So, we watched Transformers 2: More Big Explodey Robots last night. Seeing as it arrived from Netflix at the same time as The Madness of King George, I wondered aloud whether Netflix had any misgivings that they had sent us the wrong movies.
Brian said, “Maybe they just figure we have children.” Touche.
In any event, I’m pretty sure the running time of Transformers 2 was approximately 398 minutes. As Brian noted, Megan Fox, who was cute in the first Transformers, kind of looked like a weird tranny muppet in this one. And I know it is ridiculous to even point this out, but the dialogue was TERRIBLE. Seriously. I think it would be a huge improvement for the film to be dubbed over thusly:
The spectacle and the sound effects would remain the same (Bang boom explode crash shrieking metal bang boom BOOM BOOM smash scream), since they are really the point. But instead of the dialogue, every time each character opened its mouth, you would hear me say, ‘Meh’. I would say it in slightly different tones and durations for the different characters. But it would be all you’d hear instead of any of the speaking parts.
I would have enjoyed that version of Transformers 2: Tranny Muppet Continues to Date Wussy Emo Boy For No Justifiable Reason, much more!
At least tonight we are going to watch MY movies: The Murder of King George and Labyrinth. YESSS.
It’s a Saturday morning in October. The sky is an amalgam of grey and white, the trees are yellow and red and brown. The wind is blowing and it is raining steadily.
In other words, life is good! I LOVE this weather. I have finally given up pretending that I prefer clear blue skies and puffy white clouds. Give me ominous dark thunderheads and pouring rain any day. I could say that this is due to my inherently grim yet poetical nature, but really it is most likely due to my inherently lazy nature and my love of curling up on the couch with a book.
It is also due to my inherently neurotic nature, meaning: when it is nice out, I feel guilty for staying inside. I should be outside, enjoying the nice weather! It’s October! How many more nice days are we really going to have? (A: In North Carolina, probably a buttload. But anyway. My neurotic inner critic is still stuck on Northeastern seasonal temperatures). Molly! The voice says. Shouldn’t you be enjoying this nice day? Go to the park and play Frisbee or just grab a book and sit under a tree! It doesn’t matter that there are bugs underneath trees and the ground is usually wet or feels like it might be wet, whereas the futon in my livingroom is deliciously warm and next to a table where I can rest a steaming mug of tea with Bailey’s in it. My inner critic endlessly urges me outside to play, when the weather is nice. When the weather is bad, it disappears, and I am free, on a lovely cold and wet Saturday like today (and every one knows Saturday is the Best Day), to curl up on the couch and listen to “Wait Wait—Don’t Tell Me” on NPR and make and eat blueberry muffins and surf the internet for hours.
Not to mention that there is something so cozy and comforting about a sky that is blanketed with clouds. It feels like the world has pulled the covers up over its head and refuses to acknowledge the vast blue void of the sky. I like this kind of denial. I can relate.
So there you have it. Give me rain any day.
I went through an impromptu spring cleaning a few weekends ago, and fell into that same quandary I always do with my books.
What do you do with your books after you read them? And I’m not talking about the cream of the crop favorite books that you absolutely have to own or else. I’m talking about books like ‘Smilla’s Sense of Snow”, by Peter Hoeg.
I read that book a few years ago, and I enjoyed it; it was a good read and memorable, even though it fell into the category of ‘books that are murder mysteries that I never really get a handle on what is happening in them even though I enjoy them’. So, there was that. Would I read it again? Probably not. Would I lend it to someone and say, ‘You have to read this’ ? Again, probably not. But still! It was a good book! Maybe someday I’ll see the movie and it will make me want to read the book again! Who knows?
In this fashion, ‘Smilla’s Sense of Snow’ has followed me to three different apartments in two different states. Every time I try to clear through my bookshelves and get rid of some books, I pick it up, the above monologue goes through my head, and I end up keeping it. This is the case for many other books I own. The problem might be that I can’t decide what kind of book owner I want to be. There are two warring sides to me on this issue: On the one hand, I yearn to be Spartan and keep only what I need. I want uncluttered spaces and minimalism. On the other hand, it’s kind of nice to have a big ol’ bookshelf full of books in your house. Books are important to me, and I like the idea of having a respectable collection of them. Maybe I won’t need to re-read ‘Into Thin Air’ by Jon Krakauer a third time, but it’s nice to know that it’s there if I want to.
I have books my parents gave me, books that were gifts from dear friends, books I bought for college courses that I loved and courses that I hated. Even if I never read them again, they remind me of people and places and times in my life. It’s hard to get rid of them.
Also, I’ve realized that weighing the possibility that I will read a certain book again, leads me down a morbid path. How much time do I really have left in my life? Enough to read ‘Bonfire of the Vanities’ yet again? It’s one of my favorite books, but there are so many OTHER great books I have yet to read! Do I dare take the time to read that one over again? But if I don’t, how sad is it to think that I’ll never read it again? See, there’s no reason to think like that. It doesn’t lead anywhere good.
So at this point, even though it makes moving even less fun (although moving is terrible no matter what) I think I’ll stick to keeping my books, if that’s what my inner monologue encourages. There’s something very comforting about searching through a big friendly shelf of familiar books.
