You All Knew It was Coming - Epic Potter Post

Mm, Internet. Tastes so good.

The seclusion was successful (totally unspoiled to the end), so I can't complain too much about 4 days without email. It was even vaguely liberating... but I don't plan on doing it again anytime soon.

I picked up the book first thing Saturday morning (pre-orders are for fools, yo. Target had enough copies to build a fort) and by 6:00 that afternoon I was done, stopping my reading only to get an additional Dr Pepper or go to the bathroom.

My full, crazy, and rambling review is below the cut (and chock-full of so many spoilers that your brain will explode). In general though: Tons of love. A brilliant end to the series that managed to be touching and awesome and ridiculous all at the same time. My hat goes off to Rowling, along with my full apologies for ever thinking that she couldn't pull the ending off without messing something up.

Okay, complete thoughts below. Seriously, don't click until you've read the book.


Firstly - check out my track record on predictions! I give myself 10 out of 17, allowing for a little leeway on exact wording. And check out the Snape line! Hot, right? I'm so impressed with myself, even if it was pretty obvious.

Anyways.

So I can properly gush in a second, let me get my annoyances out of the way first:

Lupin & Tonks, both dead?! Offscreen? No. No, no, fuck no. I was pretty sure Lupin was a goner from the second that he named Harry godfather (I mean come on, foreshadowing) but Tonks was just overkill. She got maybe one line in the whole book, never did a single thing, and then *boom* dead. That was really the only part of the entire book that I can't get behind.
My poor dead, Lupin. Nevar 4get!

Other, lesser annoyances:

• The ridiculous ret-con of Harry's invisibility cloak. Yeah, it makes you completely invisible, except when Moody's eye can see through it, when the Marauder's Map can still track you, and Mrs. Norris can sniff you out. *eyeroll*
• Halfway through the book, Hermione being all "Oh, I've never done a memory charm," when she's already sent her parents to Australia with completely new identities, not remembering they've ever had child. In-book continuity, much?
• Jesus Christ, that epilogue. That was the worst, worst, worst thing in the world. Fanfiction-y in a way that almost hurt. Let's not tell me what happened to Luna, or what Harry and Hermione decided to do after school. No, let's have Harry use his children as insane memorial devices. No pressure, child who is named after the two greatest heroes of the wizard world in the last 100 years. Gross. (Also - Scorpius? To borrow an apt line from the 90's - Gag me with a spoon.)

And really that's it, in terms of annoyances. Let the gushing commence!

• Neville! No, really, Neville! Takes over for Harry when there's no Harry in Hogwarts (with Luna and Ginny as his Ron and Hermione, respectively), gets the holy crap beat out of him, leads the revolution, and then kills Nagini by pulling the sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat, while his head is goddamn on fire. Sweet zombie Jesus, the wait was worth the payoff. I *heart* Neville so much. And he's the Herbology professor!
  
• Luna! Fulfilled my prediction down to the exact letter - "continues to be awesome." I'm not saying that you're a bad person if you don't love her, except that you totally are. Her speech at Dobby's funeral was the most perfect thing in the world...
  
• ...except for the epitaph that Harry put on his tombstone. Seriously, nothing in Harry Potter has ever made me cry (not Cedric, not Dumbledore, not even Sirius), but that entire Dobby scene had me weeping like a child. He dug the grave himself! And they gave him clothes! Christ, I'm misting up right now. I cannot believe it, I never even liked his character all that much.
  
• Just pretty much everything in the book once they make it back to Hogwarts (the Lupins excepted obviously): The teachers just going off (McGonaggal leading a charging pack of desks down the hall!), all the students (Oliver Wood!) coming back to kick some ass, Kreacher and the house-elf revolution, Percy and his reunion, Ron and Hermione and their wild make outs when he defends elf rights...the list could go on forever.
  
• She gets her own bullet point: Molly Weasley and her NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH! Just delightful. Quite possibly the only thing that could have been as satisfying as Neville finishing her off. And since Neville already got his moment, I'll easily give this one to her. Kick Ass.

Various other bits that aren't gushing, but things that I really liked:

• Lupin and his early-book breakdown. As I've said a million times in the past, I think Lupin is the most interesting and tragic figure in this whole mess of a universe. Check it: as a child, he becomes a werewolf and is totally shunned. He gets a break and gets into Hogwarts and gets four true friends. So he's happy for roughly 7 years. Almost immediately afterwards, has three of those friends killed and the fourth sentenced to life in prison for killing and betraying the others. Spends the rest of his life hating him and living again shunned by the world. 15 years later finds that 4th friend was innocent and is reunited with him... only to have him die less than a year later in a brand new war against the same foe.
  
  I mean, the guy is basically the living embodiment of the grief of the first war. And suddenly he starts going through it all again in the second war. After he loses Sirius, he is forced underground to work with the werewolves, and he's even more persecuted than before. Even his love interest is almost impossible for him, since he already knows what the potential costs of the war are.
  
  While they are waiting for everyone to come back to The Burrow after the early Death Eater attack, you get that he is finally losing it, and rightfully so. Then you get his complete breakdown with the announcement of the son. It was all incredibly well handled and truthful and in-character. Vicious, but real stuff.
  
  Then of course she goes and kills him and breaks my heart, but whatever. He got to come back with James, Lily, and Sirius in Harry's March to Death. That was at least comforting, since he's all reunited with them and whatnot.
  
  But really, doesn't his life just make you want to cry? Rowling really worked him over, I think harder than anyone.
  
• Man, Dumbledore is stone cold, isn't he? I mean, "Go ahead and betray Harry's departure date. I don't care if people die." All while all the while telling Snape "Why don't you whine some more about being a double agent, ya pansy! Just remember you're doing it for Lily and do your damn job." Top it off with "Oh yeah, so I totally knew Harry has to die to get rid of Voldemort, I'm aiming a human weapon right now so how's about you get off my back about it" and suddenly I'm less confident that Michael Gambon's crazy angry Dumbledore from the movies isn't so far from the mark. Harsh, yet awesome.
  
  (Aside, I love that Rowling was able to get in her usual 'Chapter where Dumbledore explains everything' even though he's already dead.)
  
• And just so I address it, the Snape thing was nicely drawn. That's a good use of foreshadowing for once, and his whole storyline is understandable, if not necessarily sympathetic. To a degree you just want to shake him and be all "She picked someone else, man, pull yourself together," but at the same time it's very 'Awww' too.
  
• While the early middle of the book did tend to drag, (we wander the countryside and don't have a clue what we're doing) I really liked the level of desperation that it started painting, and it carried well through the rest of the book. I always find tone to be the hardest part for Rowling to manage (you go from drama to comedy so fast most of the time it's hard to keep the curve) but she nailed it nicely in this one.
  
• And on that note, the Deathly Hallows business + Dumbledore and Grindlewald backstory should have been far too much extra stuff for the book to handle. And yet, I really think it fit together so well, I can't find anything to complain about. Maybe it's just the euphoria of the initial ending of it all, but I'm really impressed with the whole book.

Jesus, I'll stop there for now. Really I could just go on for days.

Final Words: A great series. Not literary, not groundbreaking, but great in its own right. I don't think I could be more pleased.

(Eww. What's with all this love? I feel kind of dirty.)
(I can't end on that. Seriously: Fuck that epilogue.)
(Okay, that's better.)

Harry Potter and The People Who Are Giving Me A Goddamn Aneurysm

We're still 3 good days out from the release of the last Harry Potter book, and already there are so many spoilers out in the world that I've had to enact my doomsday scenario earlier than expected. I was spoiled for book six with approximately 100 pages left in my first read through, and the horror still haunts me. This will not happen again. Even if it means that I become one of those unibomber-type hermits for the next 6 days.

If you're trying to reach me by email, you'll fail, since that was how I got hit last time. Ditto for message boards and blogs. In fact, I've cut all of the Internet out of my life altogether. The only way I'm able to post this guy is through the ingenious use of my history bar, and after this I'm not opening a browser until I've finished the book unless required by my job or God.

I'm actively considering a ban on text messages also, just to be entirely safe, but think that might be a little overboard. At the same time, though, I'm not overly concerned with what people think. It's all good fun, and I've put an intense number of man hours reading the books, discussing them, dissecting them, and watching movies full of horrible child actors based on them. Yeah, I'm ridiculously over-invested but the release of the last book is only going to happen once. Bring on the isolation, I say. I can stand to look (be) crazy for a week to satisfy my fandom urges.

For now my obsession can fuel me the way the regular Internet usually does.

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

Now for the fun part that makes me look as foolish as possible: Predictions!

(Crazy tons of spoilers for everything up to the last book to follow)

I'm always so, so wrong about these things:

• For OoTP, I was 0 for 8 on predictions, including my sincere expectation that Prof. McGonaggal was going to turn out evil, despite how much I loved her. I also picked Dumbledore going down in this one.
• For HBP, it was 1 for 10, and the only right thing I had was Prof. Snape teaching Defence. Things I missed: who the big death would be (I had odds on Hagrid), Draco's plot (which makes me wince, since I predicted the exact opposite of what happened), and even who Harry would date (I know! How obvious was that? I'm so bad at this!)

Anyways, since it's the last book and all, I going to go with the full-on rundown, and then I'll come back on Sunday and be nice and chagrined about how off I was.

