Spa - Take Two

OK, I appear to be fully recovered from the not really sick sickness which sucked up my last month, so tomorrow I'm restarting the spa/weight loss efforts.

I'm feeling that the theme will have to be 'Energy.' So much for 'Refresh' which was fine for the February I was going to have before 7,000,000 kleenex tissues intervened, but now, with spring pounding at my door (knock wood) I need to be working my ass off - literally. I'm thinking ginger, citrus and eucalyptus. 3 weeks of Energy - I can do that, right? I just need to get inertia acting with me, rather than against me.

Helpful tip

Don't use your inhaler while catching up on Daily Show/Colbert Report clips online - I think I just ruptured my eardrums trying not to exhale while laughing (I pinch my nose closed while using the inhaler, otherwise I'm prone to forget I'm holding my breath for an inhaler and think I'm holding my breath for swimming and start blowing it out my nose in preparation for the surfacing and the next breath. Yeah, I don't know either.)

Corporate America is Ruining My Life

In less than a week, two stories from the business pages have elicited the following reaction from me:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First, the announced proposed acquisition of Wild Oats, the kinder, gentler, granola-ier, cheaper health/organic foods supermarket by the evil, statusy, so-expensive-it-is-practically-a-diet-plan-in-and-of-itself-to-try-shopping-in-there-on-a-budget and so-bloody-high-minded-that-they-don't-carry-anything-that-resembles-a-normal-kitchen-staple 'supermarket' Whole Foods. I admit that this announcement, heard in the car, not only engendered the above reaction, but also the following:

Fucking! Evil! Blue Sun! Crap, crap, crap, nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!! Evil damit fuck. Noooooooooo!!!

All this screaming was accompanied by pounding on the steering wheel and dashboard and was immediately followed by a call to KW, who, of all my friends, will understand my pain regarding this news. (She did, in fact, understand and share my pain).

Then, today, M-bee informed me that Forth & Towne, the Gap concept store designed for women over 30 (of which I am one) who would like to look cute, but age appropriate, on a budget and might, just might, want to wear a color that is not a neutral (I'm talking to you, Banana Republic) is being ditched by Gap corporate. I imagine there will be a delayed reaction to this - at the moment I'm still in shock. However, I also imagine that there will be a strongly worded letter drafted before the day is out expressing my dismay at their disgusting decision. I'm given to understand that Ding has already whipped out her pen, gods bless her.

Dear Senator Clinton,

Yes, I felt compelled to send the below to the Clinton campaign, although I feel a bit superficial because am annoyed by actual policy? No. Word choice. Inproper verbiage. But, whatever, her Obama baiting has ticked me off.

Senator Clinton,

I'm deeply disappointed in your decision to not only mischaracterize Mr. Geffen as having an official role in the campaign of Senator Obama, but then to continue to do so. Repeatedly. After having the mischaracterization pointed out to your spokesman. Repeatedly.

I’m sorry to say that all I can think of when your campaign does so is the infamous parsing of the meaning of the word ‘is.’ I will not be voting for someone who cannot use words accurately - even if the 'is' fiasco had never occurred, I’ve had enough Orwellian language in the past 6 years to last me a lifetime.

I will not exaggerate the level of my support prior to this incident, which was declining due in large part to what I perceive to be pandering to the religious right. But this really does seem to be the straw that has broken this particular camel’s back. You have certainly lost my support.

Whatever gets you through the day

Just a quick moment to share my new favorite quote - from the Qantas stewardess who was fired after having sex with Ralph Fiennes whom she met (and boffed) during a flight she was working:

She says she doesn't feel cheapened by the supposed Fiennes fly-by, asserting, "I am sure he cared about me," before adding, "Then again, he is a very good actor."

Every time I read that, for no good reason, it gets funnier and funnier. As opposed to the whole article which is rather depressing - it is like looking into this woman's horrible internalized point/counterpoint of:

POINT - I own and embrace my sexuality!
v.
COUNTERPOINT - A. Sex is dirty. B. I'm a good girl, I am. C. Therefore if I engaged in a sexual act, it was either (i) Not Just Sex or (ii) It Was Not At All My Fault Or Responsibility.

