Small Damn Music Blog

Year end round-up posts are so cliche. And yet, I just can't stop myself. It's fun. And easy!

With less ado, this is my breakdown of the best albums released in 2006. Obviously it is wickedly subjective (as all such lists are) but even more so than usually, because I didn't listen to a ton of new music this year. I think I had a total of 18 new albums, which I have oh so impressively whittled down to a top 10 (really 11). Amazing, no? (As always, album must have been technically released in the 2006 calendar year for eligibility)

10. The Raconteurs: Broken Boy Soldiers - More difficult than your normal rock/guitar/alt band, with only the single "Steady As She Goes" being really accessible and radio friendly. Over all, though, it's an excellent album, if a little short (clocks in just over half an hour). As usual Jack White (half of The White Stripes) continues to impress me with final products that are better than the individual parts. Lends itself very easily to multiple listenings and so far has aged very well on my iPod. Best song: (Tie) "Steady As She Goes" / "Blue Veins"

9. Christina Aguilera: Back to Basics - Ambitious. That's really the only word I can use to describe it. She tries really hard, succeeds in some cases, fails in others. Gains big points for her good catchy songs ("Ain't No Other Man" / "Candyman"), and for reaching for some range on interesting quieter numbers ("Save Me From Myself"). Loses points for: even more power ballads (enough!), and carnival barkers (just say no to clowns!). So-so overall points, but that doesn't mean I don't listen to it constantly. Best song: "Save Me From Myself"

8. Paolo Nutini: These Streets - My obscure plug for today. I love everything about this CD: his voice on the solo stuff, how well the whole ensemble band pieces fit in with the style of the album, the general - (what's the word, wistfulness? naivety?) - vibe that oozes from the entire set. Again, it's a little short, and a little too laid back to be the best thing in the world, but one of my favorite things to just have on. Comforting. Best song: "Million Faces"

7. (tie) Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Show Your Bones - This is a really good CD. I keep having to remind myself of that. Invariably, though, when I pull out the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, I always go to Fever to Tell, one of my favoritiest albums ever, so this one always gets pushed out of the way. But forgiving the sin of it not being FtT, it's a great accomplishment. More listenable, more mature sounding, and some unbeatable tracks. Best song: "Phenomena"

The Strokes: First Impressions of Earth - It gets a tie with Show Your Bones, because I could basically write the exact same thing as above, only replace 'Fever to Tell' with 'Is This It?'. This is still an amazing CD. As with all Strokes CDs, after a bit it all tends to blend a little, but for good music, you'd be hard pressed to find anything better. Best song: "Juicebox"

6. Lily Allen: Alright, Still - Import British pop. A little light rap ("Knock 'Em Out"), some itchy pop ("Shame for You"), and some simple, pretty standards. Sometimes an album doesn't have to be groundbreaking and stunning to be great. I have nothing that really makes this CD stand out wildly, but it's had a longer continuous rotation in my iPod than anything else currently. Best Song: "Knock 'Em Out," which is just amazingly infectious.

5. Orson: Bright Idea - I'll be brief here, since I pimped this thing uncontrollably when it came out, but this CD puts me in a better mood than basically anything ever. Pure pop/rock that tosses me into a seriously happy/nostalgic place. Best Song: "No Tomorrow"

4. The Dresden Dolls: Yes, Virginia... - There is no explanation for my fanaticism for The Dresden Dolls. They're a throwback cabaret duo (girl on piano, guy on rhythm) and frankly, everything about both of their albums is pretty creepy. Yes Virginia is their newer album, three years in the making, and it sort of knocks my socks off, despite songs about: Nazi sympathizers, sex changes (multiple songs, people), and masturbation. It's a very mature album, and Amanda Palmer's voice is very powerful despite it's unconventional sound. The album never falls off the rails, even though you constantly expect it. And bonus: I'm always vaguely skeeved out every time I listen to it. But no matter what, I'm completely hooked. Best Song: "Shores of California"

3. Bitter:Sweet: The Mating Game - Do I babble on about sweet eletronica/smooth jazz/shy girl fronted bands too much? It sure seems like I do, what with all the Imogen Heap, Roisin Murphy, etc mess I've always got going on. But this CD is like the culmination of all of those in one perfect package. It's all the potential of Murphy with the polish of Heap and their own perfect spin on electronica/jazz with some perfect hooks. Any other year this would be my #1 album in a walk. Best song: "Mating Game"

2. The Elected: Sun, Sun, Sun - The most unexpected album of the year. I was a small fan of Rilo Kiley, which is why I picked this up in the first place, but now I'm a huge fan of The Elected. Road trip pop/blues, with enough country involved that I feel a little dirty. They use a slide guitar! I mean come on. But seriously, such a perfect album. I don't even have words to describe. Best song: "Fireflies in a Steel Mill"

1. Regina Spektor: Begin to Hope - Yeah yeah, I know half the people in the world hate her music. The other half seem to tolerate it. And then there is me, who is obsessed with it all. I love this album with reckless abandon. For the cheery pop songs that are amazing and easily accessible ("Fidelity", "On the Radio"), and for the deeper, heavier songs that take a while to really appreciate ("Apres Moi", "Field Below"). When you add in the bonus disc that came with the original release, it really is an amazingly complete album. And I'm not just saying that because I have a huge crush on her. Probably. Best song: "Hotel Song," if I have to pick just one. Big love for "Summer in the City" too, though.

Limping Into the New Year

Okay, the clumsiness is officially out of control.

We are all aware of the dishwashing incident that almost ended my life. That was recently followed by my Christmas day run-in with a razor that removed a dime sized chunk of skin off the middle knuckle on my right hand (Sean: "Was this, like, a straight razor?", Jason: "No, a normal Mach 3. What?! They're tricky!"). That one is still on it's way towards healing, but hurts like nothing else.

And then yesterday. So I was in the kitchen extracting me a big bowl of banana pudding on which to continue to gorge myself (note: mission accomplished) when I managed to drop one of my tiny white ceramic plates on the floor. It proceeded to shatter into one million tiny pieces, as is the custom of all my dishes. At the time it happened, I was all "Ouch," but for no real reason; the dish hadn't landed on my feet. In my one moment of good luck (heh), it had landed directly between my legs, avoiding any sudden amputation of toes.

I went about the process of cleaning it up, a process that is made considerably easier when it is ceramic instead of glass - the whole thing took about 2 minutes. I toss everything in the trash and begin to go back to the pudding, when I realize that there are these weird little red blotches all over the tile in the kitchen floor. It looks like the tracks of something, so I naturally start following them around to see what horrible beast has made residence in our kitchen. (If you have seen my kitchen lately, you would know why this was not a shocking development to me. Place looks like one of those Oprah guests who have a psychological condition and can't throw away trash.)

