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Archive for the ‘Cultural phenomenon’ Category

extreme cheapskates?

Wednesday, November 6th, 2013

Wednesday means it’s time for a new episode of American Horror Story! However, we had some time to kill before the show started. So, we flipped through the channels and landed on TLC. Right now, they’re airing episodes of a show called “Extreme Cheapskates.” It seemed interesting enough. In fact, I thought maybe I could get some tips for saving some dollars.

We first caught the end of an episode where a woman was planning her son’s tenth birthday party. She went to a bakery that, among other things, sold slices of cake. She found several that weren’t perfect and talked them down in price. She then asked if they could place them together and frost them to look like one whole cake. The guy said he would for $5 extra. She talked him down to $2.50. Done. She got a decorated birthday cake for $6. Okay, that seems reasonable. Maybe don’t tell the guests it’s pushed together scratch-n-dent slices. She then stopped at a couple of places that had mylar balloons for promotions (like to draw attention to a sale) to see if she could take them for decorations. She scored a pretty sizable bundle of large mylar balloons. Again, fine. Balloons that might have been tossed to save some bucks seems fair. The weirdest part was that the party was held at a nursing home. Nice for the old folks, but maybe a little odd for the ten year old and his friends. Still, this didn’t seem absurd. I could say scoring some free balloons and cheap cake. All right, some tips!

Then, on to an episode with an engaged couple planning their wedding. Only, they weren’t so much doing the planning. The bride-to-be’s mother was the one doing the planning. She made one of the bedrooms in the house the “wedding room” where she was stockpiling items for the wedding. Again, okay. I can see wanting to save some dollars. When we got married, we had a set budget, and if one thing went over its share we had to cut from another item. For example, we found a photographer we loved, and he was above the photography budget. So, we looked at what else we could save on so we could afford it. In this case, we cut the budget for the flowers. That meant we had to get creative with centerpieces to cut them out, and we re-used ceremony arrangements for the reception. Also, we put together favors that doubled as centerpieces. We saved dollars and had something nice. This woman however, took saving dollars to a whole new level. She was just stockpiling random crap, that I’m pretty sure Goodwill wouldn’t accept. This would be okay if it was what the daughter and her fiance wanted. It was not. The mother set the entire wedding budget at $1000. She sat down with the groom’s mother to discuss the wedding plans. The groom’s mother was willing to pitch in financially, but the bride’s mother wouldn’t have it. Not because of pride, or genuinely not being able to afford it. Just because she did not want to spend the money. She decided the wedding would be held in a high school. The guests would bring the food and drink. The wedding gown came from a pawn shop. That last one wouldn’t have been so bad, except the pawn shop didn’t so much deal in wedding dresses. Thus, there weren’t many, and they were hanging in the back storage. The back storage that may or may not have had a rat problem. The young woman found a tolerable dress only to find that the skirt was covered in rat pee. The mother was really excited because that meant they could get a deal. They wound up spending $75 on a rat pee soaked dress. I got a pretty nice dress to be a zombie bride at the pub crawl for $20. It was even clean. I really love my rat…but her pee is gross. It’s usually hit or miss as to whether I think her blankets (cut from fleece scraps or rags) can even be washed and re-used. If I were that poor girl, I would have been awfully paranoid that the guests could smell rat pee on me at the reception. My feeling is that it’s one thing if this woman wants to be cheap. It’s another to force it on someone else who does not want it to the point that you won’t let them do anything just so you can prove how cheap you are.

I mean, this guy after that scrounged for change around the streets of Las Vegas was a little odd. He paid his bills by signing up for research studies. He was really disappointed to find out he wouldn’t qualify for one where he would have one of his testicles removed and replaced with a prosthetic. I would be happy to find out that I wouldn’t have to undergo surgery in a very tender place, but hey, to each his own. At least he was keeping his weird dollar saving and making to himself. Well, except for the people at the laundromat that he would ask if he could throw a few pieces in with their load so he wouldn’t have to pay for washing or drying. Even they were allowed to choose whether or not to put his items in with theirs.

The couple that was expecting a baby and didn’t want to spend any money was a different story. All the furniture in the nursery was cobbled together from items found in dumpsters and alleys. The walls were painted with bits of paint from samples and oops cans (all of which were free). The real showstopper, though, was when they went to a dump and scavenged items that could be fashioned together into a breast pump. I don’t know what all the guy found, but there was a bicycle pump involved. He kept testing it on himself as he worked to see how it was coming. Uhhhh…. I can even see getting a used breast pump. However, cobbling together one out of parts that were never intended to be part of a breast pump, something that applies suction to a very sensitive region and holds food for an infant? I do not see that being a good plan. My favorite part was when she said that it wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend money, it was that she wanted to be choosy as to what she spent it on. Um, if you don’t want to spend it on your newborn baby, what will you spend it on? Why have the money if you never want to spend it?

