Media Recommendations

I've seen some great movies and read some great books recently. Just thought I'd report here. Movies first:



Transformers: surprisingly good! I expected a lot of rubbish with some familiar old characters, and I was hardly prepared for this delightful adventure. The writing was incredible! Of special note was the main character's mother, whom I found to be hilarious. Evan and I went to see this one twice.



Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: This movie was much better than the bloated, depressing book from which its script was adapted. I don't know why, but I got very excited at the end with the battle between the forces of light and dark, and also by the editing in the final battle between Harry and Voldemort that takes place in Harry's mind.

Hairspray: The music in this movie was inspiring. The entire cast displayed an enormous talent, the message was timely and important, and it avoided slipping into the dubious Hollywood morality. It has a fluffy exterior, but underneath it is an important movie that everyone should see.






Ok, I know all three of those movies aren't supposed to be very deep, and they won't win a Best Picture Oscar, but they all were very well done. Much better than your average summer blockbuster fare. I wouldn't be mentioning them here had I not been so favorably impressed. Books next:



The Poisonwood Bible: Sadly, I don't have many people left to whom I can recommend this book, since I seem to be the last one to discover it. I was very impressed with Kingsolver's daring experimentation with voice. The book was shocking, heart wrenching, and didactic. It tells the story of a preacher and his wife and four daughters who travel to the Congo in the 50's as missionaries, and each chapter is told by either the wife or one of the four daughters. Each has a very distinct perspective and voice. Eldest daughter Rachel is skeptical and aloof, and inadvertently uses humorous malapropisms, all the while providing a metaphor for the average American's refusal to see what the United States was doing to the Congo. The twins are next, with Rachel speaking in lofty and idealistic tones, and we follow her down a path of disillusionment that ends in a harsh but crucial place. The other twin, Adah, has suffered brain damage and is literal and belligerent, writing in palindromes and wordplays and making deep, resounding metaphorical connections between the family and the African nation. Youngest daughter Ruth May is optimistic and naive, her imaginative and uneducated voice being used to illustrate otherwise hidden dangers in a tone heavy with dramatic irony. The mother speaks from many years later, with a deep melancholy and richly wise hindsight, all proffered in a dizzyingly poetic style. It's an absolute joy to read this novel, which begins as a story about the one family, but by the end has drawn all of the Congo under its scope.


Cloud Atlas: I don't know what inspired me to pick this up, but I was looking for something that was as much fun and experimentation as The Poisonwood Bible, and I found that in Cloud Atlas. Cloud Atlas opens with a man named Adam Ewing presenting us with his 1849 journal, using an old-fashioned English where words are spelled however they sound. Right in the middle of one of his adventures, indeed, in the middle of one of his sentences, his story comes to an abrupt end and we are introduced to Robert Frobisher, a gifted musician with an uninhibited sex life and a knack for getting himself into and talking his way out of trouble, all told through a series of letters to a former lover, which employ shorthand, often leaving out the subjects of sentences and abbreviating important words and names. Before reaching any resolution there, we begin "Half-lives: The First Luisa Rey Novel," which is a story corporate intrigue set in the 1970's. In the middle of that story, we begin to read a hilarious memoir of a publisher named Timothy Cavendish, whose misadventures are told in Cockney slang. Then we're on to the science-fiction story of Onmi 451 clone designed to feed people in a restaurant in Korea in the near future. This is presented in interview form, and the language of the future has been truncated and streamlined, so we end up with words like "xpect" and "fritened." This character's confused perspective matches ours, and as the world becomes clearer to her, so the story does to us. Finally, we begin the story of a post-apocalyptic people whose language is only in spoken form, and who long for relics of the once-civilized world. The language in this section is the most bizarre of all, representing an English corrupted by hundreds of years of benighted thinking. At this point in the novel, the story turns around, and goes back through all of the stories we've already read, finishing them off and answering our questions. What is strange is that each main character seems to be in possession of the previous sections of the book (an idea I've long considered for a book idea I've been working on), and each main character seems to be the same soul, reincarnated over and over throughout time. It builds to a neat climax several times, and astonishingly, only when you reach the end of the book do you realize the overarching themes that were surely present the whole time. Full of self-allusion and tricky, sparkling wordplay, this novel also punches out an important moral about power and greed and living as a part of a society, and how an individual's downfall will be the same as a civilization’s downfall if the citizens don't keep their pride in check. It's really astonishing, and I recommend this enjoyable read to anyone who loves language.


