See end of article for my thoughts....

I stumbled across this "gem" today on msn. I can't believe this kind of horseshit is still being offered up as "sensible advice" for unmarried people. While some of it is just everyday common sense stuff that I'll readily agree with--yes, changing your sheets regularly is good, and it's nice for everyone if we keep the amount of time spent in the shower to under 45 minutes (water conservation, anyone?) some of these other "relationship-defying quirks" (ugh) that this Bob Strauss asshat has helpfully tagged for us single folk like "aimless whistling" (!) don't even make sense. I think the adjective he was grasping for here was "incessant", but what do I know? Anyway, read this if you think you have the stomach for it, and I'll be back later when I have more time to organize a worthy response. In the meantime, feel free to post your comments. I'm hoping that I'm not the only one who finds this article inane and offensive.

7 habits you need to break
By Bob Strauss

If you've been living alone for the past few years, odds are you've developed some habits that just might (to phrase it politely) strike the new guy or gal in your life as somewhat strange. Changing deeply entrenched behavior takes time and effort, so even if you're convinced the polar ice caps will melt before you meet someone, fall in love, get married and move in together, you might want to start the process by identifying these relationship-defying quirks:

45-minute showers: There's nothing like steaming up the entire bathroom on a chilly spring morning-except, that is, when there's someone outside waiting to do his or her business. If you're a guy, you can kiss these ablutionary marathons goodbye — and if you're a gal, well, you'll have to cut them back to half an hour, tops.
Spoiled pets: Strict disciplinarian that you are, you're perfectly fine with Bonkers the dog snarfing your Wheaties in the morning, and it's just so cute when Cleavis the cat curls up in the kitchen sink for a nap. Even if he's a pet lover, your boyfriend will be horrified. Show the beasts who's boss — if nothing else, it'll be good practice for your love life.
"Casual Sunday" Dragging yourself out of bed at 2 PM, trudging around the house all afternoon in your bathrobe, brushing your teeth over the six o'clock news and only taking a shower after dinner — unless your new beau is as laid-back (read: as big a slob) as you are, all that will soon be as extinct as the dust bunnies under your bed.
All TV, all the time: When you've been alone for a while, the TV can seem almost like a live-in companion — you may not even notice its intrusive blare 24 hours a day. Your real live-in companion, however, is likely to take heed. Be sure to turn the tube off occasionally, lest he put an axe through it first.
Pretzels in bed: As long as no one's watching, that queen-size mattress might as well be an enormous dinner table (guys are especially partial to this habit — it has something to do with getting yelled at by mom). Keep it to the kitchen, thank you, and while we're on the subject, try to clean your sheets once every few months, too. Aimless whistling: This is an especially insidious habit, because most itinerant whistlers aren't even aware what they're doing — until, that is, they notice the people around them desperately trying to claw open windows and jump out. On the other hand, if your new squeeze is an incorrigible hummer, the two of you just might be made for each other.
Lack of silverware: This one's especially for the men — After a certain age, a guy resigns himself to the fact that he doesn't need full dining-room service for four — one or two plates, an enormous bowl, and a knife and spork will do just fine (as well as make washing dishes a less onerous task). If you suspect a romance is in your future, invest in table settings for at least two. And if you think it'll be a really serious romance, go crazy and buy three or four.

Gee, good thing there are people out there like Bob Strauss to explain to me why I can't "catch a man." I especially like how he makes sure to put everything in the socially acceptable order, "before you meet someone, fall in love, get married and move in together," like that's the way it's always done. Maybe I'm just being needlessly nitpicky (no!), but how old is this Bob Strauss anyway? Has he been "out there" in the trenches since the Depression? Because I take umbrage with a 75-year-old freelance writer dispensing dating advice to us young whippersnappers. Seems sort of like a nun who wants to teach you how to give better handjobs. Even if this dude is some kind of "expert," I'd question the validity of anyone who claims to be an expert on dating and relationships, no matter what their credentials are. Trust me, when it comes to relationships--nobody has a fucking clue. Not women, not men, not even Dr. Phil and Oprah. That goes for both gay and hetero pairings, conventional marriages, one-night stands, cybersex partners, cellmates, anonymous encounters through a hole in the wall--everything. Whether or not you end up finding "the right one" for any of the aforementioned scenarios is a matter of dumb, random luck and how much you're willing to raise or lower your standards. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Also, his use of the word "hummer." Nothing really to add to that, just thought I'd point it out.

R.I.P.

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Why did it take me over a week to get this news? I blame the Pope and Terry Schiavo.

Paul Hester

1959 - 2005

I'm going home to drink now.

Daylight Savings Time Is Stoopid

I'm from Indiana, which is one of two or three states (I think Arizona and Hawaii are the others) that don't observe Daylight Savings Time. We never have to change the clocks in Indiana. While everyone else is falling back or springing forward, Indiana doesn't have to do shit. I never appreciated this when I lived in Indiana. I always thought, as many others seem to, that it was another symptom of our great state being out of touch with the rest of the country.

Now that I live in Minnesota, however, I'm finding that I couldn't have been more wrong about the whole Daylight Savings thing. It's a big pile of horseshit, and it really sucks this time of year when we have to lose an hour and get up earlier and everything is fucked (I'm not a morning person, obviously) and half the clocks at work have the new "correct" time and the other clocks in the building never get reset, which somhow seems to make my workday even longer. And I don't understand the people that are in support of Daylight Savings, who say "but you get a whole extra hour of daylight in the evenings!" which is dumb too, because by the summer time the days are longer anyway, so who gives a crap? See? Stoopid.

And also--contrary to popular belief about Daylight Savings Time benefitting the farmers or the field workers or the cows (or whatever crap people have been fed over the years)--the "real" reason Daylight Savings Time is observed is because of golfers. At least, that's what Anna says, and she read this in the Wall Street Journal, which she swears by. I do have some doubts about this theory, but I kind of want the golfing thing to be true because it would support my new stance on Daylight Savings Time, which is that it's a great big load of horseshit. And if golfing--a bullshit sport if there ever was one (except for mini golf. Mini golf rules!)--is behind this whole worthless time change thing than I propose that every non-golfer in every state (Indiana, Arizona and Hawaii notwithstanding) make up our own damn rules and set the clocks for whatever time we damn well feel like.

That would mean I wouldn't be at work til around 11 every morning, which would be awesome.

Sign this petition and while you're at it, tell the Canadian government how much they suck!

Photos from the Duran Duran show at the Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul -- 3/22/05. The only other time I'd seen D2 live was in 1987 (July 7th at Market Square Arena). So officially I'd been waiting eighteen years to see them again. Babies have been born, grown up, hit puberty and graduated high school during that time, (not that I've been keeping track or anything). 

Me before the concert (the only time my butt touched the chair). 

Early on in the show--Simon looking dapper in a suit (great lighting effects--didn't translate well to my cheap film). 

Simon belts out The Reflex (always a crowd pleaser). I ran up to the front of the stage to take this. 

Another Reflex photo. 

Simon singing Girls On Film (the second time I ran up to the front of the stage)--check out the security guard giving me the stink-eye. Later, I kicked his geriatric ass! YEAH! Who else wants a piece? 

During "Careless Memories" (that song SMOKES!) they had this cool Japanese anime sequence of the band where they portrayed action hero versions of themselves, defending the audience from Godzilla and some evil ninja dudes. Awesome! 

Simon and John singing (Onscreen: said ninja dudes)  

End of anime sequence. 

This Is So Gay

My random thoughts on Season 2 of The L Word so far....

Shane: I HATE her new hair. She used to be cute. I hope it grows out soon.

Bette: She rocks. I like how she's kind of guy-ish in her actions (for some sick reason I don't understand).

Alice: I like her hair more this season. The thing between her and Dana is not believable at all, though. Those two have no chemistry together (besides the friendship). However, I'm all in favor of anything that gets Dana away from her bitch girlfriend (it's so perfect that her name is Tonya. I don't think anyone who lived through the '90s can disassociate that name from that white trash knee-whackin' psychotic figure skater). Anyway, I hope they get rid of that troll soon. She's evil! She let Dana's cat die! (Kill her!!!! Please!!!!)

