Wednesday, September 29, 2010
On The Town
I saw The Town this weekend. Initially I was pretty disappointed because I thought it was going to be a remake of Our Town, starring Blake Lively as the Stage Manager. But once I got used to the idea that there were going to be sets and costumes and no crusty New England accents, it was pretty good. The action sequences were really entertaining, and the inaction sequences were fairly nifty, too. I especially enjoyed the acting of Rebecca Hall, previously known for haunting my dreams from her constant On Demand narration of the plot of Vicky Cristina Barcelona. ("It's about a girl named Vicky and a girl named Cristina and their trip to Barcelona." Seriously.) Ben Affleck was even fairly credible as a human being. I give it four stars, although I refuse to disclose how many stars that is out of, making it a fairly useless gesture.
The other interesting thing about my movie adventure was that it was at the new Icon theater down in the South Loop. I had heard all sorts of raves about how it was really classy and comfortable and fun, but it turned out to kind of be just another movie theater. It's true that it had a really nice lounge area and they served alcohol, but it also had a shocking lack of workable exits and theater-adjacent bathrooms. And the much-celebrated reserved seating just resulted in whispered fights during the first ten minutes of the movie, when the latecomers whose seats had been stolen finally showed up. Although that is a form of entertainment in and of itself.
I saw The Town this weekend. Initially I was pretty disappointed because I thought it was going to be a remake of Our Town, starring Blake Lively as the Stage Manager. But once I got used to the idea that there were going to be sets and costumes and no crusty New England accents, it was pretty good. The action sequences were really entertaining, and the inaction sequences were fairly nifty, too. I especially enjoyed the acting of Rebecca Hall, previously known for haunting my dreams from her constant On Demand narration of the plot of Vicky Cristina Barcelona. ("It's about a girl named Vicky and a girl named Cristina and their trip to Barcelona." Seriously.) Ben Affleck was even fairly credible as a human being. I give it four stars, although I refuse to disclose how many stars that is out of, making it a fairly useless gesture.
The other interesting thing about my movie adventure was that it was at the new Icon theater down in the South Loop. I had heard all sorts of raves about how it was really classy and comfortable and fun, but it turned out to kind of be just another movie theater. It's true that it had a really nice lounge area and they served alcohol, but it also had a shocking lack of workable exits and theater-adjacent bathrooms. And the much-celebrated reserved seating just resulted in whispered fights during the first ten minutes of the movie, when the latecomers whose seats had been stolen finally showed up. Although that is a form of entertainment in and of itself.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Wedding Album
Here are some photos from the big Montauk wedding. Given that it was a union between a professional photographer and a cinematographer, I feel a bit self conscious about these. I'm more of a words man, myself.
Here is the wedding party. We are posing for the official photographs here, although this is not an official photograph. The photographer kept singling me out for special tips, like not to lean over too far. Because that doesn't make you feel like a freak or anything.
I felt that one of my jobs as best man was to lead the applause at the end. One of my real jobs was to move that old timey microphone back and forth for people, who would then unfailingly speak into the wrong part of it. I can't wait to get the audio on this one.
The flower petals were a big, big part of this. Seriously, the wedding planner had a lot to say about the where, when, and how of the flower petals. I think they turned out okay, though.
The ceremony itself was at a private residence, although we were contractually not allowed to go inside. Hold your urine, everyone.
The house was on a very picturesque cliff. But no one jumped off of it. That would have been awesome, though.
Here are some photos from the big Montauk wedding. Given that it was a union between a professional photographer and a cinematographer, I feel a bit self conscious about these. I'm more of a words man, myself.
Here is the wedding party. We are posing for the official photographs here, although this is not an official photograph. The photographer kept singling me out for special tips, like not to lean over too far. Because that doesn't make you feel like a freak or anything.
I felt that one of my jobs as best man was to lead the applause at the end. One of my real jobs was to move that old timey microphone back and forth for people, who would then unfailingly speak into the wrong part of it. I can't wait to get the audio on this one.
The flower petals were a big, big part of this. Seriously, the wedding planner had a lot to say about the where, when, and how of the flower petals. I think they turned out okay, though.
