Wha???

The new Beowulf is out - basically, the odd offspring of the basic plot outlines of the poem, crossed with the movies 300, and, worse, Polar Express - the review, I noted, perfectly expresses my opinion of the body tweaking in said 300 (about which I continue to ask, why? Whence this notion that a six-pack is all that and a bag of chips? Myself, I am not opposed to a bit of a tum, but... that is neither here nor there.) From the NYT review:


The same no doubt accounts for why Mr. Winstone, an actor of substantial stomach girth who is every inch a sexy beast in his own right, has been transformed into a generic-looking gym rat complete with six-pack.


'Generic-looking gym rat' - flawless. I could not be more over the 'one-acceptable-body-type-for-women' thing (please, Ms. Parton? Ms. Ricci? Eat something, for the love of god) and I'm saddened to think that now the concept is going to be applied to men, too (although, with my typical feminist slant, I note that men aren't expected to *be* the 'correct' body type yet, they are just CGI'ed into it).

Boys. Oy.

Why oh why are boys at the gym so dang loud? I took a Pilates class yesterday next to this guy who you would think spent the entire class bench-pressing twice his own weight. In Pilates. (a) it really isn't the sort of workout that requires grunting and (b) aren't you supposed to be breathing in and out slowly and thoroughly anyway?
And why oh why do boys feel the need to grunt, groan, moan, exhale explosively, etc. in the steam room? Sweet Jesus - they aren't doing anything in there except (hopefully) relaxing - and can't they even relax quietly? Why?
The steam room aspect is clearly an annoying aspect of my gym - to wit. the co-ed steam room. In this instance I miss my supremely expensive back-when-I-was-a-lawyer gym with the steam room in the locker rooms - no need for a suit *and* blessed blessed silence. The other annoying aspect of my current gym is the Parade Grounds for all the women. Everything - and I mean *everything* - main cardio room, main weight room, pool, steam room, sauna, whirlpool, quiet cardio room, all studios and the MEN's locker room are on the first floor. What, you might ask, is on the second floor (and it is really more like a loft - it is not the whole second floor by any means)? The women's locker room - accessed by a set of stairs and a bridge, right out there in the open, which means that, when you arrive, to get to the locker rooms you have to Parade up the stairs and across the bridge - in full and glorious sight of the entire main work-out room, then you Parade back down. Even worse is getting to the pool area, because there is an equivalent Parade Ground consisting of bridge and stairs that you have to trot down in your swimsuit - cellulite and ass in full view of anyone (a) already in the pool or (b) lounging in the hot-tub. Men just appear - poof! - at the pool - their workout room opens onto right next to the pool - I feel it is unfair.
My annoyance with this has been building for a while, clearly. If it weren't for the lovely cleaned-by-non-chlorine-methods pool, which leaves your skin smooth and soft after a long swim, instead of stretched tightly across your bones in the manner of chlorine pools anywhere...

Random Dumbledore-ish Thoughts

Having read some comments on the web responding to JKR's announcement that she has always thought of Dumbledore as gay (which I was totally there for, and am (bias alert) totally for) can I just say the following?

1. Gay does NOT equal pedophile. Sweet Jesus, people. C'mon.
2. I sincerely doubt that JK Rowling is concerned about boosting her sales numbers.
3. I was there, and, while we, in the audience, speculated about how long it would take to hit teh internets, the AP? BBC? NPR? Really? (And did I mention I was there).
4. The books are written from a point of view - specifically - Harry's. If Harry doesn't see something (with I believe only one exception - "The Two Prime Ministers" chapter) neither do we. Harry is prolly not real worried about Dumbledore's sexuality (perhaps because he has many other qualities?). Dumbledore can be gay and it can be something that wouldn't make it into the books.
5. It makes sense in context of the books, particularly book 7. (And, see 4 above).
6. There are pretty broad hints as regards bestiality in the books and THIS is what has people's knickers in a twist?

Hopefully, if you care I texted you

(sorry if I missed you) but I was totally there tonight when Jo (I suddenly feel comfortable now calling her 'Jo' after 1.5 seconds in front of her and being now the proud possesor of a signed copy of Deathly Hallows (Bloomsbury version, if you please)) announced that Dumbledore was gay - mad cheers and applause greeted this announcement, which was in response to a young girl asking, since (paraphrase from memory) Dumbledore is so convinced of the power of love in the HP series, whether Dumbledore himself had ever found love. (Yes, and re-reading the Dumbledore/Grindelwald passages in this context JKR suggests will now be appropriate - noting particularly that Dumbledore finally met someone as intelligent as he).

After a lovely, charming, and nigh on wine-sodden dinner with the superb Professor B, I returned to M&M's - compelled to see if this wee bit of my life had made the news (as I type at 1:40a.m. EST - and yes - totally has). Loving my life at this exact moment! And loving that, in the same way My Own Private Idaho let me approach Henry V in a new way, this revelation lets me approach Deathly Hallows in a new way.

Sigh. Happy.

Ding was totally right

The Golden Compass rocked - I finished it at one late-night/early-morning go last night. This, of course, means I now have no airplane book. I'll be purchasing The Subtle Knife, but have decided not to do so until tomorrow - who knows if I could keep out of it for a whole day.

Interestingly, according to the movie website's test, my daemon is an osprey called Archeleron. My other daemon, of course, is a dog called Teddy.

I can also report that, as per usual, I pronounce all the character names and made-up-world-objects differently in my head than they will pronounce them in the movie. ie: 'day-mon' rather than 'dee-min,' 'Leer-ah' rather than 'Lie-rah,' etc.

Pricey War and Peace

I'm back from Borders - Tolstoy-less. Borders price? $40.00 ($3.00 OVER the list price) - Amazon's price? $22.20. So I'll be waiting for War and Peace to be free-shipped to me sometime next week.
Meanwhile, to tide me over on my plane ride Thursday (!!!) I picked up The Golden Compass, the first book in Phillip Pullman's 'His Dark Materials' series which Ding has been recommending to me since before recommending it was cool. I've resisted because I have a thing about talking animals - but I'm going to try to power through that mental tic.

Literary Weakling

I admit it, with the exception of Life of Pi, I've never made it through a Booker prize winning novel - perhaps because every one I've picked up shares traits in common with this year's winner (and congrats to Anne Enright, but I won't be attempting her novel) - the story regarding the win contains such selling points as:

Howard Davies, the chairman of the judging panel, acknowledged the book was "a little bleak" in places, but praised it as "a very readable novel."

"Anne Enright has written a powerful, uncomfortable and, at times, angry book. 'The Gathering' is an unflinching look at a grieving family in tough and striking language," ...

Jonathan Ruppin of British bookstore Foyles called the judges' choice "a welcome boost for serious literature."

"Not everyone will be comfortable with this bleak account of conflict and despair, but the writing is undeniably exquisite," he said.

