Under Pressure

So, like, when large, scary things happen to you that require immediate action, theoretically you're supposed to learn a lot about yourself. When such a situation presented itself yesterday, primarily I learned that I suck under pressure.

I could make excuses. Thousands of them. But mostly it came down to my needing to make a big decision, and instead I hyperventilated and pulled at my hair until it scared small children. And then I made the decision, only it turned out to be nothing at the last minute. And so I should feel disappointed, or relieved, or happy, but mostly I just feel sad that I'm crap with stressful situations.

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On lighter notes, I walked into the break room in my office yesterday and had the most violent allergic reaction that I've ever had in my entire life. The secretary from the main desk was making a fresh flower arrangement in the sink. The simple act of me walking into the same room as those particular flowers caused me to go into near convulsions and I could not stop sneezing. And my eyes watered so badly that I couldn't see, and I ran into the table during one particularly violent sneeze and had to be physically guided out of the room by an elderly woman. Now, I am not allergic to flowers. Those particular flowers did not care, however, and proceeded to kick my ass for the rest of the morning.

As the day progressed, things became more and more stressful and I slowly degraded into my psychotic state, there were many random little things that drove me to near insanity:

• I had to drop off a document at Neiman Marcus. I got caught in the middle of the perfume/makeup section lodged between two huge bachelorette parties and managed to get in the cross-fire of no less than 4 different shots of perfume. This started up a second wave of sneezing, very reminiscent of earlier that day.
• While in the parking lot of the post office, I saw something long and thin and moving on the ground in front of me, out of the corner of my eye. In my altered state, my brain assumed it was a snake. I freaked out to hell and back, complete with shrieking and arm flailings. It turned out to be a discarded hair ribbon. There were so many witnesses to this freak out that I'm pretty sure I will never be able to go anywhere in Dallas without people pointing and whispering "Isn't that the guy? The one who is scared of hair accessories? Let's throw barrettes at him."
• My battle with no air conditioning in the TOM finally reached a head, on the hottest day in my recent memory. When I got home from work, I went to change out of my work clothes into something more suited to my unwell mental state. When I pulled my shirt off, it made the same sound hitting the ground that you get when you throw your bathing suit on the ground after a vigorous swim. A very wet thwap-splat. Dallas = oven. Jason = gross sweat factory.
• Oh, and I walked into 4 different sets of doors over the course of the day, never quite thinking to check for the difference between a "Push" and a "Pull" set-up.

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What else? I have now seen The Red Eye twice in the course of two days, and both times it was very good. Rachel McAdams is awesome. Cillian Murphy is hot in a very menacing i-wear-a-burlap-bag-on-my-head-and-plot-assassinations sort of way. The movie gets fairly ridiculous by the end, but it's sufficiently nerve-wracking enough that I don't have biteable fingernails anymore.

I'm really starting to loathe the Cityplace movie theatre, though. For the love of little green apples, if you aren't going to have stadium seating, at least make sure your surround sound works completely. Only the left rear was active, and it bugged the bejesus out of me.

And a final note: Any day, no matter how bad, can be improved by hearing the song Faith by George Michael.

Et Tu, Best Buy?

Man, okay, Best Buy and I have the most extreme love-hate relationship going on. I mean, in general, it's just a store, right? Every other store has the exact same merchandise, why this fixation? I could say it's the bright colors, the nice layout, the friendly people, and the sheer amount of electronics available.

But those are all lies of varying degrees. The reason Best Buy owns me is because they are ridiculously cheap on items that have just been released. My Friday trip saved me $21 bucks over going to, say, Target instead, because everything I bought was a new release. And so, I will always go there, despite the occasional completely clueless salesperson, or the fact that they charged me an extra dollar on the Nickel Creek CD over the sticker price. It's just too good to pass up, overall.

Oh, but now we've hit another block. So after my public whinging about potentially picking up a Nintendo DS on Monday, I did some soul searching and decided it was a much better idea to, y'know, not and instead put the money towards things that further my life, like food and electricity. This was a mature decision and lasted all of 20 hours.

Because I found out that Best Buy dropped the price on their DS's by $20 bucks. And nothing speeds up my rationalization process like a price cut on something I really want. So I gave in last night and ran to the store to pick up what would rightfully be mine, all tiny and video game like.

Only, I get to the store and they are all out. Sadness reigns supreme and once again I curse Best Buy and all their blue-shirted minions for getting my hopes up. I finally drag an associate away from their new gaming setup (They have, like a living room set up in the middle of the video game section. It apparently exists so that the blue-shirts can beat small children at Halo, or whatever that game is where you shoot people) to find out when they're supposed to get more in.

I will recreate the entire conversation here for maximum effect.

Jason: Hi. So you're out of these Nintendo DS's, huh?

Blue-Shirt: Yeah, we had a bunch earlier. (pause) But they sold really fast. (pause) Once we lowered the price.

Jason: Oh, yeah right. So when do you think you'll be getting more in?

Blue-Shirt: (scratches head) Well, probably not for a while. (pause) They aren't very popular.

Jason: (boggles) But...you're sold out. And you just said that you sold a bunch of them. Quickly.

Blue-Shirt: Yeah, but they aren't popular. (pause) So it might be a while. (pause) Before we get more. (pause) Of the system.

Jason: So even though you lowered the price and they sold out, you still don't think of them as popular? Even though people are looking for them, and want to buy them?

Blue-Shirt: Well yeah. (pause) Because they aren't popular.

Jason: (defeated by his implacable logic) I....I....okay.

