Friday, May 30, 2003

I am going to write and illustrate a childrens book about Big Gray and Elise's cat Yuki, who ran away and was adopted by a fire station, made friends with a dalmation, hid in the fire truck and went to a fire, only to make it's way back home with singed ears and a sense of fulfilled adventure. What a great book. Maybe I'll illustrate it using only old photgraphs of Yuki (which I'm told means snow in Japanese. The cat was- surprise- white, but a nice variation on the Snowballs).

Note to HBO Real Sex:
There is nothing more awkward than watching a bunch of housewives learn how to give hand/blow jobs sitting around the coffee table with dildos on their good dinner plates.
Except maybe if I had to watch it with my mom. Or dad.

Oh, and in addition to the pictures I posted on my own fotolog yesterday, some of you have been communally embarrassed and immortalized on drunkface. That'll learn you to get hammered when I have my camera.

Why is impregnable stong enough to resist attack and impregnate to permeate?

Bill Murray, comic genius...
I love having company. I love it especially when it's Phoebe and Aaron. Phoebe and I occupied ourselves in the bathroom cutting her hair while Big Gray and Aaron sat in the living room and complained about how we both (P and myself) have an affinity for leaving half eaten food in the the refridgerator never to be touched again.

I'll never live down the bowl of cottage cheese and trail mix. Phoebes the half eaten yogurt with the spoon still in it.

This is a hot subject at our house. I don't eat leftovers. I don't know what it is, but a once hot food in a box in the fridge loses all appeal. Cold pizza I can do and sometimes cold pasta. Everything else sits and rots. Big Gray made me take my leftover Cuban food to work the other day. When I told him I didn't want it and that he could have it he got really mad and made me take it with me. I threw it away once I got downtown. I can't help it. He's always peeved when I give away leftovers that he thinks I should be eating. He also has no appreciation for the fact that I don't like mushy vegetables. Or creamed anything. I swear, BG, I don't do it to annoy you.

Back to our night. Once the haircut was complete we were forced to watch BG play Zelda so Aaron could see it. There is nothing weirder to me than a group of adults sitting around while one person plays video games. We heard BG say "Look. See how powerful my sword is?" I eventually spoke up and said how bored I was. We ended up watching Ghostbusters.

BG had to be reminded on more than one occassion that he was absolutely NOT to recite the dialogue either just before or with the characters on screen. He did after all receive an extraordinarily high score on the geek test. At any rate, Bill Murray it was decided, at many many intervals, is comic genius.

Finally, something worth watching TV for...

My American Tragedy
I belong to a semi-elite group today that has not only read Dreiser, but enjoyed it. I plowed through Sister Carrie my junior year in college and was lucky enough to have a sympathetic ear in Phoebe when I felt like talking about it chapter by chapter. But more importantly, I slogged through all 932 pages of An American Tragedy. Fucking brilliant.

Now, Dreiser has been under the gun since he first started to write. Even his good friend and literary critic H.L. Mencken described his work as "mirthless, sedulous, [and] repellent". His novels focus on the industrial working class at the turn of the 20th century. Not as glamorous as Gatsby, for sure, but nonetheless compelling.

So why have his novels been pushed to the back burner and only a cultish following of fans still hold fast to the poetry of realist epic novels? David Denby offers 6+ pages of insight as well as a pretty good summary of the plot line for Tragedy in the double issue New Yorker for late April of this year.

Myself? I would still recommend reading it. Once I finished it Big Gray and I were walking and I was recounting key scenes, feverish and teary eyed.

For the attention deficit, or the still unsure, they made a movie based on An American Tragedy- "A Place in the Sun" starring a young Shelley Winters, who incidentally was also in the first movie take on The Great Gatsby. Always the scorned lover...

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Mind over matter
I decided about 10 minutes ago that I was going to try to convince myself that I had taken a muscle relaxer at lunch and see how much better I could make myself feel. I was quite relaxed.

I love movie montages put to pop songs written expressly for said movie. My favorite is the "gettin' it done" montage from The Karate Kid "You're the Best" (cha cha cha cha, oh yeah!). There is also the gettin' it together montage, the falling in love montage, the working together montage, and so on.

The title of this particular post is also the title of an 80's movie montage song. Name the movie.

We Used To is a great song, except for that weird Stairway to Heaven rip off at the beginning. Conversely, Me and Little Andy is the scariest song ever recorded, with the possible exception of that record that Big Gray has sung by the doll and all those kids.

My boss's fratty son definately thinks I am a dork for listening to Dolly Parton while I'm at work. But the real joke (shhhh...) is that he's a moron. And I can always turn off the music...

I want to make an internet personality quiz that takes 25 minutes to fill out and when you click results it always has the same response: "You have way too much fucking time on your hands."

3 Madras
2 Miller High Lifes
1 Krystal Cheese without the meat ("you want just mustard, pickles and onions?" yes, and cheese...)
1 Large fries
1 Night of restless sleep thanks to my dog and his itchy back
1 Granola bar that tastes like a handful of gravel

Roll call
This is the (no lie) list of very strange callers that showed up on Bill's caller ID:
Steve Landry 414-555-6925
Andrew Jackson 202-555-6103
Thomas Jefferson314-555-7904
Paul Locklin 719-555-2824
Steve K Rhoads 201-555-9723
Jeffrey C Rigg 917-555-4122
Jim Red 603-555-9421
Thomas Edison 408-555-7320
Albert Einstein 807-555-3219
Alexander G Bell914-555-6218
Ben Franklin 609-555-3105
Ronald Reagan 916-555-0206
Ulysses S Grant 603-555-2410
Herbert Hoover 412-555-9211
Hank Williams 817-555-3412
John Bardeen 202-555-4217
Edgar Allen Poe 619-555-6215
Samuel Clemens 714-555-2814
Charles Dickens 408-555-9713
Robert Diamnond 800-555-3916

A possible message from the heavens?