There was also the guy who was a firefighter, and crazy cheap. He covered all the outlets and light switches in the house with tape to prevent the rest of the family from using any extra electricity. He flipped all the breakers at 8pm, so they couldn’t turn anything on even if they wanted to. Again, with the forcing your rules on your family. The electricity wasn’t so bad at least. He took all their dirty dishes and laundry to the firehouse to avoid paying a cent for doing them. Again, not so bad. Where things got dicey was when he would clean out the fridge at the fire house and feed the leftovers to the family. That was all they would eat was leftovers. Which gave them food poisoning more than once. Gross. The finale was their daughter’s sweet sixteen. At a strip club. He got a really good deal, because they aren’t open during the day. He assured his daughter that her friends wouldn’t even notice the poles because they would be decorated. He also presented her with his old car, which he gave a new paint job to. A flat black spray paint job that he did himself. I get that one doesn’t need to spend an insane amount on a sweet sixteen party. I get that you don’t need to get your kid a brand new car. But maybe spare the bargain shelf spray paint and strip club and throw your kid a pizza party in the backyard.

I think the really special family, however, was the last one we saw before AHS began. They had three kids, but one was grown, married, and moved on. They had electricity and a hot water heater, but refused to use either. They had a lantern to use for light. They shared cold bathwater. The tub would get filled once with cold water, and then the kids would get to use it first, then the parents. The mother would pour a smidgen of shower gel into a small container and tell the family they had to ration it through the month. One of the sons admitted that sometimes he would sneak a private shower in the middle of the night so his mom wouldn’t know. They took a broken chest freezer and buried it in a shady spot in the yard to store their food. It stayed a cool 55 degrees Fahrenheit in there, so they would only keep meat for a week. She wouldn’t buy toilet paper, so they used free newspapers. Conveniently, they used newspapers to insulate the windows, too. The woman explained that it was handy, because if the boys forgot to restock the newspapers for butt wiping, she could crack open the window to grab one. She bragged that she never saw a dentist. If she got a cavity or anything, she would chisel the tooth out herself. Sometimes, she explained, you would miss the tooth and knock yourself out, but when you awoke you could just finish removing the tooth. The home had three bedrooms, but they only used one. The other two were permanently closed off so they wouldn’t have to heat or cool or whatever them. The whole family slept in one bed and their combined body heat saved on heat. Because, you know, making your teenage son and your other son share a bed with their parents isn’t weird at all. Their grown, married daughter, her husband, and their three children were coming to visit. So, dad pitched a tent in the yard so the parents and brothers could sleep in it, and the daughter and her family would sleep in the room that the family usually used. They still refused to open either of the other two rooms. Since the mother knew that the daughter and her family wouldn’t take cold baths, they put a large washtub in the yard with a plastic liner. The daughter could heat water on the outdoor stove for her family to bathe. Dad had gone out and shot some squirrels and caught some frogs for dinner. The mother said it was okay, because the daughter agreed to stay there, so she knew what she was getting into. Which, her daughter was an adult, so yeah she could agree or not. However, the sons weren’t. They clearly weren’t on board or they wouldn’t be sneaking showers (albeit cold ones) when their mother wouldn’t know about it.

I’m not a parent…at least not to human children. Mostly because I don’t want to have to make lifestyle choices based on what’s best for someone else. I mean, if I want to eat cheese and crackers for dinner, that’s one thing. But it wouldn’t be fair for me to force a kid to eat that because I don’t want to cook. There are plenty of poor families out there who are scraping by to cobble together a family life that provides some sense of well being to their kids. To force that on kids just because you want to hoard money? It’s not like it’s useful in the afterlife.

Suddenly, American Horror Story seems a lot less scary.

my latest issue: dove “beauty”

Tuesday, April 30th, 2013

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, I suspect you are familiar with Dove’s “real beauty” campaign. It has been going on for some time, and it’s supposed purpose is to show that all women are beautiful magical creatures and we must all celebrate how amazing we all are and reject cultural norms of what is beautiful. I have called bullshit on these from the beginning, and the latest round of ads featuring a “social experiment” gets me even more ragey than usual. I have seen too many women I would normally consider reasonable and intelligent turn into blubbery messes over these ads. They somehow miss all the problems with this “experiment” and how all of the women featured still fit a very specific standard of beauty. One even beyond the usual standards of the industry.

