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I am all but ripping off my bra, twirling it over my head singing out, "hooplah!"
Oh I do hope it's good. Oh, as to my favourite character? Jack Wild is still the best, but NIbs ain't bad either!
suddenly i was @ 06:52 pm
(no feathers)
saturday, july 30, 2005
I just watched a fantastic movie. "Badlands" by Terrence Malick. I didn't have a clue what is was about before I watched it (Me: About the Wild West, right?) and such is why I enjoyed it so much, most likely. So I shan't say a word, but say instead, "go rent!" and tell me about it.As a treat, the movie's theme song
Right click or save as to desktop!
suddenly i was @ 03:45 am
(no feathers)
So I will write up a cute story.
Backstory to cute story: My dad’s name is John. One of his coworkers has a little girl who is 4 who knows him.
So the parents of the little girl tell her they are going to pick up her Uncle Sean (the father’s brother) from the airport because he’s visiting them for the weekend. The little girl gets very excited and they all pack into the car and pick up Uncle Sean.
All the way home and upon arrival, the little girl is dead quiet watching her uncle. As the uncle leaves to clean himself up and she says to her father, “That’s not Uncle Sean.”
The mother enters, “Of course that’s Uncle Sean…” she said.
“No. It. Isn’t.” the toddler crossly insisted, “Uncle Sean has curly hair just like Mommy’s.”
At this point the parents are completely perplexed, but the little girl stands firm. Suddenly a light goes off over the father’s head.
“Do you think Uncle Sean wears glasses and has white-ish hair?”
“Yes.” replies the little girl.
The parents think some more.
“Do you think,” starts the mother, “Uncle Sean is ’s daddy?”
“Yes!” the little girl responds, “that’s Uncle Sean.”
She thought my dad, John, was her uncle Sean.
suddenly i was @ 03:24 am
(no feathers)
tuesday, july 26, 2005
I am having severe focus factor problems right now (am at work). So I shall take a brief mo and distract myself with MS Word and proto LJ entries. Not proofing!
First. Well, my loan came through for AFI. Everyone seems to think I am going, I still don’t particularly want to- I just don’t know what else to do. I decide tonight. I can still back out. I figure once I tell my job it’s permanent, not before.
I wish I didn’t want to do anything so I could just be content.
I don’t know what to do, so I pretend to not think about it.
Second. Bird story!
I have to have one of these every 2 days.
The other day my mom was cleaning out the backyard when she came across a little bird who was lying face up on the ground, its little stick feet in the air. “Oh,” my mom said. Assuming the worse, as our house and yard is a virtual vortex of bird mass murder courtesy of Mabel the Pretties, she went to retrieve the body- when lo! It’s jostled. My mom picked up the bird, who was very much alive, just stunned. The little guy (who is the same type as the mangy one I caught the other day) just looked about and blinked his little eyes with a beak full of berries. Apparently he had been eating when the ground caught him by surprise.
The bird was then passed off to me and I spent about an hour with him the front yard. NO visible injuries- also very healthy in build I came to the conclusion he was just a clumsy fledgling. A baby! He had two tufts of down on his head and kept falling asleep in my hands. When he would wake up, he would gear up and perch on my finger. You could feel him rock back and forth and grip tight, then he would poke his butt clear up into the air.
At about this time I was thinking, “Is he pooping?”
Then just about when I was going to cry out, “wtf” the little bird would hop off.
He was trying to fly!
But oh, he so totally couldn’t. He would just hop and hop and hop, with his mouth full of berries. Finally I had to give him up to the sanctuary of the neighbor’s yard where food and shade was because I had to get on with my day.
Flash forward!
The next morning I hear my dad calling me to the kitchen. Apparently Mabel had brought in another friend.
I went down, and who should be there on the tile?
But my little fledging.
Omg. My office is singing New Kids on the Block.
I knew it was the same guy for he had the same BERRY MESS all over his face and down tufts. Again he was uninjured, but by this point I was really beginning to wonder what kind of brain damage the bird had because he still wouldn’t fly and- you know, had berry all over his face.
Again I sat with him forever before I built a makeshift nest in a tree and locked Mabel inside.
By noon the birdie was gone, but who knows for how long.
Hopefully he learns to fly.
