Day 129: Bangs

Day 129: Bangs

Got my hair did. Like everything else in life, I like parts but I’m not crazy about the whole. I want to do surgery on it but I’ve been urged to leave it alone. I just want a great haircut for once. Not a this-is-okay-but-I-don’t-like-it-enough-to-do-anything-but-grow-it-right-back-out-the-way-it-was-before cut. Middle class woes, aren’t they fun?

Saw the Star Trek movie today before work. It’s very bromantic and full of very attractive people and lens flares. Jesus, with the lens flares. The future’s so bright; why weren’t any of those people wearing shades?

Anyway, it’s a fun flick, even though as soon as the time-travel shit kicked in I instantly lost the ability to comprehend anything that was going on. Except the bits about the black holes. I know from a three-page paper I did in freshman science in college that that was allllll bunk.

What else what else what else? Lots.

Nearly instant update: Um. I got a little tipsy and had some scissors in the bathroom and went to work. The good news is that I didn’t make it look any worse. The other good news is that now I am ready to go in to the salon and demand the cut I want, which I have asked for twice now but been discouraged from thanks to my “dominant part.” But the thing is, my part LOOKS dominant for people who just happen to glance at my scalp, but the truth is? It’s a total pushover once you get to know it. THAT IS COMPLETELY NON-ANALOGOUS TO MY PERSONALITY, JEEZ.

[Project 365]

World’s most pointless nitpick

I saw Monsters vs. Aliens tonight, because I am a sucker for overpriced kids’ movies in 3-D.

And while, like Watchmen, it was gorgeous to behold but had a stupid, not very engaging story (*ducks to avoid nerd pummeling*), there was one snippet of dialogue that immediately lodged into my brain like a verbal splinter.

There’s this giant lady monster, see, and she’s being introduced to her new monster home, tended by a wacky military general.

Giant lady: How long will I be here?

Wacky general: Inevitably.


I feel like that exchange right there is indicative of why Dreamworks animation pictures tend to fall just short of Pixar’s brilliance, again and again. It’s the writing, stupid. Get it right: Indefinitely.

Anyway, it’s a cute movie, take your kids, blah blah blah. They’ll be mesmerized by the blob thing especially. And Seth Rogen’s laugh.

Day 40: Down by the River to Read

Day 40: Down By the River to Read

Recuperation complete. I packed a lot of awesome into one little day. Slept nine glorious hours, went to the gym and got the endorphins pumping, took my lunch to the park down by the river and read The White Tiger on a blanket while the wind whipped the world into a subdued frenzy around me. Then I had some chips and white cheese dip and some margaritas, went home to book chat, and then hauled ass to see Coraline in 3-D, which was just intense.

And now, the routine begins again. I don’t mind.

I just wish I had taken a picture in which my hand didn’t look completely disfigured.

[Project 365]

Day 39: Another Day, Another Airport

Day 39: Another Day, Another Airport

I feel like I’ve been living out of a suitcase for a month.

I’m glad to be home and I’m glad that the first thing I did when I got to Memphis was take a shower and then go eat some crazy-ass food (ox tail soup and some technicolor potatoes and some other things I forgot how to describe) with my crazy-ass friends, and watch Psycho Killers in Love. Or at least I think that’s what it was called. I can’t find it on IMDB, which tells you just how crazy-ass it was.

Tomorrow I recuperate. Mind, body, soul, and whatever else I can squeeze in.

[Project 365]

Um, that is what happens, right?

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn’t seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

HT: Chris Wage

‘It’s hard to take risks’

Thanks, chums, for the CDs. I dig, a lot.

Today I’ve been a big sack of lazy. I don’t know why it is that on the one day a week when I have a crap ton of time to get stuff done, I lie around in pajamas the longest. Oh, wait, yeah, I do know. Because I am human. Hear me doze. Also, I spent the morning recuperating from last night’s inaugural YarbroDill potluck, which was all kinds of lovely. So my brain is just now starting to unfog. Listen, people, I am not a morning person, and to me, morning lasts until roughly 3 p.m.