Dove “Real Beauty” Sketch Ad

While I accept and celebrate that we are all different and special for different reasons, I also accept and celebrate that this includes skill sets and talents. Some have exceptional skills in logic or math. Some are brilliant artists. Some have incredible bone structures that Michelangelo himself could not have sculpted if he tried. There are even those special few that possess many or all of these. (Natalie Portman or Geena Davis, anyone?) One or the other doesn’t trump all. Beauty and brains are equally important, and equally unimportant. Some people are destined to be neurosurgeons. Some are destined to get trash from point A to point B. Some are destined to wear clothing and strut the runway. Society needs all of these, and they all require specific skill sets. There are countless occupations such as these, and all are important. Just because one isn’t cut out for one doesn’t mean they are worthless. It means they are cut out for something different and just as important. They are just as worthy of love and adoration, regardless of skill set or physical attributes. This includes loving yourself. Yes, I dare to say it, you don’t have to think you are beautiful! It doesn’t mean you don’t love yourself, it doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of love. It means that you are a valuable person, it means you have valuable skills. It even means that someone else may still think you are beautiful! After all, like art, beauty is subjective. All of this is fine. After all, wouldn’t life be awfully boring if everyone thought the same thing was pretty?

Dove ads are trying to take “average” women and make them models. That’s fine, I suppose. However, as I previously mentioned, every job requires a certain skill set. In the case of modeling, it requires a certain physicality and, for print work, one to be photogenic. Neither of those requirements are necessarily equivalent to beauty. Most models need to be clothes hangers. If you have ever done any fashion sketching, the proportions in sketching are different than average proportions. The closer one’s proportions are to these (longer body, smaller head, the longer the legs are in proportion, the better), the better suited they are for fashion modeling. These proportions are not “ideal.” If you look at the classic DaVinci piece “The Vitruvian Man” you would see that these people aren’t “ideal.” There has been outcry recently that the fashion world should change the requirements for modeling. That this isn’t representative of what “real” people look like. Last I checked, these models had skin and bones and breathed in and out just like every other being. They just have unusual body types. I agree that eating disorders should be looked for, however, I know that not all models have eating disorders. There are actually people who can eat how they want and are still slim. I’m related to a couple of them, but am not one of these people myself. Yet, it has become fair game to accuse the naturally slender of having an eating disorder. To tell them they are gross, or not real, or to eat a cheeseburger. I have yet to hear someone say that it’s wonderful that someone found a job that uses and celebrates their natural slender state and unusual proportions. Yet, I have heard lots of women just thrilled that Dove is bucking the trend and using “average” women. However, how average are these women? I guess if you are trying to reach the majority, which are white women, then yes. High fashion does a better job of celebrating diversity than the usual Dove ad.

I will admit that the Dove advertisers are good. They know how to trigger emotions. They use clever language to tell us just how important it is to be pretty, under the guise that it’s okay to not be beautiful. These sketch ads are especially sneaky. They have all these intelligent women watching them in tears, sad that women just don’t understand how pretty they are. None of these women realize they are being played. First, the experiment is flawed. While these are some of the top forensic sketch artists in the country, they are working under unusual conditions. They know that they will be drawing the “flawed” version that the individual sees first, followed by the “attractive” version the stranger sees. Further, in a true sketch situation, the person offering the description can see the sketch to see if what is being drawn is accurate to what they are describing. The adjectives one may use would be different than what another would use or because of limited vocabulary and this provides an opportunity to ensure that the drawing is accurate to what is being described. For instance, the word round could be used to describe simply the shape or to describe weight. Second, the sample shown in the final cut lacks diversity. We see that there were some women of color used, but they don’t get featured nor do they speak. We just see the blonde, blue-eyed, slender white women with make-up free faces. Not just a specific version of beauty, but one that is indicative of the west coast. So very specific! Finally, the language used gives a particular meaning to what is beautiful. The word “thin” gets tossed out a lot. So, thin is beautiful. If you don’t think you are thin, you don’t think you are beautiful. In fact, the words fat and fatter are used as negative. Finally, it talks about how important it is to be beautiful. In the descriptor on Dove’s homepage, it says that it is trying to inspire women and girls to reach their full potential. Apparently, one cannot reach their potential without being beautiful. They don’t say it explicitly, but they are giving a big middle finger to brains and strength and talent. At the end of the ad, it has one of the women describing her experience, talking about how important it is to pretty much everything in life to be beautiful.

