

2005-12-15T20:19:00.000-05:00

So I thought in honor of a YEAR (wow!) of blogging I might want to go into 2006 with the same Mission, new look.

And also, I had to free up the totally awesome black template for the new LP endeavor: SO HOT RIGHT NOW, where we document exactly the opposite. It's gonna be fun, with this much meat. I mean, I take some FUGLY-ass photos. Most people choose to destroy, but I choose to publish. And all for your pleasure!

I deserve SO many Christmukkah cards from you guys this year. Taking on another blog, what martyrdom.

My priorities

2005-12-12T07:20:00.000-05:00

Perhaps the funniest exchange ever:

Me: "Yeah, I can't come next weekend. That's the UK/U of L game."
Guy: "So what, you're going to have sex with a basketball?"

Well....if it were possible? Probably.

I always rally

2005-12-10T18:16:00.000-05:00

I am just beyond amused by how actually LIKE a drug addict I look in this picture. Strangely too-skinny forearms? Yep. Suspicious burn mark on wrist? Check. Droopy, empty eyes? Oh yes.

Insane outfit? Possibly. Or maybe just plain insanity---I look like a schizo who THINKs I'm a superhero. But if you've got the awesome Bible School off-the-shoulder sweatshirt (thanks Sid!) that Ryan absolutely loathes, why wouldn't you rock it? And to make it better, add your glamourous red wool shawl (again, thanks Sid), red flannel pants and wrong-colored Santa hat. If I had found a way to also incorporate the denim smock and tobaggans that my neighbors similarly hate, I would have, but I didn't want to OVER-accessorize.

My outfit rules. I'm only sad that none of the pictures showcase the red patent leather snowboots on which I balanced my distaste.

So the next time Ryan implies that my lack of an actual boyfriend (as opposed to imaginary boyfriends, of which I have many. Thank you Internet!) is somehow related to my fashion sense, I am so glad I have this picture to present as defense exhibit A.

By the way, contrary to what this photo suggests, I sat up at 8 a.m. today and felt FABULOUS (but then again, if you had the sweatshirt, wouldn't you?) I had cleaned the kitchen and watched Alias before Classy Lady even stumbled downstairs at 11 a.m.

Thus today, while supposedly Christmas shopping, I got myself a hoodie that reads:

"Drink if you can, drink if you're able, drink with me, you'll be under the
table."

Take that, Mr. Evansworth.

Margaritas.....

2005-12-10T17:53:00.000-05:00

This is what happens on the weekends when I've had a rough week at work, and I try to go to the company Christmas party only to discover that I've left my wallet at El Chico at lunch and so we have to return to the restaurant to get it and decide, "hey, we're already here, so why not just eat," but then the manager comes over and implies that I am eating a second DINNER and makes fun of me, and so we go to Liquor Barn, as you must since it's right next door, and party hats are on sale, even though tequila is not...and even though Ryan is supposed to go out for someone's birthday and Scott is supposed to study, we all end up....like this.

It was a TOP NIGHT.
Thanks to Ryan and Scott's quick thinking, we have photo documentation of its top-ness, which Classy has edited into a slide show and set to Soul Decision's "Faded." We also have a picture of Ryan's bare posterior, but I've thought of the children and elected NOT to post that here.

I really think the case could be made for 1141 Turkey Foot to have its own show. Or at least, me and Classy, anyway. We surely must be like the Paris and Nicole of Lexington, Ky.

I'm not actually Kate Moss, I just impersonate her on the weekends.

Sarah is actually a pyro, though.

Blue Christmas

2005-12-09T18:34:00.000-05:00

As you can see above, I am really in love with my blue santa hat. To explain, you should know that Classy Lady and I picked them up at the UK/Carolina game a week ago.

I know it's treason. I was proud of my boys in the light blue...and still am. But that's no reason NOT to wear a blue santa hat if you have one.

Who got Game?

2005-11-29T21:56:00.000-05:00

Ya'll--it's the MOST! WONDERFUL! TIME!---of-the-year.

Yes, as previous posts have indicated, I love Christmas. And I love all the movies that are released for Oscar consideration. But what I am loving most is the dawn of b-b-basketball season. Let's hoop it up, ya'll!

The thing that is SO great about this year is that last year saw the exit of many big names. Of my seven teams, we've lost Touriaf, Stoudamaire, Frye, Hodge, Chris Paul, Simien, Garcia, and of course, as you probably know by now if you've tuned into ESPN any time in the past few weeks--May, Felton, Williams, and McCants from Carolina. Illinois lost Head and Williams, Utah lost Bogut, Georgia Tech lost Jarret Jack. Other un-drafted but very needed players simply graduated (Jawad, Hayes, etc.) from their respective programs. And their leadership is missed.

The big names are gone from many of the big-name programs. And now is the time that you finally can see the other talent. Other heroes come to the fore! The young and cocky and untested and brave freshmen. Those who hovered in the background the past few years, who had yet to step up in the shadow of bigger leaders.

This year's it's anyone's game. And that makes me happy. As long as it ain't Reddick's.

Can I just tell you how in love with my Y Membership I am right now? We got five screens in front of the treadmills, and three are tuned to Sports channels. Tonight I actually timed my run with the Wake and UK games. THAT is multi-tasking, folks. That is one positive way that technology and mass media are making the world better.

Because otherwise--I would totally choose the game over the run, and would instead be at home on my ass watching OTHER people exercise.

Intersection of Coolness

2005-11-18T07:54:00.000-05:00

Please, for the love of all that is holy, watch South Park's latest, titled "Trapped in the Closet." If the title of the episode confuses you, that's understandable. Is it about repressed homosexuality? Or is it about the most fantastic musical effort of our times, R. Kelly's "Trapped in the Closet" hip-hop opera?

Oh my readers, the answer is simple. The episode is about both. It was the intersection of all things I love to make fun of--schadenfreudalicious!

How awesome is that? The episode fully exposes the ridiculousness of Scientology AND makes fun of Tom Cruise AND features a gun-toting sing-songing R. Kelly.

It is awesome.

Mad props to Scott and Ryan* for taping it. Furthermore, mad props to them for first realizing the brilliance of "Trapped in the Closet" as a not-opera. Mad props to R. Kelly for being so crazy. And super-mad props to L. Rob Hubbard, for conconcting a story that brought the craziest actors together in one cult where we can easily make fun of them.

*Ryan and Scott are the neighbors AND co-workers to me and Classy Lady, respectively. They have extremely good taste in bad television.

Attempted Blogger Conversion?

2005-11-15T01:27:00.000-05:00

So, I've been away on a business trip, and bef0re that, there was the watching of
Veronica Mars Season One and extreme feelings about Logan, and further
developments in other relationships (I have a life, people!) but I came home
tofind the following comment posted on my blog.

"You have a riveting web log and undoubtedly must have atypical &
quiescent potential for your intended readership. May I suggest that you do
everything in your power to honor your encyclopedic/omniscient
Designer/Architect as well as your revering audience.
As soon as we acknowledge this Supreme Designer/Architect, Who has erected the beauteous fabric of the universe, our minds must necessarily be ravished withwonder at this infinate goodness, wisdom and power."

Um....leave me alone, you psycho! I don't need your suggestions, I don't need
your preachin', and please don't call him the "Architect" because that takes me
back to memories of The Matrix: Revolutions and that is NEVER a good
thing.

If only this meant Fillion was mine...

2005-10-23T12:35:00.000-04:00

Does this mean I get to make out with the doctor by default?

You scored as Kaylee Frye. The Mechanic. You are a natural mechanic, and you are far too sweet and cheerful to live out here. How you can see the good in everyone around you boggles the mind occationally. Still you don't seem to be any crazier than that, and it is a nice kinda crazy.

Kaylee Frye

75%

Zoe Alleyne Washburne

63%

The Operative

56%

Hoban 'Wash' Washburne

56%

Capt. Mal Reynolds

56%

Simon Tam

56%

River Tam

50%

Inara Serra

50%

Shepherd Derrial Book

31%

Jayne Cobb

19%

Which Serenity character are you?
created with QuizFarm.com

An Honest Rendering of my STAGGERING Selfishness

2005-10-18T21:13:00.000-04:00

It is a rare, rare thing indeed when I post about something other than pop-culture, hatred towards the Administration, or the most recent small disaster in my life.

But today I write, heart in hand, about something a bit less palatable than all those things. The following is not an indictment of any of the parties involved, nor an effort to send someone trippin' on guilt. It's simply my effort to make an honest rendering of how I feel at this moment in my near-mid-twenties. It is, above all, a true confession of how selfish and insecure your dear Heathen Commando can be.

About a week ago, my best friend, The Scot known in blogging circles as Sid (the Haggis Stalker,) got engaged to her high school boyfriend, Cox. And my clock stopped.

The conversation went something like this:
Phone rings--(by the way, I desperately need to download some ring tones, ya'll--that ringer is annoying). I saw it was from "bermuda" (what?) and picked up:

Sid: Hey Mandy
Mandy: Hey Sarah!
Sid: How are you?
Mandy: I'm good. I'm in Atlanta right now, actually, with Marcellus and Beth and Beth is getting ready to leave so can I talk to you later?
Sid: No.
Mandy: No?
Sid: No, because I'm engaged!
Mandy: What? [to Marcellus and Beth] She's engaged? [back into the phone]: WHY?

And....tears. Hair-pulling. Stunned-silence. And then...the opposite of silence...preaching. Preaching into EVERY EAR I encountered. "Blah, blah, blah--this can't happen. Blah, blah, blah--he doesn't deserve her. Blah, blah, blah, what's the rush." Eating. Drinking a lot. Listening to Coldplay.

Yeah, Coldplay. It was that bad, ya'll.

Don't get me wrong folks. Most, if not all, of us who know the betrothed couple reacted with a "What? They are? That's INSANE," exclamation. But with everyone else, a "well--I'll be damned" chuckle inevitably followed. Except in my case.

And finally one night as I guzzled another glass of wine and railed on and on, Classy Lady looked at me and said, "This is Sarah's decision and Sarah's life---why are you having such an extreme reaction to this?"

Ummm...AWKWARD.

And, oh shit---TRUE.

Why was I so affected? Besides the fact that Sid was threatening to make me wear a yellow, or GOD FORBID, ORANGE bridesmaid monstrosity, why, indeed, would the news prompt such an extreme and consuming reaction in me? Besides the fact that I can be a selfish bitch, why was I so upset?

And the answer was, truly and selfishly and above all, FEAR.

I would walk through fire for Sid. I do not begrudge my best friend a chance at happiness. I would not be happy to imagine a world where she, brilliant and spirited as she is, could not find someone who'd want her as a partner. That he does, and has (always in these ten years we've all known eachother) is only....right, I suppose.

I am happy that she might have a future without new broken hearts. Michael may refracture the damages he's done in the last 10 years, but it's a much less frightening prospect than letting someone new hold the knife. How many of us have a chance to find love, lose it, and then reclaim it?

I feel, in perspective, that they are truly, truly lucky. For how many of us get to marry our first loves? That first love, I really believe, is the only pure one. You can't ever throw yourself in again so whole-heartedly, not once you've been hurt. Sometimes you never throw yourself back in at all. If this whole announcement has made me jealous at all, it's because I am jealous that Sid can still give of herself that way and BELIEVE in love this much. I cannot fathom having that kind of faith.

A few weekends ago, I was out at Atomic rockin' my three inch librarian heels with Classy Lady and my friend Gail. And as we talked about the superhot guy in my building whom I avoid and all the other attractive men I've been afraid to talk to, Gail (who's in her thirties) looked at me and said, "You are far too young to be this jaded. You must have really been hurt at some point, huh? Because you are simply terrified."

And she's right, and the fear is only growing. I'm not just scared that it won't EVER happen for me, but now I'm scared of more...

I fear not just this marriage, but all the ones that will follow, each and every dear friend departing the world where they are partners in loneliness, and instead embarking for the state of pure dependence. I fear losing my friendships, over and over, to the spouses of the future. I fear losing my best friend to this one, Mr. Cox. I fear growing up. I fear being left behind. I fear.

People always try to tell you that you will remain friends after a marriage, but it's never quite the same. I will never have Sarah all to myself again. Everything will go from "you and me," to "us three." And us three is harder to accomodate. Many things, like the frontseat of a Miata or dressing rooms at the Gap, only have room for two.

Though I realize it's completely irrational and unjust, I have felt like Cox is taking Sarah away from me and all the plans we had. After years of planning what we would do in our twenties, what we would do as two young single women, I face those years instead alone without my partner. My stories about those experiences, (if there are actually any worth relating,) will be instead pedestrian anecdotes that she will hear, trivial accounts that will only reaffirm her own decision that marriage is easier and right and THANK GOD she's not DATING anymore.