Only, I follow them all the way around the kitchen in several circles until I realize that I'm the one who is doing the tracking - I am freely bleeding from my right heel. And there is a nice chunk of ceramic embedded in the side of my foot. We'll put aside, for now, the question of how this goes down without me feeling anything except a tiny ouch at the beginning of this whole mess, and get on with story. Miraculously, I get myself into my bathroom without dripping too much blood anywhere, although there is an excellent chance that the cuff of my nice jeans are ruined forever. I extract the ceramic with as little fuss as possible (Just one or two girly yelps. Totally making progress), and I manage to patch myself up enough to work with (lord knows by now I have the most sophisticated first aid kit known to man). But the cut is pretty bad and I can't put pressure on my heel without starting the bleeding up again. So for the past two days, I've been mincing around on the ball of my right foot like the least effective burglar ever.

Seriously, this is out of control. I am about two escalating incidents away from having an entirely useless right side of my body. Already I can't grip things tightly with my right hand (knuckle), and now I'm limping around everywhere. It's like I've taken on injuring myself as some kind of performance art. And it sucks.

Ouch.

That is all.

(Oh, and Happy New Year! May your 2007 be less injury prone than 2006! (Someone's has to be.))

Christmas Fog (Resulting)

There is too much something in the air right now to properly string together a coherent entry. Too much good food, too much time off, too many cool new presents to play with, too many sports to watch, too many warm Christmassy feelings. It's all very nice, but not conducive to either proper posts, or my waistline.

So when all else fails, we fall to a quick series of reviews, and hope that the fog lifts later on.

I knew I was doing that Movie Roundup too soon. I've seen four new movies that will have to be edited in to the list, found one that I missed, and will probably see at least 2 more movies before we officially hit 2007. Which means that the 61 figure is actually more like 68, which...yeah we're not going to think about it.

In no particular order:

• My Super Ex-Girlfriend: My God, this is a bad movie. Horrible. Do not, under any circumstances, including being paid for the effort, watch this movie. No no no no. I hope we're clear.
• Slither: This movie is something of a conundrum. Because on one hand, it's not very good. Too short, a little choppy, some weirdly forced moments, slow in the wrong spots and too quick in the important ones, it's such a strange little movie. On the other hand, Nathan Fillion is great, some of the jokes are just lovely, and the whole B-movie camp factor is deliciously high. Can you really go wrong with a movie about slugs that jump into people's mouths to turn them into zombies? I can't in good conscience recommend it, but I sort of have some serious affection for it. Weird.
• Happy Feet: A sort-of good movie that is ruined by the weirdest ending that one can imagine in a children's feature length cartoon. I am mandated by some unknown higher force to see all movies starring Elijah Wood. This is unavoidable, we know this. The whole thing is not bad entirely bad, though. Robin Williams is only the slightest bit grating, which is the highest praise one can ever give him these days. I like penguins, I like dancing, and the music was pretty good. The whole shoehorned environmentalism last 20 minutes though... Yeah, I got nothing. Not as horrible as expected, but certainly not good either.
• The History Boys: Now this is a good movie. More particularly, this is exactly my kind of movie. Full of words, and literature, it's the story of a set of senior boys in Britian who are studying for their final entrance exams to the college level. There is a Dead Poets' Society sort of vibe going on (a couple of beloved quirky teachers are the focal point of the movie) but not in a sucking kind of way. In a cool, literate, and thinking way. There are some ridiculously hilarious moments, a lot of painfully uncomfortable ones, and pretty much everything in between. It's obviously (and in some cases badly) adapted from the stage version of the play, but by keeping the principle actors from the original cast, you get a very good sense of character, even when the boys sort of become a blur in the condensing of the story. Highly, highly recommended, unless you have a case of gay panic, in which case I recommend you stay far away from this movie (and me).

Christmas Bird

I have had the same alarm clock radio since I was 13 year old. Which is a bit of a deceptive title: only the clock works, not the radio (or the tape deck). But the alarm is the most annoying and loud thing in the world so I've never had the need to look elsewhere for my waking up needs.

Until this morning, when it inexplicably decided not to work. Instead. I woke up on my own approximately 4 minutes before I was supposed to be in the office. Which is something of an issue, seeing as the office is 15 minutes away, and it takes me something in the area of 20 minutes to get ready in the morning. I require a shower, a shave if I don't want to look homeless and drug-addicted, and the process of clothes picking can take a good 5 minutes. Or more if I have to scrounge for socks.

In my bleary state, I decided to scrap all of that, forgo everything and just put on the first thing I grabbed out of the closet. I was out the door in about 5 minutes, no shower, no shave, a too-small striped shirt and yesterdays pants barely in place as I raced to the TOM.

I made it all the way to the highway before I realized that my left contact was in wrong. I had initially thought I was just squinting a lot because I was not prepared for the bright lights of the morning. Instead, it turned out that my contact was actually folded over and slightly jammed under my eyelid. Apparently rushing through the process of sticking things in your eyes is not the best course of action. Particularly when you are doing so on about 2.1 minutes of awakeness.

Somehow without crashing, I managed to remove the offending contact from my eye, at least getting the painful factor out of the way. Replacing the contact in my eye while driving down the highway would be more of an issue. When one regularly cannot nagivate his own living room without banging his knee into the coffee table, he should not be poking at his eye while driving at 60 miles per hour. So I sort of just held the contact on my finger for the remainder of the drive, down two highways and 3 side streets all the way to my office building, and just drove with one eye open.

It wasn't until I was making the final turn to my floor of the parking garage (and I passed by a nice woman who gave me the filthiest look ever) that I realized that I had just spent the last 20 minutes with my hand in the air holding my loose contact on my middle finger, so as not to get it snagged on anything. In other words, I spent my entire ride to work unintentionally flipping off every single person I passed by, all the while with one eye closed in a deranged wink.

So yeah, Merry Christmas to you too!

Big Damn Movie Blog

UPDATED 1/4/07: I've added in the huge influx of movies I saw in the last 15 days of the year, just for completeness's sake. Not that anyone will ever notice.

Hey, so remember last year when I exhaustively went down and itemized every single movie that I had seen that was released in 2005, and then ranked them by some arcane system known to no one, not even myself?

It was a lot of fun (and occupied plenty of my time) so I'm doing it again. I'm really scared to see how many movies I've seen, and absolutely dreading that fact that I'm probably going to break last year's mark (which was already better than one new movie a week). Although I have been much less theatre-going, for sure. Maybe I've become less of a movie whore than previously thought.

(Again, the movie must have been released in 2006. And I divide the movies into 5 distinct categories: Movies that I Actively Hate, Movies that I Only Dislike, Movies I Don't Hate But Also Don't Recommend, Movies That Were Good, and Movies That Were Excellent.)

Movies that I Actively Hate
68. London (Seriously, one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Ever.)
67. Lonesome Jim
66. Final Destination 3
65. My Super Ex-Girlfriend
64. Find Me Guilty (Find me guilty? More like Find Me Boring! AMIRITE?)
63. Aquamarine (Mermaid in the pool? Oh hell no.)
62. Ultraviolet
61. X-men III: The Last Stand (Not actually this bad, but gets a huge demotion because of the massive amounts of disappointment that I feel. Way to screw up the un-screw-up-able, Ratner.)