Finally, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Yes, this is the end of the Harry Potter series, and J.K. Rowling did it exactly right. I don't want to post any spoilers here, and I don't feel I need to explain what the book is about (who doesn't know at this point, right?), but I do want to say that this was very much the most moral and important book in the series, with lessons about sacrifice and loss and friendship and forgiveness. It was also more honest than the other books, with well-established "good" characters coming under new scrutiny (Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin, etc.) and "bad characters finally getting a chance to bask in a more positive light (Snape, the Dursleys, the Malfoys, Wormtail, etc.). The characters all became much more detailed and richer. The questions were all answered in a very appropriate and sometimes unexpected way. And I felt the action sequences were more enjoyable than ever, primarily because so much happens, and secondarily because more is at stake. No fewer than seven good characters from previous books die in this one, which is hard to take, but makes Harry's struggle all the more important. If you haven't read the Harry Potter books, I strongly recommend them. They are very life-affirming and humorous and warm, and above all, remarkably well plotted. I know everybody has probably already told you, but they are not just kids' books. They are human books

Well, kids, that's it for today. I just learned about Google Feed Reader, which might change the way I do things on the Internet, and I recommend you check it out. Especially because I update this blog so unreliably, and this will automatically inform you whenever I do. Okay bye.

I Didnt Like How Naomi Watts Was Having Eye Sex With the Ape the Whole Time.

That's what a guy on the Internet Movie Database said. I agree completely. I bet you can't guess what movie I saw tonight. Or rather, what movie I slept through most of. BOOOOORING.

Narnia

So I've seen The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Twice now. And it only came out yesterday. And we got free tickets. And for now, all I want to say is that it's my new favorite movie. Sorry, Gattaca, but this beats you. The first time I saw it I was crying in the first two minutes, and by the end I was sobbing. I love Edmund. He's me. I like Mr. Fox, too, because I feel that way as well. And it doesn't help that I've read the books, because I know who stops believing in Narnia by the end and who dies in a tragic train accident and all. And so that was making me cry too. The actress who plays Lucy, the youngest, is by far the best in the whole picture. Thanks to Vero Awesome for going with me and being my arm candy. And also I gave Racherella an awesome whitewash. She had it coming. The rest of you be warned. If you throw a snowball at the bull, you get the horns. Also, if you read this today, please pray for my friend Chad and his father. They're both going to have a rough one. Much love, people.

Grouchy Gripes Again

More Things I Hate:




I HATE capers. They grow near the ocean and they are disgusting. I had a macaroni salad one time, and it secretly had these little nasties in it. I made a big scene spitting it out. I just can't handle them. I mean, I hate a lot of foods, but this is the one I hate the most. So I hope you believe me that they are terrible terrible terribles.





I HATE Scrappy Doo. I have this secret suspicion that his middle name is the same as his last name. I know I'm bagging on a fellow Hannah-Barberian here, but this freakish little mutant version of Scooby needs to get dipped like in Roger Rabbit. He used to run around and yell "Puppy Power!" or "Put 'em up, put 'em up!" I'll tell you what you can put 'em up, Crappy Doo.





I HATE Squamous cell carcinoma. Okay, to be honest, I don't really know what it is, but I found this picture of it, and that's enough for me to say something.








I HATE Sporty Spice. Spice girls in general are a strange and foreign species. But at least they are funny, and hot. But then there is Sporty Spice. The difference between sporty and the rest of the Sisters Spice is that she is not hot. She is quite nasty, in fact. And I'm completely willing to overlook the fact that she's the one who can actually sing.





