So, once again, I call bullshit. You don’t have to be pretty. You don’t have to be thin. You are still worthy of love and success. You are still talented. Hell, someone will still think you are beautiful! I am the first to admit that I am a pretty vain person. I like to look good, generally. However, I don’t equate that to my worth. I am an artistic, intelligent, talented woman. That is why I will make it far. I don’t wear make-up when I go to work, in part because I will sweat it off and it will clog my pores, but also because what my face looks like doesn’t affect the quality of my work. I still go in every day and bust my ass, and create inspirational designs. I still learn from my coworkers, and teach them what I can. If Dove really wants to empower women, it will take this appearance thing out of the equation. If they are really all about being natural and all inclusive, they will focus on how their products get you clean, and function to get you doing what you need to do. Not pretending that everyone is beautiful when they clearly have their own standards of what fits that category, and insuring that we all think beauty is still important to being a productive, successful member of society.

oh mickey’s

Saturday, November 12th, 2011

Oh Mickey’s Dining Car. Providing the good people of Saint Paul with prime people watching since 1937. Whatever would we do without you?
Take last night. 11.11.11. Friends of ours were married, G was the DJ, and as it is when you are partying on this side of the Mississippi one is limited with late night food and entertainment. Luckily, Mickey’s is always there. Open 24 hours to provide you and yours with a heart attack on a plate. The dining car is wee, however, and once the bars close seating is at a premium. There were six in our party, and we were the last to arrive. We could have tried to squeeze in with our four friends who were already seated. If I’m being honest, I need to lay off the cheeseburgers so that wasn’t the best idea. However, it appeared luck was on our side! A couple was finishing up at one of the other three booths. We waited to make our move, only to be told by the waitress that there was already a group waiting for it. I was slightly grumpy, because it was a group of people that were already sitting at the bar. Oh well. They would move, we would sit at the bar, it would be fine. Except that in making their way to the booth they went out of their way to be extra bitchy, pushing past me and saying, “excuse me,” in that way that really said that I was the one that should be begging for pardon, despite the fact that I was pressed against the booth as far as I could possibly be. I replied, “You’re excused,” in the same tone. Then said to our friends, “bitchy, much?” As we went to our seats, we looked at the women. Now, you may be familiar with the stereotype of the angry, overweight, very butch lesbian. I am pretty sure these were the women responsible for the creation of that stereotype. They were angry and macho. It turned out that we were still sitting next to some of them. This was only awkward, because when we sat down, apparently they wanted to move to those seat. I apologized and offered to sit somewhere else and explained I was trying to get out of the way of the cranky ladies that were going for the booth. It was later that I realized they were with those cranky ladies. Oops.
Clearly, more bars were letting out and more charming folks paraded in. Up next was a group of four women roughly the color of Oompa-Loompas with brassy hair that would make Miss Clairol blush. One of them immediately starting crying. I am not sure why, but I would guess a combination of too many shots and the wee hour of the morning. The booth next to the angry lesbians opened up, and one of them with a Kangol hat parked herself in the booth. The Oompa Loompa quartet scored the booth, anyway, and Kangol couldn’t figure out why their lady-friends didn’t jump at the booth. Frankly, I wouldn’t want to admit I was with any of them, either.
So, we stand at two booths, one of angry lesbians and one of Oompa Loompas, plus two more angry lesbians at the counter. Add two frat boys inside the door. We had a bit of trouble trying to keep our eyes on everyone at this point. G asks me what happened to the hair of the orange woman with her back facing us. To answer, I had to dig deep.
Now, many years ago there was a fella. He would target women with long hair in movie theaters. He would take the seat behind said woman and once the theater was dark would take a pair of shears to her hair and make off with the locks. The poor woman would realize once it was too late that she now had the world’s most unfortunate shag haircut. I feel like he was called “The Movie Theater Bandit,” or some such nonsense. Anyhow, if this man is the owner of a salon, that must be where this woman went. Or, she puts scissors on her pillow at night and sleeps on her back and hopes for the best. Either way, not the best look.
Eventually, her sobbing friend put large sunglasses on. Apparently, no one can tell you’re crying if you put your sunglasses on. Especially when it’s three in the morning and you have smeared mascara on your face. Now, I don’t know if it was because she couldn’t see, or if no one at that table learned how to use utensils properly, because at one point a fork, followed by a knife, catapulted off their table and at the table of our friends. I am pretty sure no one lost any eyes, which is good because none of them had their sunglasses on. Maybe those orange ladies were onto something, after all?
On the bright side we were sitting with a great view of the archway leading to the restrooms. I have not seen so many muffin tops since I was a barista and had to prep the baked goods. My tip? Just go up a size. Also, buy a bigger shirt. I’m just saying.
G and I managed to eat, pay our bill, and thought we would bid adieu to our friends. It was at this point that we learned that sleeps with scissors flashed the contents of her purse to the restaurant. Apparently, the interior of said purse was largely filled by a massive stack of bills rubber banded together. I guess she didn’t want the bills to be lonely, so she stuffed some random lottery tickets inside, as well. It was thought that the women were perhaps poorly groomed strippers. I felt that they seemed more like the type that would solicit on the intersections along Lake Street, if you know what I’m saying and I think you do. Know what I’m saying, that is.
As the rest of our party paid their tabs, we realized the frat boys were moving in for the kill with the chocolate factory night shift. We also realized that the two women next to us were on a date, which apparently is why they were loath to join their angry friends. We just hope that everyone was up to date on their inoculations and had a stash of antibiotics in their medicine cabinets. Hell, I took some when I got home. Just in case.
I think the button on the evening was the crowd of panhandlers around the exit of the diner. They clearly had a plan and scattered to follow our group as we went our separate ways. It’s reassuring to be walking home at four in the morning wondering if you possibly might get mugged. Though, I realized that really the only difference in mugging and panhandling is the force involved. Those panhandlers were pretty determined to get some dollars, but at least they weren’t brandishing weapons. It’s the small things, friends.
Now, I am trying to decide if this adventure could top the time we were at Mickey’s with the woman who had a large handprint-shaped bruise on the inside of her thigh or possibly that time at Perkin’s when we were surrounded by trannies. I think it might.

