Good Friend

I stole, er, BORROWED this from my blog-buddy ChiTown Girl. This is the kind of friend we all need. Heh.

Whatevertober Parts 3, 4, & 5: Memento (2000)

Good evening, illusions! This is your host, Thing Two! I'd like to personally apologize for the late update(s). You see, we came down with a severe case of vagueish problemitis. Also, I was busy watching and rewatching Memento (sadly, without any guest commentators), which so happens to be tonight's film! I apologize in advance for the lack of spoilers. I know how much everybody loves spoilers to a really good recent movie that shouldn't be spoiled.

Memento isn't really a horror flick so much as it is an intellectual thriller (we can do thrillers as well as horror films, and this apparently even extends to Godzilla movies); the kind that demands your attention. And damn, but do you have to pay a lot of attention to this one!

The whole film is viewed from the perspective of the protagonist Leonard Shelby, who has memory problems and something to do with a murder or two. There are sequences filmed in color, which go in reverse chronological order, and sequences filmed in black and white, which go in regular chronological order. "Confusing" is an understatement. There was a mind-boggling number of mind-bogglers the first time I watched it through. I had so many questions that needed to be answered, I resolved to watch it a second time the next night. And so I did.

The second viewing absolutely floored me. It was like watching a different film. Now so much more made sense! So that's why *SPOILERS* was *SPOILERS* to *SPOILERS*! They were trying to *SPOILERS* the entire time! Well, almost the entire time. However, there were still a few things that I still did not understand, so, having never watched a movie thrice in a row, I decided to watch it for a third time! And that's what I did tonight. I think I get everything, but I may have to let it all sink in for a while.

Anyway, if you like psychological thrillers and repeated viewings (read: Inception), then you'll probably like Memento! Four out of five reverse-reverse-antireverse-rereverse plot twists!

Tomorrow night, we eat bullets! Or, y'know, watch Poltergeist. Whatever.
I truly am really, really sorry for the short update. I promise it'll be better tomorrow.

Octoberfest Part 2: The Exorcist (1973)

Good evening, children of God! This is your host, Thing Two! Welcome to the second spine-chilling sequence of Whatevertober, with guest commentators Thing One and Katy herself, who picked out tonight's movie! Speaking of which, let's get to that. Tonight's feature: The Exorcist!

THING TWO: I know I promised not to do summaries or recaps, but I couldn't pass this one up. All right, so tonight we watched The Exorcist, a touching yet bittersweet tale of a loving mother, her sweet little daughter, a down-on-his-luck priest who's offered a second chance, and an vengeful Iraqi spirit that hates friendly upper-class American families for some reason.

The movie starts off with an aging Indiana Jones on an archaeological dig in northern Iraq (sometimes called Kurdistan), where he eventually confronts an ancient statue. It is revealed to him through nonverbal psychic exchanges that the time-traveling ghost of Saddam Hussein is seeking revenge on the decadent and corrupt Americans. Naturally, Indy rushes back to the USA as fast as dotted red lines can carry him.

Back in America, we meet two more of the main characters: Julia Roberts and Reagan. Reagan complains about how that meanie Gorbachev won't put his book down during tests to let Reagan copy his answers. Oh, and there's something about a space cowboy, too. Captain Howdy, I think his name was. Then we get to meet the other protagonist, Rocky Balboa, who is undergoing a faith crisis.

The storyline is split between Julia Roberts and Rocky for a while. Julia Roberts finds that the vibrating massage bed isn't working out for Reagan, and she gets it replaced with a non-malfunctioning one. But tragedy strikes again, as Reagan listens to too much heavy metal and in the middle of the night starts headbanging a bit too enthusiastically. Then Reagan wets herself at a party, embarrassing poor Julia Roberts to no end. The montage is quite the comedy of errors. Reagan is taken to Asshole Psychiatry, Inc. where the doctors misdiagnose her in every imaginable way before admitting to their quackery and advising Roberts to seek out a professional archaeologist (preferably a WWII veteran) or a rookie boxer.

At this point, the storylines merge. Up until now, Rocky had been mourning the death of his personal trainer Mickey and questioning his faith. Indiana Jones had been battling clockwork Nazi golems offscreen. Julia Roberts asks Rocky for help, who in turn asks Indy for help. They all meet up at the Roberts household, where they find Reagan restrained, bruised, battered, and wearing hideous puke-green contact lenses. At first they have trouble figuring out what's wrong with Reagan. Initially, they dismiss the possibility of possession by an angry Middle Eastern dictator's spirit (since Reagan's room is like an icebox, and one would think that some like it hot over in Arabia), but the contact lenses give Saddam away (Hussein was famous for his terrible fashion sense).