I HATE progeria. Progeria is a congenital disease that makes kids age at about ten time their natural rate. The kids usually die very young, after having become scary dried up husks reminiscent of the aliens in the awful McDonald's-funded 80s movie, Mac and Me. The worst thing is that these kids become demented before they go. Their skeletons never properly harden, so they spend most of their lives in bed. I also hate that that one kid's penis is showing.







I HATE Trekkies. Look at them. We'll start with the one on the left, whom I consider to be the most tragic case in this photo, solely because he looks like he could actually have a chance at a life. But no, there he is, dressed like the other freaks and sporting a tiny plastic toy gun. Or phaser if you will. The next three make me wonder whether some sort of gravity ray is on them. Or maybe they forgot to drink their V8 today. Most likely, though, is that the Klingon guy smells very, very, egregiously bad. To the woman: Intergalactic Ordinance #570034-87 clearly states: "If you are older than my mom, you don't go out in public in a short dress and whoreboots. Klingon guy, I hope you get your mother's gold blouse back in her closet before she notices it's missing. And I hope you go back into yours. The world doesn't need you.





I still HATE Trekkies. You do not let your children near a giant horrible fat alien like that. I don't care if it is his mother.




























I HATE gay Trekkie couples with adopted mysteriously Asian Trekkie babies and 1980s haircuts. Why does this exist!?





I HATE naked mole rats. I hate that they are naked. I hate their nasty twelve nipples, primarily because they are nasty in and of themselves, but secondarily because their sheer number suggests the size of the litter. I hate the wrinkles. Anything that wrinkled should never be naked. I hate the teeth, the gums, and the lower lip, which I believe actually got chewed through. I hate that if these things stop breaking their teeth down on the rocks through which they dig, their nasty lower teeth just keep growing until they run right through the brain. I hate that some guy seems to be touching the naked mole rat with his bare hands. I would use gloves or a bullet or plastic explosives or something.






I HATE the movie Master of Disguise. When you watch this movie, you can tell that they were like, "Hey, let's not write a script for this movie. Let's just dress up Dana Carvey in different ridiculous outfits and see how funny he bes." And so then Dana Carvey puts on some outfit, and instead of being funny, he's all, "Hey look at me, walkin' around and wearin' a hilarious wig and being so flippety funny." And then they put Brent Spiner, (Star Trek's Data) in the role of the villain, and made his only joke the fact that he farts every time he lets out an evil laugh. And then he does it lots of and lots of times. This is hands down the worst movie I have ever experienced. It's doubly sad that it was in theatres at the same time as his old Wayne's World buddy's Austin Powers III, with the notable distinction that the latter was actually funny and successful. I worked in a movie theatre for a year, and this is the film for which I had the most people ask for their money back. Well, maybe it was tied with Jackass: The Movie. But the point is, they both sucked.





I Hate goats' eyes. Particularly this one, because of the white crud and the opaque, viscous fluids oozing from it, but really all goats' eyes in general. They have rectangular pupils, and you have to see them up close because they try to follow you around and eat your clothing. You can't really see the pupils here, so I'm gonna show you one more before I end this.






See? Even without the sludge coming out, I HATE goats' eyes. Now go away. I probably hate you, too.

The Exorcism of Scaredy Smurf

So last night I woke up at 5:00 a.m. because there was a fire in our apartment. The smell of the smoke knocked me out of slumber hard. I jumped out of bed, and ran to the kitchen. I checked the oven, but it wasn't coming from there. I checked the smoke detector in the hall, but it seemed everything was all right with that. I checked the iron, but it was unplugged. Then I realized the smell of smoke wasn't out in the hallway; it must be coming from our room. I went back in there, but it didn't smell in there, either. I had dreamed the whole thing, it seemed.

I got a new job today. I'll be making ten dollars per hour, which is a lot better than the library, and my hours are better hours, too. The job might suck, but at least I can earn some cash, huh? And maybe I'll really like it.

I saw The exorcism of Emily Rose tonight. In it, three of the characters wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, sure they can smell smoke, but completely unable to locate the source of the fire. In each case, this is the first step the demons take in haunting the person, and in Emily Rose's case, it's leads eventually to her possesion by six demons, and then her violent death. My first girlfriend back in 8th grade was named "Emily Rose." I have a cousin named that, as well. Odd.