It isn't a jealousy issue. I never wanted him for myself, and don't wish it were I getting married. It's not a competitive streak in me that is causing this hurt--I didn't want to cross that finish line first. I suppose it's more that I thought Sid and I would cross it around the same time. And I haven't even started competing in this event.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not afraid of being single and alone. Being alone can be great. It means you can decide to go see Serenity at a midnight show and not get teased about your geeky sci-fi proclivities or instead manipulated into seeing The Fog. It means you can dance naked in your apartment without worrying if someone sees any jiggling. It means you can spend hours picking your face in the bathroom mirror without being in someone's way. It means that on nights when it's raining, or when I'm sitting in the movie theater, I can allow myself to retreat back to the so-fresh memories of those experiences with my first love and not feel guilty that those memories have yet to fade.

But being alone ALONE is an entirely different matter. Being alone when your former comrades in it are alone no longer is very lonely indeed.

And yet more television....

2005-10-14T00:02:00.000-04:00

[whisper] I kind of don't like Lost anymore. [/whisper].

Sacrilege, I know. Am I really so fickle?

Matthew Fox remains a beautiful, beautiful man. Like, seriously. But so far....what an awful way to start the season. I think the problem is that the producers listened to what the viewers wanted. The viewers were all, [whine] "Give us answers! What's in the hatch! What's in the hatch? What's in the hatch!" [/whine]

And so they told us. Moreover, they introduced us to some of the "others," and started jerking us around and asking us to push a button every week. And you know what? They shouldn't have.

The beauty of Lost was the mystery. The mystique stemmed from the introduction of freaky things with no explanation. The thrills were derived from the episodes with endings that lead the viewer to say, "the hell?" The survival story, and the constantly growing pile of questions were simply ways to pace the show as we got to know the characters.

But now the characters have taken a back seat, and we've gotten answers. Answers far less interesting than what we'd hoped. In a way, the more outlandish the answers, the less satisfying they are.

Not knowing was much more fun.

And now, just one more sentence of blasphemy....

I kind of don't miss Michael Vartan on Alias. I'm likin' the Balthazar Getty! He's so subtly intense and interesting. More interesting than Michael "Agent of Many Forehead Wrinkles" Vaughn ever was.

Can Liev Shreiber, who is tied with Ewan McGregor as my favorite working actor, please guest star as Getty's dad?

It's 8 p.m. Do you know Where You Should Be?

2005-10-02T21:33:00.000-04:00

Cause I know where I am.*

Mondays:
8: Arrested Development
8:30: How I Met your Mother
9: Prison Break

Tuesdays:
9:30: The Office (except for when KY censors it!)

Wednesdays:
9: Lost

Thursdays:
8: Alias
9: Reunion

Friday:
Watching the Nip/Tuck from Tuesday night

Saturday:
At work
or...hopefully exercising
Very soon...watching Veronica Mars DVDs

Sunday:
Watching the week's missed Daily Shows
9: Desperate Housewives, rolling my eyes.

*Er--thanks to D!V!R! I may or may not be actually in front of the tv for such events.

Return to small-mindedness (Or, How I Become a Coach Potato again when the reruns stop)

2005-09-20T21:25:00.000-04:00

Ya'll should be kissing my stinky feet to thank me for blogging right now, because we are in the midst of a busy season.

Television is back.

And oh my, Fall's television premiere month is about as stressful as March. Determined that I will never be ignorant at the water cooler and can rightly complain about any less-than-stellar shows that the Republican contingent is placing at the top of the Nielsen's, I try to watch everything new. Then I finally make a commitment to a the few. So I've got to crosscheck Entertainment Weekly's guide with the Insight Digital listings, and make out a little schedule, and figure out what gets DVR'ed and what get's VCR'ed and what gets taped by a friend, and then you have to actually schedule the time to WATCH all of it, and you never. leave. the house. You CANNOT break away. It's too much pressure!

And to blog on top of all that coach-potato work--that is dedication, right there!

But as your guide to all things both shamelessly fun and bad about pop culture, I feel it is my duty to share with you what I've learned. I do this all for your own good:

The New Shows So Far:

How I Met Your Mother
(Mondays, 8:30 p.m. on CBS, starring Neil Patrick Harris, Alyson Hannigan and Jason Segel)

Um....it's definitely a sitcom. That's the best I can say. Despite the smarmy presence of Doogie, it's irritating me already. There's this really annoying voice (Bob Saget's) voicing over from beginning to end, which tries to make the whole sitcom seem grandiose and ground breaking, as if the writer's already have a grand scheme in mind for the end. Yeah. I'm guessing they have no idea who the main ( definitely lackluster Ugly Man's Jimmy Fallon) character is going to end up with. You know what it makes me think of? Why isn't this whole show a "Your Mama" joke? That would be so much better.
However, Jason Segel's increased chunkiness? Makes me want him all the more!
Verdict: If I develop a Nip/Tuck condition of being fused to my couch, then I will watch it happily and remember how cute Jason Segel is when he sings Styx's Lady.

Kitchen Confidential
(Mondays at 8:30 p.m. (following Arrested) on Fox, starring Bradley Cooper, Nicholas Brendan, John Francis Daley, Bonnie Summerville, Jaime King, and....some other people)

Wha? The premise is just so stupid and not right for Fox. This must have been the pitch: This is a show about a reformed bad-boy chef trying to make a comeback in a chic restaurant in New York, where Xander and Sam Weir also happen to be hanging out. Along with the EXTREMELY annoying Bonnie Summerville, whom I really wish would hang it up. Ugh. Who bought that pitch? Please tell me they're paying you a lot, Bradley--you are so cute! You are an English Lit honors grad from Georgetown....could you, like, WRITE something better for yourself? Please?
Verdict: On second thought, I probably WILL watch How I Met Your Mother instead of this. Arrested is on at 8, and Prison Break at 9, so what's the point in turning the tv off for 30 minutes in between?

My Name is Earl
(Tuesdays at 9 p.m., preceding the Office on NBC, starring Jason Lee and Jaime Pressley)

Although I'm always happy when people make fun of the waste that is Carson Daly, I just couldn't make myself program this into my DVR. It ain't Scrubs. That's fo sho. Jason Lee may look the part, but he cain't talk the tawk. He needs to come to the Elpie flat and learn how to talk Kentucky/ West Virginnie style. And maybe Jaime Presley is somewhat amusing, but still--if people don't watch Scrubs, they ain't watching this shit.
Verdict: Let's just wait for Scrubs to come back. Please bring it back soon.

Prison Break
(Mondays at 9 p.m. on Fox. Starring a damn fine Princeton Graduate. And, oh yeah--Robin Tunney, Stacy Keach, Peter Stormaire, and John Hurt)

Oh, oh, oh--Wentworth Miller. Yum! as one brilliant TWoP poster pointed out,

To be honest, I have no idea how Wentworth Miller functions in society at all. Does he only go out at night? Does he travel underground through a complicated network of tunnels? Is there a more perfect human being whom he travels with at all times, and who acts as some sort of prettiness decoy? Mysteries, all.

Even disregarding the digusting, lustful thoughts that keep me pinned to the tv, thinking about Went is his prison jumpsuit, I think this one has won me over, although only in the way that 24 did, it its first run. I'm intruiged enough to watch it make good on it's name, but afterwards the actual break, I will probably lose interest. I'm fickle, okay? But Wentworth? I believe you and I may be a story for the ages. Call me, okay?
Verdict: Watch it. Even if you're late to the train, jump on now.

Reunion
(Thursdays at 9 p.m. on Fox, starring no one very talented, but both Ryan Reynolds and Adam Brody lookalikes.)

This show is like one of those Christopher Pike teen novels come to life. It's "I Know What You Did 20 Years Ago With Your Final Friends." And I LOVED THOSE Christopher Pike/Lois Duncan paperbacks late at night, when I should have been sleeping. Plus Reunion features eighties music to boot! And side ponytails! So yeah, me and Classy Lady have been watching--it's the one guilty pleasure we both agree on.

Me to SMass: So, I think that girl had a baby with that guy, but the other guy doesn't know, and yet he knows something's up so he killed the priest.
SMass: Or maybe HE's the one who's dead.
Me: Or maybe the girl went crazy because she's lost her baby and they killed her because they got tired of hearing about it....wait, are we actually interested by this?
SMass: Yeah.
Me: Oh my god, we're going to keep watching this, aren't we...
SMass: (sigh) yeah.

Next viewing...
Me to SMass: So we know that of the six, here are three who stay alive.
SMass: Yeah, so the dead one is either the guy, or one of the two girls.
Me: Let's hope it's the girl the guys are fighting over. Cause SHE SUCKS!
SMass: Let's hope.
Verdict: We're really lame, so we'll probably watch it after Alias, unless Night Stalker can overcome its stupid name.

Invasion
(Wednesdays at 10 p.m. following Lost on ABC, starring William Fichtner and Eddie Cibrian)
Me to SMass: So, I am convinced the mother and the step-father are aliens.
SMass (completely oblivious and transfixed by the computer): What?
Me: I mean, if anyone is an alien, William Fichner is! Don't you think?
SMass: I think I'm not really into this show.

Verdict: Um....no. Don't get me wrong. I am so thankful that the Networks have replaced shitty reality television with shitty Sci-Fi. But in doing so, do we need to cancel out all humor? Couldn't ABC just do something like Star Trek: The Geezer generation and get Shatner out of David Kelley's grasp?

Nightstalker
Thursdays at 9 p.m., following Alias on ABC, starring Stuart Townsend and Gabrielle Union)
Oh man. If only this show were as good as it looks. Beautifully, beautifully shot pilot. Amazing, dark atmosphere, nearly too dark for tv. But definitely not suited for episodic television. Not after we've already had the X-files, which did it better and with more intelligence. Also, I really don't think the best boogie man to put in your pilot is a kind of COYOTE/werewolf hyprid. Because that? Not so scary. Just kind of makes me glad for the 2nd ammendment. I'd totally shoot that thing.

Verdict: Reunion it is! Stuart Townsend's sexy voice ain't enough to help me sleep at night after watching the creepiness of Nighstalker. So I'm much more content to watch the horrors of Reunion.

Returning shows:

Arrested Development: Season 3
So I totally signed the petition to bring this back, but so far, I'm a bit worried. So far, not quite stellar. Where is Scrubs, anyway?

Lost: Season 2
Yay! There is no show that provides thrills and chills like this one! Okay, so maybe the flashbacks are getting old. And maybe I totally called who Desmond was from the beginning. Who cares? Matthew Fox cried so beautifully after Julie Bowen's miracle, and he was wearing BLUE scrubs. That man is a beautiful, beautiful man. If you aren't watching, it's because you hate all things beautiful and pretty.

Desperate Housewives: Season 2
Meh. The only way to describe my feelings towards DH are annoyed. I just don't care. I still hate Gabby--would she make up her damn mind? Susan and Mike--still apart! Edie--still a slut! Lynette--she's really only tolerable with Tom! Plus--they killed Rex! And now Bree's back at square one. The only way I can see this getting good is if Bree turns into KimberBree and goes all crazy on George and RIPS! OFF! The WIG!

Alias: Season 5
Okay, pipe down. Vaughn isn't dead. Believe me. It's Alias--no one ever is. Plus, he's just not. That would mean taking away all pretty, and that is a non-sensicle business decision. His death has been faked, and he's chilling in a S. African villa, and after Syd has the baby, he's going to come breezing through the delivery room doors, speaking in french and shit and it will be beautiful.

Or that's what I'm gonna keep telling myself to make it through this season.

2005 Emmy Awards (basically the same as 2004)

2005-09-19T00:57:00.000-04:00

Okay, SMass and I got some cable (and D!V!R!) and the net hooked up on Tuesday, and so I shall return to blogging. I am re-opening the Mission in honor of the 2005 Emmy's, which were.....completely pointless.

I know I was pretty down on the Illini socialist argument that "we should win the NCAA title because we've never won one and UNC already has," but see--a basketball team never ends. I mean, unless the school, like, closes, a basketball team will continue to exist despite changes in coaches and players.

A television show, however, only has a shelf life of maybe 1 year (most of the time, and that's if the pilot even gets picked up.) Maybe 5 seasons, if only so that there can be syndication.

So you've got to honor more shows and more actors more frequently. The Emmy's should be a socialist endeavor.

I mean, did Brad Garrett or Doris Roberts really need ANOTHER Emmy? Peter Boyle is so clearly going to die soon, and even though I'm the One Body Who Didn't Love Raymond, I still contend that he was the best part of the show. And should have finally had a win.

Did weird, awkward James Spader really need a second Emmy? Boston Legal hasn't even been on since Christmas! And he's weird! I didn't need a second kooky acceptance speech. Now, now Shatner is awesome, so you can give him all you want, but Spader? No.

And God knows I love Tony Shalhoub since his days on Wings and his relation with the brothers Coen, but really....he gots a second Emmy and Zach Braff gets nothing? He's put in hilarious performances for four years and his show isn't even coming back for sure...plus YOU ALREADY GOT ONE SHALHOUB!