To counter Hussein, Indy and Rocky read aloud Led Zeppelin lyrics and sprinkle Reagan's body with the tears of Kurdish children. It proves to be ineffective, as Saddam kills Indy with the constant mental image of Shia LaBeouf's face (this truly was his last crusade). Rocky, inspired by the memory of Mickey's training, grabs Saddam's ghost in a stranglehold and wrestles him out the window. Rocky's sheer willpower manages to banish Saddam Hussein back to Hell once and for all. Unfortunately, Rocky lands on a flight of stairs and breaks his own neck. Julia Roberts and Reagan live and move to Argentina (or possibly Connecticut). But what about Rocky and Indy? Oh, don't worry...Darth Vader resurrects them in The Exorcist II. No, really, James Earl Jones is in the sequel.

But seriously, I liked The Exorcist. It's not really a scary movie, but I like it as a thriller nonetheless. It's a story of faith and connection, and it works. As for everyone out there? Well, if you're old enough to get over Reagan's demonic makeup and distorted voices, then check it out! As long as you aren't expecting Ghostbusters, it won't disappoint! I give it five out of five pea soup regurgitations.

KATY: The scariest thing about the Exorcist is the idea of losing a child. Poor Regan is lost to her mother and that is the ultimate boogeyman...someone taking your baby. So very very scary...

Thing 2 is the Antichrist, I'm gonna have to become catholic now.

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Supreme Cuteness

Inspirational Words

So I was cruising the blogosphere looking for Decorating Porn, because I totally don't have three more papers to write in the next ten days and have plenty of time to look at decorating porn. Yup. No problem here. Move along officer... when I came across this post from The Uncluttered Lifestyle. Inspirational words on the wall in her office. Faith, Imagine, Love, Family...really nice words that illustrate how she lives her life. Not to mention a beautiful home office to blog in, rather than my preferred workspace of the couch with my laptop and a glass of wine in arms reach.

What would my inspirational word wall say?

Wine

Procrastinate

QUIET!

Damn

No

Later

Hmmm...I'm thinking I should work on how I live my life. It's not looking so hot on the wall. Maybe I'll make a wall of how OTHER people live their lives. Much more company-ready than mine.

I Love Gingers

I'm not a creepy old lady at all. Nope. Not me. Never.

From allposters

*sigh*

I Call Bullshit

There is no possible way this is right because I am Never. Wrong. Just ask Husband.

*snirk*

It Gets Better

Dan Savage is an editor and columnist for The Stranger, a Seattle area alt-weekly newspaper. In response to the recent rash of children - some gay, some identified by their peers as gay - committing suicide due to unrelenting and brutal bullying, he started the "It Gets Better Project" on YouTube. This project is a collection of videos submitted by adults - gay, straight, bi, queer, trans, and cis - telling their stories in an attempt to show kids that it does indeed get better.

I've watched the videos but this is the first one that made me cry. First because I was sad for this gentleman's 15 year old self, and then because I was happy for the wonderful life he has now. I don't know if my kids are gay - I don't care - and I will show them this video. They will stand up to support their LBGT peers. As a parent, I will stand up to support their LBGT peers. Only when kids and their parents start speaking up against bullying behavior will it stop. All kids need to speak up - the LBGT kids desperately need the support of their straight peers. The loud, in-your-face, stop fucking with my friend, kind of support. Adults are failing to protect them so we need to teach our kids to do it.

Spread the word. There are kids out there who need to see these videos. They need hope. It might save their lives.

Seven Things

My very awesome friend ChiTown Girl gave me an award! Woot! Chi is a kindergarten teacher in - wait for it - CHICAGO! and while she is crazy enough not to love love love hot weather, we have lots of other things in common. Including her smart-ass sense of humor (I laugh my butt off at her email of the day posts!) and our love of kids. She likes the short, pees-their-pants-occasionally, needs help with their buttons while I prefer the sullen, stinky, teenage variety but still, we both love kids. Even if they make us crazy occasionally. Ok, all the time. Ok, who wants to buy a teenager?

So I'm a versatile blogger! Cool! I assume this means that I can blog while simultaneously beating my kids, making dinner, and studying for a mid-term. Cause I can.

Here are the rules:

Acknowledge the award and thank and link back to the person bestowing it.
Pass on the award to 15 other bloggers: (in no particular order)

Let the new recipients know you've selected them.
Share seven things about yourself that your readers or followers might not know.
Post the badge to your blog.

Here is the hard part, thinking of seven things about me you don't know. At least the 3 of you who aren't my family. (Hi Mom!)