Anyway, nobody be surprised if I end up with scary black eyes, losing teeth as I try to chew through the wall. Or if Asmond has simply taken up smoking.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Ok, so it's not my birthday. But it is my blog's birthday. So I felt I should do something special for today. But I couldn't think of anything, so instead you get a report of my last few days, which have been incredible.

I saw the Corpsebride on Friday night with Wiggle, Pinetree, Blushorts, and a bunch of librarians and a roommate and a few random friends. I thought the movie was amusing, but it had a huge dearth of actual conflict. The threatened death of several characters didn't phase me at all, since half the ensemble was already dead, and nobody seemed to mind. Death was made completely moot. I also found it difficult to care which girl the protagonist ended up with, since he himself seemed pretty apathetic about it throughout the movie. There wasn't enough motivation given for his decision when he learns about the impending wedding of his betrothed. The piano music was haunting and beautiful, the puns and gags were enjoyable, but the conflict and suspense were as flat as yesterday's Pepsi. Even if we hadn't been able to predict what was going to happen in the end, we wouldn't have cared, since none of the characters seemed to.

Afterwards we picked up Asmond and Rock Flower and played Cranium. My team won, though I blew two turns just by making stupid mistakes.

Friday evening I went to watch "Into the Woods" on video and have dessert with Jessica and Kip, the people with whom I went to "Wicked." The desserts were excellent, and I love the play, but I had to leave early to go watch Stealth with Hero. Which was fun. We got there a bit late, but as Hero said, "I can't believe we got front-row seats!" The movie didn't suck even half as much as I expected. The plot was inane, but more politically conscious than I had expected, and characters actually ended up in interesting predicaments. The dialogue wasn't your standard pre-packaged blockbuster fare, which helped a lot. The main problem was that for most of the movie, there was no villain. The hero finds a ridiculous way to brainwash the evil plane and somehow turn it good. By splashing water on it. No joke. Like the Wicked Witch of the West, Bawb points out. They spend the rest of the movie just cleaning up the mess that was made. I guess you could count North Korea as the antagonist after that. In the end, the sentient plane pulls a Jesus and sacrifices himself to save the main characters. We are meant to feel bad for it, I think. After the movie, Hero and I went back to his place and ate banana pudding and talked about girls. I almost wonder if he wanted to hang out just so he'd get another mention in my blog. He wanted a nickname on here, so I went back and edited the previous references to him. Anyway, Hero's one of my favorite people. We understand each other, I think. As I've told him, I have a rule about arrogant people, and it's only OK to be as arrogant as he is if you're as cool as he is to back it up.

We tried to track down Chris and the Los Hermanos crew at Vermillion Skies, but there were only a bunch of people that made Hero nervous because they were all wearing Vans, and they made me nervous bcause they were all dancing. Ran into a vampire-like kid I know from Fairfield, and asked abouit his wife, but it turns out he had not gotten married after all. Whoops. I ALWAYS do that.

Yesterday was the best day I've had in a long, long time. I awoke early and got all ready for church. It was fast-and-testimony meeting, and it seemed that half the ward got up right at the beginning of the meting to bear its testimony. I was among them. In the end, the bishop allowed everyone who had gone up to the front to get up and speak. It was really a good meeting. It also had the unintended result that people seemed to instantly be my friend after that. People were just clapping me on the back as they passed me in the hall, or saying hi to me and addressing me by name. It made me happy. I also got sustained as a member of the activities committee, which is going to be awesome. We had a meeting after church, and the rest of the members of the committee are hilarious and good to work with. They told us that our main goal as members of the committee is to be best friends with the ward, and be aware of people and what they're doing. I think that sounds like the perfect calling for me, since I love meeting people.

My home teaching companion and I went and did our home teaching after that. We have the same name. We home teach two girls and my companion's best friend, who lives downstairs from him. They are all really great and amusing, and we had nice spiritual experiences with all of them.

Then it was off to ward "break-the-fast," which I think is a Utah invention and an excuse to have a potluck once a month. While there, I worked hard on memorizing people's names. After that I took a brief nap and then went to practice for "Joseph Smith the Prophet."