Jenny: looks better than she did last season, but she still needs to eat a damn sandwich already.

Tina: looks better now that she's pregnant, and she's becoming less boring.

Kit: severely bores me.

Carmen: cute but dull.

Helena: haven't fully formed an opinion on her. So far, she kind of bugs because her British accent sounds fake, (even though that actress is actually British).

Marina: glad she and Francesca are gone. They both suck. Good riddance.

Also....I'm pissed that they brought in that stupid creepy guy with the video camera (can't be bothered to look up his name). If they needed a penis on the show so badly, they should have kept Tim around. If Jenny does the nasty with Camera Boy, the small smidgen of respect I have for her will go right out the window. And Camera Boy's friend is a dweeb and a half. Seriously, I know they're trying to portray Camera Boy as edgy and mysterious, but how cool can he be if he hangs out with that dorkwad?

And the new theme song. Who decided it needed a theme song? It's not a damn sitcom, for Christ sake. It makes the show seem cheesy and generic, which it's not. I loved the old opening with the cool techno music. What happened?

All that aside, I'm still The L Word's bitch. It's still an awesome show and I'm so glad that for once something I like has become a hit (usually that never happens).

Recently I went shopping at Best Buy for my nephew's birthday present (he just turned 3). I was looking for The Muppet Movie on DVD, but they didn't have it. I got him The Muppets Take Manhattan instead--it's inferior to the original, if I remember my muppet movies correctly--but still a good one. It may be a few years before he's able develop a full appreciation for the muppets, but I figure this will give him a good start.

While I was browsing the DVD offerings at Best Buy, I was shocked to see how many bad TV shows are being lovingly recycled into multi-disc DVD sets. I mean, Punky fucking Brewster? Who's the Boss? Saved By the Bell? Married With Children? Holy shit. I can't believe that there was a demand big enough for any of these to warrant a DVD boxed set. What's next, Small Wonder: The Lost Episodes (with Director's Commentary)?

And still, MTV has yet to release The State.
There is no justice in this world.

First day of spring! Okay, not technically (especially in Minnesota, where you don't begin to see any green until about the end of April), but dammit, it's March and that's close enough for me. And anyway, along about St. Patrick's Day I get that thing where I refuse to wear my winter coat anymore. I'll half-ass it with just a scarf, mittens, cap and a light jacket if I have to, but no heavy-ass wool coat. In a way, I suppose I'm a little like that one lame guy that you inevitably see decked out in shorts and a T-shirt the moment the temperature rises above 40, and everyone's like, "look at that dumbass in the shorts." I feel sort of a kinship with that guy. Well, once a year, anyway.

I had my friend Linda over on Sunday night to watch the Oscars. Was anyone else majorly disappointed in Chris Rock? I mean, I thought his material was good overall, but except for the very beginning of the show and that bit where he interviewed people at the movie theatre, dude was MIA for most of it. Scarlett Johanson's hair got more airtime than he did. I'm thinking that the Powers That Be were afraid to give him too much rein, so they made sure to limit his time. I think most of the people who tuned in wanted to see Rock snark on celebrities and all the Hollywood bullshit. I mean, I'm a movie geek and would have watched the Oscars no matter who was hosting, but I still have a sense of humor about it and would have loved to see someone skewer sacred Oscar cows like Nicole Kidman and Jack Nicholson and Warren-always in the front row-Beatty and his boring, overacting wife. But I don't think the show (as well as the institution) has much of a sense of humor, so there you go. My favorite moment was actually the shot of Tim Robbins in the audience cracking up over the the joke Chris Rock made about him and his politics (see? He has a sense of humor!). Least favorite moment: the lame routine he did with Adam Sandler. I think it was supposed to seem spontaneous and ad-libbed but was so stiff and just painfully unfunny, much like Sandler himself. (I'm sorry, he's not funny. I liked Punch Drunk Love and I have a soft spot for The Wedding Singer, but I'm never forgiving him for Mr. Deeds OR The Waterboy. Those are four hours of my life that I will never get back and I am still unreasonably bitter about). Also, WTF was up with having Beyonce (fuck her--I'm not doing the stupid pretentious accent mark over the e) sing every damn song? Her agent must be fucking the Academy president. Or blackmailing him, or maybe both. As for the awards, I knew it didn't have a chance, but I really wanted Sideways to win Best Picture. I love love LOVE that movie. I was glad to see they at least gave it the mercy-fuck Best Adapted Screenplay award. But they couldn't even nominate Paul Giamatti for Best Actor, which was a travesty. He was robbed!

More Academy Award reflections tomorrow--I'm not even halfway done yet!

Finally, an Indy Star review that I agree with...(thanks for this Marcus!)
http://www.indystar.com/articles/9/224333-8929-062.html

Saw the Finn Brothers last week at the Vogue in Indy with Marcus and Aggie (I posted about it before--got cranky because the post didn't turn out right, and deleted it). So here's my update again....

Fabulous concert. It was shorter than the one I saw here in Minneapolis, but it was a more pared down, intimate show and since it was the Vogue, we were able to get close to the stage (within spitting distance--or perhaps panty-slinging distance). It was only a three man show (as in Crowded House days)...Neil, and Tim plus a bass player, who I think was also named Tim. They did a lot of the same stuff off their current album (including my favorite, Edible Flowers, which sounds phenomenal live). They did a fair number of Crowded House stuff as well (most notably Don't Dream It's Over, which they avoided the first time I saw them). They also did a good bit of material from Woodface, including Weather With You--a song that I was never crazy about but one that Marcus finally talked me into liking (you had to be there).

Afterwards Marcus, Aggie and I did the groupie thing of course and had them sign autographs by the tour bus. They didn't hang out as long as they did over the summer in MN, but it probably had more to do with the ass-clenching February cold than anything else.

Neil and me take two: Same picture from before, but if you look closely, it's now autographed (I had him sign the pic of us from Minneapolis at the Indy show).  

Somebody please help.

I need to be restrained from kicking the shit out of yet another stupid parent. Progress reports were mailed out this week, and this mother just came to me with a gripe about her son's religious service attendance, which is marked on the progress report. There is a minimum service attendance that varies with each grade, and every time a student attends a service, he or she is supposed to record it in the book that is provided on the lecturn right outside the sanctuary, so that when progress reports are mailed out, we can look through the book and tally up each student's attendance to make sure they are coming to services.

Not exactly rocket science, is it?

Apparently, it is for this mother who just visited me. Either that, or she's too fucking lazy to make her kid record his service attendance.

She began by saying that there is a problem with her son's progress report, because when the family comes to services they don't mark it down in the book.

"We don't do the book," she told me.

I gave her a blank look.

"We just never mark it down. It's too much trouble."

I gave her a "you've got to be kidding me with this shit" look.

I finally said, "Well, if you don't mark the attendance down in the book, we have no way of knowing if he's coming to services or not. I really don't know what else to tell you."

"Should I talk to (education department head) about this?" she asked.

"Well, yeah--you can, but she'd probably just tell you the same thing."

"Okay, I'll send her an email." she said brightly, and walked away.

If another parent fucking asks me this, I'm going to laugh at them. Yes I will. Loudly and inappropriately, just to convey how much of a stupid, lazy, worthless waste of space I think they are.

And the Rabbi's wife is a bitch. She's been a bitch to me since I first started here, and I've never figured out why. I'm beginning to think she's the type of woman who sees other women as a threat. Don't ask me why, it's just the vibe I get from her. Maybe she thinks I want her husband. Of course, what girl wouldn't lust after a hunka hunka burnin' love like her husband? All hot and horny 5'3" and 108 pounds of him (barf). Christ, give me a break. She can shove it sideways.