Hmmmm. I like non-serious literature. However, in an attempt to shore up my literary chops, I'm about to head over to Borders to get the new translation of War and Peace. And, no, I've never read that either - with the exception of Oblomov, I've never made it through a Russian novel.

Dog with a bone

Honestly, you would think I was getting paid for this - many many years ago I was a chaperone/leader on the worlds most frustrating (particularly for a fundy survivor) high school church group mission trip - ostensibly to build an orphanage (or, apparently, an "orpahnge") in the middle of the freaking desert, Mexico. Of the rattlesnakes-were-killed-on-this-trip sort of middle of the freaking desert. And frustration? This trip spawned bi-monthly meetings of the local women survivors to drink and continue to release our venom until it was (mostly) containable.

At one of the 'tell me how you *really* feel about it' drinks-fests, we got to speculating about the money making potential of an orphanage that will never get finished and will never house children. (This thought was a natural spin off when considering that the buildings we mostly worked on were meant for staff and that the first priority in building the orphanage was to build a freaking wall around 27 acres of land. 27 acres!!!! That'll help the children.) (Oh, and I note that priorities remain oddly skewed - the website is currently over the moon because they finally were able to put up the - no - I can't paraphrase - I must quote directly - I won't even bother to put in the necessary sic - maybe it is a pun:

Our 600 lb. Granite Plaque goes up above the front doorway to the children's home. We've been waiting for 10 yrs. for this day! The plaque states; Solomente por la Gloria de Dios ~ Only for the Glory of God! It is a beautiful site to see!

needless to say, the plaque is beautifully mounted on an unfinished building.)

Considering that the project began around 1997 (or, at least, tax returns are available from 1997) and we went in maybe 1999? 2000? I block a lot of this out. And here we are at 2007 with a long 'to do' list yet to go - little things like the home for the orphans, a water supply, a septic system, a fund to support the orphans... (happily the US headquarters, U.S. warehouse and U.S. office building (where the founder and his family lives and works) has been completed - phew.)

So - back to the title - I've been making like a dog with a bone over the tax returns - and it was when I started delving into prior year returns, figuring out the 'overhead to services' ratio and filling up a page with notes that I realized I might still be just a teensy bit bitter about the whole thing, and it might be best to stop, blog it out, and go home!

Goose and Gander

As Ding ranted so elegantly about, over at Warner Bros., when a movie with a female lead performs below expectations it is due to the simple fact that there was a female lead. But what if there was a male lead in a tanker? Well, clearly, that was due to the competing release of a video game.

Argh.

Now, as a genre, I don't particularly enjoy comedies made post, say, Singing in the Rain (which I use as a benchmark because it was filmed in color, so I'm assuming it is close to the end point). 'Modern' comedies tend to be fraught with things that will just piss me off (and maybe if I wasn't distracted by the clever dialogue, more of the early comedies would piss me off - I mean, can I wholeheartedly get behind some of the ideas on infidelity in, say, The Women? Clearly I cannot - but I'll watch it repeatedly and consistently find it funny. (Even when I enjoy a modern comedy, it prolly isn't something I will watch over and over again - and I have a high capacity for re-viewing - the two modern comedies I will rewatch? Bring it On and Clueless (and I think I should get a Jane Austen High-Brow Bye on Clueless.))).

Anyway, there are broader-comedy modern outliers- I found Something About Mary funny, I enjoyed the Wedding Crashers, I found moments in Austin Powers pleasing and quotable. However at least two of these movies contain scenes where my gag reflex threatens to get away from me and I have to la-la-la-not-watch or, in one case, actually leave the theater temporarily (I have bodily-function-humor issues). But I also (and I don't think I'm alone in this) will not go to a non-vetted comedy - someone I know has to recommend it and suggest that it will not, in fact, piss me off.

So when A.O. Scott (who, happily, seems to have many of the same 'pissed off' triggers that I do - see Love Actually) suggests in his review that:

"[The Farrelly brothers'] squeamish, childish fascination with bodily ickiness, when crossed with the iffy sexual politics of the original, yields a comic vision remarkable for its hysterical misogyny."

the chance that I'll pay good money to see the movie? Zero. (Of course, the chance that I would see the movie for free are also just about zero.) (As a related aside the Tomatometer is at 29% so A.O. isn't alone in suggesting you might not want to plunk down $10.50 on this puppy.)

How nice it would be if the studio thought - 'hmmm, perhaps people don't want to see a 'date movie' that is infantile and misogynistic. Maybe the prized 13 year old boy demographic isn't enough, on its own, to make a hit?* Maybe we have to appeal not only to adult men in addition to adolescent boys** - we need to appeal to adult women as well?'

But, no, it wasn't that that screwed this touching date movie - it was Halo.

Argh!

*As a Hugo-esque or perhaps even Melville-like digression, can I also say how nice it would be if politicians believed that pandering to the Right Wing Nut Christian Voting Block aka 'values voters' weren't, if not entirely sufficient, at least necessary, to get one elected to high office? (OK, that wasn't Melville-like - but I could make it so by attaching a list of values-panderers, but, who has the time?)

**I assume, for these purposes, that studios actually believe that adult men are distinguishable from adolescent boys - something I wouldn't be prepared to entirely go to bat for.

The concept is so scary, I can't bear to see the execution...

While I will likely never read the graphic novel, and definitely will not see the film, I find the initial premise of 30 Days of Night (vampires move in on the town of Barrow, Alaska in time for the month of darkness) rather fabulous.

Man Santa

I have to say that Ding's Man Santa has got me thinking - I am not naturally trusting - I would go so far as to say that my nature is one of rank suspicion. I have whined in the past about being unsuited for Match.com for this very reason - and whined that I wanted to live in a world with proper introductions. But have I translated this whining into action? I have not. So new project for this fall - inform my friends that I am interested in meeting single men who might click with me (and not be entirely freaked out by my quirks/issues/etc.) and would be grateful for tips/introductions/general keeping-an-eye-out-edness/etc.

Networking for dates. Such a weird concept. G'bye romantic ideals - I hardly knew ye.

My First Wedding

First days on the job and I seem to have a thing going on together - I recall fondly, for example, my first day working at Victoria's Secret and trying to help two gentlemen find something sexy - after showing them every sheer and/or thong item in the place, one of them narrowed in on what they were looking for - and made it clear that I needed to refer them to the Love Pantry - when he said:

"No - I mean something *sexy* - like a Wonder Woman costume?'

Anyway - I was cleaning off my desktop and came across the following, which I drafted ages ago, but then I felt bad posting it too close to the wedding itself - but for no good reason I feel comfortable posting it now.

The first wedding I worked:

It’s a small wedding, going of in the side chapel rather than the main sanctuary, and going in I was warned that everyone who had to deal with the happy couple before the wedding found them difficult - little did I suspect, then, that the nightmare would not be provided by the bride and groom, but that they would be the victims of a tiny whirlwind nightmare.