Depressing because Counterpoint is winning. By a landslide. Point is practically a strawman. Frankly, Point may be something I inserted into the dialog as mere wishful thinking.

Catalog II

So the Oscars are coming up. Although I no longer view them with the idealistic fervor of my youth (and I’m looking at you, Tom Hanks, as the fulcrum upon which my ever-faster spin into complete disillusionment is hung) I still feel compelled not only to watch, but to engage in the annual futile gesture of making picks. The problem is that, much as I might follow the politics (which I do) I am unable to make use of this research when making my picks, because every year, in every category in which I have an opinion (which leaves out the shorts) I feel compelled to pick my actual favorite. (Welcome, Futility. Good to see you again. Sit right down here next to me and let's watch the show!)

Well, I was e-mailing the divine Ms. GnowN, and was saying that if the past was any indication, the smart money this year is on Babel for best picture because, every year, there is one film up for best picture that I absolutely have zero interest in seeing - I won’t have seen it by Oscar day, and I won’t see it after Oscar day - my entire self rebels against it - and that film, it seems, will be the ultimate winner.

Then I thought I should test this hypothesis and, while it is true that such has been the case for the last two years running, it is not nearly as flawless an indicator of an eventual win as I thought. So then I thought, for my own amusement, I would arrange the Best Picture winners for the years since I turned 13 (when I would have been routinely seeing the nominees in the year of release) into general categories, which I present here for no particularly good reason other than my own amusement.

Have Not Seen, but Feel Slightly Guilty Thereat
Gandhi

Have Not Seen and Frankly See No Reason to Do So (includes Loathe Without Having Seen)
The English Patient, Million Dollar Baby, Crash

Have Seen and Loathe with a Violent Loathing - Mentions-of or References-to Tends to Cause Spontaneous Repetitive Rants
Unforgiven, Forrest Gump, Braveheart

Have Seen, but Frankly See No Reason to Repeat the Experience (includes both the Too-Emotionally-Jarring-to-Rewatch and the Big-Meh’s)
Terms of Endearment, Platoon, The Last Emperor, Rain Man, Driving Miss Daisy, Dances with Wolves, Silence of the Lambs, Schindler’s List, A Beautiful Mind

Have Seen and Like - Actually Rewatch - Even Own Some
Out of Africa, Titanic, Shakespeare in Love, American Beauty, Gladiator, Chicago, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King

Really Truly Adore, Own, and Rewatch with Some Regularity
Chariots of Fire, Amadeus

Exhibit E, in the continuing Match.com series

Are we up to Exhibit E? I believe so. And Exhibit E, while incidentally having more than a smidge of general 'ick' factor, was primarily selected to illustrate another question I have - why do grown men feel the need to communicate as if they were a fourteen year old typing a furtive text message during math class? Why, why, why? It took me four readings before I even noticed that in one instance he actually did use a number to express a numerical value.

Exhibit E is from a gentleman who has reached the venerable age of 48, and has this to say for himself:

Tall outgoing gent looking 4 what this great world has to offer!! Life is 2 live, laugh, love & find that 1 that is special!!I have HUGE engines & they need large amounts of passion 2 drive them!! So only passionate Ladies PLEASE!!Life is full of peaks, valleys & plateaux!! Why all these wonderful things that happen !?!... GOD only knows! IS there someone like me? If not... I am always willing 2 explore new possibilities!! Care 2 chat up with me???? Come on now, take a chance & let us see what we could B !!!

Can't escape the John Hughes movies.

After spending all last weekend cooking, I've decided to purchase prepared foods for Ms. Gooch's annual Oscar party (rather than destroying my kitchen again). Her terms are that one must bring a dish inspired (however loosely) by someone who died in 2006. I'm pleased to have come up with a suitable offering with which to honor Paul Gleason, who immortalized the role of Principal Richard Vernon in The Breakfast Club.