The ceremony itself was at a private residence, although we were contractually not allowed to go inside. Hold your urine, everyone.
The house was on a very picturesque cliff. But no one jumped off of it. That would have been awesome, though.Thursday, September 23, 2010
The Big Top
Well, another season of Top Model is upon us, and they've really raised their game this year. Of the 14 contestants, I'd say at least nine are horribly misshapen in some way. Tyra is redefining our notions of beauty all over the damn place. There's one who is approximately twelve feet tall with a five-inch waist and an interest in Dungeons & Dragons to match. There's one who has size G breasts and eyebrows she surely must tweeze with salad tongs. There's one who looks like Maggie Gyllenhaal. And then there were the makeovers. As usual, Tyra punished the few prettyish girls with terrible haircuts. One girl got a bright red bowl cut. One girl got brown hair and white eyebrows. The horror, the horror.
The photo shoots have honestly sort of been snoozes so far. I mean, fallen angels? Teen bullying with Demi Lovato? With Demi Lovato? I'm not even sure she's real. Things were way better back when she was dressing them up like their childhood photos or dunking them in water. I miss the aspect of cruelty, frankly. The psychological cruelty just isn't enough.
Well, another season of Top Model is upon us, and they've really raised their game this year. Of the 14 contestants, I'd say at least nine are horribly misshapen in some way. Tyra is redefining our notions of beauty all over the damn place. There's one who is approximately twelve feet tall with a five-inch waist and an interest in Dungeons & Dragons to match. There's one who has size G breasts and eyebrows she surely must tweeze with salad tongs. There's one who looks like Maggie Gyllenhaal. And then there were the makeovers. As usual, Tyra punished the few prettyish girls with terrible haircuts. One girl got a bright red bowl cut. One girl got brown hair and white eyebrows. The horror, the horror.
The photo shoots have honestly sort of been snoozes so far. I mean, fallen angels? Teen bullying with Demi Lovato? With Demi Lovato? I'm not even sure she's real. Things were way better back when she was dressing them up like their childhood photos or dunking them in water. I miss the aspect of cruelty, frankly. The psychological cruelty just isn't enough.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Honeymoon Period
Well, they are wed. I had exactly three jobs for the ceremony, as I count them. I had to 1) walk down the aisle with the matron of honor, 2) take the rings off the pillow and hold them until they were called for, and 3) move a microphone. I'm pretty sure I pulled them all off, which puts me on pretty much the same level of skill as a trained ape, albeit after far more training. I also managed to not fall off the cliff or pee myself, which was actually harder than it sounds given that there was no available restroom on the cliff. I even posed for some photos, although the photographer told me that I was leaning too far forward and needed to just "stand normally." I felt like an ANTM gal named Noxema.
The reception was of course my favorite part. They got the alcohol flowing right away (at 2:30 PM!) and the food was really good, although I frankly might have loved eating potting soil after having so much alcohol. The music was decent and no one required me to say anything, which removed much of the potential for off color behavior. Although I did still end up throwing sour cream and onion Pringles around my hotel room and passing out at 11:30. Which is pretty much a normal Saturday night for me, to be honest.
And we made it back safely. The departure lounge at LGA was hot and full of people chatting about how amazing Rush Limbaugh is, so that was a bit of a miracle. No one understands how difficult it is for me to not become violent.
Well, they are wed. I had exactly three jobs for the ceremony, as I count them. I had to 1) walk down the aisle with the matron of honor, 2) take the rings off the pillow and hold them until they were called for, and 3) move a microphone. I'm pretty sure I pulled them all off, which puts me on pretty much the same level of skill as a trained ape, albeit after far more training. I also managed to not fall off the cliff or pee myself, which was actually harder than it sounds given that there was no available restroom on the cliff. I even posed for some photos, although the photographer told me that I was leaning too far forward and needed to just "stand normally." I felt like an ANTM gal named Noxema.
The reception was of course my favorite part. They got the alcohol flowing right away (at 2:30 PM!) and the food was really good, although I frankly might have loved eating potting soil after having so much alcohol. The music was decent and no one required me to say anything, which removed much of the potential for off color behavior. Although I did still end up throwing sour cream and onion Pringles around my hotel room and passing out at 11:30. Which is pretty much a normal Saturday night for me, to be honest.