Movies that I Only Dislike
60. The Break Up (The most depressing Romantic Comedy in the known universe)
59. Scary Movie 4
58. Hostel (Soft-core straight porn followed by horrific gore. Yeah, I'm definitely outside the demographic on that one)
57. Silent Hill
56. You, Me, and Dupree
55. The Benchwarmers (I...wait Rob Schneider is supposed to be the jock? Wait...what?)
54. Date Movie
53. FAQs (Almost verbatim line from the movie - "Two guys kissing is more powerful than an atomic bomb")
52. Crank
51. The DaVinci Code
50. The Lake House
49. Adam & Steve (Another movie that is unfairly hated on by me. Some brilliant things (Parker Posey!) interspersed with some of the worst ideas possible in a movie.)

Movies I Don't Dislike But Don't Recommend Either
48. Clive Barker's The Plague (Dawson! Where have you been. Do you see what happened to Joey the second you let her alone? She married right into crazy. I blame you.)
47. Imagine Me & You
46. Freedomland
45. Art School Confidential
44. A Prairie Home Companion (Aww! Robert Altman. I'm sorry I didn't like your last movie. Cookie's Fortune was awesome, though.)
43. Accepted
42. Stay Alive
41. Winter Passing
40. The Hills Have Eyes (Look how far we have come. From "most vile thing I have ever seen" to "don't dislike." Apparently time does heal some wounds.)
39. The Mostly Unfabulous Social Life of Ethan Green (I feel like I should like this movie either far more or far less than I do.)
38. Over the Hedge
37. Something New
36. Another Gay Movie
35. Running Scared (Another movie that I cannot categorize. Should probably be higher on the list.)
34. Running With Scissors
33. The Last Kiss
32. Clerks II
31. Happy Feet

Movies That Were Good
30. Monster House
29. Slither
28. Superman Returns (Decided I was a little unfair in my review, now that I've had some time to consider it.)
27. John Tucker Must Die (All for you Sophia Bush. Call me! I hate Chad Michael Murray too!)
26. Just My Luck (I love this movie with reckless abandon, and still it is only 23. LiLo just cannot catch a break anymore.)
25. Stick It
24. Strangers With Candy
23. Goal! The Dream Begins
22. Eight Below
21. Underworld: Evolution (Vampires! Werewolves! Scott Speedman! Must use exclamation points!)
20. Inside Man
19. American Dreamz (Dreamz with a Z, indeed. I wish I knew how to quit you, Mandy Moore.)
18. Glory Road
17. Mission: Impossible III (Man, do you think that Felicity wakes up in the middle of the night sometimes and just thanks God that it was Katie Holmes and not her that got sucked into the Tom Cruise system? I feel like she just barely dodged a bullet.)
16. The Science of Sleep
15. Last Holiday
14. V for Vendetta
13. Akeelah and the Bee (My most randomly spouted movie line of the year: "I wanna win the National Spelling Bee!" No, I don't know why.)
12. The Devil Wears Prada (Ask anyone, I both love and hate this movie at the same time to such frightening degrees that it looks like I'm going to have a stroke while it's on.)
11. Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (Oh, shut up. LOVE.)

Movies That Were Excellent
10. Thank You For Smoking
9. Dreamgirls
8. Stranger Than Fiction
7. The Prestige
6. Cars
5. The Descent (The best horror movie I have seen in AGES)
4. She's the Man (I said shut up! Amanda Bynes, you complete me. Make more movies.)
3. The History Boys
2. Little Miss Sunshine
1. Brick (No exaggeration: I have seen this movie 5 times. I am so weird. But I love it unconditionally. It is like my child.)


AHGH! 68! For those of you keeping score at home, that is 15 more than last year. 15! Good goddamn.

Maybe 2007 will be the year I actually go outside every once in a while. (Unlikely)

Guilty Pleasures

I love me some pie.

Most everyone knows this. Pretty much any type of pie will do: cherry, blueberry, buttermilk, chocolate, pecan, pumpkin...okay I'll stop because I'm sort of drooling now. When I was in my college days I used to keep a whole pie at my desk for a week at a time while I slowly whittled it away into nothing, to the utter horror of my crazy germophobic roommates. I may even have in my possession a T-shirt that was personally made for me that says "Pie Whore." Because I will do pretty much anything for a good piece of pie.

Currently my favorite pie (excluding ones made by my mom, because come on) is the single serving slices of Lemon Meringue Pie they sell at Chick-fil-A. It's some of the most perfect pie in the world, all sweet graham crackery crust with real lemony filling, an obscene amount of whipped meringue topping AND two fresh vanilla wafers.

I'll just go ahead and say it: Anyone who is not craving pie after that description is a Communist. Or a zombie. I'm sorry, but it's the truth.

Anyways, so that was what I had for lunch, a slice of pie from Chick-fil-A, because I am very, very, very poor right now and a slice of pie is filling and nutritious and costs less than $1.50. I ran through the drive thru, because I had some work to take care of back at the office, and brought my delicious pie to my desk to enjoy at my leisure. And it was delicious in a very literal sense.

So good, in fact, that I may have gotten a little overzealous in my pie consumption. Uh...to the point that I may have licked clean the little plastic container that it came in.

What? It was really good.

And yeah, in any case I wasn't so much concentrating on the pie eating, I just remember that it was awfully good.

Unfortunately, my entire office apparently knows exactly how good it was too, since I had to run a bunch of things up and down between my office and the mail room this afternoon, and did so without the knowledge that I had a good portion of that delicious meringue hanging off the tip of my nose. Because that's how I roll: like a dog that snuck some food off the dining room table.

I learned this fact approximately 45 minutes after I finished eating, when I happened to catch my reflection in the shiny door of the elevator. People in my office are awesome. And by 'awesome' I mean 'bitches.'

So, yeah. Rock on.

15 Lessons Learned from Gingerbread HouseParty 2006

In no particular order:

1. One should always go shopping for party supplies earlier than 57 minutes before the party is scheduled to start.
2. When constructing a from-the-box gingerbread house, if the instructions say 'wait 15 minutes for frosting to harden' you had damn well better wait the full 15 minutes. Those instructions were written by goddamn gingerbread house engineers, they know their shit.
3. In the interim drying period referenced above, it would be best to set up a specified area cordoned off by yellow police tape in which to hold the drying house, so as to keep it away from drunken partygoers, who by definition do not have frosting-drying patience.
4. Always plan for at least 10 extra guests than expected. Never underestimate the drawing power of edible houses and hot chocolate.
5. Buy more rum. Trust me.
6. Also, buy more pizza rolls. Can never have too many pizza rolls.
7. In a pinch, powdered apple cider from little one-serving-size packets is an acceptable substitute for the real stuff. Especially when trips to 4 different grocery stores fail to deliver the goods. Seriously, is there some sort of boycott on cider this year?
8. Rum filled cider? Delicious. Kahlua filled hot chocolate? The most delicious thing ever.
9. If house-building fails due to a lack of cordoned area and inebriated party guests, sugar cookie decorating is an acceptable substitute. Also, they are way more edible than the house, which may actually be made up of gingerbread cement rather than cookie.
10. "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist," is not just a song from Avenue Q. Refer back to #5, only add the words "a lot" somewhere in the instructions. Consume and repeat.
11. Always double-check to ensure that your blender is properly assembled and tightly screwed together before letting partygoers utilize it.
12. Failing #11, make sure you have plenty of OxyClean carpet cleaner available. Ain't nothing quite as awesome as OxyClean.
13. When someone turns on the TV and puts in your copy of a transexual rock musical, it is not necessarily a party-killer.
14. But when someone follows it up with an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Time for last call.
15. I know it's said every time there is a party, but for real this time: Clean up on the same night. I don't care if it's 3:00 am. You will thank me for it later. Or you'll be cleaning dried frosting out of the carpet 48 hours later and cursing my name. Either way.