I was working the bride's side - and the bride had no affect whatsoever - in addition she looked like she hadn't allowed a carb to pass her lips in at least 4 years. She was so thin as to seem brittle. She wore an unremarkable white dress. There were three bridesmaids, the maid of honor seemed nice, but also sans affect, bridesmaid 2 was a snitty bitch, and bridesmaid 3 - oh lordy lordy - bridesmaid 3.

Bridesmaid 3 was the sister of the groom (in wedding parlance, the SoG) who was the mother to an extremely over-indulged two and a half year old (for these purposes, “Spawn of SoG”). We first heard about Spawn of SoG when we received word over our earphones (yes, we wear earphones - like the secret service - how cool is that? But I digress…) that the SoG was running late because she was unable to detach from Spawn of SoG in the free Nursery within the church building which was kindly being provided by the Bride and Groom - at which free Nursery there was a grand total of 3 children.

Then message number two - 15 minutes later as we are literally lining up the bride's attendants, etc to walk over to the chapel - SoG was still with Spawn of SoG - we should bring her bouquet to her as we pass the nursery and she will try to detach. And then! A glimmer of hope - SoG appears - and, while practically in tears, she appears to have finally managed to leave Spawn of SoG in the nursery where he will remain for the duration of the 25 minute wedding ceremony of her BROTHER.

Alas for our fond hopes.

So as we come up to the hall outside the chapel, where everyone is in final positions before walking down the aisle we hear this sound getting louder and louder:
'HIC SOB MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY'

That's right - apparently some idiot thought it would be a good idea to bring Spawn of SoG *out* of the nursery - and then SoG thought it would be a good idea to hold this screaming, misbehaving child for the three remaining minutes before going in to the wedding. I don’t even know what her plan was for getting rid of him at the last minute. Perhaps she had some idea of walking down the aisle with the kid substituting in for a bouquet? I don’t even know.

Enter, trumpets blaring, from stage left - appearing in the role of, I don't know, martyr? Savior? Idiot? Pops - the grandfather - who is also, incidentally, the Father of the Groom. That's right - the Father of the Groom has now left the chapel in which will momentarily occur the marriage of his SON to comfort Spawn of SoG (who, in my studied opinion, either ought to be screaming his fool head off in the provided nursery or have been left at the hotel).

So we reset the linup - minus the sobbing infant - and the line up looks like this:
groomsman, groomsman, groomsman, Groom, bridesmaid, SoG, Maid of Honor (Bride is hiding around the corner - it is a 'don't see the Bride before the wedding' wedding).
Groom turns around and says something to SoG along the lines of 'can't you control him' at which point SoG WHACKS him with her bouquet and shrills that 'He (‘he’ in this instance being the Groom moments before his own wedding) just needs to deal with it (‘it’ being in this instance her massively badly behaved child who is disrupting the entire wedding).'

Oy.

Anyway, the wedding finally went off - although for the entirety of the wedding, we catch occasional glimpses of Pops and Spawn of SoG wandering around the church as Pops plies Spawn of SoG with juice, milk and candy.

I mean...

The Fruits of Obsession, or, Holy F*cking Sh*t!

In a nearly unprecedented event (for anything remotely similar I must return to my 1976 triumph in the coloring contest sponsored by the Colorado Springs Gazette, wherein I won 2 tickets to The Slipper and the Rose. Yes, the Richard Chamberlain musical.) Anyways, I was shocked yesterday to pick up a phone message from Vicki at Scholastic, informing me that I was one of the winners in this sweepstakes. JK Rowling. Carnegie Hall. October. JK Rowling. I had totally forgotten I filled out an entry, way back during the peak of Deathly Hallows mania. JK Rowling. Carnegie Hall. JK Rowling.

Holy f*cking sh*t!!!!

The Good, the Bads and the Query

The Good
Today at lunch I was running a bunch of errands when I was stopped on the street by a fashionably dressed woman who wanted to know where I got my handbag. Me - (looking down to see what I was carrying) oh - it's vintage. Her - It's fabulous. Me - (says) Thank you. (Thinks - that was $7.00 well spent!)

The Bads
Today at lunch I was running a bunch of errands - on my first day back in winter shoes - closed toe, closed heel, 3 inches. What was I thinking? Ouch
The humidity is gone, and with it my easy curls - I'm back to straightening my hair - it is more reliable in this weather - but also time consuming. Sigh.

The Query
Today at lunch I was running a bunch of errands. As I was hobbling back towards the office, I passed f'ing Macy's, where I saw a large corner window display advertising Martha Stewart linens. Hmmmm, K-Mart to Macy's? Lateral move?

The Divine Tim Gunn - Boxers or Briefs?

Doctor Who - The Master Plays

I've just finished writing a Strongly Worded letter to an annoying Large Financial Institution in the course of my work - here is what I watch to celebrate its completion.

I cannot even express the joy I feel having this right here - on my blog.

Resistance has proven futile.

So I hired a life coach to help me, hopefully, make some decisions about what to do with the rest of my life since I can't seem to commit to an option on my own. Two sessions in, the verdict was:

"Ahem, have you noticed your clinical depression? I'm not sure life coaching can benefit you at this point, and I don't like for you to waste your money."

Well, alrighty then.

So after rejecting 21 years of repeated suggestions from various therapists that, perhaps, maybe, a pill might be of some use, I have caved. The pill popping began 2 weeks ago - this is my first week on the full dose. So if I get Wednesday-Adams-locked-in-a-happy-room-with-Disney-movies chipper suddenly? Well, now you'll know why. And if it happens, please don't mention it to me because, needless to say, one part of my dread of taking the pills? Becoming annoyingly chipper.

Google Me and Harry Potter! (The conclusion)

So, my friends, it happened - chipping on into my 15 minutes. You may recall that I was interviewed by the Trib way back when. Well, the story didn't appear and didn't appear and didn't appear, and I figured a trip to Canada just didn't quite make the General Interest cut, which was fine.
Cut to 4 fabulous women in a minivan - piling back in after a quick stop at McDonalds somewhere in Michigan, and, deciding to turn toward a serious discussion of the book we are about to pick up in Canada, Melissa pulls out the section of the Trib with a gigantic headline promising to pose 7 questions HPVII should answer. And we had decided to start speculating our own answers to those 7 questions when - what do I see in bold print?
MY NAME!!!
It's true. There was such an excited yelp - ok - squeal that it caused the driver, M-bee, not a little anxiety. Was a car coming? Was she missing an exit? No - it was just the story of all of us, doing what we were even then in the middle of doing - in the Trib. Almost meta.
Anyway, I've been blocked on posting here for a while - should I put a link to the article? Now, over a month later, I've decided. I should. And here it is. Complete even to the Taggs shout-out.