Speaking of shoving it, I was talking to Michael on the phone the other day, and he taught me some Hebrew. He lived on a kibbutz in Israel when he was in his early twenties, and since people came from all over to work on the kibbutz, everyone had to learn Hebrew so they'd have one language in common and would be able to communicate with one another. The phrase he taught me? I have no idea how to write it in Hebrew, so here it is phoenetically:

Leck la tease da dain be vock a shaw.

Has a nice ring, doesn't it? It means "Go fuck yourself please." It's a phrase that would come in handy for me, obviously, but also for anyone who'd like the satisfaction of telling someone off without the possibility of getting your ass kicked. (Unless the person in question understands Hebrew, which is unlikely unless you work at a Temple or live in New York). I'm guessing that I could actually use that phrase without getting my ass kicked, considering that I'm taller and fitter than over half the congregants here. But I'd probably get shit canned pretty quickly, so I couldn't really use it unless I had a back up plan or had just won the lottery.

But you know I would.

Dammit cock shit asshole fuck.

I'm not a happy unit today. I had to take my car in because it's been doing a weird shaking/rattling/vibrating thing for the last few weeks. The guy at Saturn took about 2 hours to figure it out while I sat in the waiting room drinking bad coffee and reading Entertainment Weekly. Then he brings me out to the service area and tells me (in an upbeat tone) that my struts are fucked and that's what's causing the problem, and that "amazingly" the struts aren't covered by the service plan that I purchased when I bought the car. He rambled on and on and on and I cut him off and just said, "So how much?" and he shuffled his papers and hemmed and hawed (I fucking hate when mechanics do that. Cut the crap and tell me how much money you'll be extorting). He tells me that it will be "just under $300" (wow! It's a fucking bargain!) so I think a moment, and then say, "Well, I don't have the money to write a check, and I don't want to use my credit card, so what are my options?" Okay, I know that sounds like a lame ass thing to say, but it's Saturn, and I've been a customer forever and I always pay and I always get my oil changed on time (part of my service agreement) and all that crap. And they're not your ordinary car company, or so they claim, so I'm thinking that just this one time they can throw me a bone and let me pay half now and half next month or SOMETHING because I really thought that this shaking vibrating bullshit was to do with my alignment which IS covered by my service agreement. So the mechanic does that "let me ask my manager bullshit" and goes around the corner into the office area and returns after a moment and I know damn well he didn't talk to his "manager", all he did was like scratch his balls or pick his nose for 30 seconds and then come back. He then informs me that "we don't do that anymore," so I tell him, "Let me think about it" (like that'll make any difference), go back to the waiting area, take a look at my checkbook, get depressed, return to the garage and tell him that I'll pay half by credit card and half by check, and he's cool with that (like he has a choice) and I spend the rest of the day fantasizing about finding the salesman who talked me into buying the expensive service agreement and kicking him square in the nuts.

And on top of all that, I'm premenstrual.

Last night I had a dream about Liev Schreiber. It was a very odd dream; I was at some retreat or commune or something, and there were like three couples (people I was friends with in the dream, but who don't exist in my real life). Along with me and the couples (I guess I was on my own) there was an older hippie black woman who was very quiet and who didn't like me for some reason. She kept following me around and doing weird shit, although I can't remember exactly what she was doing. I think at one point we all went swimming or hot-tubbing or something. So Liev was half of one of the couples, and he kept flirting with me. It was very subtle, chaste flirting, but I could tell he wanted me. Oh yes he did. I really wanted to make a move, but I felt guilty and conflicted because I was friends with his girlfriend, (whoever she was). I don't think she suspected anything, but I never did get much time alone with Liev because everyone else was always around. I can't really remember what else happened, except that it ended sort of ambiguously and Liev and I never got it on, dammit.

This is Liev. He is one of my favorite actors and he starred in one of my all-time favorite movies Walking and Talking. He is an amazing actor who's been in so many movies but remains (sadly) unappreciated and relatively unknown by the masses. If you've never seen it, rent RKO 281, the movie about the making of Citizen Kane. He plays Orson Welles, and he kicks major ass! Such a great performance. I lurve him.

I get to see I Heart Huckabees tonight for a dollar (playing at the cheapie theatre). Yay!

So, everyone broken up over the Brad/Jen split? No? Me neither. But I have (of course) been spending time over at fametracker, and I found something hilarious that I might as well share. (A bit of background info before you click, the rumor is that Brad had phone sex with Angelina Jolie). Why the hell do I know this? Oh yeah, fametracker.

I have a new obsession, (thanks to Mike, who gifted me with the enitre first season on DVD). It's called The L Word, and I'm ridiculously addicted. A few years ago I got hooked on Queer As Folk, but I found myself losing interest midway through the third season because I got sick of watching Brian being a slut and Michael being a geek (even though I still love Hal Sparks) and Melanie and Lindsay, the most boring lesbian couple ever and Michael's obnoxious mom with the stupid wig didn't help matters. So now I'm all about The L Word. It's more than just a guilty pleasure type of show--it's very well written and well acted and, as I mentioned, unbelievably addictive. I've already watched every DVD of the first season, and now I'm going back and watching the commentary (yes, I'm being that dorky about it). My favorite characters are (in order from most favorite to least favorite):

1. Alice and Shane (tie)
2. Dana
3. Bette (Jennifer Beals rules)
4. Jenny (she's growing on me)
5. Kit
6. Tina
7. Marina (I liked her better at the beginning)
8. Tim

I have a lot of anxiety now because the second season doesn't start until Feb. and I don't have cable and I have to find someone who does and get them hooked on the show so I can either a.) watch it with them or b.) sweet talk them so they'll tape it for me.

Also, I really hope that it's not one of those shows that starts out awesome in the first season and then starts sucking. I'm trying to restrain myself from reading the second season spoilers, but I do know that Marina gets killed off or something and Tim isn't coming back. Beyond that, I don't want to know a damn thing! Ignorance is bliss.

So rent or buy the first season of The L Word, and if you like it email me and we can gossip. Because I'd so much rather do that than actual work, which I should be doing now.

I'm baa-aaack. Hope everyone had a Merry Holiday Season, as I did, and that you didn't miss me too much while I was busy slacking on my posts. I get kinda bummed when the holidays are over, because there is absolutely NOTHING else to look forward to until springtime, (which begins in March in Indiana, but here in Minnesota it could be April or May until we see any kind of greenery).

I've decided to make some lists, because I don't feel like thinking too much today and lists are something I can do without much thought or effort. So here goes nothing....

My lists for 2004--a retrospective.

Best shopping discovery (stores): Cliche, located in Uptown (the Minneapolis equivalent of the Mass Ave. area in downtown Indianapolis, for my fellow Hoosiers). Cliche is AWESOME. It has cool T-shirts ("babydoll/girl-fitted" T-shirts in wearable sizes, which I love), as well as incredibly hip dresses, skirts, pants, shorts, coats, etc. etc. etc. I found the store on my own one day in September, I wandered in because of the Summer Clearance sign in the window and fell in love. I scored an awesome dark olive green courderoy mini-skirt that I am still wearing even in the ass-clenching cold because it looks cool with the every color of tights that I have (I'm on a tights kick--they're hip, they keep your legs warm, and they last much longer than pantyhose). This dark olive green courderoy mini-skirt also manages to go with every T-shirt, sweater, top, etc. that I own, and it only cost me $8. I also found a cute black babydoll T-shirt with a Sanrio-like character on the front for $6, and a jaw-droppingly awesome red satin Asian dress (with the high Oriental collar, short sleeves, etc.) that was exactly my size and on clearance for $18! When I was out Christmas shopping last month with my friend Linda we took a detour to Cliche and she found a vintage floral dress for under $30 and I found a fitted pink fuzzy retro argyle sweater for $15. THIS STORE RULES.