Now I need to find a bakery in order to provide 'If you mess with the bull, you get the (cream) horns.' I'm moderately pleased with the idea, because usually I cannot come up with anything resembling a pun. I generally bring food that actually appeared in one of the dead actor's roles (ie. Gidget's drunken hotdogs or John Ritter's chocolate chip cookies (from his evil-baking-robot turn on Buffy)). Puns are hard for me, however, and much more the done thing.

Also there is the pleasing thought that I'll have an excuse to both say the line and make the accompanying hand gesture at random points throughout the evening. I'm sitting here at my desk doing it even now.

Dark City

I watched Dark City this weekend at Chez Gooch et Ding, enjoying Ms. Gooch's new Television Of Unusual Size. We were shocked to learn (as Ms. Gooch indulged in a bit of mid-show IMDB'ing to our collective edification) that the flick was not descended in a straight line from a comic book somewhere.

In the continuing six-degrees-of-me game, I'm pleased to say that Dark City (in addition to being interesting as a movie) is extremely helpful (thanks to Mr. Lee for bringing it to my attention) - not only, as previously mentioned, does it get me to Rufus Sewell in two moves, but also now to Riff Raff. Riff Raff! My 19 year old self is overjoyed! (And my 39 year old self is, it must be admitted, not entirely indifferent). And, from thence, note please, it is a mere 3 to the entire Rocky Horror cast, and then from there, 4 to Niles Crane (through Tim Curry and Spamalot) and, voila, I'm 5 from the entire cast of Frasier. Handy!

Ms. Gooch also pointed out that Riff Raff is the villian in Ever After (who knew?) which means I'm 3 to Drew Barrymore - my longstanding Girl Crushee!

And, astonishingly, this was not even the best of the weekend Chez Ding et Gooch, as they hosted a lovely grown up, gourmet pot-luck dinner - 6 guests, everyone bringing a course and a wine pairing. Really nice! Who needs restaurants with friends who can cook (and sideline as a sommelier) like that?

Of course it was also far from the worst - Battlestar Galactica, you big tease - why is Cally not dead? Sure, I adored her when she was biting off people's ears, but at this point she is just pathetic. Plus, for my own comfortable fantasy life, I need Chief to be single again.

Hey! Stick with the formula!

Happily, the drugs are working - a pleasing side effect of which is that I slept through the night both Wednesday and Thursday night - no thanks on Wednesday night, though, to the stressful Law & Order, Criminal Intent rerun viewed just before bed.

Uncool, CI peoples!

Law & Order, CI is my tea cozy L&O series. Here is what I want (and what they routinely deliver, rerun after rerun after rerun, seven days a week) - 3-5 minutes at the beginning to meet people, 1 minute of discovering a body, 35 minutes of clues and misdirection, and then Bobby Goren f'n with the guilty party's head until said guilty party collapses into a shivering mass of confession. This formula is soothing. It is conducive to a good night's sleep.

Here is what I don't need.

Eames kidnapped out of her home by a serial killer (who also, apparently, killed Eames's bird) and then Eames tied up, gagged and blindfolded in a kill space while the killer tortures and kills someone in her hearing, while Goren frantically and unsuccessfully tries to find her. If I wanted this sort of thing, I would be watching Law & Order, Special Victims Unit, which I don't watch anymore because, while Stabler is attractive, he is insufficient payoff for a steady, unending stream of raped and/or mutilated and/or tortured and/or killed women and children.

So happily Eames escaped, but by the time I saw that my late evening Dorothy Sayers was taking a right turn down Patricia Cornwall Lane, it was too late: I was tense and upset, but unable to turn it off because I needed to make sure that Eames would be OK. Fortunately, she was, (and I took some comfort in the fact that her escape was due to her own effort and ingenuity) but, dude, lets go back to the formula, yes?

Ah - drugs. Sweet, sweet drugs.

OK - as a preface I should say that I am almost never sick. As a result, when I do get sick I tend not only to spend my internal monologue whining and moaning about being sick, but also to mentally think 'I'm not really sick sick - I just think I'm sick because I'm such a big baby.'