I had a learning experience a few weeks back. I managed to get invited to a dinner party at a new friend’s house. There were several girls there whom I have just begun hanging out with, and I was very excited to be meeting new people. While I had plenty of opportunities to socialize in Boston, my dance card has not been particularly full since moving to Raleigh.
I was invited to bring Charlie to this dinner party, which was also exciting, because he is the best dog ever. I met these girls at a dog park, so they’re all dog people, and dogs are fun to have around. Unfortunately, nobody else had brought their dog, to this dinner party; they’d all brought their husbands. So I was the weirdo who brought her dog. Also, the one resident dog of the house was a cute scrappy puppy that delighted in chasing Charlie around endlessly. Charlie is 7 years old, and as far as jumpy little puppies are concerned, he’s pretty much over them. Also he’s a big pansy. So I guess you could say he was a little stressed out when we arrived.
In any event, there I was, leaning against the counter in the kitchen enjoying a rustic Fall beer, buzzed from socializing and spinach dip, and telling my hosts how Charlie was pretty much the best dog ever and has never done anything wrong in his life, and I happen to look down, and Charlie is at my feet, balefully pooping on the kitchen floor.
It was one of those moments where you suddenly wonder if you are dreaming, or if what is happening before your eyes is real. Charlie really has never done anything like that before, but clearly the combination of new setting and frisky puppy had set him off. Plus, I guess he had to go.
I immediately had this lightning flash of what it must feel like to be a parent sometimes. Here is this tiny creature who is your ward. You love them to bits; you are responsible for keeping them out of trouble. Like it or not, their behavior is a reflection of you, and although they are close to you, they are not you, they are their own separate individual. This means that they are going to go off and do what they want a lot of the time, leaving you powerless to stop them and obligated to clean up the destruction (and poop) they leave in their wake. Yow.
In any event, it was a good thing I was in house full of dog people. Charlie’s kitchen shenanigans unleashed a flood of ‘oh don’t worry about it, one time MY dog pooped at this awkward time or in this horrible place’ stories, which were comforting, although my face remained red for awhile.
I remain on the fence about having children. Right now a dog is the perfect amount of love, trouble and energy for me. Plus I can curse in front of him.
Pants, you’ve been great. But I just feel like I am moving in a different directly lately. Actually, several different directions. I…I’ve outgrown you, pants. It hurts me to say this. But not as much as it hurts me to zip you. I’ve changed, pants. And the problem is, you haven’t.
When I called to him from the kitchen, “Sweety, if I make creamed kale, will you eat it?” He said “Sure,” without missing a beat.
No, but seriously. Then he totally ate some. To my credit, I thought it was delicious. To his credit, it was creamed kale.
Howard and I discussed Sarah Palin’s Facebook page in this week’s Perpetual Post!
When Sarah Palin resigned from her post as Governor of Alaska, there were many who claimed that she was making a huge mistake. They pointed out that it would be difficult for her to accomplish much of anything now that she was no longer an elected official. Sarah Palin went on to amass nearly 100,000 friends on Facebook. Who’s laughing now?
What Palin’s critics didn’t realize is that by joining the ranks of Facebook, she has discovered a revolutionary new way to communicate directly with her former constituents. Never mind those big government laws and regulations separating politicians from the people—with Facebook, Palin’s base can interface directly with her to note that they ‘Like’ things she has said. Not since the press conferences of former President Bush has a politician been so clearly surrounded by individuals who are free to express their feelings of ‘Like’.
You think your average Joe the Plumber is going to call, write a letter or send an email to his local representatives to enact change in the world? He doesn’t have time for anything like that! But were he on Facebook, which he isn’t, he could instead leave a simple comment on Palin’s wall (or send her a beer!) and know he’s made a real difference.
While the vast majority of Palin’s Facebook friends are her children, many others are not. Her eldest son Track, in particular, is heavily involved in her Facebook campaign, and has even founded his own group entitled ‘People Named Track’. While the group has only one member so far, it is assumed to be the beginning of a growing movement.
Palin takes her new role as Facebook member seriously, and is an active participant in the online social networking community, playing the game ‘Farmville’ and joining causes to ‘Raise Salmon Awareness” and support ‘Polar Fleece Appreciation’. Palin is also exploring the option of drilling in her Little Green Patch in an effort reduce our country’s dependence on foreign oil. Her Facebook profile offers the average Joe Sixpack rare insight into her inner life, just by checking out her ‘Where I’ve Been – And Places I Can See from My House’ application and viewing her results on the ‘What Kind of Gun are You Most Like’ quiz.
Palin’s tenure as Governor may have come to its natural end, but if the internet has anything to say about it, she’s not going anywhere! Anyone who can inspire over 5,000 strangers to click a little thumbs-up button which indicates their approval after reading a short missive entitled ‘Birthday Wishes to Margaret Thatcher’, is clearly an unstoppable political force! Sarah Palin, your journey has just begun.
As per the usual with my new running schedule, my long run took me to the park this afternoon. I know that the South has a reputation for being full of people who are out of shape and lazy and hate to exercise, but every time I visit this park on my Sunday afternoon run, it is full of people of all shapes and sizes and ages frolicking with their kids, riding bikes, walking dogs, and generally being sickeningly wholesome and outdoorsy. So take that, popular misconceptions!
I Heard Tell 