And don't even get me started on the lack of love for Arrested and Bateman. I mean---man....

There was no point in watching this show this year. It was just like last year's, except that I got to see Patricia Arquette traipse around in a very unfortunately chosen white dress.

Patty, from one flabby girl to another--white ain't your friend, kay? Black is slimminger anyday.

A mind is a terrible thing to waste...

2005-07-09T18:50:00.000-04:00

And working way too much definitely does it.

After an exhausting week of "training" with an incompetent, I'd wager I'm about 200% stupider.

And I think last night proves it.

Last night, while watching Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, I turned to Classy Lady and said, "this movie may just be the most brilliant thing ever made."

I'm scared.

Stop your whining!

2005-06-29T00:57:00.000-04:00

Look here, I know it's been a while since I've posted. I know it's a bit ironic, after I've complained about the stagnant blogs of others. But it's not actual negligence on my part. It's actual, literal NO TIME.

When you start a full-time job like the one I've begun, a full-time job working on a brand new account which you know nothing about and there are deadlines LOOMING, you put in some extra hours. And when you have a free hour and you're not at work, you're trying to clean, or interact with people who AREN't co-workers or challenge your brain to think about anything OTHER than work and so I really, really, really haven't felt like booting up the computer and projecting some drivel on here.

But just to shut-up my critics, I have the following.

1. Congrats to Cisco--I'm so happy for you. You, of all people, certainly deserve this. Though #23 was an insult. Sean, no surprise, and I'm glad you and Raymond are staying in-state. But what an effing insult, with Rashad being chosen right after Sean. Ridiculous...but at least Rashad will be freezing his nuts off up in MN. How long do you wanna bet it will be before he starts complaining? And oh yeah--sorry Chuck.

2. Ah ha!

INDIANAPOLIS (AP) - Syracuse has ended UK's nine-year run as the leader in men's basketball attendance.

The Orange averaged 22,978 a game in the Carrier Dome last season, beating UK's average attendance of 22,520. NCAA champion North Carolina was third at 20,522 and Louisville was fourth at 18,746, according to figures released in this week's NCAA News.
Syracuse was the leader from 1985 to 1995, while UK had led the nation in average attendance since 1996. Following Louisville in Division One attendance were: Wisconsin, Maryland, Illinois, Kansas, Arkansas, Michigan State and Indiana. The Atlantic Coast Conference set a record with almost two million fans, but its average of 11,097 was second to the Big Ten's 12,530. The SEC was third at 10,663 and the Big East was fourth at 10,396.

And people wonder why I'm a basketball nut. The answer is because I'm surrounded by them, and have been in every place I've lived. Now all I have to do is attend Syracuse for basketball, and I'll be as average as can be.

3. Back to my favorite schadenfreud-elicious topic...I find myself quite conflicted about this.
I mean, I'm a huge believer in civil disobedience, but the last time I checked, the guy hadn't killed babies or anything (though he will tell you that psychiatrists have), so is this really something to get that fired up about? Aren't there more important things to protest and boycott? Like, I don't know--non-dolphin-safe tuna? The Republican party and its donors? I mean, if the American people can get behind this guy and his religion, why should we be so critical of a crazy gay midget clam? It's not like he gave us a war or anything. All he's given me is a headache...from laughing so hard. The man is providing us more than filmed, scripted entertainment. He is giving us an in-depth documentarian look at true insanity and downfall. And I, for one, still can't get enough. So though I agree with many of the sentiments expressed in the petition, I'm not sure I should have to give up a good popcorn night with a Spielberg movie just because Tom Cruise is crazy.

In short--Friday night has me and War of the Worlds written all over it. Though I'm still not gonna fork out dough for it.

The Liberators are coming!

2005-06-09T11:01:00.000-04:00

Finally, some kind soul has organized a movement to help the poor, disillusioned young girl formerly known as Joey Potter. It may be a few too many auditing sessions late, but surely the t-shirts mean something! If you too are concerned about the emotional wellfare of Ms. Holmes and/or your own inability to stomach all the tabloid covers and couch-jumping Oprah shows, then buy a shirt!

On a more serious note, I just continue to be fascinated by this. I am totally welcoming the insanity. I'm sad that Cruise's studios have put the smack-down on Devette's delusional pr efforts. The man is having a breakdown RIGHT in front of us! It's nearing Anne Heche/Mariah Carey proportions and I love it. I was always afraid that we would have to wait until Tommy died before we'd get the fantastic tell-all "Tom Cruise was a crazy midget gay clam" all Rock-Hudson-style, but instead...people are getting an inkling as we speak! Right before he launches a movie. Awesome!

Not to say that I won't be contributing to the crazy midget gay clam in some way, because War of the Worlds? I will SO be there.

Great Lines--6/7/05

2005-06-07T12:33:00.000-04:00

Just to prove that the Bennington weekend wasn't all bad, I will publish a Great Line, authored by one of the stupidest people I've ever met.

(After a discussion about Quaker schools)

Stupid lady, aka, Nancy: Oh yes, I understand all about Quakers, you know. My great-grandfather and great-uncle were Christian Scientists.

Yeah, I know I'm a total bitch (part one)

2005-06-07T11:56:00.000-04:00

So I'm absolutely exhausted after a weekend in Vermont, where I watched Leah "Stagecat" Bell graduate from Bennington college. Yeah, it was cool to hang out with the fam, because Phil is really the awesomest brother ever, and it was definitely a nice surprise to find that Jonathan Lethem was the speaker at the Commencement Dinner, since I actually knew who that was and was familiar with his work. But still, every time I travel, I feel so burnt out upon my return. Though the exhaustion is definitely related to a general lack of sleep, the exhaustion also stems from the constant irritation that I encounter whenever I interact with insensible people, which happens more often than I'd like. Like, at least five times a day. And it is SO MUCH WORSE when traveling.

What irritates me? Here's a list, also known as Commando's Guide to Flying and Being Cool.

People who wear jewelry on airplanes. I'd really like to address this to Ms. Suzie Soccermom who stood in front of me as we went through the metal detector in Louisville at 5 a.m. in the morning. Ms. Soccermom--I know you think your chunky gold QVC jewelry is just fabulous and it's like a security blanket you MUST have with you, but leave those baubles at home, okay? Or pack it away. You really don't need to wear it on the plane. One, because that shit is tacky, dudette. But also? Jewelry, most of it, anyway--it's made of metal. We have to go through METAL detectors in order to get to the departure gate. If you wear your METAL jewelry through the metal detector, the detector will beep and you will annoy everyone in line behind you. But you know what? It's also really annoying that we have to wait FIFTEEN minutes at the metal detector because you couldn't bear to walk around the airport without your Louis XVI-copy earrings and so we have to wait while you unclasp all that shit and load it in the metal tray.
People who wear complicated shoes while flying. Look, the metal detector is screwy. And people have been known to set their shoes on fire on planes. So why you wanna mess with this? Just wear some flip flops-that's what I do. Don't wear knee high boots, or hi-top sneakers or anything complicated. Because if you do, I guarantee you that the metal detector is going to go off and then I'm going to have to wait an additional FIFTEEN minutes while you hop around awkwardly on one foot next to the conveyor belt and unlace and kick off each shoe, and not only does the WAITING piss me off, but now we've got your FOOT odor to contend with and I am getting mighty steamed....
People who wear belts, jackets with zippers and other unfriendly travel gear on airplanes. Look, there is a METAL DETECTOR. It beeps when you wear METAL. Thus, it beeps because of belt buckles and shoes and jewelry and jacket zippers and when it beeps they have to scan you and you're holding up the line, dude. It probably beeps because of rhinestones, not that you should be wearing those anyways. So let's just not wear any of these things. Believe me, your turquoise belt buckle doesn't look good anyway, and it's freaking June so a windbreaker is not necessary. Take a cue from my flying uniform and enjoy nice, hassle-free travel. Wear capri pants or sweat pants or a skirt. Do NOT wear something that requires a belt. Top that with a plain t-shirt--no writing or anything that is going to distract the other harried travelers around you and hold up the line in any way. To combat the airplane chilliness, bring along a little cardigan, sweatshirt, or, in my most fashionable case, a wrap around sweater that is so lightweight, it folds down to about a tenth its size and fits easily into my purse. THIS IS THE WAY TO GO, believe me.
People who over-pack for weekend trips. Classy Lady, I'm talking to you. I don't know why I'm still so irritated by something that happened two years ago, but I am. Carry on, carry on. It's just SO much easier. Five years ago, I made it through Europe with two carry-on bags, so I know it can be done.
People who don't plan ahead when moving their stuff from Vermont to North Carolina. Ahem. I mean--it's like 700 miles. You've got a lot of shit. You might want to think about how you're going to get it across that distance. You might want to check out your car and see if it does indeed have a trailer hitch before you rent a trailer, because, um....that would just be sensible, right? You might have wanted to think about this YESTERDAY, and not left it until the day I get there, because I'm already irritated because of the four reasons above, and the last thing you need is to reveal your own irritating insensibility once I've arrived.
The nouveau hippie movement. This is basically like saying that the entire population of Bennington is irritating, which is pretty stupid considering my own fondness for Asheville, but seriously, kids--take a bath. There's no reason to cultivate such rank BO. There's also no reason to act like you're the same kind of non-conformist that existed back in the '60s because Vietnam is over, dude. There's a whole different kind of establishment to rebel against, and one needs to adjust one's tactics accordingly. We need to think and dress and act enough like to the enemy that they never see us coming. And with the flowers in your hair and your patchouli stench, you're definitely conspicious from a mile away.
Men who are married. Lately, it seems like all the cute ones are. I hate this trend.

The Return of the Wha?

2005-06-01T09:29:00.000-04:00

Okay, so Return of the Jedi, which I haven't seen since maybe 1997--anyway, it's been years--BLOWS!

We watched it last night. And boy are those Ewoks annoying. A hint of the Jar Jar Binks to come. Wow, don't those Endor scooters pale in comparison to a good Quidditch broomstick. And damn, Hamill! Your face is tore up! Damn, Carrie--you're forty five years old, AND a man to boot. And why is a giant catfish commanding the Alliance? He's scarier than Vader!

The only somewhat redeemable parts of Return of the Jedi are:

The fantastic sounds that Chewie makes when he sees the big hunk of meat on the Ewok trap and when he climbs into the Empire's VERY inefficient Ostrich-tank. Chewie is awesome. If you'd been at my house last night, you would have heard some strange sounds coming from my bedroom as Classy Lady and I tried to imitate him. It kinda just sounded like we needed some kaopectate and a ricola lozenge.
The incessant strains of the Darth Vader music, which is used way too much in this one. It's fine in Empire, and actually helps the viewer differentiate between the Empire and Alliance ships. But in Return of the Jedi, Marquand uses the Darth dirge anytime Darth is onscreen. Dude--he's standing right in front of us. We know! But really, who cares, because the Darth dirge is awesome.

Me: Dun-dun-dun, duh-da-na, duh-da-na---
Classy Lady: They should play Darth Vader music right after we eat a
lot.

Schadenfreude

2005-05-24T10:31:00.000-04:00

Okay, I know there are big problems in the world, like hunger, poverty, AIDS, and George W. Bush. But, this open display of insanity disturbs me the most.

I didn't watch it, because I've given up daytime television (and I'm now in a much better place), so without context, I find these images too horrifying for words.

Is he attacking Oprah? More than once? Why didn't some of her followers--er, I mean, audience members--take him out when he tried to do that? Is he standing ON the couch? Where is the ritalin for this guy?

Oh, that's right. Clams don't believe in taking drugs. Or, obviously, mental illness. How convenient for him.

Someone online said it best:

"I like Tom Cruise now. His insanity has come to the fore. He had no personality before. Now, he’s like a member of your family.

If your family had an crazy uncle who was liable to take a dump on the Thanksgiving turkey. “

Great Lines-5/23

2005-05-24T00:16:00.000-04:00

In response to this bit of brilliance from me, MCP responded with the following great line:

One bottle of wine for one person is NOT a bad thing. It's how
nature intended it. 1:1. The simplest ratio in the world.

Tidbits for snacking

2005-05-19T11:32:00.000-04:00

Lately, I've made it my mission to try new things, or to give things I've previously judged worthless a second chance. And all for you, my readers, all for you. I am your guinea pig and paragon of virtue and good taste.

Here are my conclusions.

