open up and say aaaaaaaaahhhhh
That's freaking Deep Throat? And what's Skeletor doing with him?
Ah, what the hell. Captions welcome.
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May 31, 2005
random camera phone picture : I HAVE THE POWER!!!!!!11!!!!!
Listomatic/Ordering - Stephen King Edition [Updated]
Stephen King books I've read, in order of preference from best to worst, not including collections, short stories (that's another list), The Green Mile series or the Dark Tower series or screenplays. So..novels
- The Talisman
- Eyes of the Dragon
- The Stand
- It
- The Shining
- Black House
- 'Salem's Lot
- The Dead Zone
- The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon (1999)
- Insomnia
- Christine
- Carrie
- Cujo
- Firestarter
- Misery
- Pet Sematary
- Dolores Clairborne
- From a Buick 8
- The Dark Half
- Needful Things
- Gerald's Game
- The Regulators
- The Tommyknockers
- Desperation
- Dreamcatcher
I want to do an ordered list of Stephen King books made into movies, but I need a definitive list...anyone?
Favorite SK short stories that I can think of off the top of my head, but not in order
Graveyard Shift
The Mangler
Gray Matter
The Raft (I think that's the title)
Lawnmower Man
The Mist
Apt Pupil
Quitters, Inc.
Children of the Corn
Trucks
The Body
Night Surf
I am the Doorway
more lyrics that seemed so deep thirty years ago and just seem silly now
Yesterday a morning came, a smile upon your face.
Caesar's palace, morning glory, silly human, silly human race,
On a sailing ship to nowhere, leaving any place,
If the summer change to winter, yours is no disgrace
Listomatic: Booklisting [Updated]
First things first - a new day, a new theme over at Les Nessman. I'm not that happy with today's story, but there it is. And always be sure to read the comments. Some of our readers' stories are really spectacular.
I missed Monday is List Day at ASV yesterday due to the holiday, so I'll move it on over here to Tuesday. Which works out well, seeing as that a Tuesday morning after a three day weekend is a hellish time to come up with original content.
So I'm going to finally do the book list thing I promised. Except I'm swamped at work, so I'm only offering blank lists for you to fill in. I'll make my lists later on, though I included a few to start you off. I'll add more as soon as the monkey lets go of my chain.
We'll start with these:
Good Books that were made into good movies
- The Green Mile
- Simon Birch (which was made from A Prayer for Owen Meany)
- Charlotte's Web (so, it's a cartoon. I still cried)
- Freaky Friday (the original movie. BEETLOAF!)
- Jumanji (I didn't like the movie at first, but it grew on me)
- Holes
Movies that are better than the books they were adapted from
- Jaws (the book read like a tawdry romance novel)
- The Godfather (Holy hell did that book suck)
Books that are better than the movies made from them
- The Shining (just about any Kind flick, really, but this one in particular, especially because they left out the topiary scene).
- The Natural (I love this movie, but the book had so much more depth to it)
- The Firm (Wow. One of the worst movies I have ever seen)
- Striptease (I really liked this book. The movie? Dreck. Horrific.)
- James and the Giant Peach
- Timeline (they destroyed this book)
- The General's Daughter
- Jurassic Park
- Because of Winn Dixie
[I'll keep updating, time permitting]
And After All.....
WONDERWALL? WTF are you people smoking over there across the pond? WONDERWALL??
No wonder that damn frog ringtone is number one on your music chart. You have taste up your arses!
Wonderwall?
May 30, 2005
jedi nights
So after sitting through my third viewing of Revenge of the Sith, I've come to the conclusion that the Jedi suck.
Really, they piss me the hell off.
thematic
A writer's work is never done. Even on a holiday, I came up with 100 words for today's theme which is, well, no theme.
Hope you are enjoying the day.
Memorial Day 2005
Photo taken at the war memorial, Eishenhower Park, East Meadow, NY. More pictures from that memorial can be found here.
A NATION'S STRENGTH
Ralph Waldo Emerson
What makes a nation's pillars high
And it's foundations strong?
What makes it mighty to defy
The foes that round it throng?
It is not gold. Its kingdoms grand
Go down in battle shock;
Its shafts are laid on sinking sand,
Not on abiding rock.
Is it the sword? Ask the red dust
Of empires passed away;
The blood has turned their stones to rust,
Their glory to decay.
And is it pride? Ah, that bright crown
Has seemed to nations sweet;
But God has struck its luster down
In ashes at his feet.
Not gold but only men can make
A people great and strong;
Men who for truth and honor's sake
Stand fast and suffer long.
Brave men who work while others sleep,
Who dare while others fly...
They build a nation's pillars deep
And lift them to the sky
- In memory of all those who gave their life in service to this country -
Most of us will have parties and barbecues today after we attend parades and ceremonies and listen to speeches. We wil bow our heads in rememberance and some of us will pray and some of us will give silent thanks.