Christmas Mix

Y'all, have I mentioned lately that I love Christmas?

'Cause yeah.

Tree is up, Gingerbread party is tonight, and it is nice and wicked cold outside. All is well.

In honor of my festive spirit, I present to you the most awesome Christmas Mix Tape in the history of time and space. Said mix tape will also be playing at the gingerbread party tonight, to keep the level of Christmas spirit as high as possible. And considering we have an actual house-making kit from a store ready to go tonight, I can't help but think that this will be our most successful outing ever.

Jason's Awesome (and Slightly Emo) Christmas Mix Tape 2006

1. Bright Eyes - Blue Christmas [The best Christmas song in the world. Sung a little off key to make it even more poignant.]
2. The Long Winters - Christmas With You Is the Best
3. Wham - Last Christmas [Ain't nobody messing with Wham. Also, you can substitute the Jimmy Eat World cover of the same song, if you have no soul.]
4. The Eels - Christmas is Going to the Dogs [I'm not sure about this song, but I include it for its sheer ridiculous factor.]
5. The Raveonettes - The Christmas Song [Awesome. Second best song on the mix.]
6. Mariah Carey - All I Want for Christmas [Just try and listen to this song and not rock out. Oh that's right, you can't!]
7. Melissa Ethridge - Christmas in America [I can't believe I just admitted to listening to this ridiculous leftist song. I am weak-willed in my old age. Give me a break, it's catchy.]
8. Ron Sexsmith - Maybe This Christmas [Otherwise known as The OC Christmas Anthem.]
9. Death Cab for Cutie - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
10. Christina Aguilera - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas [Almost too much Aguilera-ization but still very good. Got to have the standards in here.]
11. Jars of Clay - Christmas for Cowboys [I sort of love this song, in a Brokeback kind of way.]
12. Eartha Kitt - Santa Baby [Very specific here, you need the live version of her singing it with her jazz orchestra. Every other version of this song that exists in the world sucks like a vacuum.]
13. Pilate - Fairytale of New York [As far as I know, the only Christmas song to contain the phrase "cheap lousy faggot" and still be pretty awesome.]
14. Ivy - Christmas Time is Here [To end of a really pretty and calming note.]

Keep an eye out over the weekend for the party recap.

Oh You're In for It Now

It's a Friday and I still don't have anything to talk about. You know what that means - Poorly Thought Out Review Day! And I haven't posted in a month, so there is no end to the things I can review.

Movies

Superman Returns - What the hell happened to this movie? You have a bunch of really good elements: A perfectly serviceable new Superman in Brandon Routh, a competent, if weirdly wooden Kate Bosworth, Kevin Spacey as a horrible, horrible Lex Luthor, the always awesome Parker Posey, and poor James Marsden in his eternal role as that cuckolded love interest.

(Aside: No, seriously, James Marsden should be studied: 3 X-men movies, The Notebook, Heights (okay, not technically on this one, but very close), and Superman Returns. In each of these movies he somehow loses his girl to another guy, despite basically being a good guy at heart. That is pretty much everything he has starred in, except that horrible gay movie with Scott Speedman that I sort of liked. Can you really make a career out of being the conventionally handsome foil who always loses the girl? I am very impressed for some reason.)

These are the component pieces of a movie that could be very awesome if put together properly. There is a huge camp factor all over the place - just the presence of Parker Posey alone is enough to set off the sense, and when you factor in just how bad Kevin Spacey is, you can practically feel it oozing out of the screen. But instead, it is just about the dullest romp through dullsville that you can imagine.

Even the action sequences are sort of dull. I understand that yeah, he's Superman, he's mostly invincible, but come on. He literally looks bored throughout the entire movie.

Also, I was really appalled at the lack of Clark Kent they had going on in this movie. I don't know why I enjoy the cover-up identity more than the secret one, but I do. And this movie contained many 10 minutes of Kent. I was not amused.

And okay, I get that Clark is supposed to be sort of a non-entity, which is how people never make the connection - omigosh no glasses, he's totally different! and all - but seriously. Lois Lane is now a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. And yet the fact that the reappearance of Superman on the exact same day as Clark Kent sets off exactly zero bells for her? Or Jimmy, or anyone else on the Daily Planet staff? Combined with the fact that they both left at the exact same time? Jesus-Tapdancing-Christ, give me a break. I get suspension of belief to a degree, but the movie was so boring I had plenty of time to reflect on this matter and it just really bugged me.

So yeah, I was sort of disappointed. High hopes, dashed.

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Clerks II - On one hand, it was sort of lame. Lame plot, some bad acting, some stilted dialogue on occasion, and beastiality.

On the other hand, it was sort of really funny. And Rosario Dawson is ridiculously hot. And that little diatribe about Star Wars and Lord of the Rings cracked me up uncontrollably. I can't reasonably hate a movie that made me laugh out loud several times.

God help me, but it wasn't that bad. Kudos Kevin Smith, you apparently still have some weird sway over me. Well played, indeed.

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Stranger Than Fiction - Very enjoyable, from beginning to end. Seriously. Usually I can't deal with Will Farrell, but apparently this is his month for not pissing me off. He and Maggie Gyllenhaal are great, Dustin Hoffman makes through an entire movie without driving me crazy, and Emma Thompson is amazing. The only character that doesn't work is Queen Latifah's, and its not necessarily her fault, there just doesn't seem like a purpose to her being there.

But the plot is gimmick-cute without being over self-satisfied (something that is usually only accomplished by Charlie Kaufman when you're talking gimmicks). It sets up the plot and then just goes on with the story. There are some genuinely cute moments (Flours? No, seriously, I was the only person in the theatre to laugh at that line. I felt bad at the time, but come on, that's hilarious), some touching moments, and a little bit of a lesson. It's not a crime for a funny movie to make you think a little.

Heartily recommended.

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The Prestige - First off, I think the movie has been out long enough that I can do a little bit of spoiling here without engaging too much wrath. It's a really good movie. Much better than I expected. 19th century magicians in blood feud? With Scarlett Johansson all up in there? The hopes were not high.

But they pulled it off remarkably well. Michael Caine continues to do no wrong, and everyone else pulls their own weight just fine. (Shout out to David Bowie, you just do your thing, sir. Hats off to you.)

The plot is all twisty, as you expect, but not overly so. There's nothing horribly cheap lying in wait, so long as you're okay with a little sci-fi thrown in to your magic for good measure. The only thing that didn't really work for me was the double-secret-twist at the end that was supposed to be the real shocker. It's set up pretty well: telegraph what looks like the big shock so that when the real one happens they're not expecting it. Only I had the "Ohhhh, I get it" moment back about 45 minutes before the reveal, so I was a little sad.