My Interesting Wake-up Call

I live on a corner of a high-rise building, and my next door neighbors have a door on one side of the corner of the hall and mine is on the other - which is to say our doors are very close. Living next door we have an odd couple - a grandfather and granddaughter - the grandfather is very chatty but always wears the exact same clothes - all the time, for weeks I have noticed no change, and we both have dogs, so I see him rather often, so that is oddity number one. Oddity number two is that the granddaughter is about my age, but looks, not to put too fine a point on it, like a low rent working girl - perhaps an exotic dancer - she is too skanky for Penthouse (and Playboy is completely out of the question) her look consists pretty much entirely of 'I will do everything possible to focus all attention on the investment I make in these two hunks of silicon embedded in my chest' - the weak-no-muscle-skinny rest of the body, the fake tan, the fake blonde and the totally inappropriate clothing - the most we can expect on any given day is that her ass and boobs are mostly covered.

Anyway, 5 a.m. yesterday, I barely register repeated knocks - not on my door, but the door next door. Then I groggily notice a dispute - *then* I hear a female voice saying "I know my rights - you can't come in." - well, it gets louder and louder from there, and it just keeps going on and on, to the point where I get up to look out the peephole to see if this is a situation where I need to call down to the front desk and have them send someone to break it up.It is not - it is four , count 'em, four of Chicago's finest, complete down to bullet proof vests, saying such matter of things to the woman next door as 'Lets not do this in the hall' and 'We just want to check on him and see that he is alright' as she protests saying something about her grandfather.Well, I go back to bed, and, at some point she clearly lets them in, and I start dosing off when, lo, I hear the clear sounds of the woman being dragged off against her will, screaming to her grandfather to 'call Mike! Call *my* Mike!'And then blessed silence. An interesting event, no?

I haven't seen either of them since, but the dogs are still (rather clearly) in the apartment, so one or both of them are there.

Ah - bright lights, big city.

Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah.

'We are bigger than canoeing,' says organiser Bob, when I ask him if cheerleading will hit TV in a blaze of pom-poms. 'We are maybe even bigger than table tennis. So who can say?'

Cheerleading makes its awkward way into the UK - I just loved this article.

Strongly Worded Letter

Sent by me today to the NYT (letters@nytimes.com - feel free to send 'em more) upon learning that they published a review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows today. Thursday. Before it is released!

To whom it may concern;

I am writing to express my extreme disappointment with your decision to publish a review of the Harry Potter book before it's publication date.

As I am sure you are well aware, to many of the fans, this isn't just another book; it is both a phenomenon and a shared experience. I am nearly 40 years old, and have been reading the books for 10 years now. I have eagerly anticipated each new release, I've read essays on theories regarding what might happen and discussed theories with my friends, I've scheduled time to reread the entire series to prepare for book seven. And, increasingly, I've been spending an absurd amount of energy avoiding spoilers.

Now that the book has shipped and there was a risk of spoilers becoming available thanks to dishonorable retailers willing to break their word and indulge in disgusting opportunism, I have had to take drastic steps. I do not go onto any unknown website. I avoid all website that might allow user comments. I am not listening to radio stations, and I am not watching television. In short, I have devised a miniscule list of those few media outlets I thought I could trust not to engage in the sort of 'haha - look what we found out!' tactics surrounding the last Harry Potter adventure.

Needless to say, my miniscule list of trusted media outlets originally included the New York Times.

Imagine my shock when I went on Mugglenet.com this morning - a website which is determined not to publish spoilers - and discovered that you have decided to publish a review of the book. I have, clearly, not read the review, and I have, also clearly, removed you from my list of trusted media outlets in this instance.

I'm frankly appalled that The Grey Lady, the paper of record, has taken this opportunistic, tabloid-worthy step, and I felt it necessary to write and express my displeasure.

The World Shrinks Even More

I've had to reduce the websites I can look at by one - Mugglenet reports:

"After receiving an early copy of Deathly Hallows from an unnamed bookstore, the New York Times has posted a review of the book which also contains a few plot details."

So - no newspapers, TV or radio until Sunday, basically.

Two Days!

Here is the complete list of websites I will go on over the next 2 days:

Yahoo
Hotmail
Mugglenet
Leaky Cauldron
Televisionwithoutpity (but not the forums)
Brides
NYT

That is all. I feel that such draconian measures are becoming necessary to avoid even the whiff of a spoiler.

Hardly a Ringing Endorsement

"At the Northeast warehouse, copies [of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows] had about as much chance of escaping as a prisoner at Azkaban." or so said this article.

May I just say - Sirius, Bellatrix, Barty, Rodolphus...

I've gone on serious internets lock-down to avoid even the whiff of a spoiler.

My New Wallpaper

Libraries get the books early, so they can catalog them - I grabbed this photo off Mugglenet.

4/11/24/52 to go - Squeee!

For Ding.

In response to her comment way below.

I put it up here without any extended discussion or analysis because, frankly, I'm (in the words of Veggie Tales) 'shocked, and a little embarrassed.'

I'm not sure I even want to know if this leads to a revision of Ding's analysis of Mr. Radcliffe in Order of the Phoenix as "'warmer than 'meh' and slightly less heated than a full-fledged 'hot'" because, again with the shocked and a little embarrassed here.

A wee distraction from Harry.

Lalalalalala - In the past I've ranted on about Macy's, so you know I was pleased to read these short reports collected by NYT-online today - highlights?

June marked the fifth-straight month that the operator of the Macy's and Bloomingdale's chains posted same-store sales that missed expectations.

The Cincinnati-based company said total sales for the June period fell 1.9 percent to $2.32 billion....

Macy's suffered a 2.7 percent drop in same-stores sales, worse than the 0.8 percent decline expected....

The company, which has been the subject of takeover speculation in recent weeks...

Go get 'em, unknown takeover type entity! Faster, pussycat, kill, kill!

Update

I've given in to myself, and, while not exactly re-reading - I'm going back and just reading the theory parts to clean up items - for example this morning I was reviewing McGonagal's actions in Book 5 and trying to figure out exactly how a foe-glass works.

In other news, I saw Order of the Phoenix again last night - it works even better the second time - things slow down enough for analysis - and it stands up to analysis.

This I Believe

Despite having had a lovely weekend, including a meet up with some fab blogger-chicks and a day of crafts n' fun with M-Bee, I find myself entirely incapable of concentrating on anything not Potter related. However, I've already done the re-read - more than once - in the last 4 months. I tried to start the re-read again, but discovered, to my chagrin, that I have Theories. I didn't mean to develop Theories, but now I cannot do another re-read because I am just looking for support for my Theories.

I blame the essays at Leaky Cauldron and Mugglenet. I'm not usually a Theory sort of girl - I'm generally content to just let the author tell me what happens, and I can't move off canon once it is set.

However, I thought it would be helpful (to me, anyway) to throw the Theories out here so that they are out of my head (except for who I'm afraid might die - I don't want to get to a point where I *believe* someone might die - I am comfortable only in going so far as to be particularly scared for some people). Anyway:

I believe Snape is good.