There's nothing wrong with going home afterwards to spend the day with family and friends, having a picnic or celebrating the coming summer.
Just remember what this day is for. When you raise that first cold one, give a toast to those who this holiday is for. Remember their families, as well.
May 29, 2005
awkward moments
You know what's really awkward? When you walk into 7-11 and see someone that looks really familiar, but you can't place him, and then you're both standing by the coffee machine, contemplating all the flavors and suddenly it hits you that you are standing next to the guy gave your first, sloppy handjob to in 7th grade in the closet at Becky's party, with Zeppelin's "No Quarter" on the stereo, and you run for the exit as it finally clicks why that song always makes you break out in hives.
Yea, that's awkward.
Yorgle
Another day, another 100 words theme/story.
I want a show of hands as to how many of you understand my story today.
Summer Is
And tonight will go on forever while we
walk around this town like we own the streets
and stay awake through summer like we own the heat
---Brand New, Soco Amaretto Lime
I was having trouble sleeping - thanks to the bird convention taking place in my backyard - and started thinking about summer. Specifically, all the summers gone by.
I've got this mishmash of memories running through my head now, some of which will find their way into longer posts, and some which will work their way into the novel I've been writing for the past few weeks (which partly explains the decline of quality of original content here lately).
- The anticipation of summer, which was almost as good as summer itself. It would start getting hot in early June and the teachers would fling the windows open every morning. We couldn't concentrate because we knew what was out there. Not out there, right out the window, but out there in terms of the immediate future. The warm air brought with it a restlessness and every time a breeze came through the classroom, I'd think of the ice cream man and the church fair and the endless days and nights that lay ahead. Even the teachers would get antsy. They'd give up trying to teach us anything for the last week or so and we'd all just talk about what we were going to do over the summer. You could tell from the wistful look on the faces of the teachers that they were looking forward most to being away from the classroom and us.
Summer never held any kind of heavy promise for me, because I never expected anything out of it. It just had to be. As long as I could get up in the morning and walk outside barefoot, it was all good. I never wore shoes. Even in the late afternoon, when the street had been scorched by the sun all day and your skin could blister on contact, I would hop from car shadow to tree shadow or run on tip-toe, letting out little yelps of pain all across the street, because I refused to wear shoes in the summer. Shoes were a formality. Summer was casual.
- Al the ice cream man, a Holocaust survivor who used to tell us his stories and show us his numbers and I wish I knew then what I know now. I wish I listened more, or understood more. But Al's heavy accent and rushed, yet kind, demeanor will forever be part of the summer photo album that sits in my head. After Al, there was a long line of ice cream men who came by in their trucks and that tinny ringing of the bells was the highlight of our day.
- Night swimming in high school, hopping fences and dropping into neighbors' pools uninvited, usually around midnight.
- The church fair with its zeppoles and goldfish games and Ferris wheels. The balloon/dart game, where I won the Lynyrd Skynyrd mirror that's still in my mother's attic. The tilt-a-whirl thing, where I met Doug while sitting underneath the machinery, smoking a Marlboro and listening to the Doobie Brothers blast through the neighborhood. And then walking home from the fair each night, clutching whatever stuffed animal I won, smelling like fried food and beer and from my house I could still hear Father M. on the microphone, exhorting the crowd to buy into the 50/50, as I crawled into bed.
- Kick the Can, which usually turned into something else entirely, groups of us hiding in bushes and trees and backyard sheds. Later on we'd play SWAT instead, peering around from corners, pretending to shoot each other as if we were five and playing cowboys and Indians, not 16 year olds holding invisible guns, pressed against the wall.
- Getting sunburned at the beach, before we knew how bad the sun could be for you. We slathered ourselves in baby oil and cocoa butter and made sun reflectors out of tin foil. My friends' faces and arms tanned a beautiful bronze while my arms withered, blistered, burned and peeled. I gave up on the sun after long and spent my beach time under an umbrella, reading Judy Blume's Wifey and listening to 99x on the little portable radio.
- Going upstate to Roscoe, NY for days or weeks at a time. Wearing sneakers into the lake because the bottom was a bed of mud and algae. Catching frogs and snakes and salamanders and then letting them go because my parents didn't want to drag the things home with us. Carving our initials on trees and making forts that served as a refuge, a place to go to get some shade and read Mad Magazines and Archie comics.
- Lost of concerts, especially the all day outdoor festivals that WLIR used to have at Belmont Park. There was one summer in the 80's when we went to ever single concert at the Pier (where we saw the Alarm in a torrential downpour). The Cars at Forest Hills tennis stadium. Echo and the Bunnymen at the Beacon. The Fixx at some roller rink. July 31, 1978, Genesis at the Garden (I don't know why I remember that specific date) - it was broiling hot that day and we walked through Central Park for hours, pretending to be adventurers and then we went to see Ralph Bashki's Lord of the Rings at the Ziegfeld before the Genesis concert.