Still an excellent movie, though. And it had Piper Perabo. Never can have too much of her.

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

I'll spare you the book reviews for now. But if I get bored later, watch out.

Yet More Proof That I'm A Goddamn Hippie

Per the Political Compass Questionnaire:

My political compass
Economic Left/Right: -1.75
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.59

Apparently I have unresolved Leftist/Communistic tendencies. It's just me and the Dalai Lama over here. Yet again.

At least it's better than that one time that the internet told me that my ideal religion was Sapphic Wiccanism. I've had more accurate personality tests from a Pirate Name Generator. (Shark Tooth Bryant. Go ahead and tell me that does not fit me like a glove.)

This quiz at least made me think, even if they were LibertarianCommie thoughts.

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

In unrelated news, I'm really trying to blog more often, but I don't have a damn thing to talk about. Also, it is wicked cold all of a sudden. Where is my hip flask of Southern Comfort when I need it?

Why I Don't Talk to People

Two quick scenes from my office yesterday, to illustrate exactly why I hate people:

[Scene One: The Break Room. Jason is washing out his coffee cup. He uses way too much soap and has created a frothing mess in the sink.]
Coworker 1: Hey. Man, you always clean that cup out every day, huh?
Jason: Uh, yeah. I need my coffee each morning.
Coworker 1: But you use that same scrubbing brush every day. All sorts of people wash dishes with it all the time. That can't be healthy.
Jason: But...that's its purpose. To wash dishes. And there's soap involved.
Coworker 1: Whatever guy, just don't say I didn't warn you. That's how disease spreads.
Jason: Oookay.
[Coworker 1 leaves. Jason finishes washing his cup, but totally cannot enjoy his coffee all morning long, instead he imagines it teeming with bacteria from the huddled masses of humanity that previously used that brush.]

[Scene 2: Jason in his office, on hold with a major phone company, as he has been for the last 4 years, approximately.]
Phone: Please hold, we are experiencing high call volume and wait times may be up to 5 minutes.
Jason: No kidding, try 17 minutes.
Operations Person 1: Good Afternoon, this is Becky, how can I help you today.
Jason: Hi, I'm trying to add [some service] to this phone plan for this month.
OP 1: Okay, I can help you with that. What is your phone number.
Jason: 214-555-xxxx
OP 1: I'm not seeing an account with that number. You said 214-555-xxxx?
Jason: That's correct.
OP 1: Nope, that number isn't with our company. Are you sure your service is with [Major Phone Company].
Jason: Uh yes. I'm looking at the billing statement right now.
OP 1: Hmm. Well can you give me the account number then?
Jason: [sigh] Sure. [Rambles off account number].
OP 1: Nothing is pulling up. The statement definitely says [Major Phone Company]?
Jason: Yessss. There's the logo right there and then right below that is this phone number that I dialed for customer service.
OP 1: Well it should be coming up then. Please hold.
[Jason holds for another 5 minutes. Their hold music is the most annoying music this side of Clay Aiken.]
Operations Person 2: Good Afternoon, this is Matt, Becky transferred you over to me for specialized help. Can I get your phone number.
Jason: [phone number]
OP 2: Hmm, I'm not seeing an account under that number, are you sure that your service is with [Major Goddamn Incompetent Phone Company]?
Jason: YES. Very sure. I am literally looking at my statement right now. And the phone - right there it says [Major Phone Company].
OP 2: Okay sir, well if I can't find your account by phone number or account number, I can't help you. You're completely sure that the service is with [Major Phone Company]?
Jason: You have got to be kidding me. You think I am making this up? That I've waited on this phone for 25 minutes to play an elaborate joke on some other service provider?
OP 2: Well people get confused sometimes...
Jason: I am physically holding the statement in my hand.
OP 2: Let me get that phone number one more time.
Jason: [Through gritted teeth, spills the phone number one more time.]
OP 2: Oh, there it is. Popped right up. Heh, that's funny. So what I can I do for you today?
Jason: [With the last ounce of patience left] I need to add [some service] to this line for the month.
OP 2: Okay, I can't do that, but I can transfer you back to Becky and she can take care of that for you.
[Jason seethes, waits another 3 minutes on hold. Thinks that it's now possible that Clay Aiken may be preferable to this music. Realizes what he just thought and almost throws up a little bit.]
OP 1: Alright, you're back on with Becky, we should be ready to go. Let me get your phone number one more time and we'll get that service added. Sorry for the delay.
Jason: [resigned, the number falls from his mouth, but his heart is truly broken]
OP 1: Hmmm.
Jason: What?
OP 1: Nothing is coming up. Can you hold for one second?
[Jason makes a strangled yelp, sounding sort of like "Yarglarlg!" He hangs up, bangs his head against the nearest large object a few times, and then gets back to work.]

This is not my beautiful life.

Back in the Saddle

Lately I haven't been able to stop using the word delicious to describe everyday events.

The movie Stranger Than Fiction? Delicious.

The Spurs/Mavs game this weekend? Most delicious.

This means nothing really, but just serves as notice that when I say that Thanksgiving was delicious, it was an entirely different sort of delicious. One that involved at least 7 different kinds of pie, two kinds of dressing, and the largest turkey I personally have ever seen.

I now weigh 5 pounds more than when I left my apartment on Thursday morning. I regret nothing.

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

Right now is the exact time of year when I start thinking how much I love winter. It gets dark nice and early, it's cold enough to bust out my scarves (which I love and are flattering), but not cold enough to really hurt. Shortly I'll get into the mindset that my favorite season is winter, and start frolicking around like a demented Precious Moments figurine, listening to Christmas music non-stop and spending money on presents as if my bank account didn't currently have an available balance that requires the breaking of a twenty to cash out.

This lasts usually about 2-3 weeks until it gets actually cold - the kind of cold that burrows directly into your bones and makes my lovely Kenneth Cole corduroy jacket seem like it's made out of cheese cloth, and the heater in the Truck of Malfunction goes on the fritz. Then I really quickly come crashing down to earth and start cursing the winter and long for the 100's of degrees that come with summer. This usually also manages to coincide with the arrival of my credit card bill midway through December. Funny how that goes.

This leaves a good 2 month span in which to be bitter and cold, so it all works out for everyone.

But right now? Man, I love me some winter! It's almost time for (Gingerbread) House Party 2006!

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

Oh, and the final tally on the NaNoWriMo thing? 25,678 words, and I officially give up. It was a good run, but too much work and too much holidays were in the way. I'll still probably finish up the story eventually, but certainly not by the end of the month deadline, so I'm not gonna knock myself out over it. I feel pretty accomplished. No t-shirt, though. Too bad. Maybe next year.

Maybe this means I can actually start posting again, with some regularity. We'll see, though, as I am way lame nowadays.

18,542

18,542. More than eight thousand words better than last time. And we're only at the halfway point. Woot. But writing is hard, yo. Dag.

Anyways, updates!

