July 14, 2005
Why is it that every single time I see this movie I,
a. Come in late. I've seen it at least twenty times and I've NEVER seen the beginning of the stupid movie.
b. Always think that Steve McQueen is going to make it over the fence and ride off into Switzerland. I mean, I know he doesn't make it. Yet, every single, solitary time I see this movie, I get to thinking that maybe, just maybe this time HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT! No, no, the Nazi's won't catch him this time. Really, they won't. He's going to make it past those fields of clover and into Switzerland. He's going to jump the second border fence just as beautifully as he did the first and...
...of course it doesn't happen. He winds up in the barbed wire, crashed bike straddled between his legs, with gasoline from the bike soaking his pantleg.
It's just bloody disappointing.
Could someone explain these two things to me? I'd appreciate it.
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Anyway...
Good Morning Ladies and Gents. It is, of course, Thursday, which means it's Demystifying Divas Day. Our topic this week: the best ways to avoid rejection and to deal with it.
Ahhh. The joys of dating. Another reason why I'm very glad I'm not single. I've often told Mr. H., after listening to his stories of singleton life, that I am ever so thankful I'll never have to deal with the dating world EVER again. And other than the fact that men, apparently, expect different things in bed these days than they did when I was single, rejection is the main reason I don't ever want to be single again.
Because it's not fun, is it? Someone judging you by some completely arbitrary set of standards that you, upon first or second glance, do not meet. I got this a lot when I was single. You want to know the main reason men did not flit my way? The fact that I'm nearsighted and wear glasses. Yep. They're really that shallow. Until their own set of spectacles---ones that magically appeared after a few pitchers of beer---got slapped on. Then, evidently, men really do make passes at women who wear glasses. Then I was fair game.
Now, I moaned and whined about this a bit to my friends and they offered a simple solution: get contacts. No one can see your eyes with those things they said. You look so much better without them they said. Ok, that's fine and dandy. I do look better without them. But, and herein lies the problem: I can't bloody well see without them. I need them. And, at that point in time, with the astigmatism in my left eye, contacts would not have been fun. (Hard lenses---yeesh!) Besides, I have this thing about sticking my finger into my eye. That's gross. So, I decided I'd just have to learn how to deal with the rejection. Because the rejection was plentiful. But there were times when I wasn't rejected because I was nearsighted. There were times when I was walked home by a guy whom I considered to be nice, friendly, and attractive...
...and there were times when I dished out my own form of rejection.
There's this thing that some guys did that drove me absolutely insane and I had a rule about it: if you, a man, decided to take my glasses off when you moved in for the goodnight kiss, you would automatically be rejected. Some guys thought removing my glasses was romantic, that this is what Bogie did in the movies---instant makeover time---so, of course, I would appreciate it. BZZZZZZZZZZT! Wrong! What parting gifts do we have for contestant number one, Bob? Well, we've got a long, lonely walk home without having received a damn thing, Fred! See, the thing is, these guys did not realize they were BLINDING me. They were putting me in a position where I had to trust them, quite literally, with my life and limb right off the bat. So, I generally grabbed my glasses right out of their hands and walked myself home. I didn't feel the need to explain. It was obvious I wasn't good enough, as I was, to them because they removed the one thing I'm very much dependent upon in this lifetime. For me it was the equivalent of taking a wheelchair away from someone who is handicapped, and telling them they'd be ever so much more attractive if only they weren't stuck in that silly chair! Would you want to be with someone who did that to you? I didn't think so.
And therein lies the solution---for lack of a better term---to rejection: for every person that rejects you, you're going to reject someone else. It all comes out in the wash. Hence, I don't think you can go out, looking for a potential mate, thinking if you've got everything under control, no one will reject you. There is always going to be something about you that does not ring right with someone else. Sometimes you will be rejected because you deserve to be rejected (like if you have a big hunk of spinach stuck in your teeth, or you have really bad breath or b.o.) sometimes, you'll be rejected for no particular reason that you can ascertain other than that, apparently, you didn't fit someone's idea of a dream companion. Once you take that into account, and adjust yourself to the idea, well, it makes it a. very easy to find the people with whom you'll probably get along and b. it doesn't sting so very much when you are rejected.
And that's all there is, folks. Now run along and see what the other Oh-So-Fine Demystifying Divas have on offer this morning. The blog kid is up at bat in the Guest Diva game today, so make sure to go over and read what Phoenix has to say. Then, when you're done with that, well, flip the coin and see what the Marvy Men's Club---comprised of Stiggy, Phin, The Wiz, and Our Beloved Maximum Leader---have coughed up.