my dogs are barkin’

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

So, yesterday was part one of the big AMC Best Picture Nominee showcase. A few years ago they started doing a showcase of the Best Picture nominees, showing all five nominees in one day. With a whopping ten nominees this year, the showcase was extended to two Saturdays. The five on deck yesterday were: Avatar, Up in the Air, Precious (for which I refuse to call by it’s full screen name, since I think it’s ridiculous), The Blind Side, and Inglorious Basterds.
Of these, the only film G and I saw was Inglorious Basterds. Having no interest in Avatar, we planned on this being our big chance to see it, since we already paid for it and all. However, once the morning rolled around, we both decided that sleep was more interesting than Avatar. I suppose if James Cameron has made a deal with the devil and it wins the award, we’ll feel sheepish…but not much.
Up in the Air was as good as I thought it would be. I thought it spoke to the strength of the script & directing that G and I had different takes on it. G and I have somewhat different mindsets right now, and I thought it was cool that we were able to walk away each having got something different from the film.
Precious was okay. Maybe my expectations were too high, but while I thought there were some good performances, I thought the film was just mediocre in its execution. There were several continuity errors, and some things that made it appear as though the director did not have a clear vision of intent.
These were the only two that G and I were able to watch together, and as we discussed over dinner, we seemed to be in agreement of the quality. After he left to get ready for his show, I went back for the last two films. Next up was The Blind Side. I have to admit, that it was better than my expectations. I am still not sold on the idea of Sandra Bullock as the winner of Best Actress in a Leading Role, though she gave a solid performance. The actor portraying big Mike is what sold me. While I understand that the story was simplified, some of the simplifications made sense to me. I think leaving some things in would have made for a several hour epic film event, and that would have been too much. When I heard the nominees, this one came as a shock to me. However, given the ten slot format, having seen the film I understand its nomination.
Finally came my second viewing of Inglorious Basterds. My dear friend Proptart joined me, as she still had not seen it. The film was just as glorious the second time around. Perhaps even better. I am a little surprised that more actors were not nominated from the film, as there were some incredible and subtle performances. The only thing that detracted from maximum enjoyment of the film this time around was environmental. When Proptart arrived, we decided to move back from my front row seat. The theater had cleared out just a bit, so there were some great seats open. We settled in, and the film started. Not long in, I noticed a smell. Something along the lines of rancid meat. My first concern was that it was me. I had to pee anyway, so while in the bathroom, I gave myself a quick sniff test. Nope, no rancid meat smell. When I got back in the theater, I put my coat over me like a blanket and put my nose in the fur collar. I didn’t want to be too obvious, otherwise I would have pulled my shirt over my nose, or covered the lower half of my face. Fortunately, the theater was cool enough that it didn’t seem weird that I was bundled up. It was rather distracting, due to the strength of the odor, and not knowing where it was coming from. I think that if the government doesn’t do this already, this would make a great torture technique. Anyway, the credits start to roll, and I notice the guy sitting one seat away pull his shoes out from under his seat and put them back on. The odor dissipated. We had to suffer the whole film because this man with feet unlike I have ever smelled in my life wanted to take his shoes off. I understand wanting to be comfortable, but seriously dude, get that checked out. I mentioned this to my viewing companion, and she was relieved. She noticed the odor, as well, and had the same paranoia that she somehow smelled. It reminded us of the episode of The Office when Jim and Pam get married, and Kevin puts his shoes in the hall to be polished. He thinks his shoes have been stolen, but he is informed that they needed to be destroyed. I think this guy’s shoes needed to be destroyed. On the bright side, it killed my appetite, so I wasn’t tempted to eat any popcorn during the show.
Next Saturday, G and I will take in the remaining nominees. Hopefully, everyone will keep his or her shoes on!