Well, after three weeks of me being 'not really sick sick' and waiting for this lingering cold to go away, my boss had had quite enough and insisted that I call up my doctor and have them prescribe Z-pac over the phone. Well, since I'm never sick, my doctor would not so prescribe without me going in, which I did early this morning. The result? Not only do I now have the Z-pac coursing through my system (for the sinus infection) but also Albuterol (for the bronchitis).

Yay drugs - godspeed to youse!

Some Kind of Wonderful

So a couple days ago I stumbled across a showing of "Some Kind of Wonderful" on one of those lame channels that has an approximately 1 to 1 ratio of Show to Commercial. Now I loves me some Some Kind of Wonderful (although I always forget the name, and so have not seen it on video nearly enough - or at all). Anyway, as I was watching the dribs and drabs they fed me between obnoxiously long commercial breaks I began to think 'hey, I haven't seen this movie straight through in, say, 20 years, but didn't that scene seem to end before it logically should have done?' That thought was then repeated at regular intervals, along with some random musings as regards the similarity of SKoW's Duncan and Weevil on Veronica Mars, until my thoughts finally wound around to 'hey - why don't I own this excellent classic film of my youth?'

So there I am, on Amazon.com, finding out that the Special Collector's Edition (I don't even know) of said classic film of my youth is available to me for a mere $9.99 plus shipping and handling. Then, since I'm compulsive about reviews, I have to read what previous purchasers had to say, and, lo, the very first one was pointing out that this was basically John Hughes remake of Pretty in Pink, but restoring his original ending.

WHAT!?!?!?!

So then I go to the source of all definitive knowledge - Wikipedia - and confirm that, yes - right there under trivia:

"In Hughes' original [Pretty in Pink] script, Andie and Duckie ended up together, but due to pressure, Hughes had to change the ending so that Andie and Blane ended up together. The producers worried that the ending might come across as elitist. Ringwald, who was very sick during the shooting for the original ending and therefore didn't like how those scenes turned out, also objected to the original ending because she viewed Duckie as more of a brother than a love interest."

I've whined for years that Duckie is sooooooo much cooler than Blane! This is like finding out that Louisa May Alcott *wanted* Laurie and Jo together, but was forced by her publishers to put Laurie and Amy together. (I will never be over Laurie and Jo not getting married. Never. I'm convinced I reread the damn book over and over just figuring that at *some* point they will get it right.) Fortunately, I don't have quite the same strong reaction to Pretty in Pink, so I don't feel compelled to watch it over and over again - I mean, it is such a downer movie - Molly winds up with boring-ass Blaine, her prom dress is a nightmare of fug, and the climax of the divine Annie Potts' B-plot is that she finally meets a man worth repressing her kookiness for. I mean...

But it is something to discover that I've been annoyed at the wrong person for at least part of the vile ending. And I can now scream to the world of the whole universe: 'My sub-text-o-meter was NOT off during Pretty in Pink! Duckie is the bomb! That record store dance scene is not in there for nothing, man!'

And, thank you, Mr. Hughes, for Some Kind of Wonderful, which sets it all right - and has one of the best movie kisses ever captured on celluloid.

Fashion don't

It is blizzardy here in Chicago, as a result of which, I was one hot mess coming into the office today. Hiking boots, sturdy socks, my warmest blue and orange nordic style stocking cap (can't possibly blow off as my usual faux fur one was threatening to do), sensible double lined blue gloves - all with a skirt (I do not prefer trousers and so even when I need them, just don't have any suitable for work) and my usual reminiscent-of-the-1920s style olive green coat.
Ooof.

Depths of despair

So it is clear that I'm wallowing in a trough of winter depression - the irrefutable evidence? I've pulled out Wuthering Heights as the only book that might possibly cheer me up. Although I'm mildly disturbed that the thing that gets me out of dark patches is to read about twisted, disturbed, maniacal people destroying the well-bred and happy, that is what seems to work.

If only someone, somewhere, would film a version that doesn't treat the book like some sort of doomed Harlequin romance recognizable as Wuthering Heights primarily because of the picturesquely bleak setting and the fact that the Strong Silent Type is called 'Heathcliff', I could Netflix my winter blues away instead of struggling, yet again, to read that damned Joseph's damned dialect while surrounded by too many damned people on the damned train.