And oh. By the way? Lissa? Coolest person ever. She knows why.
P.S. My new cellphone rings Papageno’s aria from the Magic Flute. SCORE
suddenly i was @ 11:05 pm
(no feathers)
sunday, july 24, 2005
I am so tired!I just got back from- are you ready? A PARTY. Yes, I know.
THIS JUST IN:
Reports are scattered as of yet and new information is coming in every moment, but we are here reporting to say, yes. Hell has frozen over.
Tonight was my coworker’s Midsummer Night’s Dream costume party. I went with Casey, because my invite said I could bring a guest.
The adventure began last night when we decided we needed fairy outfits. The initial thrift store run proved fruitless, so we hit our local gumbo Wallmart (aka, mouth of Hell). After much perusing and poking, we both found skirts in the children’s section. White, light, ragged.
Perfect.
I also found a loosely knitted shawl which seemed to me to say: TEAR ME TO BITS. We called it “The Jellyfish.”
While out, we both purchased copious amounts of glitter make up and craft things such as dye.
Dye?
Oh yes. We were dying our skirts.
We got to my place and set the “vat” a-boiling. Casey dyed her skirt blue, with a quick tea-stain in tan, while I dyed mine brown and red.
This morning we went out for another run and bought flowers and shirts to accessorize with our fairy skirts and at about 5 we began our metamorphosis into ethereal creatures of Titania’s domain.
Casey was going to be the little fairy-in-waiting, Cobweb. She had her blue skirt and a light grayish tank for her outfit and then- oh! Her make up. She bought a glittery eye powder which she used as a blush so her skin shimmered and matched her eyes (adorned with a lovely blue shadow, compleat with blue mascara!). She then took little glass jewels, tiny little specks of things, and glued them all over her chest and about her eyes. To compleat her change into Cobweb, she accessorized with beautiful sparkling tulle ribbon, which she wrapped around her wrists and ankles.
Very, very pretty!
All the while Cobweb was being spun, I was busy creating Peaseblossom. My skirt was tan and pink (dye washes out!) and my shirt a crumpled taupe tank with lace. I threaded the tank’s lace with pheasant feathers and made a little bracelet out of tulle, one of my grandmother’s old earrings and more feathers. I also wore an old wooden compass around my neck. I took the shawl (which was a nice tea colour now from dying) and shredded it to bits so I could wear it about my shoulders and look very tattered. I then ratted (back combed) my hair to death. Literally, it was, “Tina Turner, look out.” I took a headband which I had twisted fake flowers and hawthorn twigs and berries to and put it under a layer of hair so it looked like I just had bramble in my locks. To increase the effect I stuck more feathers in my hair. Casey did my make up because I am really terrible with such things. She brushed me with gold powder and all sorts of browns and pinks. It looked so neat! I could have never done it myself.
Then after a checking up on a few finishing touches: glitter in hair, glitter nail polish and sugar perfume, we were off.
The party was actually only two blocks from my house. It was all set up in the backyard of a house. There were Christmas lights, candles, paper lanterns, flowers- beautiful night sky.
We arrived relatively early. I had some sort of menopausal hot flash and was dripping sweat everywhere at first, but soon cooled off and found my coworker who had invited me. YEYS. My coworker was decked out in oranges and yellows with huge wings. She informed us she was Mustardseed. Of course she was! Because we were Cobweb and Peaseblossom. My coworker also said, “Isn’t it every woman’s dream to dress up with glitter and play outside?”
Heck.
Yes.
Casey and I set up to make ourselves cocktails- which I have to say were every bit as fanciful and pretty as everything else at the party. We had lemonade spiked with vodka and ice cubes which were filled with blueberries and raspberries. It was very tasty. The other foods around were grapes, strawberries and cheese. Oh! So the hostess pointed out, also a bowl of Vodka soaked berries.
These will come into play later.
The first cocktail was very delicious and I was feeling no effects (I never drink, ever! So I am pretty clueless about what my tolerance is) so Casey and I went for seconds. This time I decided I wanted the ripe berries opposed to the cubed ones.
HOO. Strongest drink of my life! The berries were so, so strong. Totally knocked my socks off. My head was SWIMMING. I thought I was ok until I stood, then I just sat back down and thought, “H’okay, apparently not” because I felt like I was floating.