Predictions (going from Most Boring to Most Interesting)

• Voldemort dies. (Obviously.)
• Nothing of interest will happen to the Dursleys (since I couldn't care less either way. Although I wouldn't mind some cosmic justice for Dudley).
• Ron and Hermione will survive, and ride off into the sunset together. Although I wouldn't put it past Rowling to take the Buffy sort of route and somehow horribly disfigure Ron (a la Xander and the worst scene in television history).
• Also, Hermione and her House Elf Liberation Front better play some sort of significant role in the plot, or I will be bitter at all the wasted space that storyline took up.
• Filch will bite it, probably defending the school, after finally being able to cast a spell.
• Peter Pettigrew will die saving Harry from Fenir with his silver hand, thus completing his story arc. Also, I'd just like to say thank you to JK Rowling again for not having him kill Lupin in the same manner. Because that was my greatest fear in life from the end of the 4th book until she debunked that particularly convincing theory. I love Lupin so much.
• Draco will survive, and I suppose turn good. Frankly, I want Harry to kill him and be done with it (I see no redeeming characteristics about the boy) but I'd be shocked if that's the route she takes.
• Hagrid - Dammit, I'm going to say that he dies, despite the evidence to the contrary. Have you noticed that I don't like Hagrid? I think Rowling has put enough effort into Grawp that she could bump off Hagrid to make Harry's plight that much worse and still have a giant around to help the good cause.
• In a similar vein, Norbit the dragon will make a dramatic return to help Harry (because I've seen the book cover and I like the idea).
• Snape will die helping Harry kill Voldemort, turning out to be a secret quadruple agent working on the good side. This is also against my wishes, since I think Snape ultimately being evil straight through would be bad ass, if completely illogical.
• (Aside: I really like the theory that Snape was in love with Lily, and her death was the ultimate reason he turned from the dark side. It fits how Dumbledore was convinced of his innocence, what with him being so full of that ree-dik-U-lous obsession with love.)
• Most of the Weasleys will make it through, but I assume Percy will get smoked pretty early on. I'm saying right now, she had best not mess with Fred & George, although I have my fears. Those little throwaway lines about the Prewitts in book 5 sound like doom for F&G to me. But I'm easily spooked.
• Ginny will continue to kick a lot of ass, but I'm very much on the fence about her survival. I think I'll go with Lives.
• Characters who are not allowed to die and must only have good things happen to them: Luna, Neville, and Lupin. You don't touch my favorites, dammit. Neville gets revenge on Bellatrix, but doesn't kill her, and goes on to teach Herbology at the school. Lupin and Tonks get to live happily ever after, since he's already the most tragic character in the whole story and deserves something good. Luna continues to be awesome. That's it, I will brook no discussion at all. LA LA LA, I'm not listening!
• Harry kills Voldemort, and lives. And I really hope that the book ends with something that parallels the first book - someone toasting Harry as "The Boy Who Lived." (The alternative is just wicked depressing)

Whew! Can you tell I'm obsessed? Don't worry, I'm sure I'll take down the list in shame before the weekend is up.

Also, omigosh, isn't it all so exciting?

Good Lord, I'm such a dork.

Cars (not the Pixar kind)

I need a new car. Badly. The Truck of Malfunction (TOM) will always hold a special place in my heart (specifically the place reserved for things that barely work and feel like a circle of hell when you sit in them during the summer in Dallas) but I want to move on.

I had a similar spell once before (I want to say it was back before Christmas, maybe? God, I have no sense of the passing of time anymore.) and I had rationalized it out perfectly. I picked out the car(a sensible and economical Used Jetta) that fit into my mind and didn't make me hyperventilate thinking about the debt. Then two days before I was ready to go pick the car up, I ended up with several unexpected big bills, got spooked, and scrapped the plans entirely.

Since then I've never been able to get the rationalization back to where I was able to commit to more than $5,000 of debt without spontaneously combusting in a parking lot somewhere. Lately, though, with summer back in force, my raise finally kicking in, and my apartment move complete, rationalization has been easy to come by.

So easy, in fact, that now we've swung all the way across the manic-depressive scale and I have to keep talking myself off the ledge of buying something completely outlandish. Because I'm usually so conservative and have to justify every little thing, there's never been too much of a chance that I'll go nuts and blow all my credit in one fell swoop. With the small pile of excess cash I have sitting around though, I am so close to being able to talk myself into something extravagant.

This is the downside to rationalization. When you get as proficient as I am at convincing yourself of things, it's a slippery slope to rationalizing purchasing your dream car, based on the fact that you've put in your dues by driving around a TOM for nigh on to 8 years now, during which time never less than half of it's expected features were malfunctioning.

In my addled brain, I am due, dammit.

The battle wages constantly in my mind now, but I've yet to fall on either side of the fence. No matter what, I have two weeks more weeks to mull it over (I have put an embargo on any purchases before the 31st) but more and more I feel like I'm going to fall on the side of outlandish. I've never put much stock in fancy car ownership, but now that I'm seriously considering it, it's a heady and seductive thing. I mean, have you seen the look of a Jaguar? Just try and tell me it's not worth crippling financial debt to get to own one of those.

In any case, though, in 14 short days I'll actually own a car that has air conditioning. Isn't that just the neatest thing in the world?

Jackass Training for Jackasses

I took the weekend off from exercising for reasons that are less than stellar. (Primarily: "Because I don't feel like it.") So when I got home from work yesterday I did a double session of weight lifting to start making up the difference. I made it all the way through my upper body stuff and then went on to legs and abs. This was not the most brilliant of plans, but I figured it wouldn't have too many negative effects since I didn't have much else to do that night but lie on the couch.

Immediately after finishing, while lying in a crumpled heap on the floor about to pass out, I realized that I still needed to go to Blockbuster and Target that night. Frnak's last movie was due, we had no laundry detergent, and I had not a single clean pair of underwear, socks, or towels anywhere in the house. I dragged myself up off the ground, mopped up the puddle of sweat that I left on the floor, and made my way to the stores.

Understand that this should not have been some sort of super-human undertaking. Both stores are within half a mile of my apartment, it's not like I was trekking across the state to get these errands done. Unfortunately, I was seriously wiped out and just barely made it into the Blockbuster before I misjudged my spatial relation to the Apply For Work at Blockbuster! station, and ran directly into its chair.

This was not your standard fare "distraction, glancing-blow, get-embarrassed-and-keep-walking" sort of crash. No, this was more of a "Dick Van Dyke, sprawling-over-furniture" fall. It caught me directly in the midsection and the resulting momentum sent me flailing forward, taking the chair with me. As I fell the wind was knocked out of me, but otherwise I was just fine. That is, until my knee got caught between the leg of the chair and the side of the station. So when I twisted in order to catch my fall, my knee decided not to twist with me.

It was ugly, painful, and embarrassing, but I survived (mostly because there were very few people around to witness it). By the time I finished picking out my movie and got out of the store, my sore knee was almost limp-free. I considered scrapping the Target run, (usually falling down that early in a trip is a sign that only many more bad things will happen) but I really needed to do laundry, lest I have a lot to explain at work the next day. I pressed on.

Naturally, as I got out of my truck in the next parking lot, I took one step and my knee collapsed on me. I fell directly forward, this time into one of those shopping cart return spaces, smacking my other knee against the aluminum frame, as hard as possible while under my own power.

"Just awesome," I thought while wincing through the intense pain.

I recovered myself and started to head into the store as fast as possible, trying to mask my now incredibly awkward limp as much as I could, now that it was both of my legs. By the time I was halfway through the parking lot, though, I gave up the charade and went with the limp, as it eased the pain immensely.

Sadly, my timing was off. Unobserved by me, at literally the exact same time, there was an old man walking parallel to me about 8 feet to my right. The man had a cane and was walking with a pronounced limp, incredibly similar to my own. As I said, I was entirely unaware of this, until the Target employee at the door gave me the absolutely darkest look I've received in months. I did a little double-take and looked around, trying to find the source of his disdain, only then finally seeing the old man who was entering the store at the same time. He was staring at me with the most profound look of disappointment.

I wanted to stop time at that second, pull them to the side, and plead my case, closing statement to a jury style. I would explain to them that I was not some kind of wildly insensitive mimicking asshole. That I had just somehow managed to injure not just one, but both of my knees in the last 10 minutes in the most spectacular and embarrassing ways possible. That it was a coincidence of epic proportions that we happened to both be walking in the same store at the same time. Usually I'm a nice, upstanding boy. I would make them understand. They would have to understand, and would laugh at the coincidence.

As I raised a finger and opened my mouth to start the denials, the old man shook his head and walked into the store. I turned back to try the employee, but he had already wandered off towards some other employees collecting carts in the lot, no doubt to implore them to "check out the jackass with the fake limp."

And just like that, I would always be remembered as the guy who mocked an injured old man in the Target parking lot. For, I dunno, laughs I guess.

This is just one of the reasons I should not be let outdoors, people.

Today's Language Lesson

Chauvinism does not necessarily have anything to do with gender. Misogyny does.

chau·vin·ism [shoh-vuh-niz-uhm] –noun
1. zealous and aggressive patriotism or blind enthusiasm for military glory.
2. biased devotion to any group, attitude, or cause.

mi·sog·y·ny [mi-soj-uh-nee] –noun
1. hatred, dislike, or mistrust of women.