I believe, albeit sadly, that McGonagall is Voldemort's Most Loyal Servant.

I believe that James was not killed inside the cottage in Godric's Hollow.

I believe that Neville will survive and will become the Herbology teacher at Hogwarts when Professor Sprout retires.

Depending on the time of day, I believe that either (a) Snape or (b) Neville's father, was the person in the cottage in Godric's Hollow when Lily was killed.

I believe that Lily created the potions shortcuts written down in Snape's old textbook.

I believe Lily and Snape were friends, and that Lily brought Snape home to visit over one holiday. I believe Snape is the 'awful boy' that Petunia remembers.

I believe that the curse that Harry survived was not Avada Kadavra, but rather was the spell which creates a horcrux - however, I also believe that Harry is not a horcrux.

I believe the theories of alchemy are important to the whole series.

I believe Nagini is not a horcrux.

Also, gratuitously, and still in the thrall of the movie last night (although that is why it is at the front of my head - it is a consistent underlying belief that I have) I believe Alan Rickman is both a genius and hot.

All I want for Christmas

is a loop of Alan Rickman delivering his lines from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. In fact, I would be perfectly content just to have a tape upon which he delivers his first two lines (which I quote below in their entirety) :

"Yes."

"Obviously."

I titter a bit just thinking of it.

Clearly saw Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night at midnight. I enjoyed it very much - repeated (and rapid, because there is only a 9 day 14 hours 45 minutes and 32 seconds before the book comes out ) viewings will be necessary - but it may rival Prisoner of Azkaban for the top spot on my personal list of Harry Potter Movies in Order of Preference. And that is rather a coup, actually, because Order of the Phoenix is not my favorite book. In fact, Prisoner of Azkaban is.

Cheers to all my geeky girlfriends who joined me for the experience last night - and here is hoping Ms. Gooch was able to power past her back spasms through sheer will, meds and the lure of Brendan Gleeson, has also viewed this film from a suitable venue during her vacation in the hinterlands!

Coasting

I'm going to let Ding do my work for me today.

Shocking Green-ness

I have just been picking up my organic veg farm share in an i-go car.

I mean...

Canada, she beckons.

And, sadly, not in a Harry Potter context. The latest round of Supreme Court decisions had me once again on the Canada Immigration site, tallying up my entrance score. This is not something new. I've done this before.

I'm running out of unshattered bits of American idealism to cling to, and the fight or flight thing keeps coming down to flight because I've no clue whatsoever how to fight whats been going on the past few years. Head down, slogging away, is just feeling more and more dystopic - like I'm going to turn around in an unspecified number of months and find that the past few years have been the bits that happen right before the opening pages of (pick or combine any or all aspects of the following) (a) A Brave New World (b) Fahrenheit 451 (c) The Handmaid's Tale (d) V for Vendetta or (e) 1984. The fall of Rome and the rise of the Nazis are also not far from my mind.

And then I think I'm exaggerating.

And then I think I'm not.

Incongruous

I don't know quite what sort of light romantic comedy "Rory's First Kiss" is going to turn out to be, what with the apparent evacuation of citizens from Gothem and the military presence and all.

That's all I've got for you on the filming today. Extras all dragging suitcases and/or duffel bags
(kneejerk quote coming up "Please do not describe your duffel as 'all duffels look alike'"), extras dressed in military garb in military vehicles, and reports of a helicopter (I missed that part). I did not see anyone who was not an extra.

(Must get digital camera now that have blog.)

Woo Woo - A Wedding!

HUZZAH

- there is a wedding on my 2007 calendar (where I am a guest, not an employee)! Mr. Grant-Dichotomy himself is to be wed in November in Atlanta to the most excellent Ms. K--! Yay! I've never been to Atlanta, have no idea where the ceremony will be held, in short, have no logistical information or knowledge whatsoever - but can report that I have, nevertheless, just spent 30 minutes researching Atlanta hotels, bed & breakfasts, inns and vacation rentals. Also, flights. Also car rentals. I have barely restrained myself from ringing people up to see about their travel plans and the possibility of room sharing.

In addition, I posited over the phone to Mr. Grant-Dichotomy that anyone not in a serious relationship (married, engaged, living together) who decides to get offended because the invitation does not provide for an "and Guest" is an ass. So then I had to research that as well, and was pleased to see that while I am correct - I am also, perhaps, overly blunt and prolly shouldn't jump right into the ad hominum attack language, but should rather say, along with Emily Post, something more along the lines of "Guests, Respect Your Invitation." (That link is for you, oh Groom).

Sigh, I just love weddings - and even better - weddings of people I love!

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm - Christian...........

And, to a lesser, but not that much lesser, extent - Maggie.

The excitement here is that Batman II will be shooting in front of my office tomorrow - on the Wabash Street bridge. It is a testament, I believe, to my geek cred that when I read in the elevators about the street closure tomorrow for the shooting of scenes for 'Rory's First Kiss' that I knew that such was the shooting name for The Dark Knight.

Or, um, not.

Pretty much everything about this May sales report makes me happy - in the same weird way that box office figures (both on the success and failure end) can make me happy. The highlights for me?

Target? (love) - same store sales up 5.8%

Nordstroms (again with the love) - same store sales up 6.3%

But the real joy lies in the schadenfreude:

Wal-mart? yes, up 1.1%, but at the low-end of their predictions and with a note that: "...while Wal-Mart has stumbled with fashions that its customers find either too dowdy or too racy, Target's "cheap chic" apparel and housewares continue to win new customers."

And now, for the real joy. (And, while it is hard to say that Macy's is the Ultimate Evil in a Wal-mart/Macy's showdown, because on a global scale, Wal-mart is more with the Evil and I cannot deny that, I will say that I want Macy's to be punished for taking over and changing Marshall Fields. I want them to hurt over that decision. I want it to keep executives up at night thinking - 'why did we walk through the Rembrandt?') So, without further ado - Macy's? DOWN 3.3% and, to quote from the article:

"The Cincinnati-based owner of Macy's and Bloomingdale's admits results have been hampered by sluggishness at 400 stores that were formerly operated by rival May Co., which the company acquired in 2005 for $11.5 billion.
Now-defunct regional chains like Marshall Field, Filene's, Foley's and Burdines were converted to Macy's last fall, and shoppers balked as Macy's brought in new merchandise and reined in discounts. Macy's said increased marketing and promotions are expected to boost same-store sales in June and July. But the company still says a decline in June is likely."

Can I just say that, if TPTB at Macy's tried to do something that would strengthen my resolve to not darken the door of Macy's*, it would basically be to send me more direct mail and direct more ads at me than the ones that are, at present, pissing me off by intruding on my attention every other day? The ones I pull out of my mailbox, glance down at, see the big bright annoying red fucking star, think (and sometimes, I admit, mumble aloud) 'fucking Macy's' in knee-jerk response thereto, and then toss. Well done, Macy's, well done.