And we made it back safely. The departure lounge at LGA was hot and full of people chatting about how amazing Rush Limbaugh is, so that was a bit of a miracle. No one understands how difficult it is for me to not become violent.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Montauk Monster
My friend is getting married in Montauk this weekend. In my view, of course, everyone ought to get married in Chicago, preferably no more than three blocks from my home. But I have been particularly crabby about so-called "destination weddings," when people get married in places where neither they nor anyone they know is from under the pretense of fun, exotic good times. I tend to see them as a pretense to just get people to send a check. Which I frequently just do.
But I have to admit that Montauk is really pretty great. It's beautiful and has a quaint, old-timey feel. The wedding hotel is literally right out on the water, and I even have a porch with a hammock where I can lie out and read the Spin magazine randomly provided in each room. The weather hasn't even been that good and it's still just lovely. I don't like paying $10 for a tiny tube of toothpaste, but I guess I should have thought of that before I brought too big a tube and had to throw it out at airport security.
Speaking of which, getting out yesterday morning was something of a nightmare. We had a chatty cathy next to us on the plane who did not seem to understand that when people are giving you one word answers to your many probing questions (or jamming headphones into their ears) they do not really wish to converse. Then the rental car place turned out to be the center of all activity on the East coast and we had to wait forever to get our Dodge Charger. I got in a fight with the GPS, which kept trying to get me to get off the highway for no reason, and almost rammed into a semi while trying to get to the Burger King drive-through. The BK Double Stacker was totally worth it, though.
Anyway, wedding today and back to LGA-ORD tomorrow. Such an action packed weekend!
My friend is getting married in Montauk this weekend. In my view, of course, everyone ought to get married in Chicago, preferably no more than three blocks from my home. But I have been particularly crabby about so-called "destination weddings," when people get married in places where neither they nor anyone they know is from under the pretense of fun, exotic good times. I tend to see them as a pretense to just get people to send a check. Which I frequently just do.
But I have to admit that Montauk is really pretty great. It's beautiful and has a quaint, old-timey feel. The wedding hotel is literally right out on the water, and I even have a porch with a hammock where I can lie out and read the Spin magazine randomly provided in each room. The weather hasn't even been that good and it's still just lovely. I don't like paying $10 for a tiny tube of toothpaste, but I guess I should have thought of that before I brought too big a tube and had to throw it out at airport security.
Speaking of which, getting out yesterday morning was something of a nightmare. We had a chatty cathy next to us on the plane who did not seem to understand that when people are giving you one word answers to your many probing questions (or jamming headphones into their ears) they do not really wish to converse. Then the rental car place turned out to be the center of all activity on the East coast and we had to wait forever to get our Dodge Charger. I got in a fight with the GPS, which kept trying to get me to get off the highway for no reason, and almost rammed into a semi while trying to get to the Burger King drive-through. The BK Double Stacker was totally worth it, though.
Anyway, wedding today and back to LGA-ORD tomorrow. Such an action packed weekend!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Panic Room
Things got a little intense around here this week. Apparently, there were some home invasions in my neighborhood. Home invasions in the "people tied up with their mouths duct taped shut" sense, not in the cute "crimes my pro bono client used to commit" sense. I know this not because it was on the news or even anywhere on the Internet, but because there were a lot of warning signs posted up on trees around the neighborhood. Or maybe it's all just a big viral marketing campaign by a consortium of security alarm companies, I don't know. But regardless, it worked. We spent two nights with chairs jammed up under our doorknobs in the fashion that I've seen be so successful at preventing unauthorized entries in so many slasher movies. I even jammed a huge armchair in between the bedroom door and the doorknob, which I felt certain would forestall any attempted murders. Oh, and I left the TV and the lights on all night. Because I'm pretty sure would-be home invaders hate What I Like About you and needless energy consumption.
This morning the alarm company came out and set up my system, though, so I can stop rearranging furniture for a while. Now I can look forward to constantly forgetting I have an alarm system and accidentally setting it off when I take the trash out or get the mail. Irritated phone calls from a security company rep named Brandi are ever so much fun.