Doo-dee-doo-doo.

(Courtesy of Becky, who keeps me linguistically honest.)

Independence (from Cholesterol) Day

"Is two pounds of hamburger enough? I only have one pound of sausage and one pound of boudain - that's just four pounds of meat total."

"You do understand that you're the only person eating, right?"

"Well yeah. ...So, four pounds is enough?"

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

I don't remember when it became a tradition, but for the past several Fourth of July Holidays, rather than going out and visiting family and friends, getting drunk, watching fireworks, or whatever other publicly endorsed forms of celebration most people engage in, I just eat. A lot.

Which, come to think about it, since this is America - The Land of the Double Cheeseburger, this may in fact be an acceptable undertaking for a country celebration. Until we get to the point where I'm having the above conversation in the Meats Aisle of the grocery store. When I say that I eat a lot, it's an understatement simply because the truth of the matter is frankly horrifying.

What I did this weekend:

1. Arrive at Grocery Store
2. Acquire Shopping Cart
3. Wander down Aisle #1
4. Place anything that looks remotely good in your cart
5. Repeat steps #3 & #4 for every aisle in the store
6. Check out

The only limitation on the above steps is that the total cost should not exceed $100.00. For a single person's meal. For one (albeit very long) day.

I ended up with: the aforementioned two pounds of hamburger, a pound of sausage, a pound of boudain, chips (var. types), Oreos, soft drinks, guacamole, dip, salsa, ice cream, fresh cherries, beef jerky, canned fruit, baked beans, multiple types of bread, condiments, onions, tomatoes, frozen appetizers, and candy (var. types).

But wait. Things that I forgot to pick up and will need to find before Wednesday: french fries, cheese (var. types), potato salad, crab salad, and pie (var. types). Also, I'm considering picking up a steak for dinner, just for completeness's sake.

See, now it looks like an overstatement. But no, I will actually eat all of that, or as much of it as possibly before I reach the point where I am unable to move under my own power. Basically my day will boil down to nothing but eating from 11:00am to 11:00pm. Usually this is accompanied by a Law & Order marathon on TNT, or perhaps the whole Lord of the Rings Trilogy on DVD. It's my one day of pure gluttony/sloth in the whole year. Pretty much just imagine that scene from Return of the Jedi with Jabba the Hutt, except fewer scantily clad women and more Jerry Orbach.

Usually it's quite the undertaking anyway, but this year is especially damning considering that I have been pretty much cholesterol free for 3 months. With the proposed level of fat intake, I firmly plan on stroking out right around 8:00 that night, just as the fireworks begin. But it will be entirely worth it, as there are very few things as fulfilling as purely hedonistic eating. If you never hear from me again, assume that I died doing the thing I loved most in the world - slamming down some pie.

Happy 4th of July everyone!

Bitter in Advance

Guys, I am in the worst mood today. All it took was my iPod freezing up first thing this morning, and now I'm useless for the rest of the day. All morning long, people have been doing stupid or annoying thing all around me, and I feel justified getting more and more angry. In fact, I just yelled at a telemarketer (who completely deserved it, just to be clear) and felt profoundly more bitter when I hung up. This is not a good state of affairs.

By the time the commute home comes around, I'll probably be at the point where I road rage someone right off a bridge or something.

In order to stave off the waves of bitterness, I present you a book meme. Because I like making other people suffer along with my boring eccentricities. (via 50 Books)

Five most recent books you've bought for yourself:

1. Penny Arcade Vol 4: Birds are Weird, Jerry Holkins & Mike Krahulik
2. Dress Your Family in Denim and Corduroy, David Sedaris (so I can finally return Devon's copy)
3. Different Seasons, Stephen King
4. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling (preorder, natch.)
5. Memoirs of a Geisha, Arthur Golden

Five books you've most recently given other people:

1. Great Cookies: Secrets to Sensational Sweets, Carole Walter
2. The Joiner King, Troy Denning
3. Assassination Vacation, Sarah Vowell
4. Invitiation to the Game, Monica Hughes
5. Revelation Space, Alastair Reynolds

Five most recent books you've loaned other people, and their status:

1. Shalimar the Clown: A Novel, Salman Rushdie (still on loan from being on loan to me from the library)
2. Harry Potter and The Sorceror's Stone, J.K. Rowling (still on loan)
3. A Home at the End of the World, Michael Cunningham (returned)
4. Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris (returned)
5. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (returned)

Last five books you looked at on Amazon/Chapters/Powell's/etc.:

1. Specimen Days: A Novel by Michael Cunningham
2. The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
3. Grand & Humble by Brent Hartinger
4. The Yiddish Policemen's Union: A Novel by Michael Chabon
5. The Wheel of Darkness by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Top five books on your "to read" pile:

1. Century Rain, Alastair Reynolds (I will finish you yet, dammit)
2. Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman
3. The Yiddish Policemen's Union, Michael Chabon
4. Glasshouse, Charles Stross
5. Old Man's War, John Scalzi

Bottom five books on your "to read" pile:

1. Foucault's Pendulum, Umberto Eco
2. Quicksilver, Neal Stephenson
3. Empire, Orson Scott Card
4. The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, Bill Bryson
5. A Beautiful Mind, Sylvia Nasar

Mm, all that talk of books now has me at least 22% less likely to kill someone on my way home. Books really do enrich your life.

As a Way of Unestablishing My Movie Credentials

Ever look over at that Watch sidebar and think "Sweet damn, this boy has the worst taste in film I have ever seen!"?

In order to help you prove that delightfully worded supposition, allow me to provide you with some hard evidence to back it up.

I give you the list of all of AFI's Top 100 American Films that I have actually seen, along with a brief explanation that verifies why I should never be allowed to criticize film. To make it even more fair, I'm only including movies I have seen in their entirety (e.g. no 2001: A Space Odyssey, since although I've probably seen the entire thing through various clips over the ages, I've never sat and watched it straight through) and can still remember the majority of (no The French Connection, because while I've seen it (twice) before, I couldn't tell you a bit about it, except for the car chase.

Prepare to be entirely underwhelmed

• #2 The Godfather - Barely makes the list, since it's basically a haze in my mind. I still retain the rough shape of the movie though, even if I could barely stay awake for the required 3 hours of difficult to understand accents.
• #10 The Wizard of Oz - Gets points for reminding me of my childhood, but seriously, I can never sit through this movie anymore; it both bores and bugs the crap out of me now.
• #13 Star Wars - Yes! One that I liked and have seen enough times to quote from memory. Take that, legitimate film critics! (I bet they haven't even read the Expanded Universe novels either, the Philistines.)
• #14 Psycho - Fine, it's a classic. And pretty cool actually. I still lose points for probably not fully grasping it's importance, though.
• #17 The Graduate - Jesus, I hated this movie. And pretty much every character it contained too.
• #24 E.T. -- The Extra-Terrestrial - I refuse to watch this ever again, after it made me cry like a little girl when I was around 9 years old. Stupid movie.
• #25 To Kill a Mockingbird - Had to watch it for school, I prefer the book approximately 1,000 times more.
• #30 Apocalypse Now - Was forced to watch this by Jim, who had to watch it for school. And by "forced," I mean "was over in his dorm drinking when he was watching it and didn't want to wander across campus drunk." I'm pretty sure the only way I survived this movie without dying of boredom was my blood alcohol content.
• #34 Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs - Quite possibly my least favorite Disney movie ever. Nothing happens!
• #40 The Sound of Music - Okay, I will not hate on this movie. As ridiculous as a movie about escaping from Nazi's though music and pushy stage-parenting is, it still holds a place in my heart.
• #50 Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring - Now that's what I'm talking about. Finally we agree on something.
• #55 North by Northwest - I think I watched this with Devon? Isn't this the one where they climbed down the face of Mt. Rushmore? Maybe I shouldn't have counted this one. Still, if it's what I think it is, I really didn't like it.
• #68 Unforgiven - Another good one. Pretty much the only Western I've ever liked.
• #71 Saving Private Ryan - The first half hour is pretty sweet, in an utterly horrifying sort of way. Other than that, blah.
• #72 The Shawshank Redemption - No gripe, would probably top my own list of best movies ever, too. I have yet to successfully see this playing on cable and not watch it all the way through.
• #74 The Silence of the Lambs - Oh man, two in a row. Another of my best movies ever. Maybe my cred can be salvaged.
• #76 Forrest Gump - Wait, there it goes. My distaste for this movie is a physical thing, with the potential to move large objects. Emotionally manipulative junk.
• #81 Spartacus - I enjoy it on an entirely campy level, which I'm pretty sure is the opposite of what this list is going for.
• #83 Titanic - And here's where we reach a conundrum: Do I admit that I really like this movie and incur the wrath of a populace that hates everything that Celine Dion has ever touched, or try and retain some street cred and continue my trend of hating all movies on the list? I think I'll just refrain from saying anything here.
• #89 The Sixth Sense - Was good the first time I saw it. Gets worse on every repeat viewing.
• #92 Goodfellas - A good movie that is basically twice as long as it needs to be for me to like it.
• #94 Pulp Fiction - As much as my brother will disown me for saying it, I totally don't get this movie. It's okay, but I would never watch it on purpose.
• #99 Toy Story - At least we end on an agreeable note. Awesome movie.