I wasn’t tipsy or drunk or anything, apparently I was experiencing a buzz, but all I know is I couldn’t really stand.
By that point more coworkers had come and we were sharing strawberries (I was eating things to counterbalance my dizziness). I got to talk to all the work people (including the new guy who is very nice, so I learned) and it was very fun.
There was a bit of excitement when a lantern fell and caught on fire. I leapt from my chair (because Casey and I were the first to see it) and yelled, “FIRE.”
Which is something I have quite literally always dreamed of doing. Casey and I looked for something to pour on the flames, but all glasses near us were empty. I went to step on the fire, but only had basically bare feet- but then another coworker came by and very bad-azz-ily stomped the fire out with her high heel! It was amazing.
Anyhow, it was great. We left as it was nearing midnight and said our goodbyes. I had so much fun and was able to walk home fine though now I am about to face plant into my computer keys. I just wanted to type up everything before I forgot.
Thank you Coworker for inviting me! My first party in a year and it was probably one of the most awesome yet.
suddenly i was @ 03:54 am
(no feathers)
saturday, july 23, 2005
I. Am. So tired. I was up way too entirely late last night. I schlepped off to bed way past the Witching Hour, nigh 3 AM and even then, sleep came not- for my sister came home late and woke the dogs and made a huge terrific din of annoyance. Then this morning, ‘round 6, Mabel The Priddy Tiddy came and dropped a live bird on my face.MORNING JOGGERS (going by): Wtf?
As he slept I began noticing he had bugs. Now, all little birdies have bugs, but this guy seemed to have an extraordinarily amazing number of such.
This started to freak me out because I could feel them all over the place and all I could think was, “it’s 6:30 and I have bugs.”
Trust Mabel to get the bird with mange.
I kept trying to get the bird to fly, but he just flopped around- eventually, after an hour of hanging out in the front yard, I had to create a false nest out of a box and hide him in a tree while I showered to scour the bugs from my person.
Then at work I spent all day obsessing over the fact it was 103 degrees out and the little bird might die from heat (even though I left him with food and two containers of water). I think I called home about 28 times, before I finally got a hold of someone who informed me the bird had flown away.
Yey.
I look like such arse today. It’s not even funny. I am on this new medicine, a side effect of which- apparently, makes your face look like a rhino hemorrhoid. Could I look any more heinous? I had to take a picture for AFI. I look like a male with an ugly, ugly fat face which is now compromised with what appears to be shingles. I mean, I have this thing on my eye which is making the lid swell! My hair always looks like shiz and since I haven’t slept well for about two weeks now I have these puffy, circled eyes.
I really don’t think I could look worse.
I was so excited because I had this party to go to this weekend. It’s my first party in over a year! The last time I did anything even remotely social with a group of people was last May. I was so excited when my coworker invited me, it’s a Midsummer Night’s Dream party, but now I don’t want to go because Jabba the Hutt on a bad day would look better than I do currently.
It’s just really upsetting, because I haven’t had skin issues in ages and then the dermatologist rather randomly decided to switch things around, only to yield disastrous results.
HER: Let’s stick with this a few months more.
Really. Easy for her to say, she doesn’t have to look like she has leprosy for a few months more.
I just have to accept the fact I my life as a dawg, is my life and that I am really the reincarnation of Quasimodo.
Have I mentioned how boring work is without access to anything?
I am at work now, waiting for assignments and since I now have nothing better to do, I can just sit around and cry about myself into Word.
Let’s go on about ailments. I have some sort of interesting thing going on with my tongue. It’s covered in cankers. It’s killing me! It almost feels like I’ve burnt my tongue, but I can’t remember ever having the chance to do so. Right now I have a giant cup of ice and I am sucking the little cubes down because my tongue literally feels like it’s on fire.
I can’t even talk. What’s going on? When is my body dying?
Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept more than 4 hours in a night for the past 2 weeks…
Oi.
Also: London? I can’t believe it again. Apparently they’ve shot a suspect. Scary, scary stuff.
suddenly i was @ 02:41 am
(no feathers)
thursday, july 21, 2005
Well I am at work and am totally bored. We are in our new building finally. It’s quite nice, though nothing will ever be as awesome as the all girl room. Now I share a giant office with all of Creative. We have a huge window though with “a nice view of the Andes” – nothing but mountains!Getting the picture?