And while I got rid of my TV, so the upped ad-buys there won't impact me, I will say that I've never seen a Macy's ad that did not actively cause me, or those I'm with, to start throwing angry comments at the screen. As Ding pointed out during their 'dancing in the streets campaign' - 'Yes, that is what I want - to wear the same [expletive deleted] thing everyone else in America is wearing.'

*In the interest of full disclosure, I have gone in the Macy's on Michigan on very rare occassions (I count 3) (I will not go into the State Street Store) for the purpose of buying Lush products. And Fetchin' and I went from the Macy's front door to Lush to the Levenger shop this weekend. We felt guilty about it. It isn't right. But it is the only place for Levenger, which Fetchin' loves, and it is the most convenient Lush - although when I am not suffering from a resolute and unyielding need for Lush and/or caught up in the excitement of store-prowling with friends, I do make the effort to go to the proper store north of downtown - harder now with no car and as I wait for my i-Go stuff to arrive. See - I feel so guilty about it that I had to write that much excuse for myself. No more Macy's for me. It just can't be good for my psyche.

Fancy Schmancy New Gym.

So on Monday I joined a new gym, conveniently located relatively near the work/home complex. Of course I went through the work benefits in selecting a gym, and, although there is one that is closer, I joined the one that Ms. Gooch and KW already belong to. Its a motivation thing.

I had forgotten, though, that the way to get me to exercise is classes - how I could forget this is beyond me - I simply don't have the will to exercise on my own - but I do have the will to walk through the door of a classroom and then the peer pressure/shaming effect kicks in and does the rest of the work for me. (Oddly, the peer pressure/shaming effect also works if I manage to summon up the will to put in an exercise tape - but there there is the procrastination effect to overcome - classes are even better because they start at a particular time.)

Tonight, I am excited to try two new classes (unless the first one totally kicks my ass, and then it will be one new class and an hour of pilates). But the classes are 'Sexy Bodies' and 'Tango Salsa Caliente' - I'm walking around today and finding that the phrase 'Tango Salsa Caliente' is floating through my mind - and, furthermore, that I am quoting something in the way I am saying 'Caliente' - but, sadly, I cannot figure out what I am quoting.

Google Me and Harry Potter!

Hopefully, in a bit more than a week, when you google my name and 'Harry Potter' there will be a hit! How exciting is that? A friend who works at a newspaper mentioned the planned HP Canadian Quest and Read-a-thon to an editor, the result of which is that, this very day, I gave a phone interview (hopefully, knock wood, without saying anything that will look profoundly stupid in print). I managed not to mention that we are buying t-shirts for the event - whenever I say that, people get that sortof glazed look where you know they are thinking 'aren't we verging a bit on Trekie territory here' - when they don't actually give voice to that concern. In any event, with any luck our little trip might warrant a blurb in next Friday's paper!

Exciting!

Meanwhile, I'm trying to determine whether attending the Fred & George appearance (by actors James and Oliver Phelps) in a nearby 'burb also crosses the line into Trekie territory. However, I have a sneaking suspicion I could convince Ms. Gooch to go - and I note that my t-shirt advertises Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and I could maybe get it signed.... Thoughts?

The Civilized Lunch Hour

Now that I've moved within 300 paces of my work, my lunch hours have become both crazy productive and relaxing - over the last week, I've been experimenting with things that one can do with one's lunch hour, as follows:

Monday: Cook and eat lunch at home, in addition to walking Teddy.
Tuesday: Purchase curtain rods and hang curtains, in addition to eating lunch at home and walking Teddy.
Wednesday: Take a refreshing nap, in addition to eating lunch at home and walking Teddy.
Thursday: Shower, in addition to eating lunch at home and walking Teddy.

It is the bomb, man!

Fabulous!

A new "favorite" "blog."

Ode to the Radish

This morning I was feeling very European - or at least not American - I went to the farmer's market after walking the Tedster (now that I live downtown I have oodles of free time in the morning) which led to an unorthodox breakfast of coffee, toasted sour dough bread with goat cheese and honey, snap peas and radishes with salt. This was all inspired by the name of the radishes I bought - a mild variety which the dealer told me are called 'French breakfast.' I love radishes.

A dip back into Match.

Ding is having some luck (some rather shocking luck - of the quoting hot Donne poetry* sort), so I thought, why not just look at the stupid contact announcements that Chemistry keeps sending me even though I'm no longer a Match.com member? But the first line from the first candidate was:

"Looking for a classy lady."

Oy. I'm just not ready to face it again.

*I had no idea that Donne wrote hot poetry before he went all Christian - but - hoo mama! Ding has schooled me on that point.

Take my money - please.

Obama just got more of my money - basically for running a fun campaign. They are raffling off dinner with Obama for 4 people who donate any amount of money in the next week. (Although raffle isn't really right, since they say they will select the participants - well whatever).

I mean, why not shoot him another $25 bucks for the chance (and in appreciation for the sheer amusement value I gained out of the stunt) was my way of thinking? So, reader, I did.

Faster FTC! Block! Block!

You prolly won't recall my February rant against the proposed purchase of Wild Oats by Whole Foods (Blue Sun was invoked - not, I feel, incorrectly). Well, it looks like the FTC shares my concerns, to which I say - go FTC! Save me - the poor, hapless, helpless, budget-minded consumer! Save me!!!!!!!!!

A Good Cackle

As I was driving in to work today, NPR was reporting on a 2d Circuit panel ruling concerning utterances of expletives on TV. The rationale of the ruling caused me to laugh like a witch for a good while - the whole story is here, but the NYT briefly summarizes the Court's reasoning as follows:

"If President Bush and Vice President Cheney can blurt out vulgar language, then the government cannot punish broadcast television stations for broadcasting the same words in similarly fleeting contexts."

Pleasing. Most pleasing.

Frack!

Frack, frack, frack. The final show falls.

However, my own sadness is diluted by respect for the producers' decision to end Battlestar Galactica at an artistically appropriate time and not drag the story out for no good reason.

Captain Hillary Renault

Senator Clinton has managed to slip even further down my list with this story - my knee jerk reaction after reading this bit?

"Sen. Clinton, who complained about corporate America's largesse and skyrocketing executive pay during campaign events Wednesday, said she did not believe her message was undermined by her acceptance of the private [jet] flights."

"I'm shocked, shocked, to discover gambling in this establishment." And after this bit?

"'Those were the rules. You'll have to ask somebody else whether that's good policy,' she said."

Sweet baby Jesus - does the woman have no moral center that operates with independence from outside rules or forces which might be brought to bear to control her actions?

I know, it should be about policy, but....

I found this brief Salon article on Obama interesting - in part because its working theory would explain a whole lot of his appeal to me - particularly these two notions:

"In political terms, this campaign will test whether the Democratic voters will pick a nominee who waxes cool while his major rivals (certainly John Edwards and Hillary Clinton, by marriage and learned experience) burn hot."