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July 13, 2005
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{Humongous Kudos to Stiggy for pointing that one out!)
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July 12, 2005
No, don't worry. There will not be some overblown bit of discussion about whether Beck is a musical viruoso or if he's just a skinny dork who's managed to con us all into spending money on his records.
I just really like that line.
Carry on. There's nothing to see here.
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July 11, 2005
So, either tonight or tomorrow, or whenever the spirit moves me, life should get back to normal...until the next set of family arrives.
Which would be my mother-in-law, who is sitting over at the airport right now waiting for her daughter to come pick her up. Then my sister and her family show up at the end of next week.
July's turning out to be a busy month, no?
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Because, despite the fact I'm Catholic and have kissed those of clerical poobahs before, the whole ring kissing thing just doesn't sit quite right with me.
But I don't really want the end product of a horse decapitation in my bed, either, ya dig?
(I should also note that the new Llama site design is courtesy of my good pals Phin and Sadie, who have joined forces in the best Wondertwin fashion to form Apothegm Designs. Wanna spare yourself some CSS hell? Well, then HIRE THEM!)
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July 09, 2005
{Hat tip: Jonathan}
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July 08, 2005
{...}NEW YORK - Nearly four years after the collapse of the World Trade Center, Oscar-winning director
Oliver Stone will direct a film based on the story of two police officers who were trapped in the rubble on Sept. 11, 2001.Nicolas Cage, who won a best-actor Oscar for "Leaving Las Vegas," will star as Port Authority police Sgt. John McLoughlin. McLoughlin and fellow officer William J. Jimeno became trapped during rescue efforts after the collapse of the twin towers.{...}
From Ollie The Drink Trolley's press release:
{...}"It's a work of collective passion, a serious meditation on what happened and carries within a compassion that heals," Stone said in a statement Friday. "It's an exploration of heroism in our country — but it's international at the same time in its humanity."{...}
Great. It's international in its humanity. Does that mean Ollie's going to bring a bit of Asian flair to it? After all, it's not really an Oliver Stone film without bisexual Macedonian princes on horses, readying their troops for battle, or pretty Vietnamese women with those funky straw hats, is it? Is his "exploration of heroism in our country" going to show a wonderful buildup to how, I'm sure, he believes we brought 9/11 on ourselves? Because, you know, heroism always has a price attached to it. It makes for better drama that way, doncha know?
{Insert repeated slamming of head on desk here}
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July 07, 2005
What is Soldiers' Angels all about?
Well...
Within a few short months, The SoldiersÂ’ Angels Foundation went from a mother writing a few extra letters to an Internet Community of over thousands of angels worldwide and growing stronger with the addition of new members daily. With more and more merchants donating services, money and items for packages, the Angels reorganized as a 501 c 3 non-profit foundation.SoldiersÂ’ Angels currently supports thousands of American Service Members stationed wherever we raise our CountryÂ’s Flag and the number is growing daily. We also work tirelessly supporting our Wounded Soldiers, with transitional backpacks, personal visits, phone calls, etc. Additionally, we send our thanks via letters and email to the military of Great Britain, Poland and Australia who serve by our soldiers side in Iraq.
Soldiers' Angels are 100 percent volunteer run and dedicated to ensuring that our military know they are loved and supported during and after their deployment into harms way.
A community of Angels volunteer daily to provide aid and comfort to our military and their families. Join the many SoldiersÂ’ Angels to ensure that no soldier goes unloved.
Timely, no?
So go down to Keegan's at eight tonight if you're in the Cities and give them all your cash.
I'd be there, but I don't think my mom is up for barhopping with the MOB. Have fun!
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Life does, indeed, go on.
Great roundups can be found here, here, here, and in the case of the llamas, well, just keep on scrolling for some of Churchill's greatest hits.
UPDATE: Jonathan has some thoughts that are well worth reading.
I, too, was very proud of President Bush this morning. I was struck, after hearing his remarks, by just how much the shoe is on the other foot this time around.
The morning of 9/11 Bush was flying around the country, dodging what turned out to be non-existent threats. He wasn't around for us at that point in time. We were left to the devices of a hysterical media, who then thought it would be nice to show us the footage of West Bank residents whooping and hollering. (Thanks!) Tony Blair, however, was around. And thank goodness for it. He propped us up when we needed it the most. He had our president's back. This morning the situation was reversed, with Bush giving a wonderful statement while Blair was flying to London from Scotland.