So I have seen 23 of the 100 best movies ever, and I only liked 8 of them. And just one in the top 39. I'm not sure which is more damning - the fact that I've not seen even a fourth of them, or that I hate the ones I have seen.

Either way, feel free to completely discount my movie opinions from now to eternity.

(You are also free to tell me exactly how wrong I am in the comments. Or to berate me for never seeing It's a Wonderful Life. You'll still never convince me to watch it. I turned it one one time, and some old man was hitting a kid in the ear! It was horrifying.)

Power Through the Pain

Tired of constantly bemoaning the fact that I couldn't even walk up the 18 steps required to reach my front door without getting winded, I decided to take back up the idea of exercising. Specifically, exercise through weight lifting. Because, see, there was a brief period of my life(June 2001-September 2002) in which I was totally awesome at: 1) picking up heavy things and 2) having gigantic arms. I vaguely remembered it being pretty cool.

Sadly I forgot about the fact that it goddamn hurts to start lifting weights. Instead, I was all rose-colored glasses, chock full of enthusiasm, "getting in shape is awesome!", et al.

Good lord, what was I thinking? Enthusiasm is both dangerous and wildly overrated. I picked up a couple of sets of dumbbells from our local sports emporium over the weekend and started back up like I had never stopped. This was stupid on so many levels that it's hard to properly describe without the use of ridiculously large fonts. Even when I was in remotely good shape, just easing in to a normal routine is a pain and a half. Picking up a mid level set of weights and going through your old routine out of the blue is like joining an NFL team on opening day because you used to play pick-up flag football on the weekends 10 years ago.

Since then I have spent better than 5 days in monumental agony from ever part of my body, with the exception of maybe my scalp and ears. Arms, legs, chest, even my neck, you name it, it hurts. After the round of lunges I completed on Tuesday, based on the amount of pain caused by just sitting down, I firmly believe that my ass will be the most spectacular thing in the world when I get done. Otherwise there is no possible way that this pain could be worth it.

And see, that's how they get you. Now I have to continue on with this ridiculous regimen, since if I don't it will have been not only a huge waste of time, it's a huge waste of pain. It will have been an entire week of moaning every time I took a step, falling into chairs rather than sitting down, and wincing like a gunshot victim each time I reached for a piece of paper, all for exactly nothing. I'm way too narcissistic to admit that large of a tactical error. Plus, when you add in the fact that I tend to have a self-worth that is directly tied to the size of my biceps, you can almost guarantee that, short of the destruction of a tendon or similar, I will not stop until I reach crazy buff guy status again.

This is exactly why people think that guys who go to the gym have no brains. Because, seriously: makes no sense whatsoever, causes wild amounts of pain, physical cues the exact opposite of the intended result, yet I keep on going.

It's a sickness, I tell you.

...

...

...

But man, just check out my arms!

June Showers

Even though I don't own the condo I'm living in, I take a weird sort of pride in the place. It's a combination of it's age and quirkiness, I think, along with the fact that I'm renting it directly form a landlord, rather than from an apartment complex.

So when I find that the floors tend to slant even more than I realized, I don't get annoyed and call maintenance, I find it adds character to the place and take my own precautions. And when I turn around and run into the wall in the bathroom, I don't get mad at the incompetent placement of the toilet, I chuckle at how charming and unique the layout is. Faced with faulty wiring, I would probably praise the rustic nature of my new home, but luckily it hasn't come to that yet.

For now all my annoyances are minor and are far outweighed by knowing that when you walk in the door to my house, your first thought isn't "What low-rent hell have I gotten myself into now?"

The fact that the thought is probably "Why am I sliding downhill in the living room?" is irrelevant to me.

In the spirit of appreciating what you have, I try my best to take care of things on my own and not get the landlord involved in minor inconveniences. Whereas two months ago I felt justified calling my apartment complex with righteous indignation because the florescent light in my kitchen had burned out after only 3 years of constant use, I am far more likely to tackle gigantic home improvement projects by myself now. Despite knowing absolutely nothing about even the basics of, say, circuit breakers, or how one goes about 'grounding' a live wire, I still like to go it alone. Usually, though, I'm far more concerned with other pressing issues, like whether it's an "Allen" wrench or an "Alan" wrench, and exactly who this Allen/Alan guy was in the first place. But in any case, it's become almost a matter of principle that I don't go for help.

When minor annoyance #23, the shower head is shorter than I am and sprays practically no water, finally became to much to bear, I went out and found a replacement fixture and decided that I would install it myself that same afternoon.

Extracting the old shower head proved to be a very simple process of unscrewing a single bolt, and I felt pretty good about my chances of completing the project without physically injuring myself or flooding anything. However, when I attempted to attach the new head, the connecting pipe proved to be 2 inches too long for the existing fixture mounted to the wall. I was a bit stymied at first, but ultimately decided that all I needed to do was use a hacksaw to saw off the excess pipe from the new piece and everything would work out fine. Necessity being the mother of invention and other similar trite platitudes, et cetera, et cetera.

Sadly, I do not own a hacksaw. Or a saw for that matter. I systematically went through the house and found that the only sharp edge I owned was a set of steak knives that I had bought over 3 years ago. These were a set of 5 plastic-handled knives that I had picked up on clearance at Walmart, chosen primarily because they came with their own wooden block for storage, and at the time I hadn't had anywhere else to keep utensils. Also, the fact that the whole set cost $3.99 was appealing to my broke self at the time. These knives were not serrated and I doubted they held a sharp edge at all. Knowing that I had never cut myself with them despite my innate clumsiness, it seemed almost impossible that these guys held any stronger cutting power than a butter knife or pair of safety scissors.

I still tried using them, though, as I hated to throw in the towel on my first real home improvement project so quickly. I worked for a full half-hour at the plastic pipe, sawing back and forth with varying degrees of fervor, often pretending that I was playing a particularly cheap violin, before finally declaring it a lost cause. 30 minutes of work had left a cut that barely qualified for the term. "Depression" might have been a more accurate word, in more than one sense.

Thinking that there may be other, less brute-force/round-peg-square-hole sort of solutions to my problem, I went to the nearby home improvement mega-store and explained my problem to a sales clerk there. He returned in short order with a smug look and a 37 cent pipe extender that would take care of the whole issue without use of a single tool. Never mind my initial request to be pointed in the direction of the hacksaw department.

Suitably chastised, I went home and applied his solution in under 2 minutes. The extender fit easily to the pipe, and similarly to the shower head. When I turned the water on a steady stream of water came out, at the proper height and pressure. I was vindicated by my domination of sheer will over plumbing, but was sad that it took professional guidance towards a piece of equipment that cost less than a pack of gum to achieve it.

The next day, I woke up and took my first shower with proper water pressure in a month, still slightly stinging over my not-quite-moral victory. I appreciated the strength of the water and the fact that I didn't need to bend at the waist to rinse my hair, but that wasted half-hour flailing at a plastic tube with the dullest knife in the world still irked me. As petty as it was, I really wished someone else hadn't been the one to solve the problem for me so easily.

As it was, I probably should have been a bit more specific in my wish. As I finished the final rinse of my hair, the pipe extender, so graciously provided to me by the smirking clerk, snapped in half. Causing the new shower head to come smacking down into the back of my head, and sending a wild spray of water that soaked the entire bathroom before I could recover from the blow long enough to get the water turned off.

It's a hollow victory, to be sure. Actually, thinking about it, it's not so much a victory at all but a complete and utter defeat. Still, I feel...better. So someday when I do get the shower to work (we are back to the old, wildly inferior shower head until I come up with a working solution) it will be all my own doing, and I can proudly proclaim my handiness and plumbing mastery for all the world to see.

How I Spent My Weekend

This is my nephew, Elijah. He is awesome and 5 days old. Also, he's very tiny. He tends to sneeze a lot. I held him for upwards of 20 minutes, and didn't break him at all.

I now feel older than the earth.

That is all.

Notice of Construction

Update (6/7/07): Total blog overhaul complete. Let me know if you see anything broken or out of place.

Hear What I'm Sayin'?

On Sunday night I had my usual 3 month ear treatment for my allergies, as is common for all people who are chronically and unendingly sick for no apparent reason. It's just a quick flush of my ears to keep them from swelling too much because of whatever allergy du jour I am suffering from.

It's nothing big, takes maybe an hour all told, but does require me to lie on the couch with my head perfectly sideways for two long stretches of time. This is not so much a hardship, seeing as that's how I spend the majority of my weekends anyway. Usually my reasoning for doing so is less defined, like "oh, I was out late last night (until 11:00!)," or "I have to go to work in a couple of days, I really should conserve my strength." Now that I had a genuine excuse, lying on the couch was an excellent, guilt-free chance at laziness.

The problem I had though, was that the treatment leaves me deaf for the duration, since while the medicine is acting my ear is totally closed off. This made watching TV an issue, as the speaking component tends to add a lot to the pretty, pretty pictures that are flashing by. And closed captioning was out of the question; since my head was at a 90 degree angle to the TV and I don't possess the mental wherewithal to read vertically.

So what is a person to do? In my case, I decided to watch the latest movie in our Blockbuster queue in complete silence, and just fill in the dialogue in my head as it went along. You would think this would be difficult, especially seeing as it was a movie I had never seen before. Until I tell you the title of the movie (The Hitcher) and you realize that if anything, the actual dialogue in the movie probably would have detracted from the overall experience.