- Baseball, so much baseball. Sitting in the backyard with my mother, listening to games and learning how to keep a scorecard. Going to Shea Stadium in the early 80's when the Braves came to town and the place was so empty, we had a section and a beer vendor all to ourselves. Dave Righetti's Fourth of July no hitter. The Fourth of July game between the Mets and the Braves that didn't end until four in the morning - we stayed out in the backyard, twenty of us at least, watching until it ended.
- Every July 4th when I was young, celebrating my grandfather's birthday. Huge, huge parties across the street in my aunt's yard, the whole neighborhood would show up. Going up on the roof to watch the fireworks from Eisenhower Park. Lighting off our own fireworks and running outside the next morning to pick through the debris for any firecrackers that didn't go off.
- Hanging out at the school yard night after night, the suffocating heat making us cranky. Lots of fights and dramatic break-ups. Being chased through yards and streets by Officer Godlberg. Hiding in the fort in D's garage or the shed/clubhouse in E's yard, drinking stolen beer and smoking cigarettes and wishing we were old enough to go to clubs.
- Italian ices, the kind you ate with a wooden spoon and that had all the sugary gook on the bottom, so you dug around enough to turn the ice over and eat the sticky part first. Hamburgers that tasted like charcoal. Early morning walks to the candy store, one dollar enough to bring home a fistful of candy, enough to last the day and that we'd eat in between games of Marco Polo in the pool or hopscotch on the hot sidewalk. Pop Rocks and Pixie Stix and those little wax candies that looked like soda bottles and were filled with a medicinal tasting liquid that, back in the day, tasted like the best thing ever.
- The smells of summer; lilacs and fresh mowed grass. Rain sizzling on the hot street. Overheated cars that smell like baking syrup. Chlorine and pool liners. Oh, the smell of Fleer baseball cards and the powdery gum inside the wrapper. The salty air at the beach, hot dogs on the grill, cotton candy at the street fair.
- The last days of August when you've had enough of the heat and what felt like freedom in June now turning into boredom. The lure of new spiral notebooks and a fresh pair of Keds and sharpened pencils, not to mention cooler air.
- (added)- The summer of '76 when the bicentennial was the hugest thing ever. Everything was red, white and blue. Fleet Week that year was an enormous thing. There was movie theater that for the whole summer charged just 76 cents to get in.
- The summer before I transferred out of the public school
- Summer storms. There's nothing better than a wicked summer storm, when it gets night-time dark at 1 in the afternoon and the trees bend in the wind. Huge thunderclaps that shake the house and lightning that cuts through the black clouds like jagged flashlights. And then the downpour - sometimes the streets flood up instantly and when we were much younger we'd run outside and dance in the puddles until our mothers started freaking out about us getting hit by lightning.
- Blackouts and brownouts.
Yea, one of my most vivid memories of summers past is the thankfulness that it was finally ending. Too much of a good thing, I guess.
I'm sure there are a zillion more memories tucked away and I'll think of a different one each time a warm breeze blows through the window or when I mow the lawn and the cut grass smell unleashes things I thought I forgot.
Update: I've decided to include some of my favorite recent summer shots.
May 28, 2005
A Day
We ate a lot.
It was windy.
The Yankees got pounded.
The end.
[that's the husband's bday cake, by the way. mine doesn't get lit til august]
on hold....
A very busy day ahead of us today. No time for blogging, Dr. Jones!
I did get my 100 words in on today's theme, though. Go on over and do your best.
Back tonight with some photo stuff, probably. Enjoy your Saturday.
May 27, 2005
Listomatic: Eddie Albert
Eddie Albert movies I've seen, in order of preference, best to worst. (Because he's dead)
- Longest Yard
- Oklahoma!
- Escape to Witch Mountain
- The Devil's Rain (Ernest Borgnine melty face!)
- The Heartbreak Kid
- Foolin' Around (I love this movie!)
- Airport '79
- Beyond Witch Mountain
- Head Office
- Dreamscape
- Take This Job and Shove it
Boycott the boycotts!
Yes, yes, I've heard about Trent Reznor and his anti-Bush crusade. I heard about the MTV thing.
Let me say this in a way so you can understand it, clearly and without questions: I. DO. NOT. CARE.
I hate, hate, hate when people expect me to boycott/ignore/protest against an artist I like because of their political leanings. I like to be entertained. Trent Reznor entertains me. He could be a card carrying commie for all I care, I like his music, just like I like Johnn Depp's movies, just like I prefer Heinz ketchup to any other kind, just like I still bought all the LotR movies even though Viggo is my political opposite.