Things got a little intense around here this week. Apparently, there were some home invasions in my neighborhood. Home invasions in the "people tied up with their mouths duct taped shut" sense, not in the cute "crimes my pro bono client used to commit" sense. I know this not because it was on the news or even anywhere on the Internet, but because there were a lot of warning signs posted up on trees around the neighborhood. Or maybe it's all just a big viral marketing campaign by a consortium of security alarm companies, I don't know. But regardless, it worked. We spent two nights with chairs jammed up under our doorknobs in the fashion that I've seen be so successful at preventing unauthorized entries in so many slasher movies. I even jammed a huge armchair in between the bedroom door and the doorknob, which I felt certain would forestall any attempted murders. Oh, and I left the TV and the lights on all night. Because I'm pretty sure would-be home invaders hate What I Like About you and needless energy consumption.
This morning the alarm company came out and set up my system, though, so I can stop rearranging furniture for a while. Now I can look forward to constantly forgetting I have an alarm system and accidentally setting it off when I take the trash out or get the mail. Irritated phone calls from a security company rep named Brandi are ever so much fun.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Shore Thing
I hesitate to write about this at all, because I fear the harsh judgment it is almost certain to bring (and deservedly so), but I have recently been watching a little bit of the Jersey Shore. I guess I was just kind of curious to see what all the kids were talking about. (Not the literal kids, although I'm pretty sure they are talking about Camp Rock 2, which I have also watched.) I'm not really all that sold, though, I have to say. It's kind of hard for me to get past the fact that I hate the majority of the characters. Ronnie is possibly the worst human being who has ever lived and Sammi is the only person in the world stupid enough to fall for him, in addition to the fact that I have seldom if ever seen her get out of her bed. Angelina appears to have been added to the cast solely to talk on the phone and argue with people. I do think that Snooki is a classic comic character in the mold of Garfield or the mom from Family Ties, but I am frankly not sure if Vinny is even a sentient being. The Situation actually seems sort of nice if you can get past the crab lice, but I am unaware of Pauly D's reason for being, unless he is a federal project to prop up the hair care industry. All I really know about JWoww is that she has huge boobs and kind of reminds me of my junior high acting teacher.
Oh, and the plots are super thrilling bits like "someone makes dinner" or "someone hooks up" or "someone writes a letter." That last one was dragged out over several episodes, just for good measure.
I'm just kind of hoping they add Heather Locklear to the cast.
I hesitate to write about this at all, because I fear the harsh judgment it is almost certain to bring (and deservedly so), but I have recently been watching a little bit of the Jersey Shore. I guess I was just kind of curious to see what all the kids were talking about. (Not the literal kids, although I'm pretty sure they are talking about Camp Rock 2, which I have also watched.) I'm not really all that sold, though, I have to say. It's kind of hard for me to get past the fact that I hate the majority of the characters. Ronnie is possibly the worst human being who has ever lived and Sammi is the only person in the world stupid enough to fall for him, in addition to the fact that I have seldom if ever seen her get out of her bed. Angelina appears to have been added to the cast solely to talk on the phone and argue with people. I do think that Snooki is a classic comic character in the mold of Garfield or the mom from Family Ties, but I am frankly not sure if Vinny is even a sentient being. The Situation actually seems sort of nice if you can get past the crab lice, but I am unaware of Pauly D's reason for being, unless he is a federal project to prop up the hair care industry. All I really know about JWoww is that she has huge boobs and kind of reminds me of my junior high acting teacher.
Oh, and the plots are super thrilling bits like "someone makes dinner" or "someone hooks up" or "someone writes a letter." That last one was dragged out over several episodes, just for good measure.
I'm just kind of hoping they add Heather Locklear to the cast.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Toastmaster
So I have some best man duties coming up, and I didn't realize how challenging it can be. I guess I should have understood from the flop sweat coming off a lot of the best men I've seen through the years, but somehow I guess I assumed I'd just be amazing. But when it comes down to it, you have a lot you have to do in your toast in what I really insist must be a short span of time. You have to be funny, touching, and genuine. You have to talk up the wonderfulness of the bride without appearing to be hitting on her. You have to talk up the wonderfulness of the groom without invoking people's memories of Brokeback Mountain. You have to remember that it's not about you, and also not tell that story about the time the groom killed a hooker. A daunting task indeed.