(Note: Wildly Extensive, All Encompassing SPOILERS are upcoming for the entire film. On the bizarre chance that you actually care for a single second about the plot behind this movie and have not yet experience the (wrong-kind-of) horror of it firsthand, I would recommend skipping this post entirely. And also seriously reevaluating your priorities in life.)

Y'all, deeply and truly - there has never been a more painfully telegraphed movie since the age of silent films. I didn't hear a single word any of the cast members said, but I bet I could give you just as good a synopsis as anyone who was unfortunate enough to see and hear the whole thing without the hindrance (aid?) of ear medication.

And okay, I know that people always say that movies should "show, not tell" in order to get their message across, but at some point you reach the overkill stage. And in this movie, I'm pretty sure we reached that stage approximately 20 minutes in, when we were treated to our 5th close up of Sean Bean's face looking as menacing as possible. And then again in the 21st minute when we got our 42nd close up of Sophia Bush looking scared.

I suppose I could have potentially gotten a little confused when the protagonists stole a cop car and started what seemed to be a multi-state high speed chase (with helicopter!). But the movie helpfully cleared all that up when it had Sean Bean kill every police officer and destroy every police car (and almost the helicopter!) involved, without so much as blinking.

And then for good measure, killed off the main character hot guy (In the most awesome and ridiculous way possible. Seriously, that was the best part of the movie by a mile.). At that point, I rapidly lost interest.

Without the particular brand of attention grabbing that only a cute guy can provide, I got intensely bored and tried to take on the near insurmountable task of misinterpreting the most obvious movie ever, with the remaining 15 minutes. Was there any way Sophia Bush could be interpreted as the villain and Sean Bean the tragic anti-hero, arrested for the wrong crime, a la Harrison Ford in The Fugitive? This was my new quest and I attempted it with every fiber of my being.

Sadly, I think I failed. Primarily because immediately after my vow, Sean Bean totally ripped some guy's throat out, shot another policeman in the head, and then did the same to a third. Shortly afterwards I thought I might make a go of it when, for some unknown reason, Sophia Bush stole the last remaining policeman's gun, leaving him helpless and trapped in a crashed car to die, and released Sean Bean from the back of a locked police vehicle to finish the job for her. But in the end, even when she smoked him with a goddamn shotgun, I still didn't feel like I came anywhere near my goal. I mean, her death count was only 1. I'm pretty sure at final count Sean had at least 14, two of which were kids and one in which he literally ripped a guy in half.

Sadly, no one wins with this abomination of a movie.

On the plus side though, with or without sound, I can recommend that no one ever, ever, ever again watch this movie.

I'm glad I could be of service.

Oh, and hey, now my ears are super clear.

A New Fall

Okay, after all this research (and I have done a ton), I am officially underwhelmed by the new season of TV supposedly coming in the fall. Frankly, there may be more completely laughable entries than interesting looking ones.

Just glancing down the list we have:

• That previously discussed vampire detective,
• Those goddamn Geico cavemen,
• A show that has a tagline of (and I swear to God I'm not making this up): "Computer geek by day, government agent by night."
• A buddy comedy starring that boy from The Hills Have Eyes and a Muslim foreign exchange student (You know it'll be tasteful, because it's on the CW!),
• A show about a rum and sugar empire (I am so jealous that Joe R. made The Simpsons joke before me that it hurts),
• And one about an immortal New York homicide detective.

But oh well. I'm still planning on tuning in to a crapload of new shows, at least for one or two episodes before my attention is distracted by some kind of shiny object.

NBC
Journeyman - a) it's on right after Heroes and you know I hate changing the channel, b) the description sort of sounds like a cross between Quantum Leap and that gross Sandra Bullock movie that came out a couple of months ago. I fully expect this to be a bad of trainwreck proportions, but I kinda want to watch it unfold.

Chuck - No, seriously, "Computer geek by day, government agent by night." Go read that page and then just try and tell me how you could not want to watch this. "Hopefully, [being the government's most valuable weapon] won’t take away from his video game time!" Is it bad that the only new shows I'm watching on NBC, I'm watching strictly because they look so terrifyingly horrible?

FOX
The Sarah Connor Chronicles - It's midseason, but omigosh. River's back! And she still kicks ass! And that boy from Heroes who started out gay but then refused to play a homo so they wrote him out of the show! I am so on board with this, you have no idea.

The Return Of Jezebel James - Parker Posey! The writer from Gilmore Girls! Lauren Ambrose! This show could be about two girls reading the phone book and I would still watch, is what I'm saying.

ABC
Sam I Am - Call me crazy, but this looks mildly interesting. I don't know where my like of Christina Applegate comes from, but it's apparently pretty strong. It conflicts with Heroes, though, so if I do watch, it will need to be with some heavy duty time-shifting.

Pushing Daisies - Go watch that trailer. Do it! Do it right now! I have never, ever been more pumped up for a new TV show in my life. And I don't even know a single cast member. Whatever. I'm going to be watching this one so hard.

Private Practice - I'm thinking Grey's Anatomy made some sort of pact with the devil. That's the only explanation I can come up with because I really want to watch this, even though I know it has every indication of sucking so, so bad. Maybe I just have a latent heterosexual girl crush on Kate Walsh. I dunno, but it's going on the list.

Women's Murder Club - It's on Friday, so obviously it has no chance, but this looks really good. Also, I've read some of the books that this is based off of and I dug them a lot. I don't want to get too attached though. Because seriously, Friday night.

CBS
The Big Bang Theory - Neeeeerds! Oh man, it looks so bad. But it's on right after How I Met Your Mother so again it has that whole channel changing thing going for it. And they cancelled The Class for this, so I need to watch it long enough to be able to properly mock how less-funny it is and fume about all the injustice in the world.

Viva Laughlin - A musical drama! That's really all you would need to say to me to get me to watch. But then they go on to add in a casino, Wolverine as a producer with a recurring guest role, and elements of a thriller. All, I guess, to make the whole Sophie's Choice bit between this and the Simpsons on Sundays as dramatic as possible.

CW
Reaper - Fine, I'll watch this, but I won't like it. Especially since it looks like it's trying to horn in on the Pushing Daisies turf, my love of which has already been predetermined. Kevin Smith is just trying to get on my bad side. (It sort of looks cute, though.)

Gossip Girl - Since they have officially cancelled every single teen drama from the WB and The OC, something has to take their place, right? I'm not sure if this is it, but it is created by the same guy who made The OC. Let's hope the homoerotic subtext is just as high in this one, although with the word Girl in the title, the outlook is not good.

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

Obviously it's insane to consider that much new TV -- yeah, like I'm going to shoot for 16 hours a week -- but most of those will very quickly fall by the wayside, once I remember that very often bad TV is not fun to watch in the same way that some bad movies are. It's just bad.

So I now present it to you, internet-type people, what will you be watching come Fall?
(And don't say that you don't watch TV, because people who do not watch TV do not read this blog.)

A TV Guidepost

With the season finale of Heroes on Monday, I completed my television watching schedule for the 2006-07 season. It was a good year for TV in general and a very good year for my shows in specific. As such, I feel the need to revel in a year-in-review sort of thing while the afterglow is still there. And quickly, before I become bitter with the whole 4 months of reruns thing.

Monday

The Class (CBC) - Y'all, I loved this show, and now it's cancelled. I really wish it had been given more of a chance, but network TV is very anti-sitcoms lately, which is too bad. The show started off really rocky, but by the time they had jettisoned the excess cast and toned down some of the melodrama, it was great. It was one of those shows that I couldn't adequately contain my laughter around, which led to truly ugly bouts of braying laughs that no one should ever be subjected to. Really, it was wildly unfortunate. But the show was solid, the cast was excellent (Jason Ritter, call me! Or Lizzy Caplan, I love you too!), it just suffered from that slow start and lack of network support. Too bad.

How I Met Your Mother (CBS) - Now that it comes down to it, I'm almost bashful to talk this show up. It feels almost unseemly at this point, all of my gushing. So I'll keep it light, with three simple points:

• The 'Robin Sparkles' episode is now my single favorite episode of TV ever, displacing Arrested Development's 'Pier Pressure' and Buffy the Vampire Slayer's 'Becoming'.
• Neil Patrick Harris and Cobie Smulders both deserve Emmys for their work this year. NPH for his pitch-perfect character acting throughout the entire season (for serious) and Cobie for her vastly underrated comedic timing, which consistently gets at least two huge laughs in every episode (often just from her facial reactions).
• I was practically sick to my stomach for the three days leading up to the network upfronts because of rumors that the show was cancelled (Note: It was picked up for a full third season, beating out the much less funny New Adventures of Old Christine, which is something of a Christmas miracle in May). I have never been this involved with a show, and it's a horrible, horrible feeling. But shows that it's really good, right? Or maybe just that I'm insane. Either way.

Heroes (NBC) - Easily the most consistent show all season long. Never really hit a bad note, constantly put you on the edge of your seat for the next episode, and made you really care about all the characters. Also, it didn't hurt that basically every actor in the cast was hotter than your average supermodel. I was a bit disappointed with the finale, but it would have been hard to live up to the rest of the season as is, so I'll give them a pass. I anxiously look forward to the next season, for reals.