Between the people wanting to boycott Revenge of the Sith because they read anti-Bush statements into it (I have to find the link to that site) and now people emailing me to tell me how they're never going to listen to Nine Inch Nails again, I'm about to blow a gasket.
I don't do boycotts. Got it? I don't care how big of a raging asshole my favorite entertainers can be. As long as they keep making quality music/movies/books that are pleasing to me, I'll keep buying their stuff and ignoring whatever ranty tirades they want to go off on.
Not only that, but the new NIN album is really growing on me. I'm GLAD I spent the money on it.
And I think this all begs the real question: Who the hell watches MTV anymore?
psa
Real Arcade/Real Player has the worst customer service EVER.
Really. EVER. Horrible. They suck. They suckitysucksuck.
Update: Just to clarify, I was using Real Arcade. Got a lot of good games from there. I don't use Real Player for my audio. Or anything else, for that matter.
listomatic: summer songs
[Not just songs ABOUT summer, but songs that remind you of certain summers or songs that are perfect for a fast drive to the beach]
- Dirty Black Summer - Danzig
- Summertime - Sublime
- You're My Everything- Andy Gibb (because I got really sunburned one year while I was listening to this song on cassette over and over again while lounging in the pool)
- Ice Cream Man - Van Halen
- I Go Swimming - Peter Gabriel
- Synchronicity - The Police (Summer of '83 - I could write a novel about that one)
- Do You Feel Like We Do - Peter Frampton
- Fourth of July - Soundgarden
- Hotel California - Eagles (I hate this song, but it always reminds me of sticky, hot and humid summer days)
- Guns n Roses - Mr. Brownstone (oh man, that day the soda exploded in my car....)
- Bananarama - Cruel Summer
- Don't Fear the Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult (this was a favorite night cruising song)
- Afternoon Delight - Starland Vocal Band
- Beach Baby - Beach Boys
- More than a Feeling - Boston (left the 8 track out in the summer sun)
- Air Conditioned Nightmare - Mr. Bungle
- Surf Wax America - Weezer
- Be Quiet and Drive - Deftones
- Brand New - Soco Amaretto Lime
- Rock This Town - Stray Cats
- Love Shack - B52s
- Blister in the Sun - Violent Femmes
- Jessica - Allman Brothers (I don't think there is a song that exists that says "summer" to me more than this one)
- Swing, Swing - All American Rejects
- Rockaway Beach - Ramones
And, yes -
- Freebird - Lynyrd Skynyrd (the soundtrack to at least two summers of my life)
There's so much more, but lunch hour calls and I'm sure you all will fill in the blanks with your favorites.
wordy
I managed to eke out 100 words on today's sci-fi theme, even though I do not write sci-fi, ever. So it's decidely un sci-fi-ish, though keeping with the theme, I think. Follow?
Eh, whatever. I tried.
If The Van is Rockin'.....(.A Summer Story)
This weekend marks the unofficial start of summer. Once Memorial Day is over, spring gets pushed off the calendar. You can officially wear white, or bitch about how you are too fat to wear white. Or bikinis. Or shorts, for that matter. Or, you can be like one of these people and not care about fashion class at all - if it feels like summer, dress like summer, no matter what you look like in summer clothes.
I'm feeling all wistful and full of summer nostalgia today (even though it's only like 40 degrees outside); I have a novel length, picture filled post about summer rolling around in my head, but I haven't had enough coffee yet to get it all down. Instead, I'm going to share an old summer story with you. I call this one:
The summer between my junior and senior years in high school, I dated a guy I'll call Dave.
I dated Dave for a few weeks and while I wasn't falling in love with the guy, we enjoyed each other's company enough and had some good times together.
We went to the beach a lot. I hated the beach, but sacrificed for Dave because he had this notion that he was a surfer dude and surfer dudes belonged with the sea and sand.
We drove to the beach each day in Dave's van. Now, this was the late 70's. Vans were all the rage. No, not Ford Econoline vans borrowed from your father's flooring business, but custom vans, the kind with beds and beaded curtains.
Dave loved his van as much as he loved the surf. Every Saturday he would go to the custom van shop and add something to his masterpiece; some new pinstriping, etchings on the windows, another mural.
One side of the van was dedicated to the Allman Brothers. The other side was dedicated to the beach. It was psychedelic, man. Like a car with tattoos.
The inside of the van was treated with even more reverence than the outside. The floor was carpeted and taken up mostly by a queen size mattress made pretty with a blanket crocheted in the twenty colors of the acid-trip rainbow. The beaded curtains separated the front of the van from the back, so whatever Dave's friends were doing to their girlfriends while Dave was driving them around remained private. There were velvet posters on the walls and a mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice. No, not really. But it was gaudily decorated in the sex-me-up theme so prevalent in that era.
So one day we arrive back home after a day at the beach and Dave turns around to me and says very nonchalantly:
I think we should stop seeing each other.