I like:

Triscuits with Olive Oil and Rosemary. I'm a big fan of the triscuit anyway, so I was hardly skeptical to begin with. But honestly, these are delicious. If you, like me, have moved outside a Brueger's area and can no longer get Rosemary & Olive Oil bagels, then these crackers are for you.
A Lot like Love with Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet. Now granted, it's not remarkable enough or snarkworthy enough to merit a review, but this movie is all in all, okay. I saw it because my friend Courtney now lives in the apartment that serves as Amanda Peet's in the film, and it was like real estate porn for me. And I have that free movie pass thing so it's not like it cost me anything. But Ashton is actually...tolerable? Not annoying? Kind of adorable in it? Which ultimately just confuses me more, because either his Punk'd persona is a front and he's really not that obnoxious in real life, or he actually can ACT and chose to do it in this film. In any case--it's worth a rental, I'll concede.
Lena Olin's return to Alias and the last few Alias episodes. As I've grown more and more disillusioned with television this season, I've stayed away from the JJ Abrams fansites. So I was basically unspoiled for Lena's return. But the two-hour special this week more than set the stage for Irina's reveal. We got cute twinkly Vartan, actual chemistry between MV and JG, funny smackdowns from Jack, Evil Sloane (hey, go with what you're good at), more Angela Bassett (who I think I may love even more than I love my mom) and a compelling, suspenseful momentum for next week's finale. And it must be said for Lena, the sudden jump in quality when she appeared on screen was remarkable. She, not JG, is the true heart and soul of Alias. Woman just brings it, ya'll. With anyone--Victor Garber, Jen Gar, Mia Maestro...And can I please, please look like her when I'm her age? No, scratch that--can I be that hot now?
Star Wars Dark Chocolate M & M's and dark chocolate candies in general. Nutritionists claim that dark chocolate is better for you, although I can't remember why and I'm too lazy to look it up. But I've also heard it is more satisfying, so it's assumed you'll eat less. This is so not true, as I definitely ate the whole bag of Star Wars M&M's that I tried. (Me to Leah: The bag is XXL, which is precisely the size I will be upon completing consumption.) Regardless, dark chocolate rocks. It's about time that candy companies realized this and offerred it in bitesize forms in the supermarket check-out aisle.
Food poisoning as a diet. I was lucky enough to contract some form of food poisoning last week. I woke up at 5 a.m. with the sudden need to sprint for the bathroom, where I stayed for two hours. I was sick in both, um, directions, a logistical nightmare that I handled remarkably well. THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD ALWAYS KEEP A TRASHCAN IN YOUR BATHROOM. I remained with fever throughout the day, and though the nausea finally subsided by night-time, I still couldn't bring myself to eat. I felt suspicious of all foods for days, though not wine, which lead to some unfortunate drunk-dialing on Saturday night. When I finally managed to down some butternut squash on Sunday, I was surprised to note how utterly empty and cleansed I felt before it entered my system. And how nicely my jeans hung off me. In short--food poisoning as a diet works. If you can't figure out a way to contract food poisoning, then I suggest a good old fast. Because light-headedness is necessary for the creative process!
Star Wars' Revenge of the Sith. It's not that I actually like the movie (I haven't seen it yet, because my viewing partners have been otherwise engaged and it's not one of those movies you can go see by yourself.) but it's more that I like the fact that the movie is finally out and the saga ends. Because that means that Ewan McGregor is finally free to go out and make good movies again. Yum. Although unfortunately, this means that Natalie Portman is unleashed again as well. Damn.
Morning Bowel Movements. I realize that this, combined with the food poisoning discussion may seem like a bit much, but I figure if I can talk about shit on my blog, then I can talk about shit on my blog, y'know? Bah-dum-bum. I'll be here all night. Seriously, though, I love a good bm in the morning. It just makes you feel so energized and weightless as you start your day. Some people say that the best way to start the day is with a healthy breakfast, but I contend that it's with a bran-powered dump. Though, eating breakfast and drinking some strong coffee will help accomplish the latter, so it's all relative.
The OC Season 2 finale. I hadn't watched the show with any regularity since before Christmas, but on Courtney's recommendation, I tuned in for this week. And though I was shocked to learn that they killed Caleb, I was also shocked to realize that I was happy to see Jimmy and Haley again. Who knew that they mattered to me? I kinda hated them when they were on before. I was also quite satisfied to watch an episode without Sethummer drama or an appearance from a "special guest star" like Kim Delaney or Billy Campbell. I guess that the OC's signature finale is always going to involve someone leaving Newport, and this year it was Kirsten's turn (and Trey's, in a way.) But though it was painful for me to watch the Cohens deal with Kirsten's alcoholism, it was also hugely satisfying because Beth, Pat and Al all called Kirsten's burgeoning drinking problem in last year's finale. It's sad that it took the show an entire season to address it, but I'm guessing that if I'd been watching regularly, I would have appreciated the show trying to build up to something, instead of random plot twists each week. Apparently, the writers also built up tension with the Marissa/Atwood bros triangle, because in last night's climax, when Ryan found out that Trey had attacked Marissa, it certainly felt scary to see Ryan's dark side return. For one second, I thought they were going to have Trey kill Marissa instead of the other way around, which would have been awesome, but as the Stones say, you can't always get what you want. (Like tickets for their latest tour. Unless you're rich and can fork out $350 a seat.) Yes, last night's finale actually made me somewhat interested in The OC again, and where it's going to go. So sad that I won't be watching next season when it's up against Alias on Thursday nights. DVR, people. I need it!
Murdoch's latest evil plan. Because Arrested Development is back. And Bradley Cooper gets a show where he cooks. Food and Bradley Cooper equals nice and naughty dreams. And his co-star in Kitchen Confidential (snerk) is Nicholas Brendan, which means Courtney and I will have lots to talk about!

Now, now, not everything is gravy.

Things I hate:

Married men who are cute and don't wear wedding rings. More on this later--I need a whole post to talk about these dangerous frauds.
Eva Longoria. I really, really hate seeing her or hearing about her. I hate her character on Desperate Housewives, I hate the fact that she was married to my former celebrity boyfriend Tyler Christopher, I hate how she's hailed as the second coming of Vanessa Marcil when hello? She's so not. Girl ain't even that pretty. She's very normal looking. And dimunitive. And she is linked with every guy in Hollywood. Grrr....If anyone should be getting action from some DH-inspired goodwill, it should be Marcia Cross.
Stupid kentucky theater owners. You want to ban Monster-in-Law, you don't need to reach back for something Jane Fonda did years ago, you don't have to go that far. Ban it for JLo. It's so easy. There's your reason to stage a protest and lose revenue right there. Ban it for JLo.
The tiresome creation of new Ben and Jerry's flavors. I can understand creating a new flavor if Ben is sitting around on Chubby Hubby-enlarged ass one day thinking--you know, we should make an ice cream with doughnuts in it!, and so Jerry calls Krispy Kreme and they get an exclusive deal and Ben decides to make the ice cream flavor peanut butter and Jerry decides to add caramel and so they end up with this new delicious creation and unveil a new flavor. But Fossil Fuel is just bastardized cookies & cream. The GodFather? New York Super Fudge Chunk with fewer bells and whistles. Magic Brownies? So not as fun as the name implies. None of these are grand in a Krispy-Kreme Ice Cream kind of way. And I cannot be expected to try them all. I'm sick of B & J changing all the time, and I really hate it when I can't get my Phish Food Frozen Yogurt because they've made space for shit like Fudge Karma. Go with what you're good at and save the hype for something extraordinary.
People who don't think I'm funny. This really needs an entire post, because it's been happening a lot lately and it's really been freaking me out. Humor is the basis for every relationship that I value and cherish, and if people are no longer finding me funny, then I'm afraid that will mean I form no new relationships. In examining the unfunny Mandy phenomenon, I've been stumped. I don't understand how it is possible to know me and not think that I'm funny. Even if you don't think that I'm witty or funny in an intentional way, my very existence is ridiculous in itself, so you gotta chuckle at that. I mean, if you're not laughing with me, you should at least be laughing at me, right? But people aren't. They're staring at me blankly, silently. Giving me no response to my cracks or my attempts at self-deprecation. Have I lost my mojo? And if so, am I going to be forced to make out with Heather Graham in order to get it back? I'll do it, I mean, but only if someone tapes us.
People who don't update their blogs. I know some of you are off galavanting in Eastern Kentucky, and learning to save lives, blah, blah, blah, but if you're not committed to blogging, then why did you start one in the first place? Every damn day when I launch my internet, I go to your blogs, expecting something, anything new. And it's always stale, same old, same old.

Thanks to Orville and Wilbur!

2005-05-16T22:48:00.000-04:00

I'd just like to give a big props to airplanes. Airplanes are cool. For they safely transported Classy Lady back from Spain and returned her to me. Halla'freakin'lujah!

Review: Crash

2005-05-13T11:47:00.000-04:00

Directed by Paul Haggis

It’s been requested for me to review Crash, an ensemble drama about race relations in America today, which was recently released with surprisingly little fanfare. I only say that because though I’m not a fan of fanfare, for this film, I think more is deserved. As the directorial debut for Million Dollar Baby screenwriter Haggis, Crash will please any movie geek on a technical level, because ensemble films don’t get much better than this. You’ve got fantastic performances from Sandra Bullock, Don Cheadle, Brendan Fraser, Larenz Tate, Matt Dillon, William Fichtner, Terrence Howard, Thandie Newton, and Ryan Phillipe. But Crash’s impressive cast is only second to its message. The film addresses its subject matter in ways that are troubling, visually affecting, and, most important, touching.

Through interwoven narratives, Crash depicts cultures clashing in Los Angeles over the course of 24 hours. The plot includes car-jackings, inter-racial dating, housewife malaise, spousal discord, vandalism, immigrant exploitation, the requisite problems with racism at the LAPD, and, as the title suggests, the constant hassle that is driving in LA (ask me for more information on that subject.) As in most ensemble films, the multi-cultural cast of characters are connected in ironic and unknown ways.

The result of riding this peopled roller coaster is gut-wrenching, and I mean that literally. As both co-writer and director, Haggis has employed superb pacing here, and deftly rachets up the dramatic tension to nearly unbearable levels at times. During a scene in which a cop (Matt Dillon) pulls over a couple of color (Terrence Howard and Thandie Newton), the violence and vitriol on screen made me feel so tense I wanted to throw up. (Ian: That’s a helluva recommendation. They should put that on the poster.) At other points, I found myself shaking my head at the actions of Dillon’s character, or pressing my hand against my mouth to muffle a scream. I don’t normally have such strong reactions when viewing a film; Crash’s disgusting and shocking moments were more horrifying because I recognized them as possible and true.

Besides getting amazingly convincing performances from his actors, Haggis has done a nice job with the brooding feel of the film. Crash is shot in a grainy, realistic way, with editing choices that help the viewer jump from narrative to narrative. The score is completely in tune with the atmospheric film, especially during one sequence when Haggis intercuts between narratives to show two lives being saved.

One of the things I most admired about Crash is that it dealt with many different types of racism, not just the white/black dichotomy. Big names like Bullock and Cheadle represent the white and black races in this film, but there are also actors playing Iranians (Shaun Taub and Bahar Soomehk) asians (including a quick cameo by Lost’s Daniel Dae Kim, yum) and latinos (Jennifer Esposito and Michael Pena.) These actors, along with staple character actors like Keith David and Loretta Devine, give fully committed, sympathetic performances with the little screentime they're allowed. Of the actors though, Dillon (yes, Matt Dillon. I know!) and Howard steal the show, from the moment that Dillon’s cop first pulls Howard’s Hollywood director over on Ventura boulevard, right up until Dillon displays some surprising heroics and Howard loses his cool resolve. Dillon presents us with a white cop who is openly villainous from the get-go, a man who is bursting forth with frustration and hate, while Howard (who gets major props anyway for being so freakin’ beautiful) portrays a black man who has been castrated over and over again by the system. In a climatic moment, Howard’s character completely loses control, body shaking with rage and eyes welling with angry tears, and I don’t think you’ll find a finer moment of movie acting this year. (Certainly not in Revenge of the Sith.) Crash also features a talky performance from Chris Bridges (more commonly known by his hip-hop moniker Ludacris) who spends a lot of time in the film preaching to Larenz Tate's character about the sociological reasons for racism. This duo is the film’s one mis-step, I think, both because of Bridges' unconvincing acting and because his doesn’t seem like a real character, more like a college professor providing commentary for the film. But considering the other fine characters and performances (including Tate's), this is just nit-picking.

With the exception of Pena's locksmith, no one in Crash is innocent or without prejudice. Though the white folks are certainly the guiltiest of in-your-face racism, all of the characters reveal hidden prejudices when problems arise. Even those who think they are above such stereotyping and slurs find themselves giving into these impulses when pressed. However, at other times, the most hateful characters also show surprising compassion and capacity for guilt. So is Haggis, who also had a hand in writing the film, trying to say that racists are really good people deep down? No, I don’t believe so, but I do think that such character inconsistencies speak to the complicated nature of racism. I think Haggis is trying to remind the audience of the ways that racism continues today, even where you least expect it. Perhaps he is saying that in frustrating, ordinary day life, we allow ourselves to get weighed down with petty grudges and little hatreds, but that on a human level, many of us do recognize that we’re all connected, so in life or death circumstances, when we crash together, we do the right thing.