Other tips for a wedding toast I've gathered from my many blessed affairs:
-- Avoid off color references of all kinds. You are not Andrew Dice Clay. Unless you are actually Andrew Dice Clay, in which case it is 1992.
-- Stories about fun times you shared with the groom many years ago are enjoyable for only you and the groom.
-- It will be tempting, but you must not be drunk. Until after the toast. Then you can have at it.
-- Do not cry. It looks terrible on all men. On most women, too, actually. Crying is for funerals and the series finale of Everybody Loves Raymond.
-- If there is a microphone, remember that you are not Celine Dion and keep your distance. Otherwise, everyone can hear every bit of spittle in real time.
All right, that's enough. Time to put my learning into practice. I'm grabbing a six pack and my Crayolas.
So I have some best man duties coming up, and I didn't realize how challenging it can be. I guess I should have understood from the flop sweat coming off a lot of the best men I've seen through the years, but somehow I guess I assumed I'd just be amazing. But when it comes down to it, you have a lot you have to do in your toast in what I really insist must be a short span of time. You have to be funny, touching, and genuine. You have to talk up the wonderfulness of the bride without appearing to be hitting on her. You have to talk up the wonderfulness of the groom without invoking people's memories of Brokeback Mountain. You have to remember that it's not about you, and also not tell that story about the time the groom killed a hooker. A daunting task indeed.
Other tips for a wedding toast I've gathered from my many blessed affairs:
-- Avoid off color references of all kinds. You are not Andrew Dice Clay. Unless you are actually Andrew Dice Clay, in which case it is 1992.
-- Stories about fun times you shared with the groom many years ago are enjoyable for only you and the groom.
-- It will be tempting, but you must not be drunk. Until after the toast. Then you can have at it.
-- Do not cry. It looks terrible on all men. On most women, too, actually. Crying is for funerals and the series finale of Everybody Loves Raymond.
-- If there is a microphone, remember that you are not Celine Dion and keep your distance. Otherwise, everyone can hear every bit of spittle in real time.
All right, that's enough. Time to put my learning into practice. I'm grabbing a six pack and my Crayolas.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Who Ya Gonna Call?
Remember that scene in Ghostbusters where Sigourney Weaver opens up her fridge and there's like a temple and these fire breathing creatures in there and someone says "Zuul?" Well, that happened in my house this week. Well, except for the creatures and the temple and the Zuul. On Tuesday morning it was 127 degrees in my refrigerator when I woke up. I thought the number on the digital thermometer might be mistaken until I saw that the milk had curdled as though it had been sitting in the sun. Then I noticed that all of the cheese (and I do tend to have a lot of cheese) had melted. I reached for a Diet Coke and almost ended up with third degree burns.
Needless to say, I wasn't really sure what to do, other than clean up the liquid butter filling up the side compartment, of course. I took all of my groceries out to the trash and started in on my favorite past time of fishing through the manual drawer for the relevant paperwork. Then I inspected the situation a bit more closely, which led me to the realization that the fridge has a drawer that can be used for a "turbo defrost." Apparently, that drawer believed it had ten minutes to warm up a 25 pound turkey. So I deactivated it and sure enough the temperature dropped to more typical regions.
It was too late for my poor sour cream, though. It went from sour to downright Joan Rivers.
Remember that scene in Ghostbusters where Sigourney Weaver opens up her fridge and there's like a temple and these fire breathing creatures in there and someone says "Zuul?" Well, that happened in my house this week. Well, except for the creatures and the temple and the Zuul. On Tuesday morning it was 127 degrees in my refrigerator when I woke up. I thought the number on the digital thermometer might be mistaken until I saw that the milk had curdled as though it had been sitting in the sun. Then I noticed that all of the cheese (and I do tend to have a lot of cheese) had melted. I reached for a Diet Coke and almost ended up with third degree burns.