Excuse me?
I can't really date anyone right now.
Ok, that's cool and all, but umm...kind of out of nowhere?
Sure, my ego was crushed, but not for the reason you think. See, I had never had a guy break up with me. I was always the breaker-upper. I considered dating someone while still in high school more of a social activity than anything else. While all my friends were falling deeply, passionately in love at the age of 16, I was just looking for someone to hang out with. The idea of being in a committed relationship while still basically a kid seemed like a joke.
Anyhow, crushed ego.
Dave: Well, I have my reasons. And it's not because you don't put out.
Me: Dude, that mattress is skanky. I wouldn't lay down on that thing even if you promised me the moon. Which you did, by the way, and never followed through.
Dave: Yea, well. I didn't have a long enough ladder.
Me: So what's the deal then? Why are you dumping me?
Dave: I just don't think it's fair to you. I'm really devoted to my van. That's what I want to spend my money on and my time with.
Insert stifled giggle here.
Me: Your van? You are dumping me for your van?
Dave: Yes, I wanted to be honest with you about it. And fair.
Me: My god, your nobility is bringing tears to my eyes.
Dave: Do you always have to be so sarcastic?
Me: Yes.
So Dave dumped me for his van. I still hung out with him, though. Every Saturday I would go to Dave's house to check on the progress he was making with his wife/van. One day I got to his house and the van was gone.
Me: Where's the van?
Dave:I sold it to Keith?
Me: WHAT? How could you? I thought you loved that thing?
Dave: Barbara (his new girlfriend) said it was either her or the van.
Me: I guess Barbara puts out.
Dave: Yea.
Somewhere in there is a lesson.
---
[I stole the van graphic from this amazing van nostalgia site - anyone who owned or had a friend who owned one of these vans will really enjoy the stories and interviews here]
May 26, 2005
This Day in ASV history
It was one year ago today that we became home owners.
We still haven't finished unpacking. There are boxes piled up in the garage, still swathed in packing tape, the magic marker scrawlings all faded.
We finally - this week - got the curtains we really like in the living room. We're still hanging with the mediocre crap in the kitchen and bedroom.
The bathroom is still unfinished.
The driveway still needs to be repaved and the walkway that goes to the back yard needs to be ripped up and redone.
The office windows are still sealed in plastic wrap, waiting to be replaced.
There's a box of junk in my bedroom that's been sitting there since we moved in. There are books that haven't been moved on to shelves and pictures that haven't been hung on the walls. There are crates filled with trinkets and mementos that have yet to be sorted, placed or stuffed in the attic.
What the hell have we done in the past year?
I'll tell you what I haven't done. I haven't killed the Japanese Maple. I haven't broken an appliance or set the kitchen on fire. I haven't spilled red wine on the wood floors or dropped something heavy enough to chip the tile floor in the kitchen.
I have kicked a hole in the bathroom door. Long story.
We've had several parties (most of them Nat's) and bought a year's worth of holiday decorations. We've paid nearly $20,000 in mortgage payments and a few thousand dollars to heat and electrify this thing.
And we still haven't finished unpacking yet.
[Did I mention that we are really, really happy here? That there is nothing like a home of your own, craptastic as it may seem at times? I probably should have mentioned that]
i.trip, u.trip, we.trip
So I'm cruising along in my car, minding my own business and rocking out to the iPod.
Suddenly, my music changes. Some guy singing about his sombrero has taken over the station I transmit my iTrip through. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy in the car next to me bopping along in time to this sombrero song. Dude stole my pod station! Somehow, his iTrip or whatever he was using was more powerful than mine and usurped the supposedly empty station I was using.
I frantically waved my pod around in the air, as if that would help overcome my reception problems. Aha! The red light came on and my own music took over. I looked to the left and the sombrero guy was fiddling with his stereo and looking really horrified. Score! My iTrip overpowered his!
I hope he enjoyed loving you was like fucking the dead as much I enjoyed Ay, mi sombrero. Probably not, from the looks of it.
ordering II
Police Academy 1
Ishtar
Leonard Part 6
Kazaam
Gigli
Baby Geniuses
From Justin to Kelly
Freddie Got Fingered
Any Uwe Boll movie
Cool as Ice
Troll
Batman and Robin
Speed 2
It's Pat
Patch Adams
Manos, Hands of Fate
Arthur 2
Battlefield Earth
Police Academy 2
Police Academy3
Police Academy 4
Police Academy 5
Police Academy 6
Police Academy 7
ordering
The answer to the most asked question in my inbox:
5
4
3
6
2
1
Subject to change: With further viewings 3 may surpass 4, and 2 - seen in the context of 3 - may move ahead of 6.
Idol Chatter
I should read all my email before I post in the morning. Apparently people need to know what I think of Carrie winning American Idol.