1. I'm a hair twirler and have been ever since I can remember. When I finally start teaching high school I'm gonna look like a fucking moron twirling my hair around my fingers while grading papers. It's a hard habit to break.

2. I get motion-sick in the bathtub. LOOKING at a picture of water makes me seasick. Going to movies at an IMAX theater is not an option. I can't even play driving video games with the Things because it makes me nauseous. This is why even though Marvelous Mom and Stepdan have had a sailboat for umpteen years, I've only been sailing on it once. I took a dramamine and was mostly comatose for the ride.

3. I would die without my iPhone. Die dead. You can have it when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.

4. I love painting, like paint on canvas art type painting, but I totally suck dinosaur balls at it. But occasionally I buy a canvas and paint something, just because I like the feeling of brushing the paint on.

5. Facebook is my bitch.

6. I'm an atheist. I would LIKE to believe in God and heaven and an afterlife - especially when beautiful, perfect four-year-old boys die in accidents for no reason - but I just can't. Evidence, I need evidence.

7. If I never see another snowflake again it will be too soon.

So, the fifteen (GOD that seems like a lot! Some of these folks who are gonna be wondering who the hell I am) bloggers I'm tagging are

Shelly (For God's sake post SOMETHING! Heh.)

Yo-Yo-Yo

Frogdancer

The Girl Next Door

Suburban Correspondent

Jason

Embee

Mom #1

And, um, EVERYONE ELSE! Seven things y'all, chop-chop!

Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

Why did the Chicken Cross the Road?

KINDERGARTEN TEACHER: To get to the other side.

PLATO: For the greater good.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross roads.

KARL MARX: It was a historical inevitability.

TIMOTHY LEARY: Because that’s the only trip the establishment would let it take.

CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK: To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

HIPPOCRATES: Because of an excess of phlegm in its pancreas.

ANDERSEN CONSULTING: Deregulation of the chicken’s side of the road was threatening its dominant market position. The chicken was faced with significant challenges to create and develop the competencies required for the newly competitive market. Andersen Consulting, in a partnering relationship with the client, helped the chicken by rethinking its physical distribution strategy and implementation processes. Using the Poultry Integration Model (PIM) , Andersen helped the chicken use its skills, methodologies, knowledge, capital and experiences to align the chicken’s people, processes and technology in support of its overall strategy within a Program Management framework. Andersen Consulting convened a diverse cross-spectrum of road analysts and best chickens along with Andersen consultants with deep skills in the transportation industry to engage in a two-day itinerary of meetings in order to leverage their personal knowledge capital, both tacit and explicit, and to enable them to synergize with each other in order to achieve the implicit goals in delivering and successfully architecting and implementing an enterprise-wide value framework across the continuum of poultry cross-median processes. The meeting was held in a park-like setting, enabling and creating an impactful environment which was strategically based, industry-focused, and built upon a consistent, clear, and unified market message and aligned with the chicken’s mission, vision, and core values. This was conducive towards the creation of a total business integration solution. Andersen Consulting helped the chicken change to become more successful.

MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.: I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

MACHIAVELLI: The point is that the chicken crosses the road. Who cares why? The end of crossing the road justifies whatever motive there was.

JERRY SEINFELD: Why does anyone cross the road? I mean, why doesn’t anyone ever think to ask, what the heck was this chicken doing walking around all over the place, anyway?

FREUD: The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES: I have just released the new Chicken Office 2010, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your cheque book.

OLIVER STONE: The question is not, “Why did the chicken cross the road?” Rather, it is, “Who was crossing the road at the same time, whom we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?”

DARWIN: Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically disposed to cross the roads.

EINSTEIN: Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road moved beneath the chicken depends on your frame of reference.

BUDDHA: Asking this question denies your own chicken nature.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON: The chicken did not cross the road … it transcended it.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die. In the rain.

COLONEL SANDERS: I missed one?

I got this from Frogdancer, my favorite teaching frog!

Vacation

Well. Ahem. I've been whooping it up in Las Vegas for the past week - hence the lack of posting. That and the fact that the Things are hogging my computer.

It's ok, I bought a Kindle DX and it is my new friend with benefits. *swoon* Husband is going to kick my ass from here to Mars when he sees the Amazon bill for e-books. Heh.

The rugrats, Grandmother and I will all be home on Tuesday the 10th after driving for two days. Goody. Then I leave again with Marvelous Mom on the 12th to move Scientist Genius Brother out of his Gollem-cave in Berkeley.

So who knows when I might actually get to post something.

Dad and Stepmonster's new house (especially the pool with the WATERFALL) kick all kinds of ass though. Give 'em a call if you're in Vegas, they have lots of room.