Needless to say, I wasn't really sure what to do, other than clean up the liquid butter filling up the side compartment, of course. I took all of my groceries out to the trash and started in on my favorite past time of fishing through the manual drawer for the relevant paperwork. Then I inspected the situation a bit more closely, which led me to the realization that the fridge has a drawer that can be used for a "turbo defrost." Apparently, that drawer believed it had ten minutes to warm up a 25 pound turkey. So I deactivated it and sure enough the temperature dropped to more typical regions.
It was too late for my poor sour cream, though. It went from sour to downright Joan Rivers.
Monday, September 06, 2010
On the Road Again
I'm heading back to Chicago today and completely dreading this drive. On the last day of a long weekend like this there can be hours of extra traffic time added to the trip. And there is surprisingly little to do when you are sitting on an interstate in central Illinois. Unless you get really excited about reading pro-gun roadsigns. Or counting Dairy Queens.
At least I'll have my sister with me to keep me awake. On some previous occasions I have gotten so drowsy that I have had to sing along with the radio at top volume to maintain consciousness. And central Illinois radio is not always the best. There has been a lot of Carrie Underwood involved.
The big attraction is usually the dinner stop, but given our haste on a day like today, we'll probably end up giving that short shrift as well. I can see a gas station hot dog in my future.
I'm heading back to Chicago today and completely dreading this drive. On the last day of a long weekend like this there can be hours of extra traffic time added to the trip. And there is surprisingly little to do when you are sitting on an interstate in central Illinois. Unless you get really excited about reading pro-gun roadsigns. Or counting Dairy Queens.
At least I'll have my sister with me to keep me awake. On some previous occasions I have gotten so drowsy that I have had to sing along with the radio at top volume to maintain consciousness. And central Illinois radio is not always the best. There has been a lot of Carrie Underwood involved.
The big attraction is usually the dinner stop, but given our haste on a day like today, we'll probably end up giving that short shrift as well. I can see a gas station hot dog in my future.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Mailbag
So I have this box in my room at my parents house where I have stored all sorts of notes and cards and things that people gave me in college, high school, and even junior high. This may seem like horrifying pack rat behavior, but keep in mind that I've also kept a good percentage of the papers I wrote in college and high school. And damn it, my insights on Their Eyes Were Watching God are still pretty timely today. But anyway, looking through these archives has been pretty hilarious in a lot of ways, and not just because it reminds me of a time when I ate candy for lunch and wore baggy carpenter pants. For one thing, the following amazing phrases occur:
"I think I may have solved our problem with the horses, by the way."
"I now understand why I keep seeing job postings for Hallmark writers."
"You are burning up the city of Champaign, I have no doubt."
"This Roadrunner looks a bit disheveled, no?"
"I was tempted to get you the card under the heading 'Masculine Birthday.'"
"Hope you have been saving the bacon grease."
"I'd go only if we could drive a late '80s Suburban as shown."
"Diet Coke just doesn't taste the same out here."
Also, I get to see how greeting card styles have changed over the years, which is to say not at all. Fantastically unreal depictions of nature, terrible poetry about Jesus, puns galore -- pretty much the same from the '90s through the present. I'm pretty sure they didn't have Two and a Half Men greeting cards back then, though. Certainly the nation's loss.
So I have this box in my room at my parents house where I have stored all sorts of notes and cards and things that people gave me in college, high school, and even junior high. This may seem like horrifying pack rat behavior, but keep in mind that I've also kept a good percentage of the papers I wrote in college and high school. And damn it, my insights on Their Eyes Were Watching God are still pretty timely today. But anyway, looking through these archives has been pretty hilarious in a lot of ways, and not just because it reminds me of a time when I ate candy for lunch and wore baggy carpenter pants. For one thing, the following amazing phrases occur:
"I think I may have solved our problem with the horses, by the way."
"I now understand why I keep seeing job postings for Hallmark writers."
"You are burning up the city of Champaign, I have no doubt."
"This Roadrunner looks a bit disheveled, no?"
"I was tempted to get you the card under the heading 'Masculine Birthday.'"
"Hope you have been saving the bacon grease."
"I'd go only if we could drive a late '80s Suburban as shown."
"Diet Coke just doesn't taste the same out here."