Basically, you go in the stall and by some twisted physics you are reflected across the world for all to see.
Oh. And they see. They see it ALL.
How am I going to slink off for 3 minute naps in there now? The bathroom used to be a place of peace- not a free peep show for all your friends.
I am also beyond traumatized because due to networks changing, new proxies and firewalls from the move, AIM no longer works on my computer. I can’t TELL you how awful this is. My messenger was the only thing which got me through the day sometimes.
I found I can have an internal messenger, but it’s not quite the same, amusing as it is to AIM my coworker two feet away.
I have a few ideas for my lame-arse AFI assignment. I wrote one up today. It needs help. The one I wrote was about Enrique the coffee shop boy who goes all Shakespearean on a girl customer he falls in love with. I just wanted a story I could title, “A Side of Hamlet.”
It’s so god awful, there’s not much story, I just think people who look blank-eyed but carry on these elaborate conversations in their heads are funny. “O! Frappucino, dram of the gods. Draught of nectar! Sweet ambrosia! Would I were you to her tender cupid lips.”
Basically he does everything he can to win over the girl. Enrique, that is. Dresses in Elizabethan garb to serve up her order. Makes sly jokes. She, however, doesn’t notice at all and he bemoans and bemoans in voiceover (or speaking to the cam. ala Ferris Bueller). Up until the end when in despair he throws himself in the gutter to die (Enobarbus style) and she finds him and recognizes him.
My other idea involves a business man and a young girl who meet up at train/bus stop.
Since I will probably write that up tomorrow, I’ll let you know.
Any thoughts of “SUXOR. DON’T DO IT” are appreciated.
It’s almost 5 now.
suddenly i was @ 01:34 am
(no feathers)
tuesday, july 19, 2005
I kid you not. The Creature is back. This time I think it fell onto the neighbor's roof and continued to make god-awful noise when I went to see it was injured.
Still no sighting, but I believe it to be extraterrestrial in nature.
suddenly i was @ 02:38 am
(no feathers)
sunday, july 17, 2005
Oh my god. My family is so dramatic. Write this in a book Rowling!
So moments after posting my review of Harry Potter, outside my window the most terrific uproar began. Heinous screeching and hissing. I bolted up in my seat, my imagination alive with Dementors and other such nonesuch but also fraught with the worries of “cat fight.”
I ran downstairs crying out, “What’s that noise? What’s that noise?”
My sister joined me by my side as I flung open the front door to let the angry cries of night into our home. It only took a moment but then my sister and I, thoughts in tandem, said aloud together, “MABEL.”
We flew out open the door, in a fashion only Norma Desmond could emulate, with no thought or care for our own safety and tore out to the open sidewalk with all our dogs in tow.
There we ran hither thither in the heat of the night and rising confusion. The cries were escalating. The dogs were barking up a storm. My sister screaming, “GO INSIDE! GO INSIDE!”
Mind: it is 4 minutes to 1 AM.
After running around in a helpless circle for what seemed like an eternity, I decided my path and ran up the neighbor’s driveway to their back yard, because their back light turns on with motion. I ran up clapping my hands, my sister following still screaming at the dogs who taking up the rear were still barking. The auto-light flipped on and-
Silence.
Well- except for the scattered rustling of leaves as The Creature made its swift exit.
My sister and I listened carefully. Only our hot panting breath penetrating the night. After a quick collection of nerves, we geared up again, deploying the troops.
“Make sure Mabel is inside!” I barked at my sister as she and I and all the dogs ran back down the driveway, past my dad who had just come out, “what was it?” and by some random guy in the street who offered the sage advice, “It was probably a ‘coon.”
Thanks. I thought to myself. I am sure it was a “coon.” I just want to make sure the “coon” didn’t just inhale my cat.
My sister went forth determinedly into the house, while my father stood vigilant on the porch lest The Creature spring another attack as I rounded up the dogs.
As I entered my home, my sister informed me Mabel the Cat was safe inside, my father locked the pet door and my mom FINALLY woke up on the coach asking what was going on and as if in response, the summer wind wafted in one last distant cry made into the night by The Creature.