on the road

Sunday, August 16th, 2009

So, prior to living here, I loved to drive. Sometimes, if I was having a bad night, or if I had plans that were canceled, or if I was just plain bored, I would get in my car and drive. Just drive around, with my thoughts and some music, and things were fine.
However, I moved here and all of htat changed. I would get behind the wheel and panic. Other drivers terrified me, and getting behind the wheel was torture. I had my first full out panic attacks behind the wheel on Minnesota streets and highways. I chalked it up to not having a car for my first couple of years out here.
I realized, however, that I was and am fine driving other places. Chicago, my home state of Michigan, Ohio, New York. I talked to a friend with a similar affliction, who was not from here and moved away. She realized that her driving anxiety was exclusivley tied to Minnesota.
I started to think about it. She was right. Now, I know that a lot of native Minnesotans are going to be pissed off reading this. They tend to get their panties in a twist the minute you start pointing out flaws in their beloved state. Now, I personally know my hometown has plenty of flaws, so when people make generalizations, I know there is a grain of truth to it, or the stereotype wouldn’t exist. Anyway, when I moved here, I had to take a test to transfer my license. I admit I failed the first time. I misread a question, not seeing a “no.” The question made no sense when I misread it, and since the test is computerized there was no going back. I went back the next day, aced the test and had my license. Now, I often wonder if natives have to go through the same thing. I guess not, since there are frightening abuses of the rules of the road that happen so often that someone following the correct rules are a rarity.
For instance, merging. Minnesotans are notoriously terrible mergers. Somehow getting onto an expressway befuddles all involved and often brings traffic to a standstill. Pick your spot and go means nothing. It turns into this passive-aggressive tangle of back and forth, “no you first, ” and braking. The same tangle translates to the four-way stop. Normally one would think the first person at the stop has the right of way. If two arrive, the car to the right goes first. Nope. Again there is this tangle, with cars slowly inching forward wondering if they whould just go, or if they should let the other car go, both trying to be polite (or “Minnesota nice”) and wanting to just go. Something simple turns exhausting. Heaven forbid you should obey the actual rules…you shall be inflicted with much fist shaking…or worse.
The seed for this post started on my way home from the co-op today. I was having a pretty good day up until this point. I had procured the makings for my meals and snacks, and was sipping on a kombucha tea. I approached an intersection of two side streets. There was a car coming from a way back, and a couple was crossing towards me. I stepped into the intersection and crossed. There was plenty of time for the forementioned car to stop leisurely. As I finished crossing, I hear a snarly lady’s voice yell, “there was no stop sign.” i was flabbergasted. Pedestrians have the right of way at intersections unless there is a pedestrian signal stating otherwise. I stuttered for a moment, in shock of this jerk. After what felt like an eternity to me, I stammered, “Pedestrians have the right of way.” I managed to stop there. I wanted to yell something about checking her driver’s manual, or shouting a string of profanities. Instead, I continued home. I probably wouldn’t have taken it so personally if this sort of thing weren’t so commonplace. Yet, whenever I go for a run, I get nervous that someone blowing through a stop sign or ignoring pedestrian rights is going to take me out. It’s a drag.
I could go on, citing lots of road rules that people regularly ignore…but I shall stop. I got most of what I needed to off my chest. In short…be nice to pedestrians, pick your spot and go, and if you arrive fist…just go. Don’t inch towards me, or I just might cut you. For serious.