Also, I love Heavenly Soles--also located in Uptown. It has incredibly cool, funky shoes (most of them expensive, but you can usually find some good bargains). That's only half the store, though. The other half, for some reason, is filled with cool toys--the fun adult novelty kind (not that kind of adult stuff!) It's more like sock monkey keychains and smart-ass bumper stickers and candy cigarettes (kids--stay away!) and Bettie Paige coasters and cute purses. Whenever I go, I usually spend about two hours in there, and it's a relatively small store. Heavenly Soles also rules.

Third but not least is Dabble--not located in Uptown but in a smaller yet equally cool neighborhood--northeast Minneapolis, as close as you can get to St. Paul without being in St. Paul. Dabble is basically like Heavenly Soles without the shoes--just cool toys, purses and cards but it's much more girly than HS. It's an extremely tiny store but I can also easily kill about two hours in there, because it rules.

Best restaurant I discovered this year: Ecopolitan. Without a doubt. This is the one I went to on my birthday--the one in Uptown that's completely vegan and completely raw. The one that Anna hated and that I loved. I stand by my choice, and that's not just because I like the concept because I'm a big old hippie. Really, it's not.

Worst restaurant I discovered this year: Paisano's Pizzaria. I went to it because it's in my neighborhood and the pizza was recommended to me by someone at work as "the closest you can get to New York pizza in the Twin Cities." If that's true, then New York pizza sucks. The worst thing about this place is actually the service, which manages to be both non-existent and terrible at the same time, and they bring the food out to you on paper plates. Now, I'm not a snob by any stretch of the imagination, but I know paper plates, and the ones they use are the cheapest, flimsiest, shittiest ones--we're talking the Yorktown brand at the bottom of the shelf at the grocery store. On top of that, the pizza is way overpriced. Overpriced pizza on paper plates topped off by crappy service. That about sums up Paisano's.

Best coffee shop I discovered this year: Nina's, because it's right across from my apartment building, it's clean, it's classy, it's hip and while the coffee isn't the best in the city it has good mint tea and Garrison Keillor hangs out there. I haven't seen him there yet, but he mentions it twice in his latest book.

Best concert I saw in 2004: Holy shit, it has to be the Finn Brothers. The whole experience; the show itself, seeing Neil Finn in person, talking to Neil Finn, touching Neil Finn, getting an autograph from Neil Finn, taking a photo with Neil Finn, and not making a dork out of myself while in being in close proximity to Neil Finn. Tim Finn was cool, too--didn't mean to leave him out, but for me it's all about Neil.

Best book I read this year: The Anxiety of Everyday Objects by Auralie Sheehan. It disproves all the shit people (including me) say about "chick-lit," (which is something of a derogatory term in itself). A Girl Becomes A Comma Like That by Lisa Glatt is also quite worthy, and also qualifies as great chick-lit (which is not an oxymoron--and never was--as I was reminded this year).

Best album of 2004: I'm bestowing this honor on Duran Duran, by default. I've heard their new CD, (I own it, natch) but it's not their best, nor was I expecting it to be. Duran Duran will never sound the same as they did in 1984, (or even 1987, when they were still awesome even with just three of them). But the fact that all five original members are back together warms the cockles of my cold, jaded 31-year-old heart, and also, I've never gotten over my love for John Taylor. It's not a crush, it's not an obsession, it's not infatuation, people. Crushes, obsessions, infatuations, etc. don't last for twenty years. This is true love.

Best movie of 2004: Can't really choose a best one, because nothing stands out. I think the ones I liked the most (off the top of my head) were Fehrenheit 9/11 and Team America. I guess they're both in similar veins, although F9/11 was serious and Team America was a parody, although Michael Moore made an appearance in both. But there was puppet sex in Team America. Yes, puppet sex. See it.

There were other movies that I liked, but ya know, they didn't change my life or anything (and they definitely didn't feature puppet sex). I liked Alfie and Closer, because Jude Law was in both. I liked Spider Man 2. I liked um, crap, what else did I see? I know there's more, but I guess they weren't all that memorable. I have a feeling that if I would have actually gotten around to seeing Napolean Dynamite, Garden State, I Heart Huckabee's, Sideways and Ray, I'd be able probably name at least one of them as a favorite, but I didn't. Most of them are already out on DVD or will be soon, so I'll have to settle for that.

I can tell you, without a doubt, the WORST movie that I saw this year, however. It was The Stepford Wives, and it sucked. So unfunny, so lame, so badly acted, so badly written, and so boring on top of it all. Nicole Kidman, you fucking owe me for this one, along with Eyes Wide Shut from way back in 1999. Those two piece of shit movies comprise 5 1/2 hours of my life I'll never get back, and I'm holding you personally responsible, because I'm beginning to think that the fact that you starred in both is not just a coincidence. And furthermore, out of all the 5,000 movies you've made, the only good ones are To Die For and Moulin Rouge. The only good ones! And I want you to know that I didn't see Cold Mountain, even though Jude Law is in it. Hear that? And I still won't, even though Jude Law is in it. That's saying something, girlfriend.

So that's my list for 2004. Hope it was everything you thought it would be, whatever that was.

My public service announcement for today:
If you can help it, never take a job where you have to interact with parents of young children. While a lot of the parents I deal with are actually very nice and easy to work with--the parents that suck REALLY suck. They suck out loud. They suck on toast. They suck so hard they blow. I'm being redundant, but I don't really know a more eloquent way of putting it. Mostly because I'm pissed.

This bitch just comes in this morning (yes, I have to work on Sundays, which sucks in itself), ranting about how she didn't receive a flyer about the third grade program in the mail (don't ask--it's too boring to go into). I know for a fact that I mailed one out to this ho-bag, because I recognize her name and she gets all the mailings that go to third grade parents, but to try to correct the situation I gave her an extra copy of the flyer. That still didn't satisfy her, she kept harping on it, saying "I'd really like to get receive these things, you know, because it affects me." I just nodded and smiled, then she goes "Who's in charge of mailing these out, anyway." I said, very calmly, "I am, actually. And I know that I sent one out to you--I'm sorry that you didn't receive it." So she just sort of huffed and stomped away with her unibrow and her bitchface, because she's dumb. Then the executive director of the Temple, who's here with me on Sunday and who is awesome (can she be my boss? Please?) grabbed a copy of Bitch Woman's address and followed her down the hall. Exec. Director caught up with her and confirmed that we indeed had Bitchwad's correct address, we did send her a flyer, it's not our fault that she's too lazy to read her damn mail, and she needs to shut it. (I love Exec. Director).

I'm sure I haven't heard the last of Unibrowed Bitch though. Next time her mail mysteriously disappears, I'm sure she'll be marching her ugly ass straight to me to whine about it, at which time I will stick my foot so far up her ass she won't even enjoy it. Can I just say how sick I am of people like her, because they infest my workplace like cockroaches. They fuck up, forget something, get their wires crossed (or they're just plain stupid), but God forbid they take responsibility for anything. With Unibrow and her ilk, it's always someone else's fault, someone else screwed them over, their dog ate their mail, etc. etc. etc. It's like dealing with infants--infants who can walk and talk blame and everything's about MEMEMEMEMEME. Fuck 'em. I'm sick of it.

Oh, for crying out loud.

I have a few questions. First of all, Mandy Moore and Britney have been in the public consciousness for what, five years tops? And now it's time for them to start vomiting up Best of/Greatest Hits albums? What's next, a Lifetime Achievement award for Beyonce? (And at the risk of sounding like an old fogey who just doesn't "get it," I'd like to point out what a stupid name Beyonce is. Clearly, her parents were high). Also, Kelly Clarkson is still around? Ditto Clay Aiken (who?)? As for Jessica Simpson, (or J.Simp, as they call her over at Fametracker) she totally looks like a porn star on the cover of that Christmas album. I caught her Christmas "variety" special last week out of morbid curiousity. It was pretty damned hilarious, especially when she sang--that chick opens her mouth so wide she looks like a python trying to swallow a rabbit. (I wonder if her jaw comes unhinged, too? Icky thought.)