Smooches!

In Which I Hop on the Bandwagon

Hey y'all! I've been neglecting my blog shamelessly and it's pretty much pure laziness. When the sun comes out, the LAST thing I want to do is sit inside and write. So I thought I'd do what I've seen OTHER bloggers do and re-post something from a year(ish) ago.

This is a doozy cause it's from when Motherinlaw was visiting last year and I was very very frustrated with her. Heh.

I promise to post something involving me actually engaging my brain soon. Pinky-swear.

* * * * * * * * *

Crazy Making

Ninety-nine percent of the time being in a bi-cultural marriage (Fancy! I didn't know that's what I was in until Marvelous Mom's church ladies asked me to come and speak to their group on the subject!) is a total non-issue for Husband and I. He was 16 when he jumped into a pool without checking for water first and moved to the states with only the clothes on his back so he has assimilated (BORG!) into American culture seamlessly.

We only fight about normal things like the fact that he never listens to anything I say so I have to tell him things forty-eleven times before they sink into his thick skull and the fact that he still hasn't re-caulked the fucking BATHTUB even though it started to mold WEEKS ago!!!

Sorry - got a little worked up there...

My point is that the fact that he was born and raised in Iran and I was born and raised in the US has never been an issue for us.

Except when his mother visits.

Intellectually I know that Iran is a rabidly patriarchal society (unlike the U.S. which is only common cold-ly patriarchal) and that Motherinlaw is a product of seventy some odd years of that culture. However, knowing that does absolutely NOTHING to offset the unbelievable frustration with her behavior, most of which is the product of her culture. The rest of it is age related. I know because Grandmother acts the exact same way. It's uncanny sometimes.

When a woman lives in a rabidly patriarchal society, she learns to get her way by being passive-aggressive, manipulative and emotional. At least that is what Motherinlaw does to get her way. I think my deduction that it is a result of her cultural heritage is pretty spot on because when first your father, then your husband and then your oldest son can do whatever they deem best for your life regardless of your own wishes and desires then you HAVE to be a sneaky bitch.

This is not to say that Motherinlaw's husband was a tyrant - he peeled her tomatoes for her for fucks sake, or that her oldest son who just happens to be Husband's brother is not trying to do what she wants, she is just physically and mentally incapable of being straight with him. She tells him she is just fine staying here another two months - because that's what she thinks he wants to hear - and then when he is not around she makes my poor sisterinlaw's life a living hell. (Lucky for me it is their turn to have her staying at their house, I got the first tour of duty this year.)

She really isn't a nasty person, or even bitchy, this is just how she deals with unexpected circumstances that have postponed her planned return to Iran. I totally understand that she wants to go home but I also am frustrated that she won't be straight with her sons about what she wants and flat out refuses to make the last leg of the trip - from Europe to Tehran - by herself because she is afraid of getting lost in the airport in Tehran. The city she lives in. Surrounded by people who speak the same language she does. With signs posted in the same language she reads. It's calculated helplessness and it's driving me around the fucking bend!!!

The end result of all these shenanigans is that Husband will be taking her back to Iran on July 31st and returning on August 9th. It is safer for him to take her because he is not a U.S. citizen like his brother, but given the precarious political situation there right now I'm still very nervous about him making the trip. Not to mention that he wasn't originally going to be the one to take her home so he has to rearrange his entire life to do so.

I am trying very hard to keep my BIG FAT MOUTH shut about everything and not lash out at husband because I'm frustrated with his mom. I *know* it's cultural, I *know* she's an old lady and isn't going to change anytime soon and I *know* I don't understand but it's still driving me bonkers! So y'all get to read my rant instead. Lucky you!

But if husband gets thrown in an Iranian jail I will show Motherinlaw what a strong, straight-talking, direct woman looks like! ;)

He's Back!

Thing 2 is back from his Washington D.C. adventure! As I went thru his pictures it was obvious that I need to send him to a photography class. But someone took this pic of him and it's my favorite.

I'm going to let him post tomorrow and tell you all about his trip. Because he was there and I wasn't but more importantly because when he reads my blog he's going to see that Thing 1 got to write a guest post and he will throw seven kinds of fits about how that is the most unfair thing in the entire universe. So until tomorrow...

Fifteen Things I Hate

Because I am up to my freaking eyeballs with school stuff, parenting stuff, wife-y stuff, business stuff, house stuff, and grandma-sitting stuff I am going to borrow Jason's idea for a post so I can actually blog AND rant about shit that's been driving me bonkers lately. It's all about multi-tasking these days!

1. Group Projects and the ONE person in EVERY group who doesn't do what they are supposed to do and everyone else