The End.
suddenly i was @ 02:15 am
(no feathers)
I am so, so disappointed about Snape though, ugh.
Here’s me in my little white tomb with Dumbledore: There’s still good in him!
Here’s Snape with his little lightsaber- er, wand: I poke at things master!
I really hope there’s some sort of twist on this, perhaps it’s too much plot to hope for- but I mean, could Dumbledore really be so dense? Surely there was something else to it. I hope. I pray! I felt bad for Snape.
The book had a few of the omnipresent gaping plot nuggets which have for so long, been a part of the Potterverse.
While I liked the different take on the opening, in hindsight I have no idea what purpose it served unless it was some sort of Rowling take on terrorism or I can’t remember where the last book left off. I thought the Remus Tonks relationship was the most forced, most pointless and painful detail of the story. Almost as random as Éowyn and Faramir’s hi-we-r-in-wub affair at the end of the theatrical version of “Return of the King” but not so clumsy and bad as Chewbacca’s cameo in “Revenge of the Sith.”
I enjoyed Voldemort’s patch-work history. Speaking of “Star Wars” I bet he’s poker buddies with Anakin. Both start hot** and end up soulless nubs.
The writing is simplistic- though I have to remind myself, perhaps that’s because the target audience is something like, NINE YEARS OLD.
Still I could do without the plot spoonfeeding.
DUMBLEDORE: You have a power he does not.
HARRY: The power of love.
D: Yes, you have to power of love.
H: So, what you’re saying is I have the power of love.
D: Yes, you have the power of the love.
H: You mean to say I have the power… of love.
D: Yes. Power of love.
H: So you’re saying I have the power of love?
D: You have a power he does not.
H: The power of love, right. Must tell Ron and Hermione.
10 pages later:
RON: So you have a power he does not?
HARRY: Yes, the power of love.
Dumbledore’s gigantic leaps of faith and filling-in of historic blanks was also a bit embarrassing.
Maybe he was dense. Maybe he and I really were hoodwinked by Snape, because he was kind of just pulling things out of the air there.
DUMBLEDORE: We can’t really know, Harry, but I figure Voldemort is actually a woman.
What can you do though?
At the end of the day I had a great time. Say what you might, but I think Harry Potter is a fine thing. As cheesy as it is- and as many times as it has been said: whatever gets a bazillion kids around the world to curl up and read together is fine in my book. I mean, let’s face it, Shakespeare’s not doing it for kids these days. I figure, as loosely as it is written, goofy as are its plots- all short comings included, I would prefer my kids or little cousins or young neighbors to settle down with a fun frolic with wizards than sit in front of a video game or lame television program or the internet any day.
It’s fun to have something which brings people together, positively. To have fun, read, imagine, talk and share. That, my friends, is real magic and I thank Harry Potter full heartedly for it and look forward to his obvious Indiana Jones conclusion, come the next book.
Over and out, mischief achieved.
* I first wrote “hugely” here. Double entendre? I think not. Try Freudian Slip. Head from gutter. Head from gutter!
** I dare you to count how many times Tom Riddle is described as “handsome.”
suddenly i was @ 01:12 am
(no feathers)
saturday, july 16, 2005
Ginny is a skank and I'm Ron. Haaaaaar.Back to reading.
ADDENDUM: Page 302. We go from teen angst to teen hormones. Male hormones. Like my friend Hamlet once said: "wet dreams may come."
suddenly i was @ 04:20 pm
thursday, july 14, 2005
LIVE FROM MY OFFICE:One coworker took my officemate's scissors and she was making a big deal about wanting them back.
COWORKER: I'm going to stick these up my butt before I give them back to you, - actually I’m going to jog up and down 4 or 5 times first too so you get ass all over your scissors.
Today is really slow. We’re moving to a new office, so while the first part of this week was a SLAM now it’s calm. I am excited, however, because we get Friday off.
SQUEAL.
Here are some things I would like to do with my whole free 8 hours:
Install Airport Card
Call loan people
Make dentist appointment
Call cell phone people
Read assigned book
Watch assigned movies
Mail back Netflix
This is what I will probably do:
Sleep until 3
I am really depressed about the new office in some ways. I love LOVE my officemates. We are the girl room. We are always together and don’t make dumb mistakes. Now we have to share the office with the males who never possess the afore mentioned qualities and smell weird.