The good news is that Duran Duran, U2, Rod Stewart, Gwen Stefani and Elliott Smith (even though he's dead) all have new albums out, and Barenaked Ladies and Chris Isaak have just released holiday compilations, so there's at least a few options for oldsters like me this season. Not that I've bought any yet, but that's what gift certificates are for.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. Okay, here's the lowdown on why I missed posting on Saturday (1st anniversary of the blog), because I know people are all broken up about it.

My plan was to sneak in to work late Saturday afternoon when no one was here ('cause they gave me a key. SUCK-ERS!) but I drive into the parking lot and see not only the maintenance guy's truck--(no biggie, he doesn't give a turd)--but also the car belonging to one of the Big Cheese types here at the Temple. So I wimped out and didn't come in--and by that point the library (my other internet/computer source) was a half hour from closing time so I decided to scrap the whole plan. Just another glaring reminder that I NEED a laptop, dammit! I'm going to bite the bullet and do something drastic like sell my eggs or something to get the money for one. It's not a luxury anymore--it's become a necessity.

So next post I'll add the fun new feature to the blog (whatever that may be) and give a report on my (semi-eventful) weekend.

I just realized that tomorrow marks the first anniversary of this blog! I feel like marking the occasion in some way. Maybe by going out and getting drunk tonight? Just kidding. I'll probably do that anyway. Seriously though, I think I'll celebrate by adding a new feature to my blog. Something fun. Tune in tomorrow to see what it is.

SO cool.

Here's something funny for you. The Melissa Gilbert thing is good (an irrelevant side note...my ex Rick works at a restaurant in New Orleans, and he waited on Ms. Gilbert over the summer. He said she was incredibly nice. Told you it was irrelevant). My favorites snarks are the ones they do on Paris Hilton, Christina Aguilera, Mel Gibson and Britney (under "Recent"). Priceless.

Okay okay! My bad. I know now that Angelina Jolie plays Colin Farrell's mother in Alexander, not his love interest (which makes it even creepier and even funnier, really). The buzz on Alexander is bad, bad, bad. Apparently a very crappy and unintentionally hilarious flick. If that's the case, I might just have to see it. I won't shell out ten bucks, though--I'll wait for it to come to the dollar movies.

Alfie was enjoyable, for the most part. It was predictable and all, (what with his womanizing character getting a big emotional smack-down in the second half). But the acting was pretty good and I liked the ending--it wasn't your typical neat n' tidy happily ever after thing.

And Jude Law? HOT.

I'm going to see Alfie today, in spite of the bad reviews it's received. Bad reviews matter not when Jude Law is starring. I like looking at him. He's very pretty. Almost too pretty for my taste, but then there's that accent. I'm a sucker for a British accent. A British guy could tell me to fuck off and I'd probably still fall in love. I think it's Duran Duran's fault--they brainwashed me at an impressionable age.

After months of waiting, there are finally some movies out that I'm interested in seeing. There's also, of course, the usual crap I will never see, like Alexander. I don't like Colin Farrell. He doesn't do a damn thing for me and I'm tired of being told how "hot" he is. Ditto Angelina Jolie, who's apparently also in it. She's a bad actress. I don't know what the hell she's even doing in this film, but I'm guessing it's to fill the obligatory object of desire/love interest role, which is odd in and of itself because--and I think this has been fairly well documented--didn't Alexander the Great prefer young boys? I'm guessing that little facet of his personality has been conveniently glossed over for the big screen, hence the presence of A.J. and whatever she does besides (as the previews suggest) act with her lips, wear jewels on her head and say, "Alex-AHN-dahr, you are a great mahhhn." Please. I'll take Jude Law in a bad comedy any day over that mess. In fact, I'll take Jude Law AND Hugh Grant, with a side of fries to go. Thanks.

Hey y'all. I'd offer my opinion on the election results, but Serena (from N is for Neville...) did it way better than I could have, and what's more, I agree with her wholeheartedly. So I asked her if I could quote her on my blog, she gave her blessing, and here it is. (Forgive the digression. Next post will be business as usual. Promise.)

From Serena's blog:

My Worldview

The popular vote went to Bush. I greatly dislike him, so clearly this disturbs me. So much so that I cried last night. Sat on my couch and cried. Stupid Ohio. I'm trying to reconcile the fact that I have a basic faith in humanity with the fact that humanity just really pissed me off.
I’ve come to the conclusion that the majority of Americans and I do not share the same worldview.

In undergrad I learned about worldviews. These are basic core beliefs that color your outlook on the world. The way you interpret the chaos of the world around you is dependant upon your worldview. Every individual has one, and most times they are determined by the culture you are raised in. For example: a typical, Western world view is that it is every individual’s imperative to fight on the side of good against evil. Now, an Eastern worldview would instead believe that it is every individual’s imperative to maintain harmony and balance, with the concepts of good and evil not given any weight whatsoever.

In my opinion, George Bush's worldview is that the world is divided into two absolute categories: good and evil. For him, there is little to nothing in between. This basic belief motivates his behavior. Invading a country is clearly justified if its leader is evil. Taking away certain civil liberties with the Patriot Act is justified if you believe it will help to catch people who are evil. Banning gay marriage is justified if any marriage between anyone besides a man and a woman is evil. Because evil is bad. Absolutely. And therefore, anything you do to eradicate evil is good: the ends justify the means. A thousand dead American soldiers are unfortunate, but they are justified because their deaths contributed to the removal of an evil man from government.

This is the way I make sense of how Bush operates, and why he does the things he does. The world is good and bad. He is good. Saddam/terrorists are bad.
In my opinion, the world does not operate this way. In my opinion, absolute good and evil do not exist. The world is gray. It is scary and uncertain and full of many complicated layers which swirl around in a stew of ambiguity and make you want to pull the covers over your head. The amount of discomfort ambiguity creates is the reason why George Bush’s worldview resonates with so many people: it is easy. It makes you feel that you are safe. It makes you feel that you have identified the problem (the people who don’t like us are evil) and that solutions are on the way (get rid of them). It tells you who is good and who is bad and that you, clearly, are on the good side. Way to go.

But for me, there is no good side. There is no bad side. It is all subjective. And when it is all subjective the world becomes hard to define. It becomes difficult and messy. But it also becomes a place where all people have opinions and motivations and reasons for doing what they do. It is not because they are “evil”. “Evil” is not a motivating factor for anyone’s behavior. It is far more complicated than that, and thus harder to diagnose. When it’s harder to diagnose, it’s harder to fix. Or, possibly impossible to fix. Instead of something to battle against, it becomes a part of the human condition. But this does not console people who are afraid. This does not convince people that they are safe. This is not an effective campaign platform. But, for me, it’s the truth.

No one can protect a country from terrorism. You can make terrorism less easy, but you can never make it impossible. You can never kill every single terrorist. What you can do is attempt to create a global environment that does not breed the kind of intense fundamentalism that fuels terrorism. However, announcing yourself as “good” and another whole group of people as “evil” fosters conflict. Reassures the voters, but fosters conflict. Perpetuates it. Stokes the fire. When you believe that you are good, and the people you are fighting against believe that they are good, war is the only option available.

This is why I dislike Bush. This is also why I think he won.

Canada, anyone?

Before the party: my fancy bejeweled pumpkin (decorated by moi) eagerly awaits the guests' arrival. 

Little Red Riding Hood kicks back with Michelle. 

Cesar Chavez (Elizabeth), Johnny Ramone (Jason) and Shelby discuss current events. 

Hangin' in the kichen: Anna, Mario and Alex. 

Michelle, Me, Mario. (Check out my monkey!) 

Anna enjoying some chips and salsa. 

Jason does a little comedy with the monkey. 

I'm pretty hammered by this point. I'm also making the peace sign. I know not why. 

Feeling absolutely no pain at this point.

Johnny Ramone + Little Red Riding Hood 

Stockings. It's all about the stockings.  