You guys, this music is amazing. It goes through Joseph Smith's life, which is great because of this being the year of his two-hundredth birthday and general conference coming up this weekend. Our performances are this Thursday and Friday at 7:30 p.m., and I can think of no better way to get oneself prepared for Conference than by attending this concert. We have a 160-person choir and a 40-piece orchestra. The soloists are astounding. This is the best music I've ever been affiliated with. I hope everyone who can come, will. Tickets are $5.50 and will be available at the door. It's at the Abravenel Hall in Salt Lake city, right across from Temple Square.

I was offered a ride home by a married guy in our group. He joined our group only last Wednesday, and he sat next to me then. Last night he sat next to other people. On the way home last night he told me that he wanted to sit next to me from now on, since I have such a strong voice and read the music so well. That was a really nice compliment, since I had been thinking I was just good enough to have made the choir. I am in charge of the carpool to get us all up to SLC, and it was a good thing I was organized with that information, because I kept getting complimented. Seriously, I got so many compliments yesterday my enormous head kept knocking my pillow off the bed last night. Really.

So I went to Ward Prayer, and it was really cool. We ended up teaching the elderly bishopric members and their wives about the game Seven Minutes in Heaven during a raucous discussion. After that I went to the Alamo, which is the house near mine where my hometeachee and my companion live. We had a huge group of various members of the ward, all of who'm I'd met earlier during the day. We played a game called "Buzzword." My team won, and they declared that next time it was Smurf versus everyone else. I've said it before, but if I have one super power it's mad wicked board game skills. This one was almost as ridiculous as Mad Gab. Afterward my namesake companion gave us all ice cream and we told stories. Then I came home, and talked online to Merry, my old mission companion who's now fighting in Iraq, and to Topsie, and found out that things are moving forward with Jonathan, "according to plan." Then it was midnight, so Wiggle and Bekachu and I went to Beto's and got big honking nasty burritos and ate them. Then I went to bed.

Autumn rolls on, and I am feeling more and more blissfully, sanguinely happy. Happiness is in my blood, like hemoglobins. I start my job at the library tomorrow. I'm a page. I imagine that means I'll be following around a knight and handing him his sword or his lance, depending on which is right for the conflict at that moment.

Anyway, once again I ask you to pardon my effusiveness, but things are just so great for me lately.

Finally, in honor of my blog's birthday, I've added a new subtitle to my blog: "The Brainy Poet Corner." Brainy and Poet are two of the smurfs who make contributions here on my blog, and the whole subtitle is an anagram for my full name. As is "Horny-brain erect poet," but I pretty much hate that.

Hooch

Pinetree and Wiggle and I went to see Batman Begins again at the dollar theatre last night. This horrible girl sat right behind us with her loquacious friends, blabbering on and on.

"Oh, where do I know that actor from? Is that Tom Cruise? Remember that time when we went to that dance and you dressed like such a slut? Hahahaha. Man, those bats are scary. Are you s@%* faced? I know I am."

It just kept going. Wiggle wanted me to say something. The people in front of us turned around and told us to let them know if we heard any high-school students around. Then the stupid girl reached over and touched Pinetree's ear. She said she just couldn't stop looking at it. I finally turned around.

She grew defensive. "What, I like his ears."

"Could you please try to be quiet?"

She gasped. "Are you serious? I--"

"Yes. This isn't an audience-interactive movie-going experience."

She turned to her friends. "He's serious!" Then back to me, "I can make comments if I want."

"Yeah, you can go home and rent a movie and talk all you want. But here you need to be quiet."

I turned around, and she muttered under her breath, "Well, I am NEVER joining the Mormon church now."

That one actually amused me. Because yeah, right she wasn't Mormon. People in Utah who aren't Mormon don't just automatically assume that everyone else is.

Anyway, to make sure I hadn't done irreparable damage, I called her the B-word on my way out, just so she wouldn't think I'm Mormon. And also because she was being one, hitting my chair and kicking the back of my head throughout the movie.