Or perhaps he just wanted to make a movie. Regardless, Crash is a fantastic debut for Haggis. It’s a marriage of Steven Soderbergh and Robert Altman with Spike Lee themes.

Crash, I predict, will show up on my top ten list at the end of the year. It’s not just because I have low expectations for the films on the slate for 2005, though I do, but due to my certainty that few (read: probably none) films this year will dare broach the subject of racism. Some industry people claim that racism is played-out as a story idea, and that all the shock value is gone. But I don’t believe that’s the real reason why you won’t see other films about race in America in 2005. I think films about this subject don’t get made because white people get defensive when they’re told that racism continues to thrive in America, and the white studio heads and white producers in Hollywood, squirming themselves, recognize this. (And yeah, you don't have to remind me-I'm white. You can't get any paler than me.) But the execs know that the majority of audience members like to believe that racism is a historical phenomenon, not a current event. So it’s a touchy subject, and touchy subjects mean diminished box office.

But I'd choose to see a film about a touchy subject anytime if it's a film like this.

My Final Grade: A-

Great Lines--been a while

2005-05-04T22:42:00.000-04:00

Clever Courtney is the author of today's great line. She actually wrote it back in March, when she wrote a testimonial for Scott on Friendster (just joined Friendster this week, by the way).

Courtney said:
Scott and I are concluding our 6 month tenure of sharing a bedroom. I know what you're thinking - and the answer is this: Doing it was ok, I guess, but I wish it were bigger.

Gee whiz, that is the funniest multi-level thing I've read in a long time.

Viva La Revolution!

2005-05-04T11:43:00.000-04:00

I am:
-3%
Republican.

"You're a damn Commie! Where's Tailgunner Joe when we need him?"

Are You A Republican?

When I first took this quiz, I got 8% Republican, which put me in pure-hearted Complete Liberal Territory, which is where I belong. But 8 percent? Oh no, no. That's too high. So I took this quiz and got into negative republicanism. Awesome.

Little pleasures

2005-05-01T11:39:00.000-04:00

So this weekend was the weekend for Spring Cleaning at my house, which I found gets remarkably easier if you leave the tv on all the time. I sorted through and disposed of (or, more accurately, put things in a pile to be recycled or given to others) a LOT OF STUFF and now feel organized, exorcised and clean. And I was pretty organized to begin with.

I also realized that I have a very small mind, for here were my discoveries due to television this weekend:

This just makes me giggle. How dumb do their publicists think we are, exactly? These two just HAPPEN to hook up right before Batman Begins and War of the Worlds come out? The romance just happens to be exposed (not that all the public canoodling and dining have anything to do with it) right before the launch of the summer movie season? I think it's hilarious that Tom, that CRAZY clam has chosen Joey Potter as his latest beard in his attempt to "straighten out" those pesky rumors, although rumors from the Dawson's set did suggest that Ms. Holmes was kind of stupid. So I guess she's been easily manipulated into this whole arrangement, just like Penelope was because of the language difference. Still, I wonder if he's told Katie all about his god Xenu and the engrams yet? Did he, like, scan her with his e-meter to clear her for "public dating?" Has he tried to convince her to join the Sea Org? How could a person with any sort of sense not run in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION when the Scientology talk starts? Maybe Katie thinks it's really deep, after five years of conversation with Chris Klein. But still--Katie, I know you're dumb. I know you've already dated Mr. Jackson, the hottest man on the planet--so anyone is a step down. (And believe me, Tom is a step down--a huge stoop, just to look him in the eye.) But still--this is REALLY, unforgivably dumb of you. Mimi's career died when she hooked up with Tom, Nicole was only able to break out once she broke free, and Penelope squandered her it-girl status by playing his beard. What are you thinking?
I find myself, against all odds, kind of in love with Travis Barker on MTV's Meet the Barkers. I'm sure in real life I would not be able to deal with the full-body ink, strange 11-year-old body, unattractive clothing, and mohawk. But on the show--that guy is sweet, man. I really, really envy Shanna Moakler. He's a sweet dad, step-dad, and sugar daddy. I'm strangely addicted to the show and drawn by his power.
Tori Spelling turned up at the pre-Derby festivities, and I really wish I had been there so I could get her ear, if only to ask--when the hell is your dad releasing some 90210 DVD's? This is ridiculous. Gilligan's Island is on DVD. Newlyweds with Nick and Jessica? On DVD. And yet no David Silver--all so fresh and so clean? C'mon, Tori--I need my 90210!
Ah, Courtney--I'm blushing. Really. I bet none of you have friends who think you're this cool.
What is all this hoopla about Laura Bush saying "I am a desperate housewife!"? Everyone acts like she needs her HBO special now. Bob, it's miraculous--the first lady cracked a joke! Do people not realize that you're SUPPOSED to do that at the White House correspondents' dinner? Do people honestly think she came up with all that on her own, instead of employing one of the speechwriters at her disposal? And can someone please give me that speechwriter's name so I can SHOOT THEM IN THE HEAD? I did NOT need to think about the Bush's nocturnal activities, thank you very much! I was content imagining that George spent those hours picking the lice from his hair like a monkey. In fact, I still think that's what happens at 1600 Pennsylvania, and no "I'm just like you," anecdotes from Laura can convince me otherwise. Because no, Laura, you're NOT just like us. Most people can't afford the massive dosages of Xanax that you obviously pump into your system day after day. Most of us are not content to be married to someone who is mystified by My Pet Goat. And most of us get thrown in jail if we run someone over with our car.

Jeez--I'm just sayin'.

High School Hijinks

2005-04-26T12:23:00.000-04:00

Okay, so thank god five-year high school reunions only happen every five years. Because otherwise, we'd all die from having TOO. Much. fun.

It was so outta control. You can see my pictures and Marcellus' pictures here. Now, granted, I'm not someone who has negative feelings about high school in general, so I suppose it was less cathartic for me than it may have been for others. But still, amongst my classmates, I observed so much affection for one another. It didn't matter which cliques we were in back in high school, or whether I'd even spoken to the person before this weekend or not. By last weekend, all that mattered to me is that we all went through an extraordinary four years together, and I recognize that shared history and appreciate each one of my classmates. I hope they all do well, and I can't wait to party with them in 2010.

Notable incidents included:
1. Me striking up a friendship with a famous homeless man "Johnny" on Biltmore Ave.
2. Finding out that Barlass Lorrick is no longer a Republican.
3. Me and Beth getting passed around like whores during late-night salsa at Los Volcanes.
4. An early morning powwow at the Cracker Barrel.
5. A peeved photographer who couldn't get our 20-some drunk asses to be serious for the reunion photo.
6. Me learning an important lesson--don't use "I thought you were good looking in high school" as a conversation starter with an older alum you've never spoken to before, because next thing you know, he's molesting you.
7. Finally discovering the reason Joey ditched me when we were freshmen.
8. Kirby going completely badass on all the boys in our room.
9. An out-of-control chow-down at Applebees.

Overall, I simply loved the weekend for the opportunity to see Isa, Joey, Erich, Reg, the Shahs, Barlass, Ash and...pretty much everyone.

Move over Jen Garner, I'm ready for my own show

2005-04-24T21:22:00.000-04:00

Mandy Kara Helton's Aliases

Your movie star name: Cheese Dewey

Your fashion designer name is Mandy Prague

Your socialite name is Care Bear Key West

Your fly girl / guy name is M Hel

Your detective name is Dolphin Asheville School

Your barfly name is Sundae Cape Cod

Your soap opera name is Kara Breckinridge

Your rock star name is Riesen Sound

Your star wars name is Mancry Helkea

Your punk rock band name is The Ecstatic Ipod

Anatomy of Suckage

2005-04-17T23:03:00.000-04:00

Okay, I've tried, I mean really REALLY tried to like Grey's Anatomy. I've stuck around after two Desperate Housewives episodes, just trying to see what other people are seeing. Trying to understand why it's one of the top ten shows.

And once again, I'm forced to remember that Americans are very stupid. That's why we have the president we do, why CBS is the #1 network, and why no one watches Arrested Development.

Grey's Anatomy may be one of the worst-written shows in America. I'm betting even Pamela Anderson's Stacked is better. The Grey's writers don't even try to disguise the fact that every medical dilemma is ripped from mid-'90s E.R. plotlines. The producers, apparently, believe that viewers themselves have never actually been to the doctor, for all the unrealistic, unprofessional grand-standing moments that play out in Grey's corridors and O.R. And the marketing people apparently couldn't dream of a way to advertise the show without Ellen Pompeo's squinty Zellweger-lite mug twinkling cutely all over the place. Which is unforunate, because as a lead, Ms. Pompeo is one of the most irritating women on television. And her oblivious voice-overs do nothing except remind me that this show is not Sex and the City.

Sandra Oh is so above this show. Hell, Kathryn Heigl is above this show. And Patrick Dempsey is certainly better than this show.

It needs to get cancelled and soon. ABC, please get Ms. Pompeo and her non-talent off my screen.

Spin with me, darling...

2005-04-16T08:14:00.000-04:00

Whenever I feel in need of romance, I always turn to this poem, written by a guy I once knew. And in honor of this very sunny day, I give you:

For Saturday

5-day rainstorm and lightning
Crackling across night windows
Like the flickering of a broken television.

Every time it crashes, my own
Reflection dances for me on the glass.

A swing song, the evening's rush,
Spin with me, darling, our shadows on
Each of the four walls, playing at ghostlines, transparent in the night's air.

Golden rain, silver rain,
Falling from treetops, from streetlights. It's a slow dance now.

Dance with me, love, out in the rain,
under the trees, under the stars,
out in the cool moonlight.

dance with me.
---John Frisbee
(written when he was about 15)

Rage against the mini-machines

2005-04-14T12:54:00.000-04:00

Something I've been meaning to link to for a while, ever since the Christmas season, when it seems everyone that I know and all of their dogs got a freakin' ipod. Here is Ed's post on the ridiculousness of the ipod. The best line is:

"Who knew that one out of 10 Americans view the iPod as their fucking savior?"

Let it be said that I'm not against technology. I'm still wholly amazed by the DVD player. However, I do believe if something ain't broke, it don't need fixin.' Especially when there are problems in the world that deserve our attention, problems like hunger, pollution, and stupid American companies sending a deadly flu strain to 5000 places around the world (although I'm sure Randall Flagg is chuckling about that with glee.) Thus, I never got a PDA, cause my pen and paper-planner works just fine. I never got the clapper, because I'm mobile enough to get up and turn off my own light. And I will not be getting an ipod any time soon.

Weekend reflections-Tuesday edition

2005-04-12T10:01:00.000-04:00

1. I highly recommend, especially to all of my fellow AS grads, that you read Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld. I held out for a long time, due to my long held conviction against reading anything on the best-seller list, because James Patterson, Dan Brown and Mitch Albom do not good reading make. But Curtis gets it right with her debut novel, or at least accurately depicts boarding school anyway. And I finished the book in three days, and even (at one point) cried. Especially interesting is that her setting is a modern co-ed boarding school, not unlike the one I attended. And through her protaganist, Lee, I re-experienced some of the feelings of anxiety, awe, and awkwardness that comes from being permanently transplanted away from your family at 14, and set down instead among nothing familiar or reassuring--no comforting mother's face at the end of the day, no respite from your social and academic problems at school, only the dorm to welcome you at night, and with it dorm dramas and cohabitation with other teenagers who are equally messed up as you, dealing with their own problems --feelings which I experienced particularly strongly during my freshman year, and had since forgotten about. Of course, there are some things in the novel that could be considered boarding school cliches, but that doesn't mean there isn't truth to them. Many of the characters seemed to be lifted straight from my own high school, and Sittenfeld certainly gets the friendships and relationships right. When the protaganist finally finds a friend in Martha, whom she will room with for three years, it was just as if I had told Sittenfeld about how I felt when I became friends with Sid the Haggis Stalker. Lee says:

"From then on, as long as I was at Ault, I would never be alone. Martha and I would get along, our friendship would last. I felt certainty and relief. Years later, I heard a minister at a wedding describe marriage as cutting sorrow in half and doubling joy, and what I thought of was not the guy I was seeing then, nor even of some perfect imaginary husband I might meet later; I thought immediately of Martha."

And of boarding school romance, Sittenfeld observes rightly:

"To long for him like this--it was excruciating. It was excruciating because he was always so close by. For the whole year, it had been like this, the proximity of our dorms, the knowledge that I literally could, in less than a minute, get up and walk out of the room and find him and touch him, but that really I couldn't do this at all--it made me crazy. No crush is worse than a boarding school crush; college is bigger and more diluted, and in the office at least you get a break from eachother at night.

2. So I actually also recommend seeing Fever Pitch. To its credit, you should know I actually hate romantic comedies, and can't remember the last time I saw one before this. And plus, I'm not so big on the Farrelly brothers. And finally, I effing detest baseball. It honestly is the one sport I cannot stand to watch. I'll even watch golf before baseball. But I found Fever Pitch charming, its humor gentle and touching, its romance believable, and the sports-obsession relevant because hello! look at what I'm like in March. So the final verdict--Jimmy Fallon can be my Red Sox-obsessed boyfriend any time he wants.