The morning after: Riley gets a little lovin' from the monkey (HOT MONKEY LOVE!) 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Okay, I know I'm a little early, but I'm having a Halloween party tomorrow night!! Woo hoo! I wanted to have my party this weekend, so I wouldn't be competing with other parties that will be going on next weekend. I've gotten quite a few RSVPs, so I think I'll have a good turnout. I was out shopping for party supplies and other Halloween festoonery til 11 PM last night, then stayed up til 2 cleaning and sprucing up my apartment. Tonight, I decorate!

I've decided to be Pippi Longstocking. I've got my costume all together (except for the monkey. Must buy a monkey! Not a real one, of course....) My friend Jason is coming as Johnny Ramone, and Linda is dressing up as Little Red Riding Hood. I hope everyone else comes in costume, and that none of those "This IS my costume" T-shirts will be in attendence. I made it BYOB too, just to cut costs. Anna is bringing a dish and Jason is bringing a dessert, and I am providing the appetizers and other assorted munchies. That means Bagel Bites and chips and salsa all around! Actually I got these cute little miniature pizza pocket things--a little classier than Bagel Bites. And organic salsa, which makes all the difference.

I'll post the party pics this weekend.

I'm still stuck at work, slaving away on the monthly bulletin while my eyes glaze over and my brain begins slowly leaking out of my ears. But enough with that, I need a break.

I saw that Marcus mentioned Xanadu in his last post over on Waye's World. It was a film that he and I rented for one of our bad movie nights back in the day; a film that--coincidentally--I recently re-watched. (Yes, psychotropic drugs were involved. Why do you ask?) Anyhoo, I realized that Xanadu makes a lot more sense when you're baked, something that most people who've seen the film have probably figured out long ago. I've also heard that if you watch Xanadu with a candle burning, you will see your entire future. (Almost Famous reference--email me if you don't get it.)

Maybe I should clarify my earlier point--Xanadu doesn't actually make more sense when you're high, it's that you notice things that you probably normally wouldn't. Like how much Sonny (played by Michael Beck, the film's "dashing" leading man) looks like a less-cute Andy Gibb, and how he totally rollerskates like a girl. Actually, that's an insult to kick-ass roller derby chicks everywhere. Scratch that. I meant to say that Sonny rollerskates like a guy trying hard to look like he doesn't rollerskate like a girl. And he skates into a brick wall, too. (But that's a big plot point...I shouldn't give too much away). Needless to say, he sucks. But his suckiness is just one of the many things that makes Xanadu so awesomely bad.

You have, as Marcus alluded to in his post, Gene Kelly on rollerskates. I know, but bear with me here. Gene Kelly totally steals this film. He acts, dances and--yes--rollerskates circles around Michael Beck and Miss Olivia, literally and figuratively. Although Beck's character is supposedly the "dreamy" (gag!) hero, Gene Kelly is the one with the charm and the sex appeal (and dude was pushing 70 at the time!).

And Olivia? So pretty, but so, so vapid. I liked her clothes, though. And she at least seemed pretty comfortable in the glittery disco montage scene at the end (if only because she was in her natural habitat). She's also a lot easier to watch than Michael Beck, but that's not saying a whole hell of a lot.

The plot? Nobody cares about the plot. Xanadu is much more than the sum of its plot. When you have Gene Kelly on rollerskates, you don't need no stinkin' plot. But the director was nice enough to throw in some Don Bluth animation, Tron-like special effects, a little Greek mythology, dance sequences, montages featuring a bad swing orchestra and a Spinal Tap-like "rock" band and Olivia Newton John singing "Magic," which has got to be one of of the greatest bad songs of all time.

I'm actually stopping with my review here, because I'm going to try and sucker Marcus into contributing a few of his thoughts on Xanadu, so I'll update this later to include them. He and I are a little like Ebert and Roeper, except that we're not gross and old.

Dude, I gotta get home. Screw the bulletin, I'm outty.

Last night after work I came home, smoked a little herb and watched Chopper Chicks In Zombietown, a movie that looked like a good idea when it was sitting on the shelf at the library, but turned out to be so bad that I lost interest after about 20 minutes. I also fell asleep. But I did manage to stay awake long enough to catch Billy Bob Thornton's first big scene in the film. Yes, that's Billy Bob (Slingblade/"I fucked Angelina Jolie") Thornton. He plays some doofus who rekindles a romance with one of Chopper Chicks. The girl in question was a redhead with some seriously bad eighties hair (think Reba McIntyre before she chopped it all off) and even worse acting "skills." Billy Bob was no prize himself--he delivered all his lines in this dull monotone (even when he was begging his redheaded Reba chick to come back to him, which was pretty damn funny). And there was this broken down school bus with blind orphans on board (komedy!), and I swear to God, one of the kids was played by Hal Sparks. It was hard to tell though, because he never took his shades off in the scene that I stayed awake for (all the blind kids wore these "cool" eighties sunglasses), and they all smoked, because they were like, rebel orphans. Since I fell asleep about an hour and a half before the closing credits, though--I never got to find out if it was really Hal Sparks. And Martha Quinn, the original MTV veejay (and the best one, in my opinion) was in the movie too, but I didn't see her beyond the first scene in which she appeared outside a house hanging up laundry on a clothesline. (She may have been in later scenes, but again--I was unconscious pretty soon after that).

I rented the film thinking it would be one of those good bad movies--stupid or cheesy enough to be entertaining--but it was just dull and annoying. I did, however, rent Army of Darkness for the fourth time, because Bruce Campbell rocks! (My ex Josh turned me onto the charms of the Evil Dead series). Now that is an AWESOME movie to watch when you're baked!

I am becoming a juice fiend, and I think more people need to buy my favorite brands so they might come down in price a little. My first favorite, (and the one I buy the most) is Naked. I love the Green Machine (apples, pears, green tea, spinach, broccoli, and about a dozen other types of juices. It has all this stuff in it, but all you really taste is the fruit juice). It's so incredibly healthy. My other favorite Naked juice is the Just O.J., which is ONLY orange juice--no water, no added sugar, no nuthin' but orange juice. After drinking it, I swear you'll never go back to that Tropicana bullshit ever again. Naked juice rocks, but it only comes in little single serve bottles, which go for at least $2.60 or more (almost the same price as a Corona! Damn!) But once you've had it, you pay the money. Believe me. This stuff has magical powers.

My other favorite juice is Pom. It rocks, but I can't buy it very often because it's $3.99 a bottle. Yes, $3.99. The price sucks, but the juice is awesome, and the bottles are so damn cute! I've kept a few and used them for vases. Now they're making them all plastic, though, which affects the cuteness factor but may cut the price a bit. I'm actually too much of a wuss for the straight pomegranate juice (tastes like very bitter cranberry juice to me), but the blueberry/pomegranate blend rocks, and both juices together are extremely good for you.

Seriously, try both brands. Splurge. And tell your friends, because I want lots of people to drink my favorite juices and I want to be able to afford them on a regular basis!

Together, we can make a difference.

Today is the first day that I haven't been totally bombarded at work, and it feels weird. I'm not complaining though, believe me. I think days like this will be few and far between. I haven't been doing a whole hell of a lot--started on a few projects and putzed around, pretending to look busy. And now the day is almost over, so that's good. I think I need a day like this at least once a week, if not more.

Yesterday I had a dream about a book I had as a kid, Teaser and the Firecat, and I've been sort of obsessed with tracking down a copy of it ever since. It was written by Cat Stevens (yes, that Cat Stevens) and he did like, a whole album based on it too. (I think the album came first actually, but I only had the book). The book was awesome--it's about this guy who hangs out with this orange cat called Firecat, and they're out one night and they find that the moon has fallen out of the sky, (I think it lands in a stream or something?), and then they get this flock of owls to take the moon back up to the sky. The illustrations are simple but funky (especially the owls. They rock!) Anyway, I feel compelled to find the book since I had this dream about it. I think my old copy is probably long gone (my mom got rid of a lot of my childhood stuff in garage sales over the years...including my Go-Go's records, dammit! I want them back!) so I checked on amazon and of course it's out of print--the used copies are going for like $80 and up, which sucks. I'm going to start scouring the used and rare bookstores to see what I can find. Like I said, I'm suddenly obsessed because of this dream.