I'm a little disappointed, but not shocked. I think it was determined a long time ago that Carrie would win. You may be one of those people who believes in the integerity and honesty of the entertaiment industry, but I gave up that ghost before I even stopped belieiving in the tooth fairy.
While I think the viewers' votes count up to an extent, I do think that the producers of the show have a lot to say about who gets to wear the crown and Carrie was the perfect choice for this year. Let's face it - after a whole year of looking at Clay and Reuben as the ulitmate Idols (I know Reuben won, but I think of Clay as the co-winner in a way), the AI team must be creaming their pants in anticipation of the revenue Carrie will bring them from posters and glossy photos alone. They've got a beautiful woman with bodacious tatas to trot around for a full year in the name of their show.
Can she sing? I always found her to be nasally and pitchy, but I'm not a big fan of the country twang to begin with. She certianly doesn't have the stage presence or charisma of Bo, but she's got the wholesomeness and I'm sure the AI people would much rather a winner that doesn't have coke-snorting skeletons in their closet.
My predictions for some of the contestants: Carrie will be singing at state fairs within two years. Bo and Constantine will have a reality show on VH1. Vonzelle will prove to be the sleeper of the pack, and will become a star. Nadia will appear in Playboy in the near future and make a couple of B horror movies. Mikalah will get her own talk show, but no one will notice, much like Tony Danza's show. Scott will settle into a double-wide with a fan who sent him a pair of worn panties. Anwar will never be heard from again, which I think is just what he wants. Anthony will record a song with Clay Aiken and John Stevens and they'll have to wear name tags so people can tell them apart. Jessica and Lindsey will star as a tandem in Backdoor Sluts, Volume 10.
My semi-drunken live blog of the show can be found here.
Update: I should add that the absolute hightlight of the show was the Dirk and Hasselhoff moment.
May 25, 2005
Duh
You were destined to have a Red Lightsaber.
Red is the color of fire and blood, so it is
associated with energy, war, danger, strength,
power, and determination as well as passion and
desire. You have seen the Strength and Power of
the Dark Side of the Force and have you thirst
for more of it.
What Colored Lightsaber Would You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla
the grudge
During the course of discussion at lunch today, I became aware that I've been harboring a grudge against the co-editor of my high school yearbook for the past 25 years. Not just a grudge, but a hateful, vindictive, nasty bitterness that I didn't even know existed until this person's name was brought up.
Now that this grudge has been let loose, I realize that the power of my animosity could probably set buildings on fire and cause tidal waves in small countries.
I might feel better if I look her up, call her and tell her she's a bitch, but she's probably running a crack house somewhere and those places usually don't have listed numbers.
I wonder what the statute of limitations is on high school slights. Not that this was just a slight, mind you. It was more than that. It was downright evil. But still. 25 years this has been in some hidden compartment in my soul and it's been unleashed and I'm not sure what to do with it except harness the force of my hatred and power the electricity for the house with it.
Update below.
Alright. This is what happened.
We were co-editors of the yearbook. During our senior year, a very good friend of mine died in a car accident. The girl in quesiton was not friendly with him AT ALL. He was a popular guy that I knew from the neighborhood (we went to a private school, so we all came from different towns). It so happens that two other classmates died during our senior year, and we decided to dedicate pages to them, as had been done in the past in similar circumstances. The teacher in charge of the yearbook committee asked me to write a poem for Mike. I did.
T. took it upon herself to take my poem out and put in one that she wrote. For a guy she knew only well enough to nod at in the hallway. I was furious. She told me that her poem was far superior to mine (it was a gacky poem not even worthy of cheap greeting card) and deserved center stage (her words). She threw my poem out. I found it crumbled in the garbage can in the classroom. When I told her I was a little upset about that, she told me to get over it, that I would never be as good a writer as her. She THEN edited something I wrote on the "what happened in the news the year we graduated" page, where I called someone's death untimely. She insisted there was no such word and I was an idiot. I told her "at least I'm not the kind of IDIOT that thinks abortions are a form of birth control," and stormed out of the room. We never spoke again.
Oh god, that sounds so freaking petty. I know. To carry that around for 25 years is ridiculous.
Letting go......
random camera phone picture: Level 3 approaching
My office, a cry for help
It's not easy to tame an obsession when your best friend shares said obsession with you. She's been scurrying around to all the BKs on Long Island in an attempt to secure all 31 toys for each of us and dumped these on my lap when we met for lunch today. Bless her rebel alliance heart. She's also going to see EpIII with me (and our respective children) on Friday night (this will be my third showing) and we're going to go back to my house after and watch Ep4. If we weren't both female and married, I'd marry her. We always joke that we would have made good wives for each other. I bet she wouldn't laugh and point when I made the suggestion that we have our house built to look like the Death Star.