Today’s true accomplishments: I’ve eaten a cup of cereal, created and sent an e-card, and watched Jesus Camp. I very nearly cried at the child abuse going on in the evangelical church, including the horrific rattails that said culture apparently encourages. I’ve also spent some time thinking about the country I would like to move to if McCain wins the election. I’m conflicted. Go north or south on this continent or jump a pond? However, as others have helpfully pointed out, perhaps evacuating would be a bad move, because then I would be on the receiving end of the U.S.’s no doubt disastrous foreign policy. This election/culture war/economy horseshit is giving me an ulcer. I don’t want to leave the apartment, but I hate to waste a perfectly good day off.

Okay, enough of these pixels. I’m going to take a shower and throw away these toenail clippings that are on the desk and go to the liquor store and maybe drive out east to visit Ashley and JD and Luke.

Vanessa Huxtable went to my grocery store

I can’t believe I forgot to mention in my last post that the sweet and insanely talkative older lady who checked me out at Schnucks (Union) last night was all atwitter over the fact that Tempestt Bledsoe had just been through there a bit earlier. (The lady used this information as an excuse to give me a rundown on the shows she finds herself watching these days — Law & Order and those shows involving forensics and/or files, but not so much the Cosby Show reruns, which she has never much cared for.) They’re filming a movie in town and, well, even movie stars prefer to do their grocery shopping under the cover of night.

It’s not just us neurotic nocturnal cat ladies.

Thoughts while watching ‘The Patriot’

My cousin Jay: Man, they all had some pretty handwriting.

Obligatory thoughts on a movie everyone else has already picked apart

Saw Batman. Everyone said it was awesome, and it was. A little tedious in places, and heavy on the growly Batman talk (seriously, someone get Christian Bale a Claritin, or maybe poke noseholes in his mask so he doesn’t have to be such a mouthbreather), but overall a delightfully whizbang kinda romp, even with all the warrantless wiretapping going on.

Heath Ledger’s Joker is very nearly the perfect villain. Absolutely mesmerizing.

But here’s one thing I just want to throw out there: Were I to live or do business in a city so wracked with anarchic domestic terrorism, you can bet your ass I would work in a windowless office. Sheesh. If I ever see that movie again, I’ll be keeping a tally of times someone comes crashing into a skyscraper through a window. My estimate right now is THREE THOUSAND.

In which I enjoy preparing food until The Universe reminds me that I have no business doing so

SS visited this weekend, and, hoping to counteract the heaping amounts of awfulness we ingested at IHOP (or, I-Poh those of us who may be dyslexic), we went to the grocery story Sunday night to stock up on semi- to mostly healthy things to make for dinner. We settled on the ingredients for some grilled chicken wraps and I decided that I wanted to try to recreate the roasted grapes I had at Lesley’s house a couple of months ago.

I can’t cook, but I sure as hell can smother things in oil and sprinkle salt on them. So I figured it would be an easy enough contribution to the menu.

And look how pretty:

roasted grapes ...

Except, when I went to put the pan into the oven, I realized that the pre-heating it should have been doing while I was preparing the grapes, uh, hadn’t been done. And also, was that the smell of gas?

So it turns out the pilot light was out, and there I was with a pan of slimy, salty grapes and no idea how to relight the pilot light (I have seen my building manager do it before, and it involves a complicated series of Catholic prayers and handstands). So we tried putting a grape on the grill to see how it would act. It tasted like chicken and didn’t achieve the consistency that oven roasting would have. Our Hail Mary? The microwave.

Three guesses how that turned out.

We ate our wraps and watched a couple of movies — Dead Birds and Battle Royale. Dead Birds had some pretty creepy moments, many of which made us spew synchronized profanity. I’m not sure I could explain the story to anyone, though. Civil War. Bank robbers. Racism. Demons. Demons with bad teeth. Furniture upside down, tied to the ceiling, which freaked us out.

And Battle Royale is a great flick, which I saw for the first time back in college. I love how the preposterousness of the storyline (the Japanese government is so annoyed with uppity children that it kidnaps several of them and dumps them on an abandoned island and makes them play a game in which only one of them is allowed out alive, or else they’ll all be killed) is completely ignored and everyone’s like, “Got that? Good! Now get to killing!”

It’s beautiful in its simplicity, really.