sucked in…

Saturday, January 17th, 2009

As anyone who knows me knows, I have a thing for (almost) all things vampire. I say (almost) because there are certain interpretations of the lore that leave me cold, such as Buffy and Angel. Thus, with all the Twilight hullabaloo, I tried to keep my distance. I mean, teenage girls everywhere were shrieking and weeping and forming lines at four a.m. at shopping malls in an attempt to score a glimpse of the actors doing their press junket thing. My anti-Twilight sentiment only grew once I read some things about the author around the time Breaking Dawn was released. She is a Mormon, who said she didn’t really know much about vampires and didn’t really research them before she wrote the books. Ummmm…no. As someone who is very specific about certain aspects of the lore, this was not going to fly. It was much the same as when Harry Potter came out, and I realized it sounded like a total rip-off of a series of books I read growing up.
However, we all know how that Harry Potter thing turned out for me, so I suppose my change of heart regarding Twilight was also inevitable. A friend saw the film, and was telling me about it at work one day. She recommended I see it, she said it was fun in a teenage romance sort of way, and that it was every teen girls dream. It captured that time of life very well. I told her I might check it out when the DVD came out, but not to hold her breath. Then, another friend started reading the book. She passed it along to the friend who saw the film. Their excitement was contagious, and I figured, what the hell? I can’t really knock something I haven’t tried, so I agreed to read it. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I flew through the book, and while we were in Northern Minnesota over Christmas, I needed the second book immediately. Let me tell you, bookstores are not a staple in remote parts. We finally found a bookstore, and G kindly ran in and picked up New Moon. I polished that off, too, and the hunt was on for Eclipse. After a couple of bookstore stops near home, I procured it, and devoured it. Finally, we were on to the finale. I was hesitant…I mean, the journey would be over. I didn’t know if I was ready! I was attached to these characters. However, just as quickly as the others, I obtained my copy and devoured it. Just like any crack fiend…I needed more. I heard there was talk of a new version of Twilight, as told from Edward’s perspective. I went to the trusty internets. Sure enough, on Stephenie Meyer’s website she talked of this novel, Midnight Sun. Unfortunately, some chump leaked the book on the same internets, and she was in no mood to finish it as a result. However, she said that if the portion of the book that existed were going to be made available, she would rather it be on her terms. So, I then proceeded to devour the available portion of Midnight Sun. I tried to avoid it, I did…but I needed it! I read every deleted scene from the books. Though this seems like it is all coming out very easily, it is not. It is difficult for a woman of a certain age to admit she was caught up in teen fiction. I do want to clarify that these books are by no means high literature. However, they are enjoyable. Stephenie Meyer very accurately captures that time of life, where every option awaits you in the real world and first love hits so hard, you can’t fathom anything else could be the same. She also has some interesting takes on the lore. Outside of one thing I still can’t wrap my head around logistically, I can get behind it.
I even conceded to seeing the film. I think that, like my previously mentioned friend, I had viewed it prior to reading the books I would have enjoyed it more. It was a mediocre film to begin with. Now, I understand that in adaptations of books, things need to be cut, combined, etc. However, in the case of Twilight , there were things that made absolutely no sense to change. For instance, Bella and her father eating every meal in the diner. Really, she couldn’t make him dinner at home, as she did in the book? Really? I wouldn’t care so much if it weren’t sort of important to establishing Bella as the caretaker in her relationship with her parents. Which is kind of important to the way the other three books play out. Also, the costume designer for the film should not be allowed to work again. Bad, bad, bad. Costume is just as important to film as any other element to establish character, time, emotional state, etc. I think she was a little too focused on how slovenly teens dress at the mall, rather than the actual content of the film. Any tension that existed in the original text was gone. I am optimistic for New Moon, though. I think Chris Weitz is a much stronger director, and assuming Stephenie Meyer stands up for her content a bit more, I think we’ll be in business.
G says I am obsessed. I reminded him that I went through The Vampire Chronicles just as quickly, and proceeded to realize that he was totally the pot calling the kettle. I mean, he has an Interview with the Vampire tee, as well as a signed copy of the book. So there.
Speaking of all things vampire, the same weekend I took in Twilight, I also took in a vampire flick of a different ilk, Let the Right One In. Another novel to screen adaptation (though I haven’t read the book yet), though rather different. The film is Swedish, taking place just outside of Stockholm in the early 1980s. The film is lovely. The children in the lead roles are pretty fantastic, due in part to the content they were given. I appreciate how foreign films tend to treat kids more realistically, acknowledging that they are people who have the same feelings as adults, but are learning about themselves and trying to deal with the situations they are in with what experience they have, and that is a very difficult thing. This film has a more traditional approach to the mythology surrounding vampires and deals with it effectively. Some of the effects are a little jarring due to their quality in comparison to the utter realism of the film. However, I highly recommend it. I look forward to reading the book very much (c’mon Proptart…hurry up!).
I am also looking forward to Underworld: Rise of the Lycans very much. Whilst I am much more of a vampire girl than a shapeshifter/lycan one…I loved the Underworld films thus far. Plus, this one appears to be chock full of Bill Nighy in delicious form. I will be out at midnight for that one fo sho.
In a similar vein, thanks to the Headmistress over at Gothic Charm School, I have discovered yet another favorite blog, Haute Macabre. I love to peruse all of their new finds each day, and drool and bookmark and make wish lists. Some favorites from the site so far would be Coffin Couches, a site that sells sofas made from recycled coffins (WANT!!!) and this Squirrel Heart Pendant which I would shriek like a little schoolgirl should I receive it for Valentine’s Day. IJS.
BTW, to see how ridiculously into this whole Twilight thing I really am…check out my Flickr pool in the lower right corner. Team Edward, baby!!!

Stolen because it is so, so right…

Saturday, December 16th, 2006

Click, because assholes need to be stopped!