God, we make such an adorable couple. I can't stand it. You can tell he likes me. Seriously.

Okay everyone...remember when I nearly went insane trying to post those pictures in the aftermath of the fabulous Finn Brothers concert back in July? Well, thanks to the scanner here at my new job and being at work during non-work hours, (I got a key and an alarm code. Heh.) I was FINALLY able to post one of my pictures from the show. Above, Neil and I are standing by the tour bus after the concert. We're so damn cute together. My boob is touching his arm and we're both smiling. It's called destiny, people. We are meant to be.

I'll post the rest of my photos the next time I'm alone at work with free access to expensive equipment.

Holy shit, people!!! Britney Spears got married??? Where have I been????? Why didn't I hear about this sooner????

Oh, wait, I just remembered. I don't give a flying turd.

And by the way, doesn't this new buttmunch she's with look like one of those toolios you'd see working at the pretzel stand in the mall? You know what I mean--one of those nineteen-year-old dweebs with the crooked trucker hat, creative facial hair, stoned eyes, and big silver chain connecting his wallet to his saggy pants--half-assedly wrapping up your pretzel, sloshing most of your Diet Coke onto your tray, and handing over your change with a slight nod and a grunt. (Did I go far enough with that analogy? I don't know.)

Has anyone else seen that one TV commercial for Viagara? I bring it up because it bugs the shit out of me. In it, a middle-aged balding dude is out with his trophy wife/girlfriend--she's kind of dragging him around while she shops for shoes and clothes. So they're on the sidewalk and they pass by this lingerie store. He pauses, gets this creepy smirk on his face and as he's leering at the window display, cartoon horns come out from behind his head that turn out to be the points of the "V" in Viagara. Then he grabs his chick by the hand and pulls her into the store. Okay, here's what bugs me. It's not the implication that the middle-aged guy wants to have sex. It's not even the way he leers at the bra and panties in the window. It's the way the pointy horns pop out of his head when he sees them. Is that supposed to symbolize him popping a boner? I think it is. Ew.

To be fair, I may be over-analyzing it a little. But still.

This is genius (thanks for this, Jason!)

Last night, I checked out Martin Scorsese's 1988 film The Last Temptation of Christ from the public library. I'd never seen it; I was a freshman in high school when it came out, (a freshman in a Catholic high school), and seeing a Biblical movie-- any Biblical movie outside of Religion class is not an idea that would have appealed to me at the time. Plus, being fifteen years old, I think most of it would have been lost on me. But now, being so much wiser and infinitely more mature....

I was surprised by how much I liked it. I'm not much of a Scorsese fan, but I thought it was well made and the directing and acting weren't too heavy-handed, (as is the case with most Biblical films. Speaking of, remember when Richard Gere played King David? Dude, that was funny). Here are some of my thoughts:

• Willem Dafoe, you may remember, played Jesus. Dafoe's other notable performances (in my mind, anyway), include a greaseball bad guy in the Diane Lane "rock n' roll fable" Streets of Fire, and of course, the excellent Auto Focus ("Bob Crane's a loser!") He did a good job as Christ, I thought, but being Dafoe, he was most believable in the "wigging-out" scenes, like the whole going-postal-on-the- merchants-in-the-temple part. Yeah, he nailed that one. (Oops! Bad pun.)
• Mary Magdalene was played by Barbara Hershey, who I will forever remember as the woman from Beaches. Not that I loved that movie or anything, but you gotta remember--I'm a chick. In the late eighties, I think it was required by the government for all females over the age of twelve to see Beaches a few dozen times. Seriously. Look it up. Anyway, Hershey was sporting this massive Cher wig throughout TLToC--a glaring reminder that this puppy was definitely made in the eighties.
• Okay, Scorsese? I realize that this was probably the fault of the costume designer or whoever, but women with flawless manicures and shaved pits? Not happening in the Jesus times, dude.
• Harvey Keitel (the cop from Thelma and Louise) played Judas, and another guy I recognized from a gangster movie (probably Goodfellas) played Peter. Keitel was his usual aces, but again--Scorsese? (and this one is most definitely your fault)....I'm not a theologian or anything, but I'm like, 99.9% sure that Jesus's desciples did not have Brooklyn accents. Seriously, I mean--ever hear of a dialect coach?
• Harry Dean Stanton (Molly Ringwald's dad in Pretty In Pink), played Saul (Jewish zealot who converted to Christianity and was later known as the apostle Paul). Jeez, I understand this now, but looking back, it's no wonder I had such a hard time in religion class.
• Dude, if you're a sheep you don't want to be anywhere near Isreal during Passover. If I wasn't already a vegetarian, this one particular scene would have done me in. Holy shit. (Literally!)
• David Bowie was in this! I totally forgot about that! He played Pontius Pilate, and--I'm not just saying this cause he's David Bowie--he kicked ass! He's a damn fine actor. And to be completely shallow for a sec--he looked really good. I think he looked his best in the eighties. In the seventies during his Ziggy Stardust period I always thought he looked too gaunt (not to mention the orange mullet. Ick). But in the eighties he had updated his look; he started wearing the suits with the skinny ties and that blond pompadour (I guess I'm mostly remembering him from his Serious Moonlight tour, circa '83). Even if you're not a Bowie fan, you gotta admit. He looked hot.
• During the dream sequence/hallucination part towards the end of the film, when Jesus sees the apostle Paul witnessing to a group of people about his conversion, how he "saw the light" and all that, Jesus basically calls him out and says, "I never appeared to you, why are you saying this?" etc. and Paul (Molly Ringwald's dad) argues with him that "the people" need hope and something to believe in, and that basically the message is what's important, not the truth, etc. Although I might be reading too much into this (and I'm sure I'm not the first person to come up with this theory), I saw this scene as Scorsese's sly indictment of TV evangelists and their ilk (remember, this was the eighties--you had Oral Roberts on TV begging for money, the PTL scandal with Jim and Tammy, shysters with the fake healings, cashing in on people's beliefs, etc.) If you ever see the movie, pay attention to that scene. It's pretty cool.
• Oh, and the synthesizer music over the closing credits? Yeah. It was definitely the eighties.

I just realized that I could mess with text color, so today it's red.

It's Sunday on a holiday weekend, and I'm sitting here at my desk at work. I biked in today to try to get a jump start for next week (classes at the Temple start on Wednesday--this week, all hell officially breaks loose). I've gotten a little bit done, I don't know how much of a difference it will make in my week, or if it was at all worth it to come in today, but I'll find out on Tuesday.

Stuff that I've been up to that doesn't involve my job:

• Movies...I saw Stepford Wives at the dollar theatre last week. My verdict: Eh.
• Books...I've just started You Shall Know Our Velocity by Dave Eggers. It's holding my interest so far, even though his writing style is a bit unconventional, to say the least. And I suspect he's batshit crazy, but that's part of his charm. I managed to get through his other book last year, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and I was glad I did. Hopefully this one will grow on me. I'm also listening to The Da Vinci Code (the audiobook version, obviously) in my car. It's good so far, but I hope it gets better. Everyone I know who's read it has built it up to be the best book ever, so I'm a bit skeptical to begin with.
• Projects...I haven't done as much writing as I should be, but I've managed to steal away to the coffee shop across the street at least two or three times per week and do some brainstorming in my notebooks. I really, REALLY need to buy a laptop. My computer access has diminished considerably, since I'm unable to use the lab at the law school (Emily's login and password, which I've been using for months, are no longer valid). This has really cramped my style, since the law library has great hours (open 'til midnight during the week) and is only a few blocks from my apartment. I've been forced to use the computers at the public library, which are old and suck ass, plus it closes at 9pm during the week, 5pm on weekends. So I am leaving the little donation thingie up, just in case anyone wants to contribute to my laptop fund. I hope to save up enough to buy a decent used one within the next few months (or at least by the end of this year).
• I will also be selling my jewelry and other wares at the Fall Festival in St. Paul, which is sometime later this month. I'll have to check my calendar to see when exactly it is...I still have a lot to make before it happens.