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Chuck Barris is quite a guy. If you didn't get a chance to see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind when it was in the theatres, get thee to Vision Video and rent it. Sam Rockwell played the famous gameshow host. Enough said.

Something smells like raw potato.

I spend a good amount of time at work thinking about things like cars and shoes. I also have a running list of things that need to be done to our house. Kitchen, hallway, bathroom, yard, laundry, cds, vacuum. Vacuum! We don't have one. Big Gray's mom said to us, "You can have one of ours, but not right now." O...k.

Why is it that my mom's hardwood floors are always spotless and mine always look like the floor at a rodeo bathroom?

Stay gold, Ponyboy.
I finished The Outsiders last night. Here is my take:
The author, SE Hinton, uses the phrase "Boy howdy" way too much. She was 16 when she wrote it so we'll give her some slack

When I originally read it at age 11 or 12 I had no problem believing it was written by a boy, a teen greaser. No so much any more. There were way too many descriptions of hair color, tightness of shirts, pants, what they were feeling in their hearts, etc. No wonder girls like this book so much. We thought it was written by the ideal guy: sensitive with good fashion sense, but knows how to hold his own in a rumble, maybe carries a blade... I mean his name was Ponyboy for god's sake. How rad is that?

The formula for young adult books is as follows: lightheartedness, drama, resolution. It's why we love it. We always know that in the end, the girl will get the guy, the Nazis will be defeated (WWII is big with the YAB scene), the oppressed will rise above, the poor get rich, the pets come home, the orphan finds love and/or a family and so on. Sure, there is heartache, but we're not talking Victor Hugo, French Cinema or Antonioni here. Always with the resolution. Always.

So this is my final call, ladies. I took YABC seriously and have torn through not one, not two, but FOUR books already. Catch up, already. Boy howdy.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

"CAT PRIN -- the tailor for a cat you know -- it is -- fact which will become dearer than former if a cat has clothes on

Don't you doubt? "Although I want to dress with dress extravagant with my cat, doesn't a cat dislike having" clothes on?
It is impossible that continue for time long to be sure, and you continue dressing a cat. But about [ to which you dress a cat and take a commemorative photo on special days, such as a birthday of a cat, ] is OK. "

Thanks to Big Gray for that one.

Note to RRC:
This guy may be your long lost soul mate.

It's a strange day when you wake up and realize that you now have more friends losing their hair than friends who drive bitchin' cars...

Another gem from Elise. In Arizona they get to drive convertible police cars. I wonder if they have a Fabrio unit? Maybe I can join...

Read the bios of the police officers. It's like a hunk auction.

Who was it that told me there wasn't anything less indie-rock than being in people magazine? Oh yes there is...

Even a well written blog will be marred by putting a Grateful Dead logo at the top...

Lots of beer, no tofu dogs.
All in all, not a bad Memorial Day after all. We (Red, me, Big Gray) went to a cookout at some of our more normal, domesticated friends' house. The crowd over there is always about 50/50. They have a lot more married friends than we do (ourselves being included) and it's safe to say that, with a few glowing exceptions, most married people are fucking boring. I'd much rather be outside with the single gals chain smoking and getting wasted than following my husband around in madras shorts and spending most of the evening inside watching tv while people sat outside and took the Entertainment Weekly Pop Culture Quiz (there was a lot of yelling). I mean shit, maybe I'm boring too, but once Lucas gets going you can call him many things, but boring is not one of them. Am I right or am I right?

It's May 27th in this southern town (as it is in many other towns across the world today) and I have on pants and a long sleeve shirt. Never in my eight years in the south has this happened. I'm usually sweating like a hog by Cinco de Mayo.

Monday, May 26, 2003

Thank heavens. I'm released. Now to go in search of beer and tofu dogs.

If anyone feels the compulsion to buy me 150 dollars worth of fabric...
This is what I want. 3 yards please. Then my life will be complete.

Is anyone else addicted to reading the "most recently updated" web logs on Blogger?
"Wow. I haven`t updated in a while. Actually it hasn`t been that long but considering the fact that I used to update 80 times a day it seems like a while. Tomorrow is the last day of school. I hope mom isn`t gonna make me do anything but she probably is. We aren`t doing much of anything this summer, we`re going to my grandparents house and I`m going to Drama camp, and if we buy tickets in time I might go see the Rollins band in concert. I heard the Sex Pistols were on tour but they aren`t the greatest band in the world and they probably suck live. Most of the other bands I want to see are either on Lalapalooza or the Warped tour."
--Taken from this blog.

Ok, fine, you don't like the Sex Pistols. But to forsake them in the name of Lollapalooza? Or Warped? This kid needs some schoolin'.

It's Memorial Day...
A day most of us set aside to get drunk in the middle of the afternoon and eat barbeque. Enjoy it people. In honor of our country and it's failing foreign relations, I printed out a French flag and taped it to my desk.

My desk. While all you beautiful losers are fattening yourselves on Budweiser and shredded pork, I sit at my desk. At work. For what reason I'm not exactly sure. The courts are closed. The bank is closed. The post office is closed. But in case you need to hire a lawyer on this day of rememberance, I'll be here.

The likeness of Anna Paquin on the new X-2 Electric Bugaloo Diet Dr. Pepper cans is not very good.

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