As you might could tell by my last.fm page, I have a thing for Regina Spektor. Just a tiny thing, that involves me listening to her twice as much as anything else in the world. I absolutely love her voice, and her song writing. You hear the Tori Amos/Fiona Apple comparisons all the time, but frankly? She's much better. (I can't believe I just said something mean about Fiona. What has become of me?)

Normally this (obsession) would not be worth mentioning (as I am a bit obsessive about a million things), but last Thursday Regina was at the Gypsy Tea Room on her first headlining tour.

And I got to go! (Thanks Jordan!!!! One million times.)

Now, okay, I don't go see a lot of live music, I will admit that. So maybe I'm not the best judge of such things. But seriously, it was just the amazing concert. Ever. We got there at just the right time (10 minutes before the opening band), and we had excellent spots on the floor without having to wait forever.

The opener (Only Son) was not bad, which is all I ask of an opening band. I say band, but it was really one man with a guitar and a magical backup recording. He was sort of a cross between the lead singer of Death Cab and Mitch Hedberg. Which...yeah. Whatever, at least he was interesting.

Then Regina came out and, omigosh y'all. That tiny obsession is officially blown out of control. I am trying so hard not to sound like a 14 year old Livejournaler, and am failing wildly.

Soooooo good!!!1!eleven!1!

Talent all over the place. Even better live than on the CD, and I love her Soviet Kitsch like it is my own child. She played plenty off of that album, every single one of my favorite songs off of Begin to Hope, and a few original songs that are just for her live shows (e.g. Dance Anthem, which I really wish I had a recording of now).

The show alternated about half and half between her solo on the piano (for things like Flowers and Summer in the City (which is one million times better live)) and her backed up by her band (coming up for her more electronic songs, like Fidelity or Hotel Song (my favorite of all her songs, which was the final encore of the night! Swoon, for serious.))

The entire thing was completely surreal, because it was so unlike most small venue concerts I've been too. Big crowd, but still plenty of standing room so you weren't crushed, no overly drunken fools, no loud talking during quiet songs (because a lot of Regina Spektor is quiet, or has long pauses), and an almost 2 hour long show. An excellent experience all around.

And did I mention that she did Poor Little Rich Boy, with a drumstick in one hand and a piano at the other? Which I guess I understood empirically was how it was done, but Wow, in person, crazy impressive.

So now, yeah, totally obsessed. I have 11:11, Songs, Begin to Hope, and Soviet Kitsch running on a continuous loop on my iPod. LOVE.

And feel free to shoot me, but this music video makes me so happy that I might spontaneously combust.

Some (Boring) Things of Note

Because, as usual, I'm not posting anything, a few notes to update everyone:

• I'm in a really good mood right now.
• I just turned 25 and feel very old. But it's not necessarily a bad thing.
• I had an excellent birthday party this weekend. (Thanks everybody!)
• I have one of these now. It completes me. (Thanks Frank!)
• I'm doing this (again) right now, which is why I'm not posting. I'm going to fail (again), but it's still fun.
• No, seriously, a really good mood. Like, really, really good.

If I hit 15,000 words before the end of the week (my goal), I'll post more. (Note: Highly unlikely.)

You's guys enjoy my silence while it lasts.

Epic Sushi Conclusion

When we last left our story, my finger had just been viciously sliced open by a broken glass bent on assassination, I had been hastily patched up in a Frankenstein fashion by the finest crazy doctor in all the land, and then I was sent out on my merry way.

Because this all occurred early in the morning, I went immediately from the emergency room to my office, now wildly late for work. Trying to navigate anything with my mummified finger was tragi-comic and a full hour hadn't passed before I reached my frustration threshold.

Luckily, it was lunchtime, so I could drop everything where it was and wander out to find some emotion-soothing food. And there is no better option for such a thing than sushi. Specifically, sushi from the home of Sushi Girl. Comfort food and flirting. Cannot go wrong.

(Minor update: We totally made up after our last (in my mind) argument. Turns out she was training to work with the chefs that day and was in a bad mood. We'd been back to the status-quo flirting since then for some time. Although I hadn't been there in a couple of weeks.)

So I call my order in to her and take off for the restaurant, cradling my wounded arm as inconspicuously as possible. I get to the restaurant and Sushi Girl (okay, just to be clear, I did learn her name, but really she will always be Sushi Girl to me.) greets me and runs over to get my order.

We have our normal banter about raw fish, which you know must be very scintillating and full of wit just based off the subject alone. When she goes to hand me the food, though, she sees my wounded hand and wants to know what happened. I try to think of a very manly and impressive battle story, possibly involving a bar fight and/or a motorcycle gang terrorizing me with broken glass bottles, but my imagination is slow and I end up telling her the full-on boring story of a rogue glass and a malfunctioning sponge.

She is still suitably impressed and condolence-y, for which I love her even more.

And then.

She says, "Well you know, I have something with my hand too." (Broken English = Very cute)
And then I realize that throughout this whole thing she has sort of had her hand hiding behind her back. So I'm all "What?!" Full of questions and concern.

She whips out her hand, and has on the biggest damn diamond ring that I have seen in a very long time. "I am to be married!"

....

Yep, that's right, not only has Sushi Girl been cheating on our fake love affair, she has gotten engaged. To a boy!

"Aww! Congratulations!" I say, as my heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. I feel lightheaded, but that could just be the blood loss from earlier in the day. As she begin to tell the story of her fiancee, my internal monologue falls through the thousand little steps accompanied with a traditional break-up.

"He's in the fish market."
(Anger: Fish market? I have a better job than that!)

"He likes to go sailing."
(Jealousy: He has a boat?!)

"He's on a soccer team"
(Bargaining: I could join a soccer team for you. I would be awesome!)

"We're buying a house in Mesquite!"
(Depression: I could never afford a house. I'm such a loser.)
(Business sense: Wait, buying a house? Do you need a mortgage? My office is very competitive.)

By the end of her spiel, I am both heartbroken and completely jealous. I want to be all "Ohhh, well, yeah, I'm totally engaged too! To someone equally awesome! I just don't have a ring because our union isn't recognized by the state!" And then I would probably run from the restaurant sobbing.

Except, okay technically at this particular moment I haven't been on a date in 6 weeks and I'm too disoriented from her revelation and my near assassination earlier to come up with a good story on the fly. So she totally beats me. I have to deal with her infidelity to our fake-love and have no comeback of my own. Only a busted hand and a crushed heart.

It is a long walk of shame out of her sushi world and back to my office building.

So now we are definitely fake broken-up for good. It's for the best, after all. We were from two different worlds really. Hers all full of sushi and boat-owning soccer players, and mine full of rainbow flags and gaping hand wounds. Would never have worked out.

I'm totally over her.
*sniff*
Totally.

Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I seem to have something in my eye.

The Long Drawn-Out Story (Part Two)

(Part One)

I get up on Monday morning, full of confidence for the day ahead. Except, my hand fucking hurts. For serious.