My life is over.
I watched a program about Mickey Mantle last night.
Wow.
You know, we don’t have heroes and legends like that anymore. Where are the Mantles and James Deans? The John Lennons and Marilyn Monroes?
It always seems to me my generation missed out on legends. I mean, maybe it’s too soon to say such a thing, but I don’t think we have them the same. We live in a world of cheap and instant celebrity. Starlets, while cute and personable- they’re a dime a dozen. Sports big fish, they’re accused of using drugs. Everything is pumped up, bigger, louder, flashier- but what has substance?
I don’t count people like Madonna as a legend. I think some of the closest things are perhaps- Lance Armstrong who is a human dynamo. Maybe some one like Michael Jordan back in the day. I’m not sure with actors and actresses. Who will be a legend that is a part of this generation. I don’t mean Jack Nicholson or anyone like that- who is filling the shoes of people like James Dean? Who’s our rebel without a cause?
I don’t know, watching the documentary on Mantle- watching one grown man after the other choke up to tears because they tied their childhood so closely the lucky Number 7. Even my dad went on about how much he adored Mantle as a hero when he was young. It was very something else.
suddenly i was @ 10:01 pm
tuesday, july 12, 2005
Obligatory cute Poodle Update:
So the other day Mabel The Pretties had her tail stepped on, with a screech and hiss- she bolted for the banister, hair all puffed out like an owl’s feathers.
The dogs, SCREAMED. Whimpering and crying after her, they would not stop making a scene they were so worried.
The kitty is their bestest friend!
I am so vexed guys, so vexed. I don’t know what to do. I’m not sleeping, I’m broken out (what my body likes to do under stress) and I constantly feel depressed and headachy like I am wandering around after being smacked upside by a semi truck.
I don’t want to go to AFI. I never did. Its program always sounded needlessly terrifying and stressful and I didn’t like it. I had a momentary delusional period when I was accepted and went forth and gave them deposits and things, but I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go- but I am so far in the whole now: people looking for APTs for me, 1000 deposit, 18,000 + financial aid and I won’t EVEN mention the loan amount I applied for-
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go- but what else are my options? What, stay here? That’s just what I don’t want and I have been informed by mi familia if I don’t go to AFI I will be moving out somewhere here.
Oh boy. I don’t want that at all- so… going to this school is the only other choice- but isn’t that a great reason to drop 100,000 over the next two years?
ME: I don’t want to go, but staying here is worse-
And I feel like someone who actually would kill to go deserves this more than I do.
I don’t know what to do, all I feel like doing is crying. I don’t really want so much stress and to be poor again- only to probably be kicked out because it’s all performance based and I just don’t perform well in this regard. I am so inexperienced it’s a joke.
I received two assignments in the mail. I don’t think I can do it. It’s two treatments for short narrative films which will be copied, distributed and pitched the FIRST DAY. Not only am I GOD AWFUL and shorts, I just- I don’t know. Them the assignment has this little post script about not being a character study but a story- and I am panicked because I think everything I can come up with is a character study. It’s also restricted because it can’t just be anything, but must be possible to shoot within a 30 mile radius of AFI in four. – Great, because I have no idea what the terrain is there. What’s there? I don’t know.
And I just have no ideas. I get this assignment when I feel dead creatively. I can’t do anything any more- let alone come up with anything to pitch to people I have never met the first day in a brand new place. I rather die. I have nothing. The best stories I can come up with aren’t stories and I would never watch. I tried all these little “draw from your life” exercises, but can only come up with scenes because I have successfully LIVED without LIVING for over a year. I have nothing. I go no where.
I keep trying to think how I can draw from: going to the grocery store, sitting at the computer at work and petting poodles. I can’t get a cohesive premise.
I spent my BFA career doing non-narratives for this very reason. I’m terrible at them in short format.
I just have nothing but lame ideas and I don’t want to go. I just want to sit quietly in my corner and like what I am doing instead of being forced to compete with god awful lame ideas that will be picked over and apart and I will be embarrassed and ashamed by.