3. Oh my God, Ashton, shut up

4. This weekend, while babysitting, I took Alex and Bella to the park, which in itself is not unusual, we usually go. However, on Sunday it was about 85 degrees. And Alex is in this stage where he doesn't want to be put down--he wants you to carry him everywhere. So I leave him in the stroller with a toy and I guess because it's hot he is SCREAMING while Bella's trying to play on the playground and there are TONS of people at the park, so finally I take him out of the stroller and have him on one hip while I'm pushing Bella on the swing with my other hand or spotting her as she climbs up to go down the slide and EVERYONE is looking at me like a) can you please get that baby to shut up b) you could use some birth control, you 23-year-old girl with two babies and no wedding ringYeah--so hot. I'm sure the college frisbee-playing boys were totally digging me, seeing as how I appear to be a single, slutty mom and all.

Once In A Lifetime...

2005-04-09T22:45:00.000-04:00

2005 NCAA Championship. Edward Jones Dome, St. Louis, MO.

By the grace of my father's friend and our long-time Louisville tickets, I GOT TO BE THERE! And we paid regular price for tickets, and didn't have to sell our kidneys or anything.

I cannot even describe how grateful I feel for this experience. How many people actually get to be at the Final Four when their alma mater wins it? A very small number, I'm sure. Certainly none who ever graduated from the University of Illinois, that's for sure.

The entire trip was fantastic. We stayed in a hilarious hotel that prided itself on being "Old English" style, meaning it looked like a theme hotel designed by Monty Python. It had exterior tudor architecture, fox-hunting paintings and a huge stuffed bear in the lobby. So people would like, give directions to you, referencing the bear--"The bathrooms? Oh, just turn right at the dead bear and go through the door way." Awesome.

Mom and I arrived just in time for the games on Saturday, and the first game was a huge dissapointment. Not just because the Cards lost, but because it was then when we first came acquainted with the Illini imbeciles. First of all, there was an Illini guy sitting behind us, in the Louisville section, whom I'll call Mr. Obvious. The guy thought he was Dick Vitale and Billy Packer combined. He commentated every second of the game, but knew NOTHING about Louisville basketball. And his commentary was stuff like this, (always about Illinois), "Aw...that's the best pass you're ever gonna see," "There's just no contest here--Illinois has a better record," or my favorite--"Wow-those guys are athletic." (Jeez, it's fucking basketball, what do you expect?) But even besides Mr. Obvious, the other Illini fans were rude and numerous, like rodents. Before U of L had even lost the game, they came pillaging through our stands, looking to buy tickets for Monday. They blocked the entrance to the bathrooms, pestering people for tickets. They all wore orange, which is my least favorite color of all time. They all said things like, "we came to finish what we started." And on Monday night, when I entered the dome wearing my UNC t-shirt and passed a group of Illini fans, one guy told me, "we're going to kick your powdered-blue ass." It was, frankly, frightening to me, and I was desperate when I thought about the riots that might break out in the streets if the Illini won.

But Roy and the boys didn't let that happen, and believe me, they did not have any court or geographic advantage. I can't accurately explain just how small the UNC fan section was in comparison to the sections that were stained by the screaming orange of the Illinois infection. Needless to say, Champagne is only three hours away, so all of the University of Ill. made the drive, I think. And then there were us few renegade Carolina fans, who dissappeared in each section in our attractive, inoffensive blue-hued regalia. When we tried to cheer, the Illini fans wouldn't allow it, and would launch into their cheer and overpower us. The fans in front of us told us that though they liked Roy Williams, Illinois had never gotten a title, and so it wouldn't be fair if UNC got another one instead of Ill. As if NCAA athletics are a socialist endeavor. Who says we have to share the wealth? IDIOTS!

Anyway, needless to say, it was an incredible experience, especially with Felton's key steal in the last minute. And when Sean rebounded the last ball, and you knew, you just knew that no one was taking it from him or doing anything else on that court, tears that I never expected rushed to my eyes and I was jumping up and down and hugging my mom as if I had been on the court scoring points myself. The section around us was so quiet as the stunned and defeated Illini fans filtered out, their heads lowered in shame, but I didn't care and continued to carry on for several minutes like that.

I know it's just basketball. Rationally, I know that, and every April when March Madness subsides, I regain perspective on how little in matters. But still, in that moment of victory, I honestly felt like everything in my life had happened by design. The Tar Heels won the title the year I was born. They won again eleven years later in 1993, while I happened to be watching tv, and it was at that moment that I first became aware of UNC (as a kid, I only knew of three schools-U of L, UK, and Harvard) and declared that I wanted to go there. And now, eleven years after I first became a fan, four months after I graduated from the University of North Carolina, UNC won again. And I was there. Feels like providence to me.

I'm not going to say that the time I had was any better than the experience for any other Carolina fan or Carolina grad, because I've seen the video of Franklin Street that night, and I know my friends in California celebrated in high-style despite the distance between the two coasts. But still, if you ever have the chance to go to a Final Four, I suggest you take it.

2005-04-09T22:07:00.000-04:00

Honestly, the Illini fans may have been the worst and rudest I've ever seen. And I know a lot of UK fans, people. The saddest part about the Illini is, do you know how few people actually look good wearing the color orange? I think it's less than 10% of the population. Seriously. Unfortunately, in the Edward Jones Dome, nearly 90% seemed to be wearing this color. And shouting this really annoying cheer, (one group) I-L-L!, (response) I-N-I! This shout, which I heard on the streets long before even entering the dome, haunts my dreams still.

2005-04-09T22:05:00.000-04:00

Me and my mom at the game during halftime. (Honestly, would you ever guess I sprang from her womb? At all?) A surprisingly obliging Illini fan took this pic, even though they were down bigtime. I am guessing that I am flushed from the exertion of yelling over the Illini fans.

2005-04-09T22:03:00.000-04:00

The North Carolina banner, which flew above the official (and small) UNC fan section

2005-04-09T22:02:00.000-04:00

The final scoreboard. Sorry I can't make it clearer. You can see that I was sitting in the section originally designated for Louisville fans, before it was invaded by the Illini supporters.

2005-04-09T22:01:00.000-04:00

The Heels accepting the trophy. Sean and the boys did a cute lil' dance together.
While watching this, I realized that Kwame Jackson, the runner-up for the original Apprentice (and a fine-looking man and fellow UNC alum) was sitting a few rows above us. On our way out of the dome, we passed by John and Elizabeth Edwards and their two little ones. Nice to see that a State grad (he only went to UNC for law school) was still showing his support.

2005-04-09T22:00:00.000-04:00

A victory drink after the game in our hotel bar. In honor of the Tar Heels, I drank my first blue drink...which will also be my last. Grody. Also, though I realize I look SO 1993 with my fingers like that, I was actually trying to signify a "v" for victory.

Madness in March, Relief in April

2005-04-02T01:53:00.000-05:00

Heading to St. Louis this morning, for the NCAA, where I will be rooting for my Cards and my Heels. I don't even know what I will do if they end up playing eachother in the final. I guess I'll have to wear purple.

Been to St. Louis once before, also for the NCAA. Lib and I were there for the Sweet Sixteen in '99. And yeah, we saw all there was to see in St. Louis in a day. I swore I'd never return...

but I make exceptions for basketball.

Look for me on the TV! On Saturday at 6, I'll be the one in red.

Papal Apathy

2005-04-01T20:29:00.000-05:00

(Conversations with Dad, 2nd Installment)

Friday, 7 p.m.

Gdawg: I don't understand. Is the Pope dead or what?

M: I think he's dead, Dad.

G: But they've got all these conflicting reports. One minute they say he's worsening, the next they say he's died.

M: Well, I think he's dead. I think they're just waiting to delay the announcement because they think people are still to stirred up over Terry Schiavo.

G: Terry Schiavo is as big a deal as the Pope?

M: Well, the same type of people get stirred up over both. I, for one, couldn't care less.

G: Me neither. But you have to understand where Catholics are coming from. I think the Pope is probably a bigger deal than Terry Schiavo. The Pope is as important to Catholics as the President is to you.

M: In that case, they must not give a damn.

G: Well, I don't mean this President.

M: Okay, well even if we were talking about a deserving president (George rolls eyes), I still don't think it's comparable. I just don't get why Catholics feel so connected to this guy who has so little effect on them. At least the President speaks my language and makes decisions that affect my life.

G: The Pope speaks English.

M: Yeah, Dad, when he visits. The rest of the time he's spouting proclamations in Latin and Polish and shit.

G: That's what he's supposed to do. And he makes decisions. His proclamations are his decisions about what good Catholics should do.

M: Well, if I were Catholic, his proclamations wouldn't mean anything to me. I'd just say "bullshit," if I disagreed with it.

G: Well, you wouldn't be a very good Catholic.

M: Yeah. For many reasons.

G: Well, it's a good thing we're not Catholics, you and I. But you need to accept that the Pope is very special to Catholics.

M: Why? Because he thinks God talks to him? That doesn't make him special--that just makes him crazy. Has God ever spoken to you, Dad?

G: If he did, I sure as hell didn't hear him!

Later

M: How old was the Pope anyway?

G: He's in his eighties. He's not that old. It's not like he was 100. Frankly, I don't understand what the problem is--the guy probably gets the best medical care in the world.

M: It's boredom dad. It's finally just killed him. I'm sure being the Pope means you never ever, get to, like, have fun. You can't drink...

G: --Unless its communion wine.

M: Can't sleep with women--

G: Or get married...

M: -but if the priests are any indication, you CAN sleep with young boys.

G: Sam! (family nickname)

M: You've got no privacy--

G: --But you've got a lot of money.

M: Dad, I think he's supposed to spend it on cathedrals and shit like that.

G: Just what we need, another god-damned church.

M: Exactly. We don't need another Pope or another god-damned church.

G: Well, if you and I were Catholic, we'd be going to hell, now, wouldn't we?

M: Dad, don't kid yourself. We were going anyway.

G: Well, at least we won't be there alone.

M: Are you kidding? All the fun people are in hell anyway!

Uk fans get CARDed (and new lust)

2005-03-24T22:59:00.000-05:00

Oh yes, you non-believers. That team that shut out #1 seed Washington last night? No, your eyes weren't deceivin' you...it was the much underanked (#4) U of L Cardinals. People always underestimate U of L, especially here at home in Kentucky, because in general, UK fans besides me, my mom, and my brother are some of the nastiest you'll ever encounter. (Just see how they treated Matt Walsh at the two UK/UF games.)
They effing hate U of L. And I'm not just talking about when UK plays U of L in the annual rivalry game. UK fans seem to hate U of L all the time. I'm not talking an in-conference rivalry, like between NC State and UNC. UK and U of L have been in different conferences ever since I was alive. And yet, UK fans actively root against U of L, even though U of L's sucess in-conference rarely affects UK's chances. They hate them, for no reason, really.
And UK fan though I am, I have equal affection for U of L (maybe more...because Denny Crum was a hell of a lot classier and less bigoted than Adolph Rupp). So I'm laughing at the shocked UK fans, laughing all the way to the BANK!

And also? New crush alert. I'm totally diggin' John Krasinski from The Office. A little research revealed that he graduated from Brown with honors in 2002. Which makes him a) smart b) close to my age. !!

Pitter, patter, pitter patter goes my heart.

House Arrest

2005-03-23T11:23:00.000-05:00

So the big news is that House, Fox's freshman drama about Hugh Laurie's misanthropic, nasty Disease-Whispering diagnostician, was fourth in the ratings last week.

FOURTH.

Are you effing kidding me?

I mean, here's the thing. I like House. I do. I only watch the 2nd half because I watch Scrubs first, but still. I like it. I used to love me some Robert Sean Leonard and Omar Epps. I like Hugh Laurie. But FOURTH? A Fox show that's not American Idol is FOURTH?

And yet Arrested Development is on the verge of cancellation?

Fourth?

I get why House worked, I guess. It's not only a procedural (every show's plot is: patient comes in with unexplained illness, House and team try to diagnose the condition and find the cause so they can treat--everyone else guesses wrong about what the patient has, House guesses right, House is validated. Everyone continues to be fascinated/disgusted by House's genius. The end. Next week--a new condition) but it's also got the requisite love-to-hate-him protagonist.

But THIS unoriginal show is doing well on Fox, and no one is watching Arrested Development, a show that takes only half the time and attention? A show that actually makes you bust a gut?

Why, oh why, am I still surprised? There's a reason why Vin Diesel gets to make movies, and that reason is that Americans are really really stupid. For that same reason, shows like My So-Called Life never made it past a first season, while Providence floundered for years and years. There's a reason why George W. Bush got elected in the first place. And I think his re-election was due to another reason--we're all getting stupider.