Tuesday

Friday Night Lights (NBC) - I refuse to even comment on this one, because everyone makes fun of me for watching it.... Except, whatever, you don't know me! The best acted thing on TV in ages. It is so note perfect that it makes you want to cry. And then when you watch the show, you do cry. Constantly. The fact that it was renewed puts a nice little fire, right in my heart.

Wednesday

America's Next Top Model (CW) - Please don't judge me. There has never been a better definition of a guilty pleasure show in the history of time. And this season *ahem* cycle was horrifying TV at its finest. From the non-mail-order Russian bride, to the crazy girl with the clown weave and short term memory loss (due to being hit by a car!) who couldn't stop cursing, to the eventual winner (who I give excellent odds of actually being a man), there was no end to the joy that this show brought me.

Thursday

Ugly Betty (ABC) - Soap opera-y to a degree that seems impossible, and yet completely charming throughout. Benefits from a great cast more than any other show, possibly ever, but rides that goodwill to excellent results. Another one that I can't wait to follow up on next season.

Grey's Anatomy (ABC) - Went from Great (season one), to Pretty Good (season two), to Oh My God Why Am I Still Watching (season three) without a pause. Melodrama is all fine and good (see: Ugly Betty) but only up to a point. And that point is a lot closer in a drama than Grey's thinks it is. I still enjoy it enough not to give up entirely on the show, but I expect improvements and quick.

The Office (NBC) - Such a good show. I'm glad that NBC has decided to pick it up and run with it, despite the unamazing ratings. The show stalled out late in the season, but ended on a four-episode-long high note that was amazingly funny. I may hate the arc they took with the Jan character, but it was at least somewhat telegraphed over the course of the season, and that's my only real gripe with the show. We won't even get into the whole Jim/Pam thing, lest my squees of joy drown out the internet. Again, greatly looking forward to next season.

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

So I was able to pare down my TV watching to right at 6.5 hours this year, thanks to lame seasons by:

• Lost (goodbye forever, show that never answered any questions!),
• Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip (proof that Sports Night truly was a one-time perfect thing)
• The Amazing Race (when they said "All-Stars" there was a reason they used those sarcastic quotation marks),
• Jericho (who would have guessed that the end of the world would be so lame),
• and Survivor (uh, just regular old lame, actually).

I feel very proud of this fact, despite knowing that 6.5 hours is still a ridiculously large amount of TV. Oh well, I'll take my victories where I can.

Once I get a chance to go through it, I'll make up my preliminary fall schedule to see how many new shows I'm willing to take on in addition to the returning 8(!) shows I'm keeping on the schedule. I've heard there's a new show about a vampire detective, and this time it doesn't star David Boreanez! Talk about great times to be alive!

Moving Sucks (And Other Tales)

Y'all, I don't even know where to begin. You can tell I'm at a loss because I just used the word "y'all." Speechlessness leads directly to my inner Southerner.

Let's just dive right in:

My apartment switchover is complete, and we mostly survived. In fact, unless you count the fact that we had no electricity for two days, no washer/dryer still, and the hot water heater has a mind of its own, everything pretty much worked out perfectly.

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

Last week was spent nailing down all of the moving related items: electricity setup, cable setup, movers setup, etc. This mostly involved me pledging piles and piles of money (that did not necessarily exist) to people who would in turn give me vague guarantees that they might give me something in return. Someday. Maybe.

(By the end of this story, I will have spent literally every cent I have in the world on this move, and then put some more on my credit card. Moving is fun!)

I got our shipping boxes from the movers on Tuesday afternoon and then spent the next 5 days using every spare moment of my life to box up our entire apartment into 20 containers or less. Considering we only have a two bedroom apartment, this should not be such an issue, right?

I realized that I was a fool, right around the time that I found that my book collection alone filled up 7 boxes. We own a lot of shit. A whole lot. And by "we" I mean "me," because Frnak's contributions to the move were two 1'X2' boxes, a bed, and a suitcase full of clothes.

A quick and dirty breakdown of my life through the things that I own:
My DVD collection? Two boxes.
Things On The Kitchen Counters? Two boxes.
Stuff in the Tiny Closet In the Living Room? Two boxes.
Things in the Kitchen Cabinets? Two boxes.

Are you sensing the theme yet? And I haven't even mentioned Things in the Bedroom, which is where the real horrors start.

The only thing that ended up saving me was the fact that I have some epically huge storage containers from college moving, each of which count as only one box per the moving guidelines.

In the end, I was only 2 boxes over the limit. The end being 12:00AM on Sunday morning, exactly 12 hours before the movers were scheduled to arrive. Also known as "When I finished the final item (boxing the last dishes while Frnak lay drunk in the living room.)"

Only, the movers decided that it would be more efficient to show up 4 hours ahead of schedule on Sunday. Meaning I was blasted out of bed at 7:45AM after about 6 hours of sleep with a phone call notice that several large burly men would be arriving within the half-hour.

Good times.

But, ignoring the legendary sleep deprivation, it all worked out very well. The movers were super efficient and had us entirely installed in the new place by noon, and I didn't once have to pick up a single box. Which is all I ever ask in life: That I never have to do any manual labor ever again.

Since moving was finished at pretty much the exact time we expected it to start, we had the entire day to get everything unpacked and arranged into a semblance of a real-live house. I was very impressed with our can-do spirit, and also my wild compulsion to get my books back onto the bookcase before I even had my bed put together.

I don't know what was up with that.

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

Now I split my afternoons at home between my new two favorite pastimes in the world:

• racing around the apartment in my socks, sliding over all the fake-wood floors like I'm 8 years-old,
• and trying to settle on what color curtains and lamp shades would look best in the new living room, now that I've finally decided that it's time for my fur-and-leather curtains to go the way of the dinosaur.

It's a pretty nice living.

But it's not all immature running around and homo-decorating. As I alluded to in the beginning, there are things that are less nice:

• The washer and dryer could not be installed until we get a repairman out to the new place to get a dryer vent in working order and I find a place that can sell me a hot water hose for the washer (as I could not get the original one off the fixture in the old apartment. It will remain there forever, I suppose.) Already my clean clothes are running short. I'm half a week away from searching out nudist colony brochures. Because I'll be damned if I'm ever going to a laundromat ever again. I have grown accustomed to a certain standard of living, by God.
  
• The hot water heater has some sort of ADD, since it seems to randomly spike the shower with shots of superheated water in an otherwise nice and relaxing cleansing period. It's like playing Press Your Luck (in the shower), only instead of Whammies this time it's someone flushing a toilet while you are in there. And instead of flushing a toilet, it just happens completely at random times. (That works out, right? Follow the stream of consciousness.)
  
• TXU can go straight to hell. After I finally cancelled my service with them at the old place (because they cost a damn arm and leg each month), I got my new company all set up to start service on Wednesday. Which worked out very nicely, as my landlord had continued his service with TXU out through the end of the week. Except no, TXU cut off the power on Tuesday morning immediately after confirming the extension with the landlord. Meaning we had two fun filled days without any electricity at all. The high point of which had me sitting on our balcony wrapped in a blanket like a crazy old lady, huddled under the one working light outside (controlled by the condo association), trying to read a book while mosquitoes feasted on my all-you-can-drink blood buffet. Apparently my survival cutoff point is 36 hours without electricity. After that, I'm pretty much just fodder for the wolves. Good to know I suppose.

But yeah, power's back on and I'm back in the real world, sort of. It'll still be a while before I get into a normal rhythm again, though.

I mean, I've got a whole lot of sliding around the apartment to do.

One-Trick Pony

[Programme note: Website upgrade failed miserably, when A) I forgot to renew my hosting bandwidth along with my domain name, so there was no place to put anything, and B) my CSS-fu was so weak that I destroyed the style sheet entirely and had to scrap the whole thing, starting all over again at 2 in the morning on Saturday. So the move is massively delayed.]

I've decided that this week has a theme. It's a Week of Lists! Because who doesn't love a good list? Communists, that's who.

Without further ado:

List of 10 Things That I Have At Some Point In The Recent Past Been Completely Unable to Shut Up About, To The Horror Of Everyone I Know

1. Firefly/Serenity (category: television/movies)
   
2. So, Did I Tell You My Sisters Are Both Having Babies and I'm Going to Be An Uncle? Oh I Did? Maybe I Should Tell You Again. (category: lame personal anecdote)
   
3. Mika - Life in Cartoon Motion (category: music)
   
4. The Story Of How I Learned That I Have Bad Cholesterol (category: lame personal anecdote)
   
5. (cont.) Things that I Cannot Eat, Due to my Bad Cholesterol (category: super lame personal anecdote)
   
6. Being In Charge of My Office, Because my Boss is in Italy for Three Weeks (category: personal martyrdom)
   
7. How I Met Your Mother (category: television/movies)
   
8. Moving to a New Apartment (category: lame personal anecdote)
   - (subcategory: Moving is hard!)
   - (subcategory: The new place is so close to work!)
   - (subcategory: Going into detail about the layout of the place and where I think furniture is best suited to go, despite the fact that whoever I'm talking to has never even seen the place)
   
9. I Broke My Tooth In Half, The One That I Had Fixed Last Year, And It Hurts Like a Sumbitch (category: painful personal anecdote)
   
10. Hey, I Have Really Bad Allergies. Really Bad. Don't You Want to Know (In Exacting Detail) How Bad? (category: super-duper lame personal anecdote)

Restlessness on Review Friday

With the move now officially in full swing (we pick up the keys/gate openers on Tuesday) I am starting to feel the sway of complete wanderlust. So be on the lookout for a complete site redesign over the weekend. The place may be down for a day or so whilst I get everything organized.