This said if you have any idea or stories or --- anything. You think would be interesting as a short. Feel free. I am worthless.
suddenly i was @ 09:54 pm
friday, july 8, 2005
Oh my god- I just found the most beautiful, GIGANTIC moth. It was just outside the door of the office. I thought it was dead so I was going to take it to put under glass- but first I had to clock in, for god forfend I do anything until I am clocked in. I ran inside, made myself known to the multiple system time clock then ran back out with my coworker to show her my most excellent find.P.S. His name is Henry.
I found the picture of the species!
In other news: I want a kitten. I want a kitten like a 35 year old single woman wants a baby.
My sister got a kitten from her boyfriend for her birthday a little while back and since they ASKED NO ONE it lives, basically in the boyfriend’s bedroom. Last night though, the said BF brought the kitten over. If you can imagine Homer Simpson seeing a doughnut and drooling please do so now, except instead of Homer, imagine me and instead of a doughnut, a kitten. There I was with little fingers twiddling, eyes wide like a bushbaby, in a high voice saying, “c-ca-c-can I – omg. Can I ho-h-hold it?”
The dogs went wild, but in a good way. The poodles were so excited, I thought certainly Bruce would peepees himself. I would take turns lifting the dogs to look at the kitten. Bruce couldn’t get enough, Ignatius was picked up and immediately started licking the kitten all over- an act, so cute, I thought I was going to start pooping baby bunnies on the spot. Zoë proved the most entertaining- she hopped up on her hind legs and danced! Something she hasn’t done in years! We were convinced she couldn’t any more.
The kitten himself- named GEORGE is so cute. Teeny-teeny-tiny. Big as the palm of my hand with a nose half the size of my pinky fingernail. Lovely cat. His parents are grey and a ginger-pointe white cat- so he’s this little tiger thing with an orange spot on his head and blue, blue eyes.
Anyhow, he was so cute. I hope we can BREAK the parentals and he comes to live here, because otherwise I could possibly die.
suddenly i was @ 08:49 pm
Also Casey suffered the loss of a really good friend today who was so sweet and kind, I can’t help but feel sad as well. I can’t really say much except I’ve thought about him and the decision is the kind and right one to do. Don’t ever think otherwise. His spirit will move on to bigger and better things because he’s done so much to deserve it so you shouldn’t be too sad now, C. He wouldn’t want you to be.
suddenly i was @ 12:55 am
thursday, july 7, 2005
London, London... my heart to London.
Turns up news.
suddenly i was @ 09:32 am
sunday, july 3, 2005
ALIEN BOB: Ok fellas. In 900,000 years this is the plan: we go, we take over, we harvest. I-ALIEN STEVE (checks palm pilot): Wait, that’s not going to work with me Bob, I have a dental appointment.
ALIEN CHUCK: Me neither. It’s my kid’s birthday.
ALIEN BOB: Really? Hell. Let’s call it an even million years then. Any conflicts?
(general approve of date)
ALIEN BOB: Ok we’re set. See ya in a million.
ALIEN BILL: Wait, wait. Before we split, I was just looking over these spread sheets, I don’t see any allowance for biohazards. In a million years, I mean, who knows- we might need some protection from hostile foreign entities-
ALIEN BOB: Christ Bill. Do you want a bonus this year or do you want us to spend all the surplus on lined panties for you?
(beat)
ALIEN BILL: Sorry guys. I guess you’re right. We’re like the most intelligent beings in the universe, nothing is going to take us down.
ALIEN BOB: No problem with sweatin’ the details Bill. Now who’s for lunch?
I love Spielberg. I know, I know- every independent film vein in my body loathes to say it and I know I should rebel against the industry, but the guy makes good movies. Not good as in, “Citizen Kane” or – I don’t know what; but good as in entertaining. Spielberg sort of invented the Hollywood blockbuster and no one does it so well as he. He is master of his domain and I know whenever I watch one of his movies I will be totally immersed and involved whether I’m hiding from a Raptor in a kitchen, watching alien smog roll in or hiding from enemy gun fire in Europe. He just puts on a show wherever he goes.