(Well, not me. Actually. I never voted for him in the first place. But at least 51% of the country is stupider now than they were 4 years ago.)

So if I continue to be surprised by any of this, it means I'm being stupid too. And I guess I am.

But FOURTH?

Why Conservatives SUCK--Reason #477

2005-03-21T21:12:00.000-05:00

So first Brian Nichols opened fire on the courtroom in Atlanta, and then the crazy End-times believer shot up his own church meeting in Wisconsin. Last week, a SEVEN-YEAR-old snuck a gun into school and it discharged in a classroom. And then, today, we had another school shooting in Red Lake Minnesota.

All in all? Those three incidents killed about 20 people.

And our lawmakers are stressing themselves out because they’re worried that one woman is going to starve to death.

Look, I don’t even like Michael Moore, and Bowling for Columbine pissed me off, because it was a shitty example of documentary. But when is enough going to be enough? When are we going to deal with the guns? Four years ago, I was assigned the extreme anti-gun position in a three-sided debate on guns in America. And though I thought it would be impossible to win my argument, I did. Because if you research this issue, there’s no way you can deny how frightening the evidence is. There is an extremely high propensity for violence and death in a society with gun laws like ours. The gun laws in our country allow murder to happen all the time. Furthermore, guns are such unsafe devices that they cause accidental deaths all the time. And I, for one, don’t think they should be allowed.

I don’t talk about my 2nd ammendment beliefs very often, because when I state my stance on the issue, my opinion seems to provoke even more scorn and prideful resistance in people than when I identify myself as a liberal. People seem to really, really love their guns. But I don’t believe in the 2nd ammendment, and if that means I’m a bad ACLU member, than so be it. And with all of these shootings going on, juxtaposed against this renewed fervor about the Terry Schiavo case, I’m getting mighty pissed.

People starve to death all the time. Starvation is actually the number one killer in the world. Children starve the world over because their governments are corrupt, or because no social services exist in their country at all because of a history of imperialism and exploitation that set up no foundation for such things when the imperialists suddenly pulled out. But do we get up in arms about that? No. People feel like there is nothing that can be done. But, seriously, think about it---children and citizens who have FULLY FUNCTIONING brains, who could actually FEED THEMSELVES, if only given the food, wither away in other countries all the time. And very, very few people care. Maybe it’s the Jack Palance argument at work. Because it happens far away, we don’t feel culpability for it. I don’t think this is right, but it’s true. But even here in the United States, people ignore the homeless and the hungry and leave them in the streets. And still, we don’t feel guilty. But people feel inspired to intervene in a private family matter because a woman who CANNOT PHYSICALLY FEED HERSELF is being denied a feeding tube and being allowed to die? They start talking about her right to life?

I don’t even want to get into my thoughts about euthanasia here. I’m not going to go into a semantic argument about how "life" actually means biographical life instead of biological life. I will say, however, that I don’t believe that starving to death is a humane way to die, regardless of whether the person can feel the ravages of starvation or not. And that is why I favor active euthanasia over passive euthanasia. But without even getting into that, I wanna talk about how much these Save-Terry-Schiavo! conservatives are PISSING ME OFF, considering the violence in this country.

You wanna talk about right to life? Okay, let’s talk about it. I believe that even criminals have the right to live, and I believe it isn’t our government’s place to exact revenge from violent criminals. I believe that if we are going to argue that every fetus has a right to life, then we must have the social services and foster homes to give those unwanted children healthy lives, and I believe that conservatives need to not only STOP CUTTING FUNDING for these social services programs, but open their own homes for these unwanted children. I believe that all the students at West Lake High School and Columbine had rights to their lives. And most of all, I believe that all the people who are killed every year by handguns deserve their "right to life." And yet we still have the goddamned second ammendment? Because 200 years ago, a bunch of farmers wanted to make sure they’d be allowed to go hunting?

Here’s the thing. The right to bear arms? Refers to arms vastly different than the ones we have today. The forefathers were talking about rifles and muskets. They were not talking about handguns or pistols, which are easily concealed and can be carried on the bus, on the person of someone sitting next to you. The framers of the Constitution couldn’t even conceive of semi-automatic weapons, which fire off several rounds without requiring a reload. They couldn’t even imagine that people would be able to aim, shoot, and kill as easily and indiscriminately as they can today. So arguing that we should be allowed to have guns because they thought they should have guns 200 year ago? It doesn’t wash, sorry.

I honestly believe there is no need for private citizens in this country to own guns. You wanna go hunting? Fine—go to a hunting range, and you’re allowed, after extensive background checks and gun safety courses, to rent a gun for your hunting that day. I’m talking a rifle. A gun that can only hold one bullet at a time. A gun that must be re-loaded, and it'll take about 30-60 seconds for you to do it. And really, what more do you need? Because dudes? You really don’t need to get that turkey or deer that bad. You can go to Food Lion for your meat, if you're really that desperate. So there's no reason for you to have a gun that can fire off 16 rounds in a minute. Unless you get some sick pleasure out of getting your gun off.

You wanna have a gun in your home for protection? Sorry, no dice. Most shootings that take place in homes actually end up harming a member of the family, rather than an actual intruder. You wanna carry a gun in your car? Well, it turns out that’s never been shown to be effective at protection. You wanna carry one on your body, in public, concealed so that no one knows you have it? Uh…why? I mean, why do you need to do that? Because you feel so unsafe all the time? Well, I’ve got two suggestions. 1) Stop hanging out the places you hang out and stop hanging out with the people you hang out with; 2) look into a prolonged stay at a mental hospital or a prison. Cause honestly? I don’t need you around.

The NRA and Mr. Heston and all the conservatives out there like to use the catchy tagline "guns don’t kill people. People kill people." Yeah, People DO kill people. But they do it with guns. Guns are overwhelmingly the weapon of choice. And we DON’T need them. Having them does not make our scary world any less scary—if anything, it makes it less safe.

I say this as a confirmed paranoid freak myself. But you wanna protect yourself? Learn martial arts, get a tazer, an alarm system, or some mace. Don’t relent and give into the fear and keep a deadly device in your home which can either a) be discharged accidentally and hurt someone or b) be stolen by someone (maybe even your kid) to kill someone else.

Honestly, if I had my way, every one would just fight shit out with knives. At least then you have to get close enough to strike and have some skill and physical strength.

People tell me it’s incredibly idealistic to imagine that the government will ever ban all guns, and I agree. The gun-totin’ citizens and war-hungry politicians in this country won’t ever let that happen. It’s not hard to see why. A lot of them have short-man syndrome, and they run scared their whole lives. And yeah, if the government suddenly stopped the sale of all guns tomorrow and took away all the guns that people have registered and legally own? It would definitely give the criminals who illegally own unregistered handguns an advantage. But still…I wish it would happen.

However, I know it’s not gonna. But I’m still a hell of a lot more concerned about this than Terry Schiavo starving to death. I’m too lazy to look up the statistcs, but I’m certain that in 2005 the number of people who are going to die from gunshot wounds in this country is SIGNIFICANTLY higher than the number of BRAIN-DAMAGED people who are going to starve to death because their medical designate decides to remove their feeding tube.

And so if Congress is going to get so distressed about Terry Schiavo, I want Congress also pressing through the weekend to do something about the guns. I want politicians putting their neck on the line for that. And I want the RIGHT-to-LIFERS to wake up, realize their hypocrisy, and turn their guns into the government tomorrow before they head out to the picket lines tomorrow for another day of protesting. Because only then will they have any legitimacy.

The Penis Parade

2005-03-21T16:17:00.000-05:00

(Or, The State of Television as We Know It:)

We officially entered spring yesterday, and since some “sure-fire” hits ended up sucking (LAX, Hawaii, ClubHouse anyone?) and got cancelled, now ABC is bombarding us with advertising for new shows like Jake In Progress and Eyes, and I'm sure that CBS and NBC are doing the same to market whatever they're offering (which I don’t know about because I don’t watch them, like, ever). Basically, we’re getting asked to watch the runner-up shows that the networks considered weak and rejected for their fall slate.

And in looking at all these new shows and reflecting on what we’ve already got, I’ve identified an annoying trend. There’s a hell of a lot of penis on TV.

Television networks and execs continue to marginalize women and make them supporting characters, and instead base shows around the needs, moods, and problems of male characters.

I’m sure that I can blame this on the Republicans in some way.

In all seriousness, though, I’ve amassed a lot of evidence and examples to support my complaint. And though feminists and media critics would tell you it’s nothing new, I can point to the shows that were on when I was growing up in the ‘80s and ‘90s and argue that it hasn’t always been this way. There has always been penis, but honestly? Not this much. There is a time when too much penis is not a good thing, and that time is now. The balance has got to swing back, and soon.

Let’s look at my evidence. Television, as a medium, is constantly changing. You can see this when you realize how few reality shows existed ten years ago versus the number featured now. Moreover, I’m told we’re witnessing the death of the sitcom as we know it. Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw no longer soothe us with their familiar faces and voices on the nightly news. And overall, in the past few years, television show types (especially dramas, but some dramedies and comedies as well) have diverged into two poles.

We either have plot-driven dramas: I’m really hard pressed to think of dramas that aren’t crime procedurials. You’ve got the Law and Orders. Then you’ve got the CSI’s. And Without A Trace. And Numbers. Then you’ve got things like Medical Investigation, NCIS, and now Blind Justice, etc. Okay, okay, I hear Courtney and Gwenda’s voices in my head. I’ll stretch a bit and concede this—as far as I
know, the WB doesn’t have one show that follows this format. But, you know, it’s
the WB. It’s also the reason why Seventh Heaven is now in its tenth season, ya know? So that doesn’t count. On the REAL networks, I can think of about five
traditional dramas that aren’t crime procedurals, but instead serials that feature on-going plots that carry on episode-to-episode. And those five are E.R., The West Wing, Lost, Alias, and 24. But wait—there’s something kind of special about the last three, which were created in more recent years, right?
Lost is as much about its characters as it is the island, Alias incorporates Syd’s family background into its spy intrigue, and 24 is all about the stresses and pressures on Jack Bauer. So these three younger shows are interesting because they are straddling the two extremes. As well as being plot driven, they also seem to belong to the other pole of the television spectrum, for they are also …

2. Character driven dramas: Now, at first, I welcomed character driven dramas, refreshed by any variation from the standard cops vs. bad guys storylines. I actually predicted that the Law and Order: Criminal Intent spin-off, with its character focus on Vincent D’Onofrio, might be the best thing since TIVO. (But, yeah, it wasn’t.) Regardless, the networks have all been
infected by the character-focus trend and they’re churning out character-driven dramas and dramedies left and right. And it seems they’ve all gotten the same
virus and everyone is following the same formula:

Base a show around a somewhat unlikable, quirky protaganist who will succeed in stumping and alienating all the supporting characters, who will all be unable to resist the protagist’s charisma, nontheless. It started with Monk. Then we got the Practice make-over, and ended up with both Denny Crane and Alan Shore on Boston Legal. Now we’ve got House, and we’ll soon have Eyes, and Tim Daly’s character promises to fill in the role there.

Now, of these two extremes, which do I prefer, you might be wondering? I guess I’d have to side with the character-driven dramas and dramedies. Except there’s just one problem. Do you see the trend I’m pointing out with both of these genre polar extremes? Do you see how all these shows have a certain characteristic? Or rather, a certain type of genitalia front and center?

It’s the male factor. All of these shows are anchored by male characters. The male characters are either the central characters on the plot-driven shows (William Petersen, Gary Sinise, David Caruso on the CSI’s; Vincent D’Onofrio and the cops on the original L& O, Anthony LaPaglia on Without a Trace, the two guys on Numbers, the weird albino-looking guy on Medical Investigation, Blind Justice’s Ron Eldard, etc., etc.), or the males are the quirky misanthropic protagonists on the character driven shows—Monk, House, Denny, Alan, and Harlan Judd on Eyes. Sure there are women characters on these shows, but their importance and job security are directly linked to the men. The woman cop on Criminal Intent never solves the crime, because Vincent is St. Cop the Criminal Whisperer and he outwits everyone. And the women on Boston Legal? Are always dazzled and amazed by the audacity and exploits of Alan Shore and Denny Crane. The men on these shows always know best. I guess it's because they've got that third leg.

The pride in the one-eyed snake continues to rear its ugly head with John Stamos’ new show Jake in Progress, which has a male protaganist front and center. So great, now the guys are even subverting the Sex and the City type stuff! On the lesser networks, there’s Kevin Kill, which is all about a lawyer dad named Kevin (wow, a single working dad, what a concept!), or we’ve got the two brothers on One Tree Hill, or the two guys named Jack and Bobby on uh, Jack and Bobby. Even on cable, it’s all penis now that Sex and the City is dead. So we’ve got The Shield, which is all about Anthony Chiklis, and Nip/Tuck, which focuses on two male surgeons. Continuing with The Sopranos, which despite Meadow, Dr. Melfi and Carmella, is a mostly guys show about things guys want to see. Six Feet Under even has this problem, because while the cast is nearly evenly split among the genders, the show revolves mostly around Nate and David. Of shows that were more recently created, we’ve got Deadwood—the cowboy’s paradise. And Carnival—featuring two guys who are foils to eachother. And the Wire, etc. The list goes on and on.