I, for one, am glad it was President Bush who was allowed to return the favor. It seems fitting under the circumstances.
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July 05, 2005
Oh, sure, I know. I don't have to sell you on this one. You know you should have a spare pair. The fright of losing them runs through your mind in a quick rush. Dear God, I can't see without them! I really should get around to getting another pair. I really should. But really, with the availabilty of one hour glasses shops, it's probably the last thing on your mind, particularly when one takes into account how much a pair of spectacles costs these days. If they break, I can get another pair with minimal hassle. Besides, you say to yourself, how likely is it that I'll need a spare pair? After all, that only happens when the worst case scenario comes and visits my life.
My devoted Cake Eater Reader I am here to tell you that, conceivably, it need not be a worst case scenario that would cause you temporary blindness. Provided you're legally blind without your spectacles. Like I am. In something like seventeen states.
Never mind losing your best, most effective pair of corrective lenses in the sea.
Never mind losing your best pair in a car crash.
Never mind losing your best pair on a roller coaster that goes upside down.
Never mind losing your best pair as you run from a mummy---a freshly resurrected mummy, I should add---who's chasing you through Hamunaptra because one of your party had the bad sense to read the Book of the Dead out loud. (Dude! It's small consolation, I know, but pretty soon it won't matter. But you should probably know that your tongue's next!)
Never mind any of those wild rides. Occam's razor, my friend. Occam's razor. The simplest explanation is, most often, the correct one.
Ahem
You could, theoretically speaking, have just washed your spectacles. You could---again, theoretically speaking---be drying them. You could hear a small snap and in your hands you would find that the bridge of your glasses has separated into two pieces, leaving you with a lens and a corresponding earpiece in either hand.
What follows next could, conceivably, be interesting.
You could, conceivably, let out a small yelp of surprise.
Your spouse could, conceivably, ask, "What's wrong?" from the other room.
You could, conceivably, walk into said other room, eyes narrowed as you manuever your way around blurry-looking furniture, saying, "Look, honey, my glasses broke!"
Your spouse could, conceivably, take the two pieces into his hands and he could say, "Oh, I can fix that."
You could, conceivably, nod your head and stumble back into the other room where your spare pair of spectacles awaits their moment in the spotlight. They've been understudying for quite some time, after all. It's time for them to come into the limelight.
Now that you, conceivably, have your spares on your nose after rummaging around your desk for the case, you could, conceivably, go about your business.
Ten minutes later, conceivably, you could find your husband sitting at the dining room table with a lit votive candle, a small tool you're too distracted to notice, and your broken spectacles, looking very much like he's about to perform some voodoo ceremony sans the bloody chicken's head.
You could, conceivably, hold your breath and then say, in a voice loaded with skepticism, "Honey, I thought you were going to glue them back together."
Your spouse could, conceivably, respond, "I thought I'd try this instead."
You could, conceivably, walk away, not really wanting to know.
You could, conceivably, walk back a few minutes later, only to note that the candle has been blown out. It's mysteriously vanished, all except for the lingering smell of smoke from when it was extinguished. Your husband, conceivably, could be pulling himself up from the table, a sheepish smile on his face, and he could, conceivably, say, "Well, that didn't go so well."
You could then, conceivably, turn your head to look at your still-snapped spectacles as they sit on the green placemat your husband's been using as a workstation. When you, conceivably, pick up your spectacles to take a good look at them, you might note that the plastic had been completely torched and melted into something that would now be completely unrepairable by even the least competent glasses technician available.
You could then, conceivably, shrug good-naturedly and say, "It's a good thing I've got the spares, isn't it?"
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July 02, 2005
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And I mean INCREDIBLE!
Watch for them to replay it. Please. You won't be disappointed. David Gilmour is the most underrated guitarist of his generation. He is technically perfect. The sound was incredible. Oh, to have been there! You lucky Londoners! I'm so jealous!
But, and I must insert a complaint here, the m*th*rf*cker at MTV that cut the feed just past the half-way mark of "Comfortably Numb" deserves to be SHOT! Thank God we had it streaming on the internet as well was watching it on tee vee, but if we hadn't...we would have missed the last three glorious minutes!