The sad thing is that once she actually quieted down, I totally fell asleep. I had to leave part-way through the movie so I could sleep in the car. I'm such an old man these days. The good thing about that was that when I left, the girl thought I was going to tell on her, so she totally shut up for the rest of the movie.

While I was in the car, a couple came and started making out against their running car right next to me. They saw me, but ignored me. I was awakened a while later by the guy saying very loudly, "Not right here. There's a guy like two inches away and he can totally see us."

"Come on, I don't care!" whined the girl.

"No way, look at him. He's probably got a hand in his pocket and he's--"

Well, common decency requires that I not repeat what he said. But it sure was crazy. After a lot more discussion about sex and the fact that I could see them, they finally they got in the car and drove off. They were obviously saying those things so I'd hear them. It was very strange, all around.

Anyway, I thought I'd just offer you a little slice of what it's like to be me in Provo. Bye.

Friends & Enemies

I've been walking on air the past few days. Everything seems so right in the world, and every sensation seems to have been heightened. That's what happens to me when it starts to turn colder outside. Until it overshoots and becomes ridiculously cold outside. Like with snow and stuff.

Went on a date last night with Racherella. She invited me. We dressed up in outrageous golf clothes and went miniature golfing at Trafalga. Ronnie and Chris came, too, which was awesome, even though they kept bickering with each other. They almost used to date. The girls had on these matching little miniskirts and tall argyle socks. They went in and flirted with the boys at the counter and scored us free games. I'm telling you, it's so nice to have hot girls around. We went to IHOP after that, and I got a french toast breakfast.

Ok, I just wrote several paragraphs about enemies and how we make them. But then I got bored with writing it, so I figured you'd get bored with reading it, so I erased it. I need to find something else to talk about. Maybe something light. Whatever flits into my head. Here we go.

Smith's had candy bars on sale a few weeks ago for three for a dollar. So I bought tons and put them in my second dresser drawer, and forgot about them. Then every time I was frantically looking for something, I would pull open that drawer and be surprised and eat the candy and I wouldn't be so stressed. Being this forgetful is great because it means you can surprise yourself. I could probably hide my own Easter eggs.

I saw Dark Water with Jennifer Connely. Booooring. Jennifer is great, but this movie sucks. The first hour of the movie, it seems as though it's just a Lifetime Channel melodrama about a divorcing woman who moves into an apartment with a nasty leak in the ceiling. Except, there are two differences. Every time they zoom in on the leak, they play eerie dissonant music and then flash to a series of external shots of the apartment complex. And the whole thing is shot through a filter to make everything look dingy and greenish. The movie climaxes suddenly and too late. It was like watching a scary movie from Cleanflix, with all the scary parts taken out. There was only one attempt at making the audience jump, and it failed completely because it was a false-alarm scare (the janitor is in the elevator and we didn't expect him [except we did]), and the scariest thing we'd seen to that point was just a little bit of black hair coming out of the faucet. John C. Reilly, as the apartment manager, is supposed to be comic relief, but while he is comical, there is nothing from which the viewer needs to be relieved. He ends up feeling like just all the other otherwise cheerful components of the film that fail to be made creepy by the sea-water lighting and clanging music. Don't go see this movie, folks.

I went to my secretary's birthday party. Not a huge fan of parties where I end up being the majority of the entertainment. There was some techno music playing, and everybody just sat around on the couches. At one point Jenny and some guy posed for photos and made it look like they were snogging. I made a mess with styrofoam. One of the roommates made a chocolate cake with strawberries and cream cheese frosting, which was good, but maybe a bit too busy.

I made my first computer joke today. I feel like a sell-out. My friend Kreig takes phone calls from technophobes and helps them with their computer issues. I had the following conversation on msn instant messenger:

Kreig: I am on the phone call from h***!
Smurf: They have computers there?
Smurf: They must be Dells.
Kreig: Hahahaha.
Kreig: I'm going to get into trouble for laughing at this caller.

Man, I will sink to any level for a laugh.