I shake it off, and go do the whole showering/morning ablution sort of thing. Once all of that is done, I decide to go ahead and change the dressing on my finger that morning, since I will be at work until about 6:00. Only, I can't physically get the bandage off. It is stuck to the cut, and I am doomed. Finally, after softening up the attached part with some water, and a little intense pain, I get free of the accursed adhesive. And omigosh, does it look horrible.

Sort of how it looked yesterday, only infinitely more, ...well pale and gross. And also, again it is gushing blood like no other. Plus, this time, it hurts. Uncontrollably hurts. And again, I can't bind the damn thing. I then realize that maybe (like always) Devon was right and I should have gone to the hospital. I decide to bow to her wisdom about 14 hours too late, and recruit Frank from his sleeping to come bind me up so's I can drive to the hospital without getting blood all over the TOM. Not only does he get me fixed up, he even comes with to the hospital, to make sure I don't die in transit. It's touching, really.

The hospital is only like 5 minutes from my house, which is nice, but the emergency room is hidden unlike anything else in the world. At one point there are literally three signs at the same stoplight pointing in three different directions, each of which says Emergency. Eventually we find two signs which seem to correspond and then hoof it down from the parking lot to the emergency room entrance, through winding miles of construction. And did I mention that it is also raining during this time too? Awesome.

Considering my previous experience with emergency rooms, this time moved pretty smoothly, though. Get triaged in short order. (I got to read the nurses description of my condition when she got up to answer the phone. Apparently I am 'mature' and 'cooperative' and 'healthy for [my] age.' Score! I also apparently 'denied [my] injury was the result of any domestic violence.' Meaning, I guess, that Frank didn't knife me for not cleaning the kitchen? I dunno.)

They send me over to Minor Emergency, saying that since it has been more than 12 hours, they probably won't stitch anything up, they'll just clean the wound. I am cool with this, so long as they do something about the wild pain running down my hand. I get called into the exam room pretty quickly after that and I leave poor Frank to the mercy of the waiting room and that hideous Rachel Ray talk show that they've got going on the television nowadays.

Once in the exam room, they pry off the bandage I've been using to staunch the flow of blood, to my unending yelps. Because that shit hurt like nothing else. Once it was clear, the nurse wiped it clean and told me to leave it untouched on this pile of gauze so that the doctor could come in and examine it in its natural state. I am unconvinced of the wiseness of this plan, as already blood is starting to gush, but eventually relent.

By the time the doctor gets in to look at it, the gauze (and the pile of white sheets the gauze is resting on) are soaked through with blood. I must look a little jittery because the doctor is all "Are you nervous or something?"

I don't know, YES, maybe? What with the LAKE OF BLOOD on the table in front of you?

Only I was a little more civil in my response.

She decides, though, that it definitely needs to be stitched up, number of hours be damned, and tells me to wait for the nurse to come back and set up the sterile table for her stitching. Oh, and no pressure on the wound.

Seriously, I start to actively wonder how much blood is contained in my body. Because I lost a lot yesterday and there goes a whole bunch more right now. And if I faint in the exam room in front of a bunch of medical professionals over a small cut on my little finger? I may never fully recover from the humiliation.

Eventually the sterile field is created, I get a tetanus shot (because you can never have too many of them apparently), and the stitches get stitched. With a minimal amount of pain, surprisingly; she numbed my hand up but good. Final tally: 7 stitches covering maybe two inches on my finger, sort of curving around at the top like a really angry backwards question mark.

I make it into work by 11:00, although my hand is bandaged up with enough gauze to make a mummy jealous and I can't type or do much of anything, really.

The following days are easier, since I get to remove the gauze and just use Band-aids, but the hand is still basically useless. Have you ever tried to type without moving your pinky finger? It's practically impossible. And of course, I am left handed, so writing is a joy. My handwriting looks like it was done by 3rd grader, or one of those robots that hold pencils in their little claws. Overall, an awesome week.

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

Update, the current: I'm back in full control of both hands and the stitches get to come out on Friday. Still ridiculously unpleasant, but at least I can function in most normal settings and can actually type with only mild pain.

I would like to say that some sort of lesson has been learned from the entire ordeal, but the only thing I can come up with is "Never do the dishes." Which seems like a bad moral.

Maybe "Don't Be a Dumbass?" That sort of works.

Tune in later, when I reveal how my heart got stomped on, practically minutes following my horrible hospital ordeal. Oh, my poor fragile emotions!

The Long Drawn-Out Story (Part One)

So it's Sunday afternoon and I finally cave in and decide to clean the kitchen. I held out longer than usual, bolstered by my weekend trip to St. Louis, so when I actually go in for the cleaning, it is truly horrifying. I get rid of the trash, empty the dishwasher, and basically get everything done but the wiping down of the counters and the washing of the dishes.

Just so you know, I hate doing the dishes. More than any other chore. Because when it comes down to it I sort of like cleaning, since the end result is so satisfying. Afterwards you have a sparklingly pretty house to look at. But dishes, there's no satisfaction. You're just going to get them dirty again in like 10 minutes. And it makes your hands all soggy and rough, and it smells bad. Totally unredeemable. Which is usually why I put it off for so long.

Anyways, I get to work on the dishes. Despite it having been like two weeks since the last round of cleaning, I manage to get all the dishes but 4 into the dishwasher, thus easing my burden immensely. I turn the washer on and go to handwash the remaining four glasses that didn't make it in.

On glass number 4, I'm sponging out the interior of the glass when it breaks along the rim. The nice sharp edge goes directly through the side of my pinky finger on my left hand. As I don't do well with blood and am basically a 12-year old girl, I hop up and down and shriek and panic, because I have no clue what to do and my finger is, like, spouting blood everywhere. I finally decide to make a mad dash for my bathroom to put a bandage on the gaping/gushing wound. Because that will work, right?

Leaving a lovely trail of blood in my wake throughout the entire apartment, I make it to my bathroom, pull out my box of Scooby-Doo themed Band-aids and attempt to apply one, or two, or forty to the problem at hand (Heh. At hand.). Unfortunately, every single bandage is soaked through with blood before I can successfully even get them out of the wrappers. Not necessarily panicked yet, I decide to try some pressure on the wound to see if it will slow the bleeding enough so that I don't die of a goddamn pinky wound in my (really gross) bathroom.

After about 10 minutes there is no slowing, and I'm pretty sure some sort of intervention is going to be required before I pass out. Of course, the only thing I can think of to do is call Devon, who I know is first aid certified and also awesome. (My first aid certification sadly expired in July, which is just as well, seeing as I probably would have had to have it revoked after my performance with this tiny wound.) Devon, also sadly, is literally driving to work at that exact moment. But perhaps sensing that I am on the verge of a blood related nervous breakdown, she turns around and heads back to my apartment to bravely rescue me (the damsel in distress, as it were).

By the time she gets there, the blood flow has indeed slowed considerably, possibly because most of the blood has already gushed out onto the floor of the bathroom. (Incidentally, while she is on her way over, I still had the presence of mind to clean the carpets of the trail of blood that I initially tracked everywhere. Showing that while I may panic over minor injuries, I will always remember to treat stains before they set.)