Or I'll get lazy and never actually get around to uploading all the changes.

Either way.

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

Short review day, because I have no attention span at all right now.

Books

Lisey's Story, Stephen King - I have such a disconnect when I read Stephen King books. Despite their tendency to run wildly long and go absolutely off the wall in terms of crazy plot devices, I almost always come out satisfied. After the very fun departure that was Cell - just a straightforward zombie horror-fest - this book is much more standard late-career King, very much in the vein of Insomnia or Bag of Bones. That is: widow(er) discovers deeper meaning/horrors in their now-dead spouse's past, leading to violent/horrific events in the present.

It's very well done (and better written than usual for King, by a good margin) although the seams tend to show a little bit in the structure of the plot. The whole book runs in continual flashbacks of the "Oh I remember something horrible from the past that I had repressed" variety, which can get old really fast. Especially when the thing you are remembering is someone telling a story. A flashback of a flashback of an 8 year-old child's narrative stretches my reading mind to near the breaking point.

But like I said, very well done and well written. So while you see exactly where the story is going (he actually give you the ending around page 100 but couches it so that you've pushed it out of your mind by the time it comes around) you don't mind the trip.

World War Z, An Oral History Of The Zombie War, Max Brooks - Seriously, just let that roll off your tongue a couple of times. An Oral History of The Zombie War. There is practically no way that this book could be bad. Until you start reading it and realize that it is a much more difficult task to manage than you thought.

The idea is great - a pseudo-documentary of interviews with key figures in the carefully imagined near-apocalyptic war against the walking undead. There's enough room for juicy story that by the end I was absolutely amazed at how well he pulled the whole thing off. Because it really is fraught with peril - going overboard, losing the narrative in all the winding interviews, keeping the tone in-character as you shift. Except for what I saw as a few melodramatic missteps (the downed Air-Force pilot and the soap-opera worthy submarine story) the book is tightly focused on giving you the timeline, highlighting it with personal vignettes, and then leaving you to fill all the blanks in for yourself.

It even manages some genuinely touching moments, even against a ludicrous backdrop of zombies who neither breathe nor pump blood overrunning the entire world. Big time recommended reading.

Music

Mates of State - Bring it Back. I will not lie, I have never been a huge Mates fan. More appreciative than anything else, I'd never actually bought one of their albums, just listened to a few of their songs and was decidedly "Eh." But on a recommendation from my music advisers, I picked this one up and I'm much more on board now.

Catchy, lo-tech, what I swear is an organ/drums combo, it's all just very listenable. It's gone into my main rotation as a CD that can run uninterrupted straight through. Not going to win any awards, but I'll keep my eyes open for anything they do in the future.

Amy Winehouse - Back to Black. How weird is it that these two albums have near matching titles and I got them in the same week? Anyways, I refuse to gush about this CD like everyone else. I do love a good throwback song, though, and this thing is chock full of them. It's very much old-school Motown crossed with a lot of Billie Holiday torch standards, which is very refreshing. I like a return to old things I love made new.

That said, I'm not super big on the album. I do love a couple of the songs, particularly Rehab and the title track, but the sum total is a little boring to me. I feel like a little variety would have really helped keep me more interested. I dunno, I feel sort of bad for not liking it as much as I should.

Mika - Life in Cartoon Motion. Have I not written about this one before? I really feel like I have, because in real life I couldn't stop gushing about this CD for two months straight, but I don't see it in the archives. Oh well. I love this album so hard. I can't do a coherent review, so instead I direct you to the Amazon page, which has a fever-dream-induced editorial review which is much better than me at describing such things.

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

God, that took way more concentration than I expected. Back to flailing in every direction!

Heightened Other Senses

I have gone deaf in my right ear. As in no hearing whatsoever, except for a very loud rushing sound. And I'm almost certain there is nothing that is actually rushing near me.

Considering the just-completed weeks of illness, I think my body is officially in full on riot mode now. This is so lame. Are you allowed to just trade in your entire body for a new one yet? Because I want an upgrade. Maybe to one with a visible six-pack or at least less of a caveman brow.

The future should be now.

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

Also, I thought when you lost one sense, the others became all heightened and more powerful. Apparently that is a load of crap. Now not only can I not hear, but my vision seems to be getting actively worse. Granted, this is probably because I haven't changed out my monthly contacts since something like December, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

Wait, maybe it's just one other sense that is heightened. Because, man, I got a paper cut just now, and that was pretty much the most exquisite pain I've experienced in a while. Of all senses to go up, what are the odds that Touch is the one I get? Lame.

This just increases the likelihood that when I eventually develop my awesome mutant power, that it's going to be a stupid one, like that kid from the X-Men movie who's special power was having a green tongue. Or the other kid who could just change television channels with his mind.

Although I wouldn't mind having that power. I hate looking for the remote control.

But I'd much rather get that whole super-hot-looks/ice making power, instead.

Unlikely apparently. Double lame.

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

Speaking of TV (weren't we?), Frnak has some sort of obsession with obtaining television capture ability on his computer, so that he can edit videos and become one of those Internet famous guys. Which is admirable in its own right and has somehow resulted in him gifting me my very own TV tuner to attach to my computer. It's a little convoluted in how we got there, but I do love it when people give me gifts, so I'm all on board. (Thanks, Frnak!)

But last night I went to install it, and found out that somehow the television drivers conflict with my aftermarket video card that I installed ages and ages ago. I say "found out" like it was some simple little operation, but in truth it was an epic struggle with the computer wherein mostly I kept shouting at the screen and kicking the tower, while Frnak stared at me like I had lost my mind. It was not my finest computer-science related moment.

I know there must be some way to work around this (setting up two different profiles for the different cards, etc) but I certainly can't find it. This only serves to highlight exactly how far gone my computer skills have fallen - now pretty much to the point where I'm really glad that my degree is so carefully bound up in a frame on the wall, so it's impossible for anyone to take it away.

I mean, it's in a frame, it can't be revoked, right?

Whatever. Triple lame.

It's going to be a long day.

Sorting Through the Books

Alternately titled: Wherein I Reveal Deep-Seated Prejudices and Rant and Rave like a Crazy Old Man

I am entirely enthralled by home-improvement shows on TV right now. Mostly because I'm moving in a couple of weeks and love the idea of hidden potential in ordinary spaces. I've spoken about my love of Sell This House recently, but the best place for me to get my fix (anytime that I'm jonesing, day or night) is the HGTV, a channel I previously didn't even know existed. But now that I have found it, I love it unconditionally. It could be 3:30 in the morning on a Friday, but you can tune in and watch some fool trying to update a bedroom by spackling a mirror to the front of his dresser. It is a flawless way to waste a couple of hours.

Also? Carpenters are wicked hot. (Not the point of this post)

My rant-filled issue is only marginally related to this, but it's the jumping-off point. One of the shows that HGTV uses as filler during the day is called Operation: Organization, or something similar. Basically, they find some poor homeowner who is a complete slob and then spend thousands and thousands of dollars to get their place all organized and classy. Until the second the cameras leave and they go back to their old slobbish ways, I assume.

It's sort of a cool show because the transformations are so dramatic. Since you start out with papers and crap everywhere, the end result is amazing. The problem I have is with one of the professional organizers that they use. They have a whole stable of go-to people (Flamboyant Asian Guy, Strict British Girl, etc.) but the most used one is a Type-A Woman who is super effective at getting shit done. She cuts through all the crap and gets things organized ridiculously quickly, with her specialty being convincing people to throw away/donate stuff that they don't really need. This ability speaks deeply to me because I am horrible about throwing anything away. I envy her power so hard.

My issue, though? She hates books. Hates them. Every time she starts the sorting process, the second they get to a book shelf she starts throwing as many books as possible into the donation pile. "If you've already read it, there's no reason to keep it around taking up space. Donate it to someone else who can get some use out of it." This is like her mantra.

Never has such an innocuous comment inspired such rage in me.

The worst was when she was working with this one family with three kids. Despite the fact that she had no problem keeping something like 4 chests full of lame toys, she totally took this mom to task for wanting to keep her books, even though she had already read them. When the mom said something like "Well, every one of these books I have read at least twice," the organizer looked all disbelieving and snorted "Well, you're not going to read them a third time, right?" All the while staring at the husband with a look that clearly said "How d'you get hooked up with this nutball?"

White hot rage. Made even hotter by the fact that this is a very common belief. If you've managed to get through a book once, there could never be a reason to go back again. Arg.

Books are meant to be read multiple times. They are not the sole entertainment medium in the world that is one-use only. No one ever suggests that once you've seen a movie or listened to an album you've gotten all the use you'll get out of it you'll ever need. DVDs, CDs, these things are collected in bulk by everyone. Why? Because you can get plenty of enjoyment from repeat uses.

The same is true with a book, too. There are books I own that I have read literally dozens of times. Are they less enjoyable in the later times? No less so than watching your favorite movie or listening to your favorite album years after purchase. The fact that people can't understand this just boggles my mind.