"So here is a working theory, subject to many modifications as the campaign unfolds: Barack Obama is simultaneously both aware of the power of cheap rhetoric and easy emotion -- and intellectually contemptuous of it. He is a candidate in quiet rebellion against the banalities that too often govern political discourse."

I like people who wax cool - even more particularly do I like of the coolness in positions of authority. For example, I loathe emotional preaching in church - which tends to read to me as pandering to the lowest human emotions in order to disguise the fact that the speaker is cowering in the corner, terrified of the human intellect (and, yes, I say this fresh off a viewing of Jesus Camp - which, damn, shows an even more wack sort of fundie church camp than the one I attended in my youth). Hmm - perhaps not surprisingly I also loathe a 'hot' style in politics.

Target Love

I have to say (this is randomly related to this article on Wal-Mart's super cheap prices working against as it tries to move 'up-scale') that I am actively lusting over some of the Isaac Mizrahi for Target dresses. Sadly, I cannot even think of buying them until I've finished moving, but I really really want 2 of them in particular. I want them for Ms. Gooch's exciting house party in Italy one year from now. Yes, it is true - I'm already working on a wardrobe for a house party to take place in June 2008. In fact, I've already bought one signature piece - a huge, packable, red-red-red hat and I'll be planning at least half of my wardrobe around it - and as part of that half, I really want this Isaac Mizrahi for Target dress as one of the ensembles - I saw it in the store - it is super, super cute.

Anyway, it continues to shock me that I *want* clothes from Target. Well done, Target, well done. (Not that I haven't always loved Target, which I have - but for pretty much everything except clothes - but now...)

(As a further aside, I have to confess that I've shopped twice at Wal-Mart as a result of being places where there were literally no other options and I'm still not done feeling guilty over it.)

The Office

Fact: With hard work and diligence, it is possible to watch an entire 22 episode season of The Office in one evening after work.
Fact: The character on The Office whose verbal tics most quickly get embedded in one's brain after a marathon viewing is Dwight.
Question: Was watching an entire 22 episode season of The Office after work on the evening immediately proceeding a planned late night viewing of Pirates of the Caribbean 3 completely idiotic?

Genuine, if slightly obscure, sadness

I was sad to see today that Lloyd Alexander died yesterday. The heavy groundwork for my continuing love for a good sword and sorcery novel is firmly rooted in the works of two authors - C.S. Lewis and Lloyd Alexander. The first time I ever cried over a book? The Castle of Lyr. The second? The High King. I read the Prydain Chronicles too many times to count (I still have my set, so it isn't like the count is stationary at this point either). I had a mad crush on Gwydion, and a keen feeling of sisterhood with Eilonwy. I was introduced for the first time to the Three Witches/Fates who, god bless them, are a running theme in my literary life (and, really, my actual life too, since upon occasion I'm referred to as them - collectively with Ms. Gooch and Ding). I learned to pronounce Welsh for those books. This was of untold benefit during my King Arthur phase, let me tell you. Bedwyr? I can pronounce that. It's true. I can. And I owe Mr. Alexander a debt for that. I have a not entirely fuzzy knowledge of Welsh mythology thanks to the man, as well. And the cauldron born? Terrifying.

Anyway, I'm just sad that the creator of a great deal of joy for me is gone.

P.S. If you are interested in dipping into the Prydain Chronicles, please, I beg of you - read the books - in other words, avoid the vile Disney version of The Black Cauldron like the very plague. Really. Trust me on this. What a travesty. The characters in the Black Cauldron should not be *cute.*

*A* show.

That's right. I'm down to *a* show, now that it has been reported that Veronica Mars got the axe. Granted, the show prolly never would have topped its stellar first season - or ever come up with another scene as brilliant (and disturbing) as that found in "Hot Dogs." Those wacky Echols and their wacky hospitality! (I note that at least Piz wised up and took the job at Pitchfork Media, so he is safe.)

But still, where has all my snappy dialogue gone? Gilmore Girls? Gone. Veronica Mars? Gone. The Mother of all Dialogue Shows, Now and For Fucking Ever, Deadwood? Gone. Firefly? Buffy? Northern Exposure? All long gone. And while I loves me some Battlestar Galactica, it (a) isn't really a dialogue show and, more importantly (b) won't be back until 2008. 2008!

I guess it is the best of all possible times to get rid of my television. And to go ahead and Netflix Wonderfalls, which I've held off watching in case of just such an emergency. Feel free to suggest any others, anyone.

Trying Not to Quote the Joker

Jerry Falwell is dead. In the meanest Let The Punishment Fit The Crime corner of my imagination I keep seeing him heading up to heaven and God schooling him on everything he got fundamentally wrong about love and acceptance during his time here on earth.

And then I get afraid that that is exactly what God will be schooling me on when I die for thinking things like that.

And then I quote Ozymandias quietly to myself - which exercise provides some form of comfort.

Yeah, I can't explain what my mind is doing either - I just report it.

Going Dark

Those who know me know that I'm usually all over any spoilers that I can get my hands on, but I've decided to go Mary on Harry Potter - no more boards, no more articles. As per Ms. Rowling's wishes, I'm going in with nothing but my own theories and knowledge.

And the fervent (but, I fear, futile) prayer that everyone I love makes it through alive.

Brush with Fame

Dudes - I shook John Edwards's hand about 35 minutes ago (our table at the Women Employed luncheon was along his escape route). I can report that (a) he is not as tall as you might expect (approx. 5'9") and (b) he really is that cute.

Back

I'm still too close to the 'Alas, The Trip Is Over' sorrow to detail things like the number of 18 oz mimosas consumed while watching as the large rain down did rain, or compare the many meals of red beans and rice purchased all over town, or recall the delightful musical stylings of The Dixie Cups heard at the equally delightful Rock n' Bowl (or the subsequent brush with complete incompetence at the Burger King), or the deliciously meat-alicious meal at Le Petite Grocery, or the collard greens and sweet potato casserole at Elizabeth's, or the ride on the 'Poo-zho' (Peugeot) scooter.

And, of course, all these events of which I cannot speak pale in comparison to how much I miss the New Orleans Crew (Krewe?) - sigh. I spent the whole weekend in a nearly continuous state of laughter. I miss those guys!

On the plus side, today I have a luncheon to attend at which John Edwards will be speaking. I look forward to hearing what he has to say.

Pretty, pretty

Churchgal is busy examining the female gaze - if you are looking to spend a pleasant few moments engaging in righteous objectification, I highly recommend heading on over.

GG Update

Yes. I cried. Whatever. And, yes, in the interests of full disclosure - I cried twice. (Thanks YouTube).

At least there was no shouting at the tv this week - progress? You be the judge.

Training Day

I have just signed up for this triathlon in Federal Way this fall - anyone else want to trek out to the Seattle area and run it with me?