Now, the dominance of the penis isn’t new for sitcoms, because, after all, the basic sitcom formula revolves around a fat/gross guy who somehow scored a hot wife (Everybody Loves Raymond, Yes, Dear, Life According to Jim, The King of Queens, Curb Your Enthusiasm etc…) Even the GOOD comedies like Arrested Development and Scrubs? Anchored by guys. So is this anything new for comedies? No. But still…it’s not fair for the trend to be taking over the dramedies and dramas too. I suppose Fat Actress should get a big fat prize for having the audacity to feature a woman front and center on a comedy (but I still ain’t gonna watch it because I’ve got that Scientology block that makes me suspicious of anything starring Kirstie Alley or John Travolta).

Seriously, where’s the love for the ladies? Name me one hit show that has a female protaganist. Okay, what’s that you say? Ally McBeal? Yeah, that’s off the air. Murphy Brown, Designing women, Golden Girls? Buffy? All in the past. I’m talking about the now. Okay, there’s Joan of Arcadia. Crossing Jordan. And Judging Amy. Yeah touché, —except none of those are big. I mean, the last time I watched those was…? And yep, I know about Veronica Mars, and I hear it’s good, but seriously, it’s on UPN, so at most it’s pulling in maybe 2-3 million viewers.

Do you see what I’m saying? Of the big shows, we get a plethora of penis and only a handful of women characters. And that’s not okay. Why are we, as women, watching all these shows that don’t represent us or give us any voice? Why are men, as viewers, not demanding to see more characters who have pussies?

I’m think there are some positive signs that the parade of penis is going to stop, and the gender-focus pendulum will swing back towards the middle. There’s not much to point to, because I have to admit that Alias, the one show with a particularly strong female protoganist, has started to suck. But Cold Case is a crime-procedurial with a woman front and center, and it’s doing very well. I think the addition of Candice Bergen on Boston Legal speaks volumes, because not only is she a woman, but she’s over 50 and holds her own with Denny and Alan. And though I haven’t yet caught Medium, it’s garnering some good buzz. Thankfully, SVU has Mariska Hargitay’s cop as the emotional core, and an almost entirely female legal team, and show studies have shown it’s actually the only L & O that is gaining viewers. And finally, Desperate Housewives, which is all about women (though none of the characters is a particularly feminist character) just happens to be the BIGGEST show in America. So I’m thinking that the 2004-2005 television season may have taught network execs something—having women characters can work for you!

And I’m hoping that this spring wave of new male-focused shows are the caboose cars on the sexism train, and that next fall, the networks will drastically reduce the amount of penis on tv. And I truly believe that if television reflects a more women-friendly world, the world will become a better place.

And then, maybe we can actually work on getting some non-white characters on television....because all the characters in shows listed above? White, white, white WHITE. Yeah. There's Kevin Hill. And that's it.

Madness! Madness I say!

2005-03-14T18:25:00.000-05:00

Wow...I'd forgotten what March Madness is like.

It's like giving birth. It's so painful and tiring when it's happening, but then afterwards you forget the pain. Of course, I've never actually given birth, but you know what I'm saying. Every March I fall in love with basketball once again.

I grew up in a basketball household in a basketball state. And my upbringing, which included a love of U of L basketball in addition to the requisite Wildcat fandom, was a bit unique, because I've always had to watch more than one conference. In addition, I've always been interested in the Hoosiers because I live in Kentuckiana, my mother's an IU grad, and my father has a man-crush on Bobby Knight, due to their similar temperments. So that's three teams right there that I grew up caring about, in three different conferences. As a UK and IU fan, I've always known to hate Duke, but I wasn't an ACC watcher until 1993, when I watched the Heels win the championship and decided I really liked that color of blue. In 1997, I fell in love with Arizona because of duo Miles Simon and Mike Bibby. In the past few years, I've developed affection for Gonzaga because the name is so fun to say, and I'll always root for Kansas, given my Nick Collison crush and some underlying guilt about Roy's departure for my alma mater. So right there, I've got seven conferences that I study. SEVEN. Plus, having attended Wake Forest for a brief while, I root for them unless they're playing one of my greater loves. And, since my time in ACC country, I've since decided that if UNC is out, then I'll root for NC State, so I catch those games when I can.

That's a lot of television, people. And I think we've already established that I watch far too much non-sports television in the first place. But every March, it just gets entirely too crazy. You can find a game at any time you want...dealing with conferences you normally can't see or conferences you've entirely forgotten about. And so the television watching gets OUT OF CONTROL.

After a whole weekend of nothing but basketball, I'm exhausted. I am SPENT. I was just sitting on the floor clipping my toenails, and I realized that I'd zoned out for at least five minutes. Staring at my sea-green carpet. This weekend has left me numb.

Sitting on your ass, watching other people sweat and run down the court, moving only to jump up and scream at the television and gesture in DISBELIEF to the people watching with you--it's very taxing, apparently. I might have burned like 20 calories this weekend, from the yelling and the jumping up from the couch.

And honestly, watching basketball is all I did this weekend. It's as if the NCAA conspired against me, two days in a row. They lined up my teams so they played back to back, one after another...so I could Never. Break. Away. From the television.

So I'm exhausted, and I've accomplished nothing, and I'm not even happy about what's happened. U of L won the C-USA regular season PLUS the championship (albeit by the skin of their teeth) to arrive at a mere FOURTH seed? A FOURTH SEED with a 29-4 record? Top seeded-UNC found themselves unable to run any kind of offense around GA Tech's defense? What are they going to do when they come against Duke, or Kentucky? GA Tech fails to defeat the evil BlueDevils because the ref rewards Redick for pushing another player and then grabbing his jersey? Kentucky got so distracted by a guy with hair so big it OFFENDS ME that the team lost the SEC championship by SEVENTEEN points?

Why, oh why, do I watch? And I know it will only get worse now that the brackets are announced. And yet, by April, I'll forget how agonizing and unproductive it was, won't I?

Oh jeez. It's like I subconsciously WANT to waste time and be a lazy ass. I'm my own worst enemy. Well, maybe not my worst enemy. That would be Redick, or as I like to call him "Jeminem," given his penchant for poetry and verse. Of course, as the DEVIL himself, he has many names. He's also known as a sweaty guy who totally wants to make out with Dockery. Or, you may know him as a total nose-picker.

Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?

2005-03-12T20:40:00.000-05:00

....whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Tonight, on COPS:

-Three state police cars and one sheriff's car pulling up in front of the home that houses the white trash inbreds across the street.
- Two male members of household running out the FRONT DOOR of the dwelling, PAST THE COP CARS, across the boulevard and into my neighbors' back yard as three policemen chased them with their hands on their guns.
-Four females of varied ages or and no clear role in the family congregating on lawn, all on cell phones, gesticulating wildly to the police.
-One cute black chow mix barking wildly around the yard and nipping at the women.

Sigh...there's just no home entertainment system like my neighbors.
The best part is their name: the Adams family.
Dun-nun-nun-nun (snap! snap).

Murdoch!

2005-03-10T21:14:00.000-05:00

So the thing is, I've always known that Fox, aka the FOURTH network, sucked. Yeah, I used to watch 90210 and Melrose Place, but I was, what--10? And then, later down the line I caught Ally McBeal every so often--but that's only because I was stupid. And then I watched That 70's Show, but it was only for the Topher.

However, later on in life, when I became more educated about media conglomerates, I realized the evil of Murdoch, who owns, among other things, 20th Century Fox and its television division, Fox television. That man, that Australian man, is dedicated to making America suck. He's trying to buy up station after station, corporation after corporation, so that he, and he alone, controls all the messages and news that the American public gets. So there will be no marketplace of ideas, oh no. There'll be no diversions or variety. All we will see is what Rupert Murdoch wants us to see. And what he wants to do is torture us. That's why we have The Simple Life, don't you see? He alone can be blamed for Paris Hilton being famous. Why does he want to do this, other than sheer meanness? Well there's a simple reason. He's Republican, and yes, all Republicans are dedicated to making America suck, whether they realize it or not. And also, he's Australian, yet heavily invested in our politics. You see why, don't you? Because he wants to destroy us. That's why Fox broadcasts baseball. He figures that those of us he can't brainwash, he can bore to death.

Anyway, so once I realized that, I decided nope, I wasn't going to feed into Murdoch's evil plan. No 24 for me. No more That 70's Show. No Fox news affilliates, even though they air their nightly news an hour earlier, which is convenient.

But last year, I gave in. The O.C. was like Ben & Jerry's--I knew it was bad for me, but it tasted so good going down. And Arrested Development! Lord. Laugh-out-loud funny!

I didn't know what had happened. I thought maybe my evil radar was off, and that maybe old Rupie wasn't so bad after all. Either that, or I imagined he was napping when those shows got the greenlight.

But that's his genius, you see. He fools you into underestimating him, and then he ruins anything that you love.

The state of things as of today:

Arrested Development--About to be cancelled.

The O.C.--Seth has been destroyed and now the show's writers are at the point where they are ripping off plots from Saved by the Bell. Remember the episode where Zach, Kelly, Jessie, Slater, Lisa and Screech have to camp out in the camping store overnight? Except the O.C.'s take on it was worse because there was no Screech and instead Mischa Barton. So that's it, I'm done. I was so bored during this episode I started reading episode summaries for General Hospital--episodes from 1979.
***Also, who's the marketing genius who decided the premiere for the final Star Wars trailer should take place during the O.C.? I mean, I get why the show would agree to it, but the show's ratings suck. It's not even in the top 40! So if most people were as umimpressed by the "stuck in the mall" concept as I was, they'd probably tuned out by the time the trailer aired. In other news? It's nice to see that George Lucas has decided to stick with the approach he used in the last two Star Wars prequels--completing wooden, stilted, uncompelling Hayden Christiansen. Not that I won't go see it. I mean, Ewan McGregor, c'mon!

Point Pleasant--there's really no need to elaborate here, although I think it would be awesome if the show would admit that Rupie is actually the father of Christina (aka Satan's spawn). The show is pure badness. Except tonight it occurred to me that Marti Noxon got one thing right--if the final battle is going to take place ANYPLACE, it figures that Satan/Murdoch would choose New Jersey. Cause if Mississippi is the place where God shits, then New Jersey should be known as Beelzebub's toilet.

So thanks a lot Murdoch. Thanks for ruining my Thursday nights and taking all humor from my life. Just be warned--you fooled me once, but I won't get fooled again.

I know the evil that lies within you.

Socks

2005-03-10T19:36:00.000-05:00

My father, the George, owns more than 100 pairs of these wool/cashmere socks. He has a pair in nearly every color. Fire engine red, light pink, lime green...you name it. He is like the Baskin Robbins of sock colors. And, of course, he has multiple pairs for the sensible colors like grey, brown, black, and navy.

The other night, I washed and dried and folded about 25 pairs of these socks. Just imagine having 50 freshly washed socks in front of you and having to match them up. =NOT FUN.
I left the freshly washed and folded socks in a laundry basket in his room, so that he could divide them among the FIVE drawers that house these socks.

But the saga continues--here is a conversation we had about them today:

1 P.m.

(Daughter comes home from the gymn, to find her father's car still in the garage and his bedroom door still closed)

M: (knocks and opens door) Dad? You awake in there? It's one o'clock. Are you feeling all right?
Gdawg: Yeah...just being lazy, I guess.

M: Okay, well, I gotta go get in the shower, but I just wanted to see if you were okay.

G: Before you get in the shower, put my socks away.

M: Your socks?

G: The ones you put in the closet.

M: The ones I put in your closet two days ago?

G: YES, goddamn it, put them away.

M: Why should I put them away? Why can't you put them away?

G: Well, you're the one who washed them.

M: Yeah, exactly! I've done my part, now it's time for you to do your's.

G: Mandy, when you do something, you need to see it all the way through.

And with that, he backed me into a corner. Why is it still impossible to win an argument with my dad?

Terrible title

2005-03-08T22:19:00.000-05:00

Here's the thing--I like Ron Eldard. I think he's hot. And I think he's a damn fine actor, and deserves to have had a better career. And due to her prior association with General Hospital (not to mention Saved by the Bell Hawaii Style!) I like to support Rena Sofer in all her endeavors.

But a show called Blind Justice? I just can't get behind that. The title makes me cringe. There hasn't been this much cheese since...Knightrider...or Judging Amy...or Everybody Loves Raymond...or American Dreams.

I think there was even a show called Dark Justice, once upon a time. But this is just as bad.