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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Bereft.

Battlestar Galactica. Gone. Nothing until 2008. I can't even string words together - I'm left without a television obsession to stand on - no Deadwood, no Battlestar Galactica. Gilmore Girls is finishing off its 7 year run with an inadequate swoop right back to THE EXACT SAME PLACE we were at the end of Season 4 (thanks again AS-P, you wanker). Veronica Mars is changing its format. 24 is all right, but I'm used to watching them on DVD, and I just don't find them as good doled out in weekly doses - with commercials yet. And Top Design? Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks. It sucks so hard that I can't even watch it out of misplaced Project Runway loyalty. And while I'll continue to watch The Riches, I note a precipitous drop in my interest level anytime My Pretend Husband is not on screen.

Sigh.

Thank goodness the summer movies approacheth - and the drive-in is already re-opened, so that is something. I can certainly look forward to Captain Jack Sparrow, Venom-infested Spidey, Ratatouille, Order of the Phoenix, Oceans 13 and anything else involving absurd outsized explosions and giggles. But these are one-offs - inadequate (at least until I know exactly how much Cap'n Jack runs around the World's End with arms flailing madly) to support a full blown obsession.

And then, of course, there is the last Harry Potter - sweet sorrow indeed - I'm in the middle of the first prepatory re-read. But again, at some point on or about July 23 (release date plus reading time) it'll all be over but the weeping.

Sigh redux. What does one do with a life absent a healthy obsession?

My Pretend Husband Enters the Law

And I'm fascinated to see which direction they go with this. Episode 2 of The Riches is right here. (As is Episode 1).

If you want to see what my brain looks like when it reads code provisions? Watch for Eddie reading code at the bar in Episode 2. Sweet Jesus, I could swear the man crawled inside my head, pulled out my whole internal voice and attitude, and then gave it actual voice and physicality. I watched it 6 times, and cracked up every damn time. Even now, I cannot think about it too closely, because I'll snigger. In public. Which then appears to be Sniggering Without Cause - which is just never good.

Anyway here is this grifter who has entered the law and reads code in my voice - which causes me to wonder - which way are they going to go? Tele-reality clearly states that The Law is just one Exciting Courtroom Exchange after another - usually as a direct result of the information gleaned by The Dedicated Lawyer during the Exciting And Dangerous Sleuthing she/he engaged in mere moments prior to said Exciting Courtroom Exchange. In reality?

Not so much.

But will this be the series that shows that the law is a deathly dull grind 99% of the time (110% of the time if it is corporate)? Will Eddie hate it and want to leave, but be trapped in the vile profession because of all the benefits the salary can provide for his wife and family?

I doubt I'll be seeing that. (But they so easily could show me that. They have the set-up in place for telling that story. ) (But I'm sure they won't. Sigh.)

My Pretend Husband

OK, clearly, ever since Ms. Gooch introduced me to the wonder that is Eddie Izzard, stand-up comedian/executive transvestite, he has been on my Laminated List (tm Friends episode 3.05).

Now, however, I just want to marry him.

The Riches, Monday, FX network - check it out - you've only missed one episode - there is time to get in on the ground floor. And don't just take my word for it - here is the NYT rave.

New Favorite!

Long story short - a failed Wikipedia search for the concept of Fruitcart (something to yell at the screen when it becomes clear that a car chase is going to involve tipping over some sort of vendor's cart) led to a broader search, which led to my new favorite Wiki - all about TV/Comic Book/Anime/Video Game tropes.

Not only is it fun to read actual wiki-nitions of terms that I commonly use (i.e. Redshirt, Cousin Oliver, Jumping the Shark, Buffy Speak) but whole new terms such as The Sorting Algorithm of Evil, The Scrappy, Chekhov's Gun, Spikeification (the wiki notes that Al from Deadwood is fascinating because, despite some Spikeification through the Blow Job Monologues, he remains a Magnificent Bastard. I ask you, were truer words ever spoken? And is it not why we love him?)

Best of all, however, is finding the phrase Stuffed Into A Fridge which is the description of my least favorite trope of all time, the clumsy use of which accounts for a good 95% of my hatred for Braveheart.

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

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?