Anyhow, in other news, it's about 48 degrees, rainy and windy in this last week of May in New York. I feel like I should be putting up Halloween decorations.
And how could I almost forget? Les Nessman and his jolly band of 100 word authors awaits your perusal of/rating of/additions to today's stories.
A pointless post for a midafternoon work break, Volume II
So, what are you listening to? Anything on now or something in particular in heavy rotation on your music player of choice?
I just might do this every day. I really like knowing what you all are listening to, gives me ideas. Hopefully, my lists will give you some new music choices as well.
Also, gives me a chance to bitch about the crap that shows up on Launchcast.
Now playing:
11:40 Bauhaus - Bela Lagosi's Dead. Holy shit, this song never ends. How the hell did I dance (ok, move around drunkenly)to this entire song back in the day without falling dead from boredom or exhaustion? I thought this song was genius back then. Yea, maybe if you cut in half. It's like prog rock for goths.
1:37 and back from lunch: Scorpions - Still Loving You. I wish I wasn't sitting in my office right now because I want to belt this one out as if my heart depended on it.
2:07 Everclear - Santa Monica. The only Everclear song I can listen to without wanting to cock punch Art Alexis.
It's all over now
Imagine that someone starts telling you a story. It's a made up story, one you've never read in a book before. He tells you the tale in installments, a little at a time - maybe he starts in the middle and then later on fills you in on the beginning. Imagine that he takes 28 years to tell you the whole story. How do you feel when it finally ends, when he closes the book and says it's over?
I am suffering from PSWDD (Post Star Wars Depression Disorder). I realized this morning that it is really, finally over. Sure, there will be books and comics and possibly tv shows. But the movies, the big screen excitement, is all done.
In 1998 we had a fish named Boba Fett. Boba got sick and we flushed him down the toilet. I told the kids that it was just like Boba Fett going into the Sarlacc pit and that someday he, too, might find his way out.
Yes, my obsession runs deep (though not deep enough to be Level 3). But it's about more than naming fish after the characters or spending $120 on a lightsaber. It's about the story.
This fairy tale, this space opera, this swashbuckling adventure or whatever you want to call it has been slowly unraveled over the course of 28 years. In the time since I first laid my eyes on an imperial star destroyer until last week when the final credits to Revenge of the Sith rolled down the screen, the world has changed. My life has changed numerous times. I graduated high school, went to college, got married, had two kids, got divorce, got married again, bought a house. I grew up. And even with the long gaps in between chapters, I never forgot about it and never let it go. Sure, I put my Burger King Luke Skywalker glasses away and the Vader helmet collected dust in the attic, but the stories themselves never left my heart. Like I've done with the books I have loved over time, I kept the characters in my heart and mind because their stories were interwoven with my life. Yoda and Han were right in there with Kay from The Snow Queen or Lucy, Edmond and Peter. And just as I was saddened when I closed the last of the Narnia books, I am a bit sad now, that a story so long in the making and so glorious in its telling has come to an end.
It's like someone just walked into a room and said "Ok, time to put the toys away and grow up now!" No, I don't want to. You can't make me.
I'm having a serious case of PSWDD. I hate the sound (imagined or not) of a good book slamming closed.
Name That Band Who Names That Band!
An interesting segue of songs presented itself on the iPod during this morning's commute:
Brand New - Mix Tape
Bloodhound Gang - Your Only Friends Are Make Believe
Ben Folds Five - Battle of Who Could Care Less
Now, what do these songs have in common (despite the obvious 'all the bands begin with B' thing)?
They all mention other bands in their lyrics.
Brand New: I'm sick of your tattoos and they way you always criticize the Smiths, and Morrisey
BHG: Eat spam from the can, watch late night C-Span, rock out to old school Duran Duran
BFF: See I've got your old ID, and you're all dressed up like The Cure
Which got me thinking, what are some other songs like this, where the artists mentions other bands/musicians in the lyrics?
Update: I was thinking more along the lines of songs that insert a band/musician in an irreverent way, like above, and not as part of a shout-out (or a shout-down).
May 24, 2005
File under...
You have got to fucking be kidding me.
Burger King better not cave. And if they do, it better not be until I ge every last one of those toys. There will be wrath. There will be protests. There will be Star Wars rage.
I am so out of control. But don't be alarmed. The same thing happened in '99 and I came out of it ok.
random camera phone picture/jedi madness
Calvacade of Crap: Wal-Mart, East Meadow, NY
3 for $11. I couldn't find three worth that chump change. Who knew there were so many bad movies out there?
Yea, I feel another list coming on.
Ok, so I bought TWO MORE BOXES OF CEREAL. And I got two red light/spoon saber things. I am obsessed. I must have the green. MUST. HAVE. GREEN. SPOONSABER.