Adding on to the To Do list

11. Read comments on original July 21 To Do list. Check.

12. Take Melissa's excellent suggestion and add countdown mechanism to blog 81 Days, 4 Hours, 43 Minutes and 2 Seconds prior to book release. Check.

13. Reassure Teri that (a) she is cool and (b) I'm picking up a copy for her. Check.

And now, back to the previously scheduled wait, wait, wait.

My Dog is Sooooooo Cool!!!

A tortured research train that started with something completely different led me the discovery that my little Teddy is an example of one of the 14 'ancient breeds' (meaning that of the 85 breeds tested in a particular study, he is one of 14 with a genetic fingerprint considerably similar to that of a wolf). Cool!

And, furthermore, of the 14 ancient breeds, two additional studies indicate that he is one of the 7 breeds with the oldest genetic patterns (the 7 Ancient of Ancients being the Chow Chow, Shar Pei, Akita, Shiba Inu (of which Teddy is one), Basenji, Siberian Husky and the Alaskan Malamute). Super cool!

Needful Preparations

Working down the list of Things To Do for July 21:

1. Verify continuing existence of Indigo/Chapters Bookstores in Windsor, Ontario, Canada - check

2. Find group of amazing, fun, stubborn (must have UK version) and impatient (now!) Chicagoans to road trip with to Windsor, Ontario, Canada on July 20 - check

3. Add additional amazing, fun, stubborn and impatient person from DC, to be picked up at the Detroit airport on the way to Windsor, Ontario, Canada - check

4. Find place to hunker down together for the weekend and read read read read read - check

5. Place deposit on same - check

6. Reread all six previous books at least once in preparation - check

7. Order and receive appropriate (and pleasing) logo tee to wear while standing in the long, long line waiting for the midnight release - in my case, this one in yellow- check

8. Wait

9. Wait

10. Wait

Pathetic

I'm a fair-weather fan of Gilmore Girls, where the term 'fair-weather' carries the meaning 'the only thing I care about is getting Luke and Lor together'.

I gave up watching for much of Season 3 and 4 out of frustration - I quit watching when the Long Lost Daughter Break-Up appeared on the wall at the Thanksgiving show of Season 6. I'm recently returning to the fold (even when I don't watch, I keep up on past shows via Televisionwithoutpity reviews, and determine whether to watch or not by consulting the TWOP spoiler boards) with hope bright in my one-track heart.

The past two weeks have led to humiliating-in-retrospect episodes of me shouting at the TV - last week, I took the appearance of the troubadour as a sign of hope and burst out into near sobbing pleadings to the inanimate television to 'just make me happy!'

Then, last night, I watched intently during the car-shopping scene (which, of course, I knew about in advance thanks to TWOP) and then, figuring my JavaJunkie fix for the week was concluded at around minute 45, was bustling about the kitchen, cleaning up dinner dishes, with the tv running as mere background noise - when! Luke shows up at Lorelai's house!

Cut to me - streaking across the living room, shouting 'Luke' gleefully, and pouncing onto the couch. And that is only part of the disgusting display.

Yes (despite my best intentions and a week of reflection on the patheticness of watching a show in the hope that it will show me ONE plot event (I no longer care about Rory, who is just a spoiled rich kid at this point (although I'm always happy to see Paris)) I was reduced *again* to shouting at the screen 'make me happy! Just make me happy!' Problematic.

I should note, also, that I get trapped in canon - so alternate storylines? Fanfic, etc? Just don't work for me and so I can't get closure outside the show - I'm completely at the mercy of the writers and their cruel power. (Although, for some reason, I like the whole 'retelling' genre - see The Wide Sargasso Sea, Rosencranz and Guildenstern are Dead, The Eyre Affair, My Own Private Idaho - and I'm good with that - I'm not sure what the difference is, but, there it is).

The Dark Knight - Here! In Chicago!

Christian Bale is filming in Chicago - there was just a mildly related story on NPR (smoke or something in a building that was being used as a location for the Batman sequel) causing a certain unseemly excitement as I sit here manipulating spreadsheets.

Now I'll have to play the Country Cousin if I see any filming, ditching my usual in-the-know-ho-hum attitude when stumbling across a location shoot. I am maintaining a semblence of dignity in this situation only by refraining from going out *looking* for the movie crew.

Incidentally, word on the Us Magazine street (picked up by IMDB, so please God make it be true for me) is that Maggie Gyllenhaal is taking over the Katie Holmes role - now that is some Same Character/Different Actor action that I can fully support!

Random

While watching the new Harry Potter trailer, the thought went through my head 'I wish I looked like Helena Bonham Carter.' Then I got to thinking how odd it is that, despite really liking being a blonde with hazel (aka-yellow) eyes (witness the money spent to ensure that I remain the former, and my quick abandonment of the colored contact lenses that turned the later into perfectly nice green eyes) there are only two women I would really, really want to look like (as opposed to those I find pretty, beautiful, unique or attractive which is legion) and they are both versions of a gothic brunette - to wit, the aforementioned Ms. Bonham Carter (the fragile, fey, pretty goth) and Angelica Huston (the statuesque, imposing goth).

Don't know what it means - just thought it was interesting. I wonder if other people, if and when they contemplate people they would seriously like to look like, tend also to choose rather opposite types, or go more for glorified versions of their own type?

Numbers Game

I’m currently obsessed with this graphic over at the NYT, comparing all the fundraising by the candidates. It is no secret that I support Obama in this race, and I’m impressed by the comparison of the size of donations between Clinton and Obama - to recap (and, sorry for the disgusting presentation of data - to save my life I can't make blogger understand either (a) charts or (b) retention of tabs/spaces):

Donations
Under $200: (O)$5,384,178; (C) $1,159,011
$200-499: (O) $1,159,011; (C) $596,475
$500-1,499: (O) $4,230,389; (C) $2,643,173
$1,500-2,299: (O) $2,304,437; (C) $1,372,493
$2,300: (O) $12,628,038; (C) $19,173,040
TOTAL: (O) $25,706,053; (C) $24,944,192


It is, then, as some pundits predicted - Clinton has maxed out many of her core contributors during this first reporting period - the ‘well-is-dry’ portion of her intake is about 77% (in dollars) of her total intake, while Obama’s ‘well-is-dry’ portion of total intake is about 49%.

I am, of course, also particularly moved by Senator Obama's 'Under $200' number, of which I am one.

As the twins would say - instersting - very instersting.

The King is Dead, Long Live the King.

Remember when you were reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and you thought you could never hate anyone as much as you hate Rita Skeeter? And then you read Order of the Phoenix and met Dolores Umbridge?

Yeah. Like that. I thought the mantle of All Time Least Favorite Client was secure in the tremulous hands of the Octogenerian Child of Privilege - but no - enter, stage left, the Very Important And Busy Misogynist With Bad Habits Of Projection And Procrastination.

Congratulations, VIABMWBHOPAP - you win.