I wanna grow up, I wanna be…

Monday, November 15th, 2004

…a big rock and roll star.
So, I’ve been trying all stinking week to write a post about the big concert last Saturday, and it’s just not working. So, I shall provide a list of highlights instead and just get it out of my system.
G did not like MM when I met him. I have enlightened him for the most part, hence he bought the tickets for me as an anniversary present. Awwwwww…
The concert rocked. It was really a “best of” show, which is appropriate as his new album is a “best of” album.
The show was at the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis. I decided to dress for the venue, and went glam…long black vinyl dress, black vinyl over-the-elbow gloves, hair in a funky updo. I didn’t take into consideration that the dress is hard to dance in due to its Morticia Addams-like mermaid styling. Note to self: wear something more dancy next time.
The opening band, Staija (with an umlaut there somewhere) wasn’t bad. Decent music, but no stage presence.
During the opening set, I caught sight of major train wreckage. Normally people don’t annoy/piss me off without reason, but damn those girls were annoying. I never would have pegged them as 21 or over, but they were drinking like fishes.There were three, and I think only one owned a mirror. One had a corset with a yellow fishnet shirt on. The shirt did nothing to hide her massive nipples (I feel better after washing my eyes out with bleach). One had a dress that was dangerously close to showing off her nether regions. Her drunk friend kept trying to adjust the dress so that it covered at least her ass, which was charming. She also had apparently turned her vinyl pants as cutoffs and taped the cutoff portion from below the knee to her legs with packing tape. I didn’t get it. They were so charmingly drunk that they could never remember what seats were theirs (hell, they couldn’t figure out which row was theirs). Two of them decided to make out with each other to draw in some men. The clue that it was a train wreck would be the frat boys that were telling them to cut it out. I guess I don’t understand paying a crapload of money for concert tickets, then getting so trashed before it even starts that that I can barely walk, much less remember anything.
I also felt old, since at least half of the audience would not have started school when the first album came out…that is those that had been born when the first album came out.
Not only is it a new lineup, but Ginger Fish is injured, so Chris Vrenna filled in on drums. I have seen him live with two bands now, and he is yummy either way. Eventually I shall get around to seeing him with the third, if he gets on the stick and tours.
Speaking of yummy, Mr. Manson was yummy, as usual. He opened with the Willie Wonka homage from Portrait of an American Family. He came out in the dark swinging this lit chandelier.
The set included Lunchbox, Get your Gunn, Sweet Dreams, Beautiful People, Irresponsible Hate Anthem, Great Big White World, Dope Show, Rock is Dead, Fight Song, Personal Jesus, Tainted Love, mOBSCENE, Disposable Teens…crap, that’s all I can remember.
He also did sort of a best of performance-wise, pulling out items from past tours, like the podium and flags for Hate Anthem, the hand held spotlight for Sweet Dreams…no live chickens however. And no skull-fucking a security guard (although the incident was mentioned).
He still didn’t perform my favorite song, User Friendly (which is from my favorite album, Mechanical Animals), but I won’t hold it against him.
Overall, it was an excellent concert, but not his best. I have to say he gets huge points for the tours name, Against All Gods.
Oh, and I have finally discovered his fiancee. Damn. I would give my right eye to look like that. And have that wardrobe. And that job. All I can say is that he knows how to pick ’em. I think I can safely say they are the second couple on the list (with Lambert Wilson and Monica Belucci).
There, it’s out of my system now.

Why would I go looking for someone who is trying to kill me?

Friday, June 4th, 2004

So, last night we braved the wee hours and saw Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I have to say we had the best costumes. Las and I were, of course, the school girls. She, a Slytherin, I, a Ravenclaw. We Had matching outfits, with authentic PoA ties. The only flaw was that our sweaters and skirts were lighter than those in the movie, but what can you do. G was Sirius Black, in a lovely prison shirt with his prisoner number on the back. The MIL was power-drunk as Professor McGonagall, taking points from the houses left and right. I brought along my owl, who was happy to swivel her head constantly, taking in all the people. Due to Las injury, we sat in the handicapped row, displacing some angsty teens, who apparently don’t understand that the little wheelchair symbol on the seats mean they are for people with disabilities/injuries. we were comfy, though Las ankles were all swollen by the end, as there was no place to prop her injured foot.
Anyhoo, the film was good. V.V. different than the first two. This director didn’t feel the need to explain every single thing. There are a few scenes I felt could have used a little more time, but over all, I liked the pacing. This one was a lot artier than the last two, and funkier. It felt a little Baz Luhrman *drool* to me, which is cool. The Monster book was freaking adorable, and I loved Crookshanks. They finally started alluding to the blossoming romance between Ron and Hermione. (I totally think those two are gonna get together.) And Gary Oldman, even filthy and crazed…still hot.
So, it was a good time, even though I was (am) deathly ill. We are already plotting costumes for Goblet of fire, and dreading the minimum two year wait until the next movie. All I have to say is that J.K. Rowling better get cracking on the next novel!!