So yeah. I think I'll make the trip out to Best Buy - North Campus after work on Thursday to see if they have any, because 20 bucks is 20 bucks. But somehow I think it makes a lot more sense just to go to the Target 28 feet from my apartment and get one there. I know they've got them, I have seen them with my own eyes.

...See what you have done, Best Buy? I'm actively considering paying full price for an electronic device! For shame!

Engineer!

I got home from work yesterday around 7:00 pm. (I did not, as previously expected, buy a Nintendo DS, but instead was a proper adult and went to the grocery store and bought food. Stupid responsibility. And having to eat.) My plans for the night were quite complex: cook dinner, eat dinner, and watch Primer, which was left by Sean over the weekend as required viewing. Theoretically there was also available on the agenda, time to: get some writing done, play some Warcraft, and speak to the multitudes of people online who are now back in town.

Alas, in the end, only one of these many goals was accomplished. Because I never got around to dinner (cooking or eating) and my internet went down for the majority of the night. Do you have any idea how dependent I am on my dedicated cable line into the internet? Well for one, without the internet Warcraft is impossible. And writing becomes out of the question, as I can't sit in front of my computer to type without having a distraction of the AIM window up and an internet browsers going at all times. I'm just too fidgety.

So all that was left was Primer, which was excellent. Very....engineer. Not that I understood anything in the last 25 minutes or so. And considering the movie was only like 70 minutes long, that is quite the while to be confused. But it was a fun ride, while it lasted. And just a little bit very creepy.

I then spent roughly 4 hours on the phone with various family members - parents, siblings, etc, and one very drunk friend, which, it's a Monday night man, for shame. During this multitude of phonings, my internet reappeared and I tried gamely to do both IM and cell phone at once. Believe you me, it's utterly impossible, at least on this end. One handed typing while trying to keep three threads of conversation going? No. I assume the majority of people I spoke with last night figured I was on some sort of debilitating medication, based on such stellar responses as "Umm, yes?" and "Huh?" and the every illuminating "Uhh...."

It was a long, strange night and by the end I was almost certain that the movie was real and my double was biding his time just out of sight. Sleep was restless, to say the least.

Oh. And all the finality of the apartment situation was thrown out the window, and we get to start fresh again today. I love making decisions at the last goddamn moment. Keeps me feeling alive.

And I didn't even get any dinner. What's up with that?

I feel the cold hand of an impulse purchase around my throat

Someone needs to stop me right now, before I go buy a Nintendo DS and this. Because I just got my monthly bonus, and seriously, the temptation is so great right now that my brain is about to start leaking from my ears.

There are only like, what, three games total on the system that are worth owning? What is my deal? I know this is a bad idea. But as of this second, I would give excellent odds that I will be stopping by Target on my way home and I'll have yet another high priced toy that I should have saved the money on, I don't know, for food?

I am the most irresponsible person on the planet.

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Oh. And something entirely unrelated: Go read this WIP. Is it just me, or is this insanely good? I love her other writing so much, but this is very interesting and new and tasty. And ridiculously long, which is what I look for, in terms of writing to occupy my day. A shiny new cookie to anyone who actually gets all the way through. Let me know what you think, I am intrigued.

Wait, What Time is It?

Do you realize that it is almost September? What the hell happened to this year? The lease on my apartment ends in under 2 months. It seriously feels like maybe 45 days ago that I signed that 11 month lease extension. And now it's about to expire. Which means I've been at my soul-sucking job for well over a year now. Whatever happened to those good old days of carnivals and guarding fashion shows?

Man, perspective is weird.

Anyways.

So I went looking for apartments on Saturday, and learned that a) you should always call ahead for an appointment, b) Dallas is freaking expensive, and c) fucking hot. That trip, along with my 4 phone calls today, has basically cemented the fact that I'll be renewing my lease on my current place. Screw moving, when this place is practically paying me to stay.

I mean, on some level I've always assumed that this place would be the death of me. But the price for this place is 247 dollars a month less than the next cheapest place. And that place is in an even more ghetto-y area than this one. With 120 less square footage. And on the third floor. I mean, stairs? Are you kidding me?

The final decision will come tomorrow, after my job review to make sure I'm in a place of continued employment for another year. 'Cause if I'm not, I'm totally bolting in the middle of the night to Kentucky, to start my new life under an assumed name on Jim's couch. But more than likely, my job is secure and I'll be picking up another year of soul-sucking work and carefully updating my apartment in the most tacky ways possible. (Next up: matching tacky furniture!)

God, this is boring. You know what my next big thing to talk about is about to be? I'm going to the optometrist later on this week once my appointment is finalized. I'll finally have my contacts again. Finally, I will be free of the geek. Except, where I still am one, just without glasses. Sigh. This is the lamest entry in the history of the world. When did I become so boring? Oh right. I remember. Never mind.

Seriously, I have nothing, this is just depressing. Can I seriously not have done anything embarrassing in the last 4 days? I almost yelled at a small child on Friday for mocking me, but I totally deserved it, so I can't really complain. Geez. I should just stop typing, but I really don't want to give up.

Umm, I managed to get through my Best Buy trip without making any overtly ridiculous purchases, getting Sin City, my legal copy of the new Nickel Creek CD (which, yeah, is awesome), and the latest season of Will & Grace on DVD. Each one on extreme sale, so it was easy to rationalize. Frank kept me honest and away from the digital cameras, which I now want more than anything else in the world, now that I've borrowed his and realized how much fun a real camera is. I don't pretend to know what I would photograph, but I really want to have the power available at all times.