Devon takes a first-aid look at it and says that I should probably go to the hospital for some stitches. I say "Bah," and ask her to bind it up. The blood has stopped crazy flowing and I don't want to incur the wild expense that will so likely come with an emergency room visit. She is skeptical, but binds it up quite nicely, especially considering the only tool she has at her disposal is a tiny first aid kit from my car with roughly 2 bandages and a two inch square of gauze. She is my hero.

The finger only mildly hurts all day long, and I figure all is well. After work Devon comes back bearing gifts: A real-live first aid kit and a lovely first aid pecan pie. Hero doesn't even come close to describing it.

So I go to bed on Sunday night, figuring all is well, and ready to follow Devon's instructions to change the dressing tomorrow to ward off the infections and whatnot. All is good.

...Or is it? Dun-dun-dunnnn!

To Be Continued...

Sabbatical

Not dead, just injured.

I'm stupid, cut my hand, needed stitches. It's an incredible hassle to type now, so I'm taking a posting break for a while. Maybe a week or so.

Y'all play nice while I'm gone.

Random Television Awards

To follow up on my Fall TV Round-Up (of like 4 posts ago) I now feel well versed enough in the new shows and the new season to begin handing out made-up awards like so much delicious Halloween candy. Mmm, candy corn.

Best New Show
Friday Night Lights - Okay, this one is hardly fair, since it wasn't even in the round-up, and I hadn't planned on watching it at all. But there was a preview on the night before the premiere during Heroes, and I had just finished the book I was reading so I had some time to spare and. . . I don't know why I feel I have to rationalize this one extra hour when I'm already watching enough TV to fry my brain like an egg.

Anyways, this show is amazing. I have never been as hooked into a show this quickly that didn't have a teenage vampire slayer involved in some way. There have only been two episodes and I'm already so invested in a damned fictional high school football team that it is sad beyond words. Great acting, directing, writing, even the freaking sound track is excellent. Sure it's as formulaic as anything could possibly get, but the details are there and they are right. I am a sucker for realism in my fiction, and there is nothing that I know better than small town Texas life. And they have nailed it flawlessly.

Which also means that it will be cancelled by January. Sigh.

Runner Up: Heroes - The ever-expanding plot threads continue to appeal to me and I really like the format so far. These are the only two new shows that have become Required Viewing for me. What's up with all the hot people on this show, though? Are they trying to say that only the attractive will get super powers? Unfair. Although Greg Grundberg can hear people's thoughts, so I guess that theory is out the window, thank God. But still, crazy high hotness quotient in this show.

Best Returning Show
Grey's Anatomy - God help me, but I'm really enjoying this season. After all the over-the-top-ness of last season's finale I expected nothing but drop off. Instead it's gone back to form - excellent humor and drama while the plot continues to move. They artfully got through the horror that was Meredith/McDreamy infidelity and right onto a nicer path. Also, good goddamn, Chris O'Donnell is the hottest person on the planet.

Runner Up: The Office - Quite possibly better than ever, but I missed last week's episode and didn't even think about it until just now. Which is like a crime against humanity but may mean that its power over me is weakening.

Individual Awards:

Best New Character: Hiro (Heroes) - I love him more than a box of puppies. He's a space and time bending super-hero and quite possibly the biggest nerd in the world. When he teleported to New York from Japan and then ran down the street yelling 'Yatta!' and 'Britney Spears!' my dark and frozen heart actually melted a little bit. The brightest spot in a rather dark show.

Best New Actress: Sarah Paulson (Studio 60) - Deep and abiding love. She had a brilliant tiny role in Serenity back in the day, and she is amazing on this new show. On the show-within-the-show, she's the only person who is actually funny which is sort of vital to. . .everything they are trying to accomplish. I could do without the entire Chandler Love Plot, but she carries it very well (and she and Matthew Perry play well off each other.) Also, the combination of her Holly Hunter impression and her bear joke last week form an unbreakable bond between us (RAWR!).

Worst New Show: Jericho - Such promise, such sucking. There had better be some damn fallout zombies coming soon, or this whole show is a waste.

Most Surprisingly Funny Show: The Class - Yes, it's sort of lame, but seriously I can't stop laughing at it. I know, I know, I'll show myself out. Is this what it's like to be one of those people who like Everybody Loves Raymond? (Also: Sara Gilbert? Woot!)

Most Effective Use of Awesome Supporting Characters: Ugly Betty - This category was initially called Most Effective Use of a 12-year old Efeminate Boy As Comic Relief, but then I realized that I didn't have a category for my other favorite new character on TV, Evil Marc (from the same show), the conniving personal assistant to Vanessa Williams. I love him and his wild outfits and goofy facial expressions unconditionally. He and Betty's little gay nephew steal this show so bad, it should be a crime. Really, when it comes down to it, the casting is amazing for UB. The storylines thus far have been a little lame, but the character actors pull it out and keep me entertained.

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Tune in next week, when all the awards get reassigned or changed up entirely as my mood shifts like a paper boat in a current.

Doom of the Serious Kind

We are T-minus something like 18 hours until I am scheduled to be on vacation in St. Louis, hopefully with a mimosa in my hand by 8:55AM. Approximately 15 minutes ago, my iPod broke. I feel like falling to my knees and cursing at the sky. Happy now, God!? You have successfully crushed my spirit.

How is one expected to live through a plane ride without music? When my sinuses begin to try to escape from my skull through my eye sockets at 20,000 feet, the only thing that keeps me from breaking down into a sobbing puddle of goo is some sort of musical number that I can dance along to in my head until my body properly pressurizes. Usually a showtune, maybe something from Chicago, or Oklahoma, or Dreamgirls. But that's all been taken away from me and I am so very bitter now.

Because not only did it break, it spectacularly broke, in a manner befitting something owned by me. I went to unplug it from its USB port on my computer this morning and instead of it sliding out like usual, only the exterior plastic part of the iPod came out. The rest, the shiny innards and soldered bits of metal and the thick ribbons of wire and all those "CPU's", all stayed dangling from the computer like some sort of demented strand of garland. Mocking me.

After much trial and error and constant worry of death by electric shock, I was able to get everything back into its case, but now the USB connector is no longer attached correctly to the chip that talks to the computer. There was no way to reattach it to the plug, I just had to shove it back in to its rightful place. Meaning the iPod will play fine right now, but it will never again charge up or let me change any songs.

This also means I may have a loophole, though. Since it was fully charged when I went to disconnect this morning, it may very well have 8 hours of play left inside its mangled interior, which should easily last me through the weekend. The only question is do I want to take on the risk of carrying around a collection of metal bits and electricity that I myself have inexpertly wired together?

Because you know my luck. The second we reach cruising altitude on our flight up there and they let us turn on our devices, I'll hit play and the entire thing will combust in a huge rain of sparks and fire and I will burn to death with the sounds of the new Killers CD as accompaniment.

And all the news reports will list me as a crazed terrorist who tried to hijack a plane by setting himself on fire. And then the airports won't allow any more iPods on flights as a security risk, and my legacy to the world will be "That guy who got iPods banned from airplanes." And people will visit my grave just to spit on it, and curse my name.

Gosh.

It's just not fair.