Pink Floyd---THE Pink Floyd with Roger Waters in tow---gets back together, is performing live for the first time in twenty years and YOU CUT THEM OFF BEFORE THEY'RE DONE? Who the FUCK do you people think you are? One of the GREATEST rock bands of all time gets back together and YOU CUT AWAY BEFORE THEY'VE LEFT THE STAGE? Good grief. You whippersnappers have ABSOLUTELY NO RESPECT for those who came before you. Shame on you!
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The husband and I were talking about how freakin' cool this all was. They have managed to throw together huge concerts worldwide to get their message out there. I read that between the internet, tv, mobile phones, etc. something like eighty percent of the world's population will have access to see the concerts. So, even if you don't agree with their message, you still have to admit this is all pretty damn cool, and that they threw this all together in six weeks is extraordinary. It's amazing.
It almost makes you want to believe that it's actually going to make a difference.
One of the things I didn't think they'd be able to pull of was to keep this very large political movement apolitical. But they were going to give it their best shot. Geldof kept saying this isn't about the war, we don't want people Bush Bashing because we want to engage him (and other world leaders) and if everyone keeps injecting their anti-war fervor into it, well, we'll alienate him. He won't listen and he'll have good reason not to listen. And I almost bought it.
Until goddamn Green Day got up on the stage in Berlin---that bastion of Anti-American fervor---and plays their song "American Idiot."
Here are the lyrics:
Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new mania.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mindfuck America.Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information age of hysteria.
It's going out to idiot America.Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue
Thanks for that, kids! Woohoo! You don't think you could have put that one song on hold for the day? I mean if this is all really about justice and ending poverty in Africa, instead of record sales, one would think that you could put it on hold. Just for a day. But you didn't. I'm watching REM right now and while Michael Stipe has some stupid blue mask painted on his face, even he's managing to keep the petty everday politics out of it. I've watched ten other bands perform and they've all managed to keep politics out of it. They've managed to stay on the message Geldof listed out for them. Why couldn't you? Because you're an idiot American in Berlin who's just dying to have their voice heard by people who will UNDERSTAND? You've just clarified it for me. I will not be aligning my voice with these idiots. Because even if they claimed this was bigger than all of us, well, it's obvious that these people hate me, and everyone who doesn't think like they do, so why would I want to? And that they would play that song, on all days, for a German audience? Billy Joe or whatever the fuck his name is just ruined it for everyone. They were shooting for something bigger than petty day-to-day politics, but they had to bring divisiveness into it.
Well done, asshat.
UPDATE: So, I turned on the VH1-MTV feed and they were interviewing Kanye West. Who he is, I have no idea. But he claimed this was a big deal. All of these things were preventable, he said. So far so good, right? Weeeeel, he said poverty was preventable like HIV/AIDS was preventable: that if we'd created all of it, we could end it. He said, and I'm paraphrasing here, that HIV/AIDS was "man made" and had been introduced into Africa. He didn't say why or who had introduced it into Africa, or why anyone would do such a thing, but he was sure that this was the truth, and the inference we were to draw was that it was to "kill off black people." It's the same thing with crack cocaine, he claimed, which had been introduced into the black community to kill people off. He said he knew this "for a fact" because "his parents were activists" and they'd told him what the real truth was.
What a fargin' idiot. He probably wants to Free Mumia, too.
If Geldof had been smart and really wanted this thing to go in the direction he had declared, he should have banned press access to any of the artists performing. To keep them from spouting ridiculous views.
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July 01, 2005
You scored as Wine. Your favourite drink is wine. Continue going to you wine and chesse parties, but don't forget your monocale! You have a very refined drink selection, and prefer not to get drunk. You run to the bottle of merlot in the midst of a deep depression, but are disgusted at yourself whenever you lose your depression. You rarely get drunk, and prefer an upper-class get-together than a frat-house bash. Trade the top hat and tails for some jeans and a t-shirt, and head on down to the nearest bar and loosen up!
Which alcoholic beverage are you? created with QuizFarm.com |
Well, see there's a problem with their recommendation. The nearest bar to me is a wine bar. There's a fancy-schmancy Tex-Mex place three doors down from that, but it's not like I'm going to be able to purchase some Tortilla Tequila there, ya dig? Padrone? Yes. Tortilla? No. And God only knows I need some TORTILLA TEQUILA to lighten the hell up!
It's a requirement.
*bonus points for whomever can identify the quote
{Hat Tip: Doug}
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