Jar-Jar Away on Tatooine's Plains

The day Star Wars Episode II came out (and after I had watched it twice after closing the previous night to make sure I had spliced the film together correctly), I got to work bright and early and put in a good 17 hours of "crowd control." It was my job to disallow any lightsaber battles, distribute bathroom passes, and push popcorn and red vines on the weirdoes. I think it's kinda cool to see all the nerds and stuff, but when you end up for three hours of hyped-up special effects crammed next to a guy who probably hasn't been out of that Wookiee suit in over a week (I thought they smelled bad... on the OUTside), the charm is lost. Still, Star Wars dorks are better than Star Trek nerds. "Live long and prosper" my @$$! You freaky sucky trekkies with your stupid pizza-delivery-boy uniforms and your unapproachably esoteric movies. I swear the director of "Nemesis" just left periodically and Brent Spiner (Data, also famous for being the farting villain in "Master of Disguise") just had his robotic way with the script. "Hmm, in this scene, I think I'll sing a song. And here I'll fly like Superman. And now there's two of me! The fans are going to love this!" And was anyone else really just grossed out by the constant references to the nude honeymoon between Deanna Troy and the guy who wrote and directed the movie? If I were that lady, I would have had the heebie-jeebies so bad. But all those nerds were eating it up on opening night, leaning forward in their seets to get a better view should some hot empath skin flash across the screen. I would sooner get on Gates McFadden any day. Oh, crap, I think I've wandered too far out into nerddom for my typical reader. Maybe I'll just talk about my rock collection next time. Or the accompanying rock tumbler and black light to check for phosfluorescent impurities. Anyway, the point is, Star Wars Episode III is really fantastic, but curses to the brainless but loquacious young woman who let it slip that Anakin kills a bunch of little kids (um, belated spoiler alert. Sorry), thus spoiling one of the film's hardest hitting moments for me. And did you all notice how they did NOT kill Jar-Jar? Not even ONCE? Oh, well. At least he died just as many times as he spoke. And now, meesa gosa beddybye, Ani. May the force live long and prosper with you.

Old Hat New Hat

Ronnie and Chris and I went to Saver's today to buy hats for work tonight ("these clothes smell like grandmas"). I bought four hats:

1. I found a hat that says "Napa." It matches my Napa high sweatshirt perfectly!

2: I got an emerald green hard hat.

3: A turban. We even bought a matching jewel to clip onto the front. I'm going to wear it to work tonight.

4: A baseball cap with my first and last name on it and an Indian in a loincloth with a saw. "Smurf's Cabinetry," it says. only not smurf, but my actual full name. Oh, oh. The sweetest thing.

Anyway, tonight's challenge is to use a line from "Man of the House" during an awkward moment in a conversation tonight. Here is the line: "Well, that plane just crashed into the side of the mountain. Call off the search party. There were no survivors." Though I personally prefer a different line from that movie, which only works in a high Spanish accent: "Pull over! I have to have my baby in America!" Don't see that movie, folks.

Skipping Has its Drawbacks

So I saw Ocean's 12 last week. When it was over, I had no idea what had happened. I didn't get the plot at all. Wiggle and the Man on the Oatmeal Box had to explain it all to me. I was disconcerted, mostly because I've never seen a movie without being able to catch the clues and understand the plot at least by the dénouement. There was key factor that I missed: the identity of the Night Fox. They told me it had been given away when he pointed at something. That explains a lot, considering my nonverbal learning disorder. Still, though, I shouldn't have been as confused as I was. I was starting to think maybe the movie was just poorly written and my friends were reading too much into it. Then I had a flashback.

7 hours earlier:

I was at work, and just in one of my unaccounted-for cheery moods. I was humming along with the Christmas music and skipping about the restaurant like some sort of nancy. The problem is that I skipped through a low archway and smashed the top of my head. OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW. White flash! I was on the ground, blocking the arch with my over-long body. I stood up and felt the swelling on my head, and there was blood on my hand when I pulled it away. I had to run and keep serving my tables, though. Luckily my good mood wasn't at all affected by the concussion. However, my brain seems to have been. When the lump on my head goes away (it's been five days and there's still a scab and everything) I'll go see the movie again. Hopefully nothing permanent happened there. If so, oh, well. I'm still happy!