I guess I'm just completely out of step with the rest of the world on this issue. Because seriously.

No wait, actually it goes even deeper than that. Because I hear this constantly and every time I am left completely speechless.

"Well, I just don't read." (And it's a proud declaration, like a blow for human rights or something.)

Nothing in the world, short of telling me that your hobby is Mime, will make me discount your opinions faster than telling me "Oh, I don't read." Bullshit.

Okay, not bullshit, I'm perfectly willing to believe that you don't read. But, what? Seriously, what?

There is just no way I can relate to that. People who are all "I don't watch TV, it rots your mind," I can at least just silently roll my eyes at and move on. But reading? This is a fundamental sort of thing. I'm not even talking the snobbish sort of "You've never read Tolstoy?!" crap. I mean just reading - for enjoyment, for knowledge, for anything.

Lord knows I'm not the most literary person in the world (I just spent the entire weekend reading a 400 page novel about the oral history of the zombie war, for God's sake), but so much of my world-view is colored by the reading I have done. I don't understand how people can say that they've never read a book since high school, and even then they only did it because it was required. This is a level of disconnect that I don't understand at all.

I mean, I know that it is possible to be a well-rounded individual without a background in literature. There are very few things in the world that can only be picked up from a book and those things are even less likely to be real-world necessary. That said, dismissing an entire medium out-of-hand just drives me crazy. Why limit yourself like that? Yeah, some books are boring. Or poorly written, or full of words that you don't know. But there are tons and tons of things out there to read that are hilarious, or thought provoking, informative, or just wildly interesting. And your default setting is to ignore it all?

Why?

I just, ugh. See? Complete disconnect. What is going on there? Were you abused by the written word in your past? Was getting through A Separate Peace in sophomore year really that traumatizing? (Actually, if that's the reason, then I totally have your back. God, I hate John Knowles.) I don't understand and it's making my blood pressure rise trying to figure it out.

Yeah, okay, I've gone on my snob rant long enough. But there it is.

Really, you should read.

But even if you don't, please don't tell me. It makes my brain hurt. So much.

On Illness and Housing

Our two great national nightmares are finally over: I have gotten over the dreaded cold that left me incapacitated last week AND we have found a new place to live come May 1st.

I know you were all so worried.

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

The illness was pretty unbearable, but at least now I can look back on it and laugh without hacking up a lung. It's one of those weird quirks I have, but almost like clockwork each Spring I get wildly sick for about 7 days and then slowly bounce back. The first time this happened was back in college when I first learned the joys of the SMU health center and how fun medicine induced blackout hallucinations can be. Since then it's happened with regularity each year, usually in March, but sometimes a little later. This year was particularly bad because I was still getting over the allergy attacks from a couple of weeks ago, I had a metric ton of work on my desk and couldn't take any time off, and we had some freak cold weather hit Dallas right as I was already experiencing wild chills from the illness.

So basically, I've been an irritable, over-medicated zombie for the last 9 days, without interruption. I'm getting back on my feet, but it is super slow going, to be sure.

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

But in more exciting news, Frnak and I totally found a new place to live. I know my specifications were pretty strict, but somehow we managed to find a place that fit a majority of them, without too much horror and/or panic attacks from yours-truly.

It's a 2 bedroom/2 bath condo with: all wood flooring, a fireplace, balcony, more square-footage than currently, and a closet so big it could qualify as a third bedroom. All that for less than we're paying now with an even shorter commute to work (For me, at least. Which is what truly matters, right? Egocentricity has to pay off at some point, I figure.).

There are a few drawbacks - the exterior is pretty low rent, the neighborhood is highlighted by a liquor store/beauty supply shop, the ceilings are lower than I like, and the foundation of the building could collapse at any minute. But overall I am so incredibly psyched that I'm having trouble getting to sleep at night, what with all the visions of redecorating in my head.

We sign off on the lease and pick out the paint color for our living room tomorrow. It feels so adult that I can barely wrap my head around it.

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

As a side note, have you ever tried to pick out a paint color for a room? It has got to be the most maddening thing in the entire world.

Even with this incredibly helpful Sherwin-Williams Color Visualizer program (Which not only lets you pick out wall colors, but lets you try to approximate the color of your furniture. Whoever created this program is a genius) , Frnak and I were still up arguing over colors at 10:30 last night.

Frnak: "What color are the couches? Tan?"
Jason: "Tan? I would not own couches that were that mundane. When I bought them, the saleslady called them 'champagne'" (Clicks on the Champagne option)
Frnak: "Oh, our couches are so not that color. Try the other one...sequin?"
Jason: "Okay, conversely, I am not gay enough to own something that is 'sequin' colored...oh yeah, okay maybe they are that color. Damn."

(45 minutes later)

Jason: "I refuse to live with walls the color of a fratboy's pink polo!"
Frnak: "We are not painting the living room Orange! What is this crazy Orange obsession you have? Enough!"
Jason: "Hey, it fits my complexion!"

Eventually we agreed to go with the color that the landlord already had on hand from when he painted his own house, to save us from coming to blows (read: ineffectual slap fight).

So our living room color will be 'Bagel,' which is sadly one of the few words in the English language that I hate (along with: "impetus", "tofu", and "caveat"), but is pretty good as colors go and should match the furniture pretty well.

Our condo-warming party is soon to follow.

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

Now comes the horrifying prospect of actually moving, a concept so loathsome that I hate to even consider it. I've pretty much decided though, that I will be hiring movers to do all the hard work for us, despite the exorbitant costs. There are few things in the world I will absolutely not do, but lifting a washer/dryer combo up three unique sets of stairs and installing them into a closet is almost certainly on that list.

Too Sick for Anything But a Meme

Because not even debilitating illness slows down a cliched blog, dammit! (Borrowed from Erin's archives from 1 million years ago)

Firsts

First best friend: Dustin (Last name withheld. And not just because I totally can't remember it), in the 2nd through 7th grades.
First car: 1997 Red Ford Ranger. Aka: The TOM. Still in use 10 years later.
First date: I'm stretching to remember. Probably Peggy? Did I ever date before then? I was(am) a bid nerd, so I doubt it.
First real kiss: Also Peggy, pretty sure on that one.
First screen name: Beaverguy. Some things never change, sadly enough.
First self purchased album: No Doubt - Tragic Kingdom.
First funeral: None so far (one of those knock on wood situations, for reals)
First piercing/tattoo: Nope
First pet: Spot, the hamster
First enemy: Daniel Patel, in the 4th grade. Man I hated that kid.

Lasts

Last car ride: A bleary drive into work this morning.
Last kiss: Jordan.
Last good cry: Um, gosh... oh wait! When I reread The Time Traveler's Wife last month. God that's a sad book.
Last movie seen: All the way through: Blades of Glory. More recently, I made it through the first 10 minutes of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind before I started throwing up. (Unrelated to the movie)
Last beverage drank: Mug full of chocolate-coffee first thing this morning.
Last food consumed: Bowl of Cheerios before bed last night.
Last crush: Neil Patrick Harris on the How I Met Your Mother. Because I am sick in the head, obviously.
Last phone call: Frank, trying to tempt me into Whataburger despite my vows against cholesterol.
Last shoes worn: My wildly uncomfortable work shoes. Very professional.
Last album played: Mates of State - Bring it Back
Last annoyance: When we were out of milk last night for my Cheerios.
Last disappointment: That I missed Sean's debut of his movie at the AFI Film Festival last week.
Last time scolded: Yesterday when I did something monumentally stupid at work. Sometimes I wonder how I function in the real world.
Last t-shirt worn: My faux-vintage orange SMU shirt that is three times too small for me.
Last website visited: www.penny-arcade.com
Last song you sang: Queen - Somebody to Love, on the way home from work on Monday before the illness descended.

Whats

What's in your cd player?: I will assume this means the last CD I physically bought at the store, which would be Regina Spektor - Begin to Hope, which I have since loaned away and will probably never see again.
What color socks are you wearing?: Black
What color of underwear are you wearing?: Blue
What's under your bed?: All of my important documents in a file-folder and the box that my cell phone came in.
What time did you wake up today?: 8:10. Nyquil played a significant part in that.

Future

Where do you want to go?: Boston, to visit Julia, the entrepreneur.
What is your career going to be?: We're going to ignore this question so I don't end up curled into a tiny ball sobbing uncontrollably.
Where are you going to live?: Dallas.
What kind of car?: Once I am rich and/or famous, a dark green Jaguar.

Currents

Current mood: Brooding over illness
Current music: The Best of The Proclaimers, randomly split with some of Amanda Palmer's live stuff.
Current taste: Tiny cup full of mandarin oranges.
Current hair: Recently cut, still longer than usual, spiky and out of control.
Current longing: Some vacation time
Current desktop picture: Penny Arcade picture: "Roll for Inititative"
Current favorite artist: Regina Spektor, still #1 in my heart.
Current time-wasting: Puzzle Quest, for the Nintendo DS. I have spent more time playing this game in the past week than I have watching TV and messing around on the Internet combined. It's an addiction, people.
Current hates: Allergies, illness, the word "Whatev."

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go try and find a dignified way to lie down in my office without throwing up or offending anyone's sensibilities concerning office decorum.