Okay, time to get out of here before someone wanders in the building and asks me to do something for them.

FUCK!
This day has sucked dog balls. My job is mind-numbing and I am officially burnt out after a month and six days. I wonder if that's a record for this position? I'd be interested to see that data on that. It's not like it's really hard, I'm not splitting the atom or anything, but holy shit--it's just piles and piles and piles of more shit and deadlines and I still don't know what I'm doing and people are asking me questions about shit I'm supposed to know and fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!!!! I'm in need of some good old-fashioned controlled substances right now. Maybe this is a good time to start cultivating a full-blown heroin addiction, or at least begin drinking heavily.

At the end of the day today at around 5:15 I was still there trying to get stuff done so I could go home, and then this scary woman walked in. Damn, she freaked me right the fuck out. She was a midget--well, not officially, but midget-sized anyway--with tiny, fat hands. She was wearing too much jewelry and odd clothing and--worst of all--she was cross-eyed! Well, just in one eye. The other one was fine, I think (although I can't be sure--I couldn't stop staring at the one that was crossed). It was some evil, evil shit. Anyway, she comes in to make a donation, and the woman in charge of the donation-taking was gone since it was after 5:00 and all, so I told her if she wanted to leave the donation slip and the money I'd put it in the donation-taker's mailbox. This midget peers at me with her one good eye and starts quizzing me, like "Are you sure she'll get the money? Are you able to take it? Should I give it to someone else? Maybe you should put it in an envelope for her," and of course all the while I'm thinking "Jesus! Get away from me you troll!" Not only had I had a day from hell, but then I had to deal with this? I managed to assure her that I'd take the donation and put it safely in an envelope and place it in the donatee's mailbox, but she was still hesitant, like as soon as she left I was going to crumple up the donation slip, toss it over my shoulder, look at the $10 bill, slap my thigh and gleefully shout, "Ooooh buddy! Mama's gettin' fucked up tonight!" She finally entrusted me with the money (after watching me slip it in the appropriate mailbox) and waddled out of there, much to my relief.

Can you believe they let someone like me work for a religious organization? I mean, I can't even muster up any compassion for a cross-eyed midget with bad fashion sense. I am a shallow, empty shell of a human being. Maybe I should go into politics.

So I'm officially 31, and it's a nice feeling so far. Hopefully my 31st year will be better than the mind-fuck that my 30th turned out to be.

On my birthday last Thursday I finally got to go to Ecopolitan, a vegan restaurant in uptown Minneapolis that I have been salivating over for months (ever since I saw the Yellow Pages ad), but had never actually visited. My friend Anna went with me. She's pretty adventurous cuisine-wise, I suppose, but she is definitely not a vegan, vegetarian, or anything in between. She does enjoy her meat and potatoes, that one. But since it was my birthday, she agreed to go with me after some blackmailing and a little bribery, and she even paid. She had quite a different experience of the food there than I did (she hated it), but, as I pointed out to her, all she had was a salad--and a cabbage salad at that (who eats cabbage salad? That really is rabbit food). I, on the other hand, enjoyed a raw pizza (they don't cook anything over 105 degrees there because, it's like, healthier or something). The pizza consisted of a buckwheat crust (awesome), spread with spicy red avocado sauce, sprouts, finely sliced green peppers, and pine nuts (yes, pine nuts! They rock!) All this and a side of grapes, too. Anna tried some of my pizza and she liked it (again, I told her to order more than a damn cabbage salad), but she declined. I'm glad it was my birthday, because it was the only way I could have gotten her to go there with me. I don't think she'll be a repeat customer, but I will definitely be back--give me some carrot juice and raw pizza! Woo hoo! I'll be so healthy I'll be shitting whole cucumbers.

Since I finally got paid (no more donations please, but I'll leave the Honor System icon up a bit longer in case you really really want to), I was able to buy a new bike as a birthday present to myself. It's a very cute little hot pink mountain bike that kicks all kinds of ass, even though it's a bit girly. I think I'll name it Christine, after the murderous car in the Stephen King book. I like the idea of having a deadly hot pink bike.

So I'm working for a Jewish organization now (which is funny, because I look pretty damn goy-ish, according to most Jewish people I know), but they hired me anyway. They don't mind a Gentile or two hanging around, I guess. I work in the Education Department, and even though I like the place and my co-workers so far, the job itself is giving me migraines. I've been there three weeks now, and although I feel like I'm getting the hang of certain aspects of my job, there is so much shit to do and still so much to learn before the girl training me (my predecessor) leaves next week. And what sucks is, although I have full-time hours (+ full-time pay and benefits, thank God), she is only there part-time because she has a kid and stuff. In a way, it's good that she's not there all the time, because it forces me to try to figure out shit for myself instead of asking her, but on the other hand it's a giant pain in the ass for me because I'm fucking up a lot, since there is no one there to ask (a Catch-22, as they say in Boogie Nights. "That's not an M.P. That's a Y.P....your problem!" Sorry, I love that movie). So, aside from the boss (a nice woman, BTW) looking at me like I'm mildly retarded from time to time, I think I'm doing all right. At least, I don't think I'm in danger of getting canned anytime soon.

I rented a movie last night out of sheer boredom (oh yeah--when I left my old job they gave me a TV and a VCR as a going-away present! Yay!) I wasn't in the mood for anything heavy, since it was Sunday night and all, so I rented the latest Adam Sandler epic, 50 First Dates (out of the newly released comedies that I hadn't seen, it was either that or Lizzie Maguire Takes Manhattan or whatever, so Adam Sandler won). Anyhoo, it was actually pretty good....while the first half hour featured a lot of unfunny slapstick, it got better after that. The ending was sweet without being too cloying, and both Sandler and Drew Barrymore kept the shameless mugging down to a minimum, for a change. I didn't used to be so wary of Adam Sandler comedies. I loved The Wedding Singer, (more for the eighties references than anything else), and Happy Gilmore was pretty damn funny. But The Waterboy made me lose a little faith in Sandler's comic ability, and Mr. Deeds made me lose a little faith in humanity (good God, I hated that one). But after seeing this latest one, I haven't totally written him off. I'd still like to see Punch Drunk Love, although most people I know who've seen it have told me not to waste my time.

Okay, I just caught a glimpse of the date on the computer. I turn 31 in three days.

Holy shit.

See the obnoxious box to the right? Yeah, that one.

Here's the deal:
I just got a new job (more on that later). I started on July 26th. It's a good job, good pay, non-profit organization (more on that later, too). But here's what royally sucks--I get paid once a month. Once. On the 20th. This is really going to fuck me over for the next few weeks, because not only do I have the usual paycheck gap you get when you switch jobs, I also have to wait extra time to get paid. How does this suck? Let me count the ways. Well, I guess I just did. It sucks twice, because of, um, what I said above. So I got this idea....my birthday is coming up (August 19--Leo, for those who care). So I thought that any of my friends, family, etc. who are regular visitors to this site could help me out (if they wanted to) by clicking the icon on the right to donate. It's really not as shameless as it sounds. Look at it this way...say you were going to buy me a birthday card or something. Take the $2.00 you would have spent on the card and give to my fund instead. That way, I can buy some beans and rice at the store. This will help hold me over until I get paid. And only give if you want to...and only if you were going to buy me something anyway. At the same time, don't deprive yourself. For instance, say you were shopping for a birthday card for me, but decided to buy one of those monster bags of Peanut M&Ms for like, $1.60 instead. I'd still love you. And also, I'd never know. So give if you want. Or buy M&Ms.

Oh, and if you don't know me from Adam, but you like reading this blog? You can still click 'n give to my August Food Fund--I won't stop you. In fact, that would totally rock.