But alas - I've never found an appropriately close adaptation and so read it I must, because what fun is the book before Heathcliff goes completely nutter and starts social engineering the second generation? Sure, there is the destruction of his wife and the humiliation of Catherine's pathetic spouse before he gets around to serious post-Catherine damage, but is that enough?

It is not.

Of course, if I've missed a truly dark and twisted film version that bothers with the long stretch of Heathcliff's life after Katherine dies, I want to hear about it.

Resistance is proving futile...

I bought a microwave over the weekend. I'm tired of washing 5 items every time I heat up soup. And then, of course, I need to heat food for the Tedster twice per day. (Teddy is a very picky eater. Also, he may be slightly spoiled.)
The microwave is shiny. The microwave is red. The microwave is in a huge box. So for now the microwave is residing in said box in the trunk of my car because I'm still not sure that I can stick that honking thing on my counter.
Maybe I'll lug the box up tonight and see how awful it is really going to be. Dishwashing v. lost counter space = rock v. hard space.

New Experience

Yesterday I had my head painted for this project. Anyone in the Chicago area who is interested and has an hour and 1/2 in the next few days might send an e-mail to painting300heads@yahoo.com - as of yesterday, they needed a few more models, and the opening fast approacheth.

RIP Anna Nicole

Although I didn't (and don't) think of myself as a fan, I'm genuinely saddened by today's news that Anna Nicole Smith has died. I feel like she just wanted to reach a point where life was easy, but never quite did, poor thing.

Exhibit D = Defaults.

There must be an opening somewhere for a treatise or dissertation on the pathology of Match.com profiles. I mean, what sort of default world does one live in where one feels it necessary to state that one is looking for a woman who is 'clean'? Isn't personal cleanliness the default? Perhaps I'm reading the request incorrectly - maybe he is trying to exclude active drug users? But again, what is this man's default world?

And he doesn't stop with 'clean.' Reading between the lines of Exhibit D in our continuing series (set forth below) suggests to me a man who neither trusts nor particularly likes women - and to the extent there is a woman around? He better be her sole damn focus (ok, that just led to a 'Love Actually' flashback - hate, hate, hate). Anyway, without further delay, I present Exhibit D:

"I seek a confidant, spontaneous woman with an active, passionate drive and desire to meet her romantic match. She must be clean, healthy and dependable and has a definite set of life goals. No Drama Please. Couch potatoes, gold diggers and sleep arounds need not apply. I've been in solid relationships and seek same, with an added twist of SPICE (it only gets better with age) . I do have a preference for someone who is over her past realtionships, is serious as I am about a relationship and has the ability to meet and date and explore life. It's hard to develop a relationship when you can't get a baby sitter and have to cancel every weekend. Are you whom I Seek ?"

Um, no.

But maybe I misinterpret?

Come to Mama, Clocky!

Oh my gods - I totally need this!!!

Oy. Exhibit C in a continuing series.

Well, the 'maximum number of previous marriages' requirement is a new one...

I would like to meet a woman who i can share there intrests with mine, some one who like to talk and listen, and likes to have fun, they must not have been mrried over 2 times, someone who likes to travel, and likes sports, i dont want a woman with serious problems like depresion

Catalog

It has come to my attention that I have an absurd number of nicknames for my dog, whose given name is Theodore Laurence, and whose proper nickname is Teddy. However, here are the rest of his names:

Baby Boy
Bean
Bean Face
Bean Face the Wonder Dog
Childing
Cutie
Cutie Bug
Freckle Face Haines the Dog Face Boy
Little Man
Manling
Sweetheart
Sweetie
Ted
Teddy Bear
Tedopolis
Tedster
Wee Bit
Wonder-Bean

Road Trip!

The next (and, sob, last) Harry Potter book is to be released July 21 - plans for the 3rd (and, sob, last) Run for the Border (the Canadian border) are being made even as I write. Woo (sob) woo!