Okay, fine, I'll stop, this is just getting depressing. Like when you're fishing and you catch one, and then it's in the boat with you, all flopping around and judging you with his beady little eye, all "well, I hope you're pleased with yourself" and it just won't stop moving and you feel bad but just can't look away and you want to just give up and throw it back, but then what was the point of going fishing if you don't have anything left at the end to eat and you can hear the fish in your mind going "And you couldn't go to, say, Wendy's? No, you needed to get your food out of a lake. Well aren't you special? Big man, huh?" and it's even worse, but you aren't about to let that fish shame you, I mean, you caught him, how's he gonna be acting all superior and oh dear lord, quit anthropomorphizing the fish, you have to eat it later.

Or maybe that's just me. I just can't get behind the concept, so maybe the fishing metaphor is only apt in my mind. Crap. Just stop typing, you're only making it worse.

Okay, now. I'm done. Seriously. Totally stopping. Right.....now.

Bye.

Hot Prospects

I love the fall TV season. Football finally starts up in earnest, giving me a reason to actually get up on Saturday before 2:00 and Sunday before 12:00, all the old shows come back and try to wrap up the shocking cliffhangers left in the wake of May, and a whole crop of new crap shows sprout up, giving me the chance to waste even more time on TV that probably sucks. Whee!

Today, we will exhaustively discuss new TV, because I haven't really gotten into the football stuff yet, old TV is boring even to me, and I have a lot of free time to kill.

New stuff that I will probably watch:

• Kitchen Confidential - for no good reason other than it's sandwiched between two other shows that I'm already going to watch (Arrested Development and Prison Break), it's on Monday nights so it's not like I'll have anything else going on, and it gets all these insanely polarizing reviews that either love it or call it the worst show of the new year. Plus: Xander! And that guy from Alias that I love!
• Prison Break - the guy goes to prison on purpose! To break his brother out! And there are blueprints. You know, now that I write that out, it looks horrible. This is totally going to be one of those shows that I watch two episodes of and then never ever come back. Plus: the guys? Not so hot.
• My Name is Earl - this actually looks potentially funny despite everything going against it. I've never really gotten the whole Jason Lee thing, but I recognize the humor, and the previews work very well. That said, it gets one week to catch my interest enough, because it's on against The Amazing Race, and nothing beats TAR. I literally haven't missed an episode in 3 seasons. Which is absolutely insane bordering on fanatic. But I want to like this show, so it goes in the good pile. Plus: Have you seen that guy mace himself on the preview? Injuring yourself automatically = funny.
• Invasion - will see it at least for a while, it's on right after Lost. There are about 14 too many supernatural shows on this slate thanks to Lost, but I'm not necessarily complaining, as I tend to like these sorts of things. Plus: someone "unknowingly begins a fight for the survival of his family, his community, and what might ultimately be the whole human race." That's some hot PR, right there.
• Night Stalker - Hot Stuart Townsend and Even Hotter Gabrielle Union with that Hot nerdy kid from Not Another Teen Movie get together to fight even more supernatural forces? Sign me up RIGHT NOW. Plus: Bring it on? Oh, it's already been broughten.
• Reunion - Oh goddamn you Fox. Gotta be putting up what looks like the coolest new show up against my Night Stalkers? Look how hot they are! You just gotta be all up in my business. Guess what? I will buy a damn VCR. How about that Fox? Yeah, that's right! In your imaginary face! Plus: That really cute Sean Faris is in it, who's ABC show got cancelled last year and I felt really bad for him.

New Stuff that I want to Watch for the Sheer Ridiculous Factor:

• Surface - Go look at that picture they're using as the face of this show and then come back and try to tell me how this couldn't be so awesomely bad that you have to tell your friends about it. Plus: "Ever wonder what life would be like if a new form of sea life began to appear in locales all over the Earth?" Um, no, actually. Thanks for asking, though, really.
• Commander-in-Chief - let's just get this out of the way: I love Geena Davis. The Long Kiss Goodnight could be the only thing she's ever done and it would be enough. Throw in the whole MENSA / archery / cool interviews / whatnot and she can do nothing wrong in my eyes. But, seriously, this looks like hot ass in a can. I'm sorry. Who knows, maybe it'll be awesome. Doubtful. Plus: Donald Sutherland. Two real actors in one bad new series. Is that really fair?
• Head Cases - Yes, this looks absolutely horrible. Yes, it stars Chris O'Donnell in the 1345673rd lawyer show in the last 2 years. Yes, it has that really annoying guy who I hate who was in Saving Private Ryan and was the psycho replacement roommate for Joey on Friends. But you know what else it has? Rachel Leigh Cook, who I will watch in everything ever made. Some obsessions never die. Do you remember when she did that anti-drug commercial where she beat up that kitchen with a frying pan? Good times. Plus: oh, honey, there's no plus. This is going to suck. Hard. It's also up against Lost, so it's probably only getting one week from me.

New Stuff that It Actually Hurts to Look At:

• Bones - Guess what? The world no longer needs bloated David Boreanaz. Especially as "a former Army sniper who mistrusts science and scientists when it comes to solving crimes." Yeah, 'cause science is stupid and never helped solve anything. I'll go ahead and get this out of the way right now - Shut up, David Boreanaz.
• Freddie - You know what the world is clamoring for? A television series based around the life and times of Freddie Prinze Jr. Starring himself, and that poor Brian Austin Green from 90210. Only the world isn't, and goddamn does this look bad.
• The Ghost Whisperer - Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. No. Seriously. This is one of those joke items, right. Like a Fametracker send up of shows that could never happen because they're just so ludicrous. Hahahahahaha. Oh, Jesus-tapdancing-Christ, they're serious. Jennifer Love Hewitt. Ripping off (the really good) Medium from last year. JLH, I would watch my back if I were you, Patricia Arquette could take you out in the blink of an eye. And no one would mind.