This said I totally went to “War of the Worlds” and I totally had fun with it. As an aficionado of all old sci-fi movies (we own the original “War of the Worlds” oh yes we do) I felt it was cinematic duty to attend. I thought Tom Cruise was fine in the part. It is something of a shame he had to behave like such an arse so publicly before the film was released because occasionally during the movie I did have to take a mo. and think, “He totally believes this sort of stuff.” Overall though, he did a fine job. If he hadn’t been so embarrassing lately, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Despite his cultish beliefs and misinformed opinions on EVERYTHING, I usually enjoy watching Cruise. He has a weird edginess in acting. You’re always waiting for something to blow up. He reminds me a little of Jack Nicholson in this way. I digress. He was good. I thought Dakota Fanning was good though her dialogue in the very beginning was too stilted and mature in the not-precocious-but-an-adult-is-writing-for-me sort of way. Still she was good. Miranda Otto was beautiful.
I was totally invested in the story. I always like to think of where I would be in such movies.
A. Vaporized by the first Tripod.
B. Hiding in the first basement I hid in.
C. Driving to Arches National Park or similar to go live in a hole for the rest of my life.
I also wonder how I would save my pets.
Everything was great, show-stopping and scary up until the lest 3 minutes- aka: the Spielberg ending. Now, while not as abrupt and obvious as “Minority Report” this one made me roll my eyes. I was so excited at the prospect of the son dying (“Spielberg never kills characters- will this one stay dead?”) and think it would have been a much more poignant story- but no. He was there at the end. With mom. Tim. Grammy. Grampy. In their perfectly untouched Bostonian neighborhood. Oh, and he had comes to terms and now loved his father again.
Make me vomit.
At least the whole family didn’t run to Cruise.
GRANDMA: ‘k thanks Ray. You can go now.
GRANDPA: You’re behind on Child Support, prick!
Also, what was wrong with those kids? I think once the giant alien robots had started blowing up cities and I had seen a river of dead people, when my daddy said, “Stay here.” I would obey. That- or I wouldn’t let go of his hand. None of this running into bloody alien-fested wilderness.
Kids these days.
How Boston was in such great shape, I’ll never know. New York is decimated to a dusty, bloody wasteland and Boston- hell. It’s fall leaves in the breeze. Then what with the New York vs Boston baseball cap battle at the beginning- favourite city-ism at work?
Shrugs shoulders.
All I know is Boston got the Tripod that couldn’t. The Slacker-pod.
Speaking of weird hinting. I did feel there was a mild nod to 911 in a few scenes (people walking across the bridge- American flag flutters into view). I am really tired of it, though in this case it was really subtle, to the point of it maybe even being my imagination. Nothing nearly as flagrant and offensive as the ending to “Spiderman.”
I did, however really like it when the little girl asked if it was terrorists when her father started to run away with her. I thought it was a nice and realistic touch.
Anyhow- so the happy reunion was forced. The rapid, rapid ending was true to the original story, so it’s hard to criticize. While I needed a little more run-down myself (I spent 2 hours about to wet myself and in three minutes the whole story is over), but what can you say? It’s true to the source material.
RAY: What’s going on?
SOLDIER: I don’t know- it just started turning erratically.
ME: Mad cow disease.
That’s what happens when you eat millions of people who eat McDonald’s then spray them out your Tripod blowhole.
I still think it’s so funny the aliens plan this take over for a million years and no where in that plan does anything include bio-chem suits. Gloves. Gas mask? You know, to wear for at least the first 24 hours of take-over.
I was forewarned by
A. Giant explosions.
B. Giant alien monsters.
C. Raging blood veins taking over the planet.
I think seeing Dakota Fanning screaming continually for 90 minutes will. I mean, I was scared.
There was a couple in front of me who brought their tiny kids. The little girls were so scared, it made me feel awful. They didn’t cry or anything, but they were hiding and covering their faces. People are so dumb. It’s like the people who took their kids to “Bad Santa” and were angry when they left. That movie was rated R. They only took their kids because it had “Santa” in the title. People don’t look at reviews or ratings.
In case you are wondering. War of the Worlds. PG-13.
PG-13 PARENTS STRONGLY CAUTIONED
Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13
That means if your kid is still weaning off of the breast, LEAVE HIM HOME.
Anyhow. Great fun. I am so glad aliens haven’t blown up our planet.
suddenly i was @ 10:17 pm