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...