Cereal for dinner
Cereal for lunch
Cereal for breakfast
Ceral for brunch
Cereal at every single meal,
Why can't we have some guts?
OI! OI! OI!
They'll eat it and like it. I don't care if they start bleeding Apple Jacks and shitting Corn Pops, we will keep eating cereal until I get the green one.
A pointless post for a midafternoon work break
So, what are you listening to? Right now or in general will do.
on the Ipod right now - Korn, BBK
----
1:24 Pink Floyd, Welcome to the Machine on my Yahoo Launchcast station. I forgot how this song puts me to sleep after the first three minutes.
1:36 Minor Threat, Think Again (which I rated down because there comes a point in your life when Minor Threat just doesn't do it for you anymore)
1:45: The Starting Line, The Best of Me. You know, I have to stop letting my daughter sign in to my Launch station if she's going to rate up this craptastic crappity crap.
1:56: Days of the New, Touch Peel and Stand: What ever happend to this band? I thought this album was kinda spiffy.
2:06 Thunderkiss '65, White Zombie: greatest fucking driving song EVER
3:05: Soul Asylum, Runaway Train. This band is ass cakes with ass frosting. Rated down to NEVER PLAY AGAIN
3:27: Bon Jovi - Blaze of Glory And I am SINGING. My son is slowly backing away.
3:35 Black Sabbath - Fairies Wear Boots - Woooo! Best BS song EVAR!
5:22: Question, Moody Blues - Oooohhh haven't heard this one in a while. I love this song. So...timely for a song from 1970.
and for those who watch AI, there's a survey/poll over here. And don't forget about Les. Have you read Les today?
Payless Hates Canadians!
I went to Payless yesterday to get a pair of sandals. They are having a promo to tie in to the Madagascar craze, and they gave out scratch-off game cards, prizes redeemable starting next month. I threw mine in the bottom of my bag. Bonnie, my co-worker, actually read her game piece, including the fine print.
I've attached a really bad photo of the card just to prove that I'm not lying. You can't see it that well, so I'll write here what it says.
Canadian residents only: To receive any prize or discount, you must first correctly answer, unaided in any way, the math skill-testing quesiton below.
Question: Add 22+16; then subtract 18; then multiply by 8; then divide by 2. Answer________________________________.
I shit you not. WTF? Someone please explain the necessity of this to me.
i love it here. i hate it here.
[This took me forever to do. Forever, I tell you. So you will click on each of the photo links and then you'll tell me how reading this post was the most riveting experience of your entire life. Or not. But just know that it took me forver.]
Long Island, Long Island, it's a hell of a town, where the prices are up but the crime rate's down...
Forbes Magazine has named Long Island as the safest place to live. Yet out of 150 cities/town, it ranked 142 out of 150 in cost of living, making it one of the most expensive places to live. [via Late Final]
Such is the give and take with this place, which I have come to have an intense love/hate relationship with, a place that I will never, ever leave.
So what keeps me here on Long Island, in a place where I can barely afford to live, where the house we bought one year ago this week cost nearly half a million dollars and sucks us dry with property and school taxes? What keeps me here despite the slow crawl to work - a 12 minute commute turned into a 40 minute nightmare on some days?
I'll tell you. In a photo essay.
First, there's my family. My parents, my sisters, aunts and uncles and cousins. I grew up with my cousins as my best friends, my kids now have the same. A short walk around the block and there are ten kids, all related, ready to play baseball or swimming or just hang out and play video games. It's a benefit that cannot be outweighed by anything, not even rural night skies or wide country lanes or peaceful nights without the honking of horns and the sounds of sirens disturbing the sleep.
It's the four distinct seasons with blizzard-like snowstorms and thunderous summer rains and autumn trees that light the sky on fire. It's the snow days when everyone in town gathers in the same spot and we watch our kidsslide down the same hill that we tumbled down as children. It's the familiar faces at school, the music teacher that has been there since time began, the way the cashier at Burger King remarks on how much your son has grown, the way your neighbors and the local deli clerk and the postman all show up at the funeral of your grandfather.
We are in the middle of nowhere if we want to be, but in the middle of everything should we desire it.
We are a pleasant drive from the tip of Long Island, where we can see beautiful sunsetsand wave to passing boats. We are ten minutes from the beach, where we can swim in the Atlantic ocean until sunset and watch as the sky turns a hundred shades of beautiful.
Long Island has its own museums, its own places of beauty and reverence, a whole history to explore and nature trails to walk. Aquariums, arboretums, bird sanctuaries and miles and miles of beaches, parks and wood all lay before us.
People stay here. My kids go to school with children of the people I went to school with. This is not a town that people pack up and leave in a hurry when they get married and start families. We are grounded here. We are settlers.
I love it here. I hate thetraffic, I hate the cost of living, I hate the way strip malls have permeated the highways and barely a tree standing. But I love it here.