Random bits that make me sad:

• That Janice Ian from Mean Girls is finally on a show, and it's on the WB opposite Lost and no one will ever see it.
• That Dennis Hopper and Benjamin Bratt are on a TV show together about the Pentagon, and it's a drama. Am I the only one who sees a potential for pure comedy there?
• If it weren't for all the actual potential good shows out there, I might actually be interested in Threshold any other year. Now? Yawn.

In other words, no one will ever see me once the fall starts up. Get your face time in now.

Bluegrass and Whatnot

Minor programming note: I am drugged up to the gills and feeling fine, although I can't entirely be sure that my head is still connected to my shoulders, so out of it I am. Therefore I take no responsibility for anything I say or do all day long.

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Okay, first off, I must admit that on occasion I do listen to country music. This in and of itself is not shocking, I live in Texas, but I have no love for the genre, and say so at every available opportunity. I enjoy Garth Brooks and can, either through osmosis or genetic alteration, sing practically every song he has ever sung without owning a single album. But that is my only concession - I write the rest off as it just jumps up and down on my last nerve.

However, my one and only pure vice in the country-western musical area is Nickel Creek, a bluegrass trio that has some sort of inexplicable hold over me. The music is all folksy and southern and occasionally very Deliverance and there's a whole lot of banjo going on. I can't explain my love for them with any sort of rationality.

I actually own their last two CDs, which is something of a feat itself, since I can't usually even bring myself to be seen in public with country music, let alone Best Buy. So when Jim informed me that their new album came out last week, I did a little *ahem* online research to check out the new stuff before my eventual surreptitious trip over to Best Buy wearing a hat and really large sunglasses for the purchase.

And the new CD is. . . well the only word that comes to mind is awesome, but in a totally unexpected way. Because suddenly they're like some alternative emo band that just happens to feature a banjo and violin combo. I mean it starts out all unassuming and just a little, I don't know - edgy? for a bluegrass band that usually sings about lighthouses and whatnot, but still normal. And then they have the deliciously titled 'Scotch & Chocolate' instrumental track and you're in this little bubble of the status quo country world.

And then before you know it, there's this hard driving track about a crazy high school crush-cum-obsession and suddenly we're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. The last track busts out into complete mainstream territory with an ending full of heavy drums and processed music that fills me with undeniable glee and sounds like an underfed U2 or Coldplay and it's just really, really satisfying to me. For, again, entirely irrational reasons. Just makes me smile.

So yeah, going to Best Buy later, here's hoping I can get out of there without spending more than $100.00. I haven't been in so long, the attraction is going to be deadly. Especially when I'm this hopped up on pills.

The Most 12 year-old Livejournaler Thing I Will Ever Write

Hi this is jason and its -2000 degrees in my office and I am sick so I took some flu medicine but it was this kind that is supposed to not make you sleepy but instead it has made me all wired and hopped up and I still feel sick anyways and the bright lights hurt my eyes and I want to go home but I can't because I have to wait to hear back from a hockey team and the phone won't stop ringing and its so loud and I can't stop sneezing and did I mention its cold in here because it is and I'm all shivering and I really think that I should just go home but what if I miss the hockey call then I would get in trouble and I need to keep my job because I like having money and being able to buy things but what is the good of having money if you're dead in your office only I probably won't die I'll just feel bad and whine a whole lot until I get to go home and why isn't anyone being nice to me I am not feeling well people should say nice things to me and pet my hair and bring me soup.

Full Tilt Something

So in a fit of excess this weekend, we decided that rather than cook dinner like normal, rational, non-spend-crazy people, we would run down to the Happy Chinese Wok and Internet Cafe and load up on the most deliciously bad Chinese food available in the tri-county area. This is a bad idea on many levels - I am poor and allergic to MSG (which this food is coated in), it requires driving out in the 100 degree heat (since they refuse to deliver to my complex), and there is perfectly good food in my house (won't someone please think of the starving children in, like, Africa?).

But anyways, off we went. And it was awesome. It was also huge, because we went during dinner portions, which means they stuff a takeout box to overflowing and then give you a bucket of rice to go along with it. I love the Happy Wok and Internet Cafe. And I didn't even notice that it made me sick, because I was already feeling the effects of some heavy allergy medication I took unrelated to all that (the dork reading is high right now).

I can't be sure why I went through all of that lead up, but now we reach the brunt of my story. So I have more than half of this food left at the end of the night. I return it to its handy carrying case and stick it in the refrigerator for the next day (finally, someone thinks of the children). When lunch comes around the next morning (on a No-Pants Sunday you're allowed to have lunch in the morning. It's a rule that I just made up) I pop that sucker in the microwave and get ready to enjoy some high quality delayed Chinese cuisine.

Only, the act of microwaving day old General Tao chicken seems to have some radical element to it, which causes the chicken to spontaneously harden into these little rock-like elemental parts that defy the general laws of nature. But just because the food is suddenly harder than my teeth, that doesn't mean that I'm not gonna eat it. I mean, seriously. If it was once food I paid for, it will be in my belly, sooner or later.

I toss it all on a plate, grab a fork and dig in. It's not bad. Not bad at all. Nearing the end of the first quarter of the meal, I take the fork and go to cut one of the larger chicken-rocks into a more manageable chicken-pebble size. Now, there may have been some level of resistance, but I do not recall it being that great. But apparently I pushed it a bit too hard. And by a bit, I mean that the fork snapped in half while trying to divide the chicken and proceeded to send every ounce of my lunch in every available direction. There was chicken, carrots, rice, plate, and bits of fork everywhere you could look in my living room.

And this wasn't just some, like, plastic fork that broke under pressure. This was one of my high quality, given to me by my grandmother, stainless steel and faux-crystal forks that she won from her book club. Disastrous.

Have you ever stood in the middle of your living room, coated in rice and day-old Chinese food, holding the useless end of a broken fork on No-Pants Sunday?

It's sort of a low point in your life.

More Pointless Reviewing

I've come to realize that the majority of my movie reviews are entirely useless to anyone and everyone. Primarily because I suck at writing, but secondarily because they focus on just my reaction to the movie, rather than the movie itself.

That said, an objective review of The Skeleton Key. Very well done for what it was. Tightly written except where it tried to explain to much. Better acting than one could ever expect, and finally achieved the impossible of getting me to distinguish between Kate Hudson and Heather Graham, which for some reason were the same person in my head until Saturday. And of course Peter Sarsgaard seems physically incapable of making a bad movie, thus he is very nice here.

I was expecting something more scary in a traditional horror movie sense, but was pleasantly surprised to see it go the more psychological and creepy way, rather than flat out scares. I would definitely recommend it as a nice little diversion for a night out.

Now, for the biased review. Here's where you should stop reading if you haven't seen it yet, because my rant intrinsically ruins the movie, without even discussing the plot in the least.

You've been warned.

Okay, so previews suck. What is wrong with letting a movie surprise you with it's story once you've actually sat down to watch it? Are American audiences so jaded that we have to be offered a complete summary of the movie beforehand in order to lure us in? Because I'm pretty sure it's got the opposite effect going on.

Take this Red Eye movie coming up. Had they stuck with that short teaser trailer that was all pretending to be an opening for a romantic comedy, I would be anticipating this movie with reckless abandon. Rachel McAdams and Cillian Murphy? Together in a movie? And he's evil? Oh hells yes.

Instead, we get the new trailer which they cannot play enough times at the theatre and on TV where they blow the whole plot out into the open. And now I know it will suck. (I'd like to add "And I won't go see it," but let's not kid ourselves, I'm going to see it anyways.) The air of mystery and hotness surrounding the whole thing was wasted. Boo on all the promo departments out there.

This relates to The Skeleton Key how, you ask? Because the promo people were actually very good about keeping the storyline under control. All you get from the trailers is: Kate Hudson, spooky old house, skeleton key, rattling doors, Peter Sarsgaard, host of creepy old people. That is exactly what it needs to be. It got me interested enough to go see it opening weekend with mild anticipation. Bravo and how.

Except. No. Because they messed around with the trailer they show on TV for opening weekend to include a quick quote from a reviewer "with the best twist ending since The 6th Sense." Fuck you, marketing department.

Now that I know there's a twist coming up, I can't help but look for it. I'm not made of stone. In fact, my mind is so loud and annoying at all moments of my life, it's a miracle I can keep a sane face up in society. So I figured out the twist at right around the 48 minute mark of the movie, and had to endure the rest realizing that what should have been a very sweet reveal at the end had already been spoiled for me. Just the knowledge that there was a spoiler available out there was enough to spoil me for the movie.

I've discussed this with people at length over the weekend, and the majority of them say that it's my fault and I'm just too cynical to be able to enjoy movies without over thinking. Bah, I say to all of them, because that ending would have totally rock-ed my socks, had I not been looking for it.

Final tally: I am too cynical and movie marketing companies suck. But The Skeleton Key was really good. You should go see it.

A Message to Myself 10 Minutes Ago

Hi,

If a cute boy offers you popcorn, for the love of God, be nice and take it.

. . .

Loser.

- Yours Truly

Theory vs. Practice

Everything is so much better in theory.

In theory, getting a new apartment is a fun adventure wherein I can get a nicer, cheaper place where the garbage disposal actually works and isn't across the street from a crackhouse and a cult that lives in an abandoned church.

In theory, cutting caffeine out of my diet will help me stay healthy and keep my heart from exploding suddenly, probably on the highway causing a multicar pile-up and many people to be late for work.

In theory, shopping for furniture is great because I actually have some money to spend and I can finally stop living like a hobo with a 4 year old futon and the oldest couch in the world, and present a unified front of dignified furniture that matches. I mean, how adult is that?

In theory, the combination of my haircut and exercise program should be getting me into shape - specifically a shape that is much more attractive - as well as relieving my tendency to get winded on mild inclines or carrying my laundry, all while looking fabulous and stylish with flawless hair.

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In practice, the world is a cold and angry, and bitter, bitter place.

In practice, the process of finding a new apartment that fits my requirements is like a draconian three act tragic opera, with misuderstandings, murder plots, and appearances by the devil thrown in for good measure. The apartment that you want in Dallas? Is either too expensive, in the wrong location, or unavailable until January. And even if I did find a place, moving out from my apartment will require so much packing and carrying and pulling down curtains and putting things in boxes and moving those boxes and putting back the old curtains that are probably broken by now and....yeah, this apartment thing is like the opposite of a grand adventure. It's a lame non-adventure. Plus, I have to give 2 months notice at the current place, so my time frame on making a final decision just got cut by 3 weeks.

In practice, cutting caffeine out of my diet is akin to going cold turkey off crack cocaine. Skipping that morning cup of coffee is analogous to wielding an ice pick directly into the back of my skull. The 10 o'clock hour consists of nothing but me nodding off in front of my files, you know, where your head sort of falls forward and then you catch yourself with a quick start and some light drooling, all with your eyes practically sticking shut. And life really isn't worth living if you can't have that delicious burning feeling that comes with the first drink of Coke directly out of a cold can right after work. Instead, I come home to freaking Sunny Delight in a plastic cup. Tastes like undeath.

In practice, buying new furniture is just like getting a new apartment, only you will spend far more for three questionable objects that do nothing for you except provide a place to sit, and whatever decision you make, it will haunt you for at minimum the next 5 years of your life. In the past I have spent over 3 consecutive hours rending my hair and internally debating whether or not to get a television while standing in Best Buy. And buying a television should be the easiest decision in my life. Have you read this thing? That's all I ever talk about. Just the idea of committing to a set of furniture fills me with such paralyzing dread that I should probably bring a pillow and blanket to the store, because it will take multiple days of indecision and pondering and weighing the options and color schemes. And by the end I will be bald and in a near catatonic state.

And in practice, my exercise program has done nothing for my endurance and instead squared off all my edges and left me looking like I weigh more than when I started (which could potentially be true, there was that thing with the two pies) and was built out of Legos. I'm very square all of a sudden. And the haircut... well we accept it, because I like it, even if it is so short on the sides that you can see directly into my scalp and/or skull and/or brain, and even if it makes me look like even more of a hipster than ever, and is all weird and spiked out everywhere and looks like I'm trying way too hard. Anything is better than the over-hot longness of before. I will not be a slave to current trends, by God.

....Okay, I will, but not that one, dammit.

Fine, Popular Culture Can Have My Soul

Lord help me.

So we went and saw Dukes of Hazard last night. Despite the fact that I once swore on my box set of My So-Called Life DVDs that I would sooner eviscerate myself with a spoon than go see that movie.

And....I didn't hate it.

Seriously, just shoot me now.

I don't want to go into the whole thing, but:

• I laughed on several occasions, and not just at the teenage boys sitting next to us who would moan whenever Jessica Simpson appeared on the screen.
• I find it deeply wrong that Seann William Scott can make me laugh with his acting abilities. Isn't there, like, a pill I can take to cure that?
• Perhaps I have suffered a recent blow to the head and have just repressed the memory.

I will also give them (I would almost say respect but... no) credit for being so completely unapologetic about their Jessica Simpson ogling. I bet if you timed it, at least 8% of that movie was devoted to panning up or down her body in some sort of non-outfit. They do indeed know how to aim at their target market.

And now I'm so depressed that I'm going to end this thing right here. I beg you, do not go see this movie, you'll only encourage them.

(An aside: What do you get when you cross a donkey and an onion? A piece of ass that brings a tear to your eye.) (What can I say, we're easily amused.)

What you get when I can't stop typing.

When in the course of human events one is needing some new furniture and an IKEA opens up in the general vicinity, it becomes necessary to make the trip out to the store on the inaugural weekend to see what all the fuss is about.

And as such first you must get together a pilgrimage, consisting of no less than 4 people and two cars, so as to heighten the degree of organizational difficulty. You must also take the toll road all the way there, so you can actually feel the money being siphoned out of your pockets before you even get into the store. And of course, when you actually reach the exit for the store, you will find a traffic jam of such epic proportions that you will make two consecutive loops around the store at a distance of at least two miles from the entrance just looking for the one non-blocked-off entrance into the parking lot.

Naturally, once you've parked and reach the entrance, you will find that there is a huge and winding line that you must first go through just to get into the store. This line begins at the back of the store, and will doubleback it's way around roughly 14 times before you actually get within viewing distance of that entrance again. In fact, the line will be so long that they will have a station where they hand out complimentary water so the line is not littered with the bodies of the less-hearty shoppers who did not think to stockpile provisions beforehand. Multiple seasons will go by while you are in this line. It will go from blistering heat, to cool breezes, to hard rain, and back to an eerie calm all while you are following the little white plastic chains on their snakelike little paths. And your group will have been divided and you'll be left with only one companion, who will then put on his iPod and ignore you, so while you think you're talking to him (he doesn't say much in normal conversation, so it's more apt to say talking at him), it turns out that this is more of a monologue for all the other people in the line to enjoy and wonder "Who is that odd boy and why is he talking to himself?"

Someday, God willing, you will reach the end of the line and enter the store itself. This will be akin to reaching the holy land and you will have to restrain yourself from falling to your knees and kissing the new floors, if for no other reason than at least 1 million feet have already passed over it in the last 2 hours alone, not to mention the majority of those feet were tiny children and who knows where their feet have been.

The store will, of course, have helpfully placed arrows along the floor and on occasional signs, giving off the feel of a Disney World rail ride in a way that only a Swedish based novelty furniture store can. The number of people in the store will defy your conventional descriptive processes. The word multitude will seem inadequate and you will contemplate the nature and etymology of "a million-bajillion."

First, you will find the living room furniture, your theoretical reason for coming here in the first place. And while the items are cheaper than your many couch-hunting expeditions of the past month, you will not be able to get over the fact that a) the colors really aren't speaking to your inner-fashionista, and b) it really looks like cheap furniture. And you will wonder what exactly you were expecting, seeing as you used the phrase "Let's go look at some cheap furniture" on your way out the door before this whole adventure began. Thus, you will be sad.

The little arrows will then point you onward and upward, through shelvings and bedrooms, and offices, and many other sundry living spaces, occasionally artfully arranged in tiny dioramas of how one might live in, say, "245 square feet" of apartment. You will realize, perhaps, that IKEA is catering to a different level of clientele, one that lives in smaller quarters than your average Texan. Because you may be wrong, but you're highly skeptical that the city of Frisco contains a single house that has less that 1,500 square feet of available space, and that's just in the kitchen alone. Still, you will marvel at it all, because it is very modern and fashionable branding, in just the way that high volume marketing strives for.

You will pass through the children's area and it will confirm your longheld understanding that children and you will never go together. They're just so hyper and/or whiny that the simple concept of keeping tabs on any ONE child would be enough to drive you to an early grave. You will pass by a mother with 4 of them, each one arms a'flailing and dashing through the multicolor beds, and just stare in mute respect. With only a slight questioning of her sanity.

Eventually, the arrows and furniture will give way to just sheer merchandise and you will pick up a few very cheap items, all while exercising every muscle of restraint in your body. (Because that rag rug is only 2 dollars! For just the cost of two of those tiny KFC chicken sandwiches you could have that rug for the rest of your life. Never mind it is one of the ugliest things you have ever encountered in a free-trade marketplace, it's only two frickin' dollars!) Finally, you will settle on: a cheap bathroom scale because you always have wondered how much you weigh (answer: much more than you used to. Perhaps making all those pies was a tactical error on your part), and a hanging black windsock of storage that yet again your vocabulary fails to depict with any accuracy.

Your final stop on this whirlwind tour of European fads is the warehouse section where your companions will pick up the actual boxes that contain their new units of physical furniture and you will be left with a feeling of intense jealousy, as they have actually achieved their goal of item ownership while all you have is a windsock of questionable storage. All that is left for you is an interminable wait in the checkout lines, where once again geological eras pass by outside those bright blue and yellow doors. Bands rise and fall in popularity. You develop a deep psychic bond of empathy with the poor marachi band that is stuck at the entrance forever.

The exit and return home should be surprisingly without difficulty, and leave you vaguely wary, as everything thus far has been such an epic production, you will question whether or not a tsunami or earthquake will strike during your final turn into the apartment complex to bump up the degree of difficulty a couple of notches just to keep you on your toes.

Construction of all the cute furniture your companions purchased will provide a nice easy way to come down from the high-key stress you previously had going, and although you will suffer an occasional splinter, by the end of the night, you will be certain that you had quite the time.

Quite the time indeed.

Dallas is Weird

On the way in to work today, there were two signs that caught my attention. One was tacked up to a telephone pole, the other was in some way attached to a 'Caution Construction Ahead' sign. They were basically identical, both handwritten in what almost certainly had to be Crayola brand markers on white posterboard.

They both said:
---------------------------
Unwanted Items?
CALL - 214-345-****
---------------------------

I can't begin to wonder what that was about. But now I really want to call that number. Only I don't have an items that are unwanted. Maybe if I get some furniture this weekend I can call about my couch and futon that I'll need to abandon.

Intrigued is never a good way to go through life.

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So, IKEA Frisco just opened up like two days ago. I will be going either tonight or tomorrow morning. I have a very good feeling about this place. the IKEA in Houston was like the mothership beconing to me. This one is like 10 miles away. I am all over cheap Swedish furniture in bright colors. If there's a store gayer than IKEA, I haven't found it yet.

In the interest of full disclosure

I have made my disdain for Hippies publicly known, what with their long hair and their needing haircuts and whatnot. However, with the results here, I may have to reconsider my position:

I am 34% Hippie.

I need to step away from the tie-dye. I smell too good to be a hippie and my dad is probably a cop. Being a hippie is not a fashion craze, man. It was a way of life, in the 60’s, man.

Take the
Hippie Test
@ FualiDotCom

Do you see this? Wanna-be Hippie? Could all my posturing about the bull of tie-dye, peace, love, and ponytails on guys just be a masked desire to join their ranks?

This will require further review. But until the time when I actually find a commune that has internet access and cable, I will continue to make fun of hippies in all their forms.

Although now instead it makes me feel like I'm in elementary school and knocking down some girl because I secretly like her. Which I never actually did, so it's a very disorienting experience.

Shadow of What Now?

Finished off the last of Orson Scott Card's Shadow series, Shadow of the Giant, after slamming through the three books that came before it in roughly 4 days altogether. It's a good series. The books get a little too politically-mired down and there's a bit too much introspection when there should be more dialogue, but on the whole, they're most excellent.

That being said, I will never read another book, ever. Ever, I say!

Because, man, that was a depressing ending. If ever a book needed to go a little slower at the end and savor the big moments, this was one, and instead I ended up all sad and wondering. A) it was a tremendously sad ending to a generally already upsetting book, and B) it left way too many threads dangling, so the series can continue on. Which I'm not against, I love all of OSC writing, and the confirmed fact that there will be many more books in the same universe (more on that later) makes me happy, in a disgruntled sort of way because I don't have them now.