Also, I get to see how greeting card styles have changed over the years, which is to say not at all. Fantastically unreal depictions of nature, terrible poetry about Jesus, puns galore -- pretty much the same from the '90s through the present. I'm pretty sure they didn't have Two and a Half Men greeting cards back then, though. Certainly the nation's loss.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Belabored
Today my grandmother told me I'm "not on the fat side yet." I am going to choose to take that as a compliment, although I must temper that compliment with the knowledge of her recent cataract surgery. It reminds me of the time she told my sister that "all the ladies down at the hair shop agreed she had a good little body." Octogenarian lesbianism, ahoy!
She seems to be doing really well, though. She is back at home and has returned to having controversial beliefs about fat people and people of different races, so we know she is feeling more like herself. There was also the beginning of a lecture about "people and all of their sex," which we cleverly avoided by asking a question about The Young and the Restless. Thank God there's never any sex on that program.
The trip back yesterday was sort of exciting. I spent it strongly smelling of gasoline, since the automatic stop function on the pump I used wasn't working properly. On that occasion I also made a new friend in the form of an enormous female truck driver with America's most tragic teeth who kept referring to me as "sweetheart" as she utterly failed to assist me in any way. We did make a stop at a family-style chain restaurant for dinner, so that was amazing. We had the appetizer sampler.
For the rest of the weekend, I have a lot of family time and work ahead of me. Hopefully I will be able to tell the difference.
Today my grandmother told me I'm "not on the fat side yet." I am going to choose to take that as a compliment, although I must temper that compliment with the knowledge of her recent cataract surgery. It reminds me of the time she told my sister that "all the ladies down at the hair shop agreed she had a good little body." Octogenarian lesbianism, ahoy!
She seems to be doing really well, though. She is back at home and has returned to having controversial beliefs about fat people and people of different races, so we know she is feeling more like herself. There was also the beginning of a lecture about "people and all of their sex," which we cleverly avoided by asking a question about The Young and the Restless. Thank God there's never any sex on that program.
The trip back yesterday was sort of exciting. I spent it strongly smelling of gasoline, since the automatic stop function on the pump I used wasn't working properly. On that occasion I also made a new friend in the form of an enormous female truck driver with America's most tragic teeth who kept referring to me as "sweetheart" as she utterly failed to assist me in any way. We did make a stop at a family-style chain restaurant for dinner, so that was amazing. We had the appetizer sampler.
For the rest of the weekend, I have a lot of family time and work ahead of me. Hopefully I will be able to tell the difference.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
The Visitor
So needless to say, the Comcast guy ended up being creepy. He showed up early, failed to know anything about the problem I had so amply documented with his friend Ann, and spoke fewer than ten words the entire time he was there. When he arrived, I was seriously worried for a minute that he was just pretending to be a Comcast guy so as to gain access to my home to murder me. Instead, though, it was just the cable box that died -- and with it my recording of Katie Holmes' sterling dance performance from last summer, I'm afraid.
Anyway, when a new cable box had been put in place and my power to instantly summon 15 different Shakira videos restored, creepy Comcast guy then failed to leave. I kept saying "thanks so much," and "have a good day," and "thanks for coming out," but none of these words moved him towards the door. He just sort of lingered by the television staring lovingly. Again murder sprung to my mind. Eventually I just left the room, though, and he finally made his way out. Either that or he is still hiding under my couch. It's probably worth a look.
So needless to say, the Comcast guy ended up being creepy. He showed up early, failed to know anything about the problem I had so amply documented with his friend Ann, and spoke fewer than ten words the entire time he was there. When he arrived, I was seriously worried for a minute that he was just pretending to be a Comcast guy so as to gain access to my home to murder me. Instead, though, it was just the cable box that died -- and with it my recording of Katie Holmes' sterling dance performance from last summer, I'm afraid.
Anyway, when a new cable box had been put in place and my power to instantly summon 15 different Shakira videos restored, creepy Comcast guy then failed to leave. I kept saying "thanks so much," and "have a good day," and "thanks for coming out," but none of these words moved him towards the door. He just sort of lingered by the television staring lovingly. Again murder sprung to my mind. Eventually I just left the room, though, and he finally made his way out. Either that or he is still hiding under my couch. It's probably worth a look.