I think maybe I'm just spoiled by the larger books that I've been reading lately. There were just so many characters to care about, that when you get down to it, 260 pages is not enough to cover anyone in depth. You get some good characterization on, say, Petra for instance, and it's very well done. But then at the same time, I can physically feel parts of Peter's character not getting expressed due to lack of room. And don't get me started on how Bean was basically not in this book at all.

I'm all for economy of writing, but wait, no I'm not. Pay him by the word! I want intense, Cryptonomicon-length, detailed examinations of each character. When he wraps things up at the end, I feel very sad, but had he put in some serious effort to developing the relationships that appeared in the last 50 pages, he could have had me crying, curled up in a little ball on the living room floor. Not that I necessarily want that, but in this case I sort of did. It's a great series, pull out all the stops, by God.

But there will be more books and further exploits so I'll take what he gives and like it. AND I was reading around the 'net and saw that OSC is planning a post-Children of the Mind book/possibly-series, which fills me with such unadulterated glee that words aren't very helpful. That series is hands-down my favorite Sci-fi story ever. Might even be my favorite story in any category of anything.

So as we get to the end I suppose I probably will read a book again. I couldn't even keep up that statement for an entire post. It's best not to delude ourselves in such a manner. Plus, what would I do with all the books I already have? If there's anything I am not, it is wasteful of literature.

Wow, could this be less-interesting to everyone else in the universe besides myself? Probably not unless I started talking about World of Warcraft and how much I love my Shaman. So I'll totally just stop here.

Give a hoot, read a book.

Seasons in the Sun

So in addition to watching every movie available to my grasp that did not star Jessica Biel and Ray Charles as jet plane pilots up to no good, I also did some cooking this weekend.

Specifically, I baked a pie. It was a cream-cheese blueberry pie and it was completely awesome. It is a pie of legacy, in that my mother passed down to me the very complex secret recipe required to instill the proper amount of deliciousness. (The secret step: Now stir in at least one full cup of pure granulated sugar. Maybe more.) I managed to eat all but two slices of the thing in the course of about 30 hours. I now weigh more than your average oil tanker. That's another part of the secret recipe. And I still have enough ingredients to make at least one, possibly two more pies at a later date. Although the creation of pie #1 involved the exploding of my new electric mixer that I bought specifically for the occasion, so I will either have to get a new one, or learn how to wisk things incredibly fast. It's never a good sign when a small appliance starts shooting sparks at you within 30 seconds of turning it on for the first time.

-----------------

I was also involved in a hideous car crash this weekend, which I am happy to report was not entirely my fault. By which I mean it was not my fault at all, since the fool decided mid-turn to slam on his breaks and then back up into traffic and also into the front left side of the TOM. Luckily, there was no damage except a crack in the little yellow casing on the light. I think it greatly disturbed Sean who was passengered on the voyage and will probably never ride along with me again. I just take these sort of things in stride, however, as people love to run into the TOM. I believe this makes the it the 3rd time since January? And yet, the little guy still soldiers on. He's such a trooper. But it does instill in me the desire to actually get around to getting a new car and finally let the poor TOM retire to a farm where he can run around in a big field and have fun chasing squirrels and whatnot.

Spin me, clown!

Another weekend passed, another slew of movies available for review. I'm starting to think that purely content free is the way to go. Summer turns my brain to mush, so this is all anyone's getting out of me until the first time we dip below 85 during daylight hours.

Rick. I don't know if this should count as a movie review, since a) no one has ever heard of it and b) it was so painful that I wonder if it actually happened. Now that I read through the supplementary materials online it makes a bit more sense, as I find that it was based on Verdi's Rigoletto, which fills in a bunch of the questions I was wondering about in the plot. Because I see it now (it's weirdly faithful to the opera while still being set in a corporate atmosphere), but that doesn't mean that it was worth anything. And there was no singing! It did have Sandra Oh in it, however, and I do love her, but that did not save this movie. Ugh.

Hostage. The second movie from the goodwill fount that is Sean and his unlimited Blockbuster-ness (Fourth, actually, if we consider Constantine that we watched on Friday, and the Family Guy movie that he provided us with that same night. Sean = benevolence) I don't know if it is my penchant for Bruce Willis action movies, the relative lateness of the night that I watched it, or the pitcher of hurricanes that we drank while watching it, but somehow I ended up really liking this movie. It was full of wacked out crazy people and Bruce Willis chewing enough scenery that by the end there was barely a wall standing.

Sky High. Fine, get it out of your system. Mock me as such, I care not. Actually, I'm not sure which gene I've inherited that makes me fall for Disney movies. Maybe it's just one of those childhood operant conditioning things (like my erstwhile love of McDonalds which I have repressed in light of the Prongs of Health) that just equates Disney movies with happiness. Whatever it is, this movie was just so cute. And there were superheros, and stupid jokes, and wacky teenage love subplots of ridiculousness. I can even forgive the fact that the main storyline was so painfully obvious that 4 year old child sitting directly behind my ear figured out the twist 20 minutes before it actually occurred. In my world of Disney rankings, this falls behind Holes and just barely ahead of Freaky Friday. Seriously, so cute.

Oh, and the illegal bootleg copy of the Family Guy movie was pretty funny. That's a good show they've got going there. Although I sort of wished they would have used their not being on broadcast TV a little more liberally. But as it was discussed, I'm probably just spoiled by the South Park movie, which managed to raise the bar for offensiveness so high that no one will ever be able to match it. Oh, my poor desensitized soul.

And that's exactly where my weekend went. Stay tuned for additional comments concerning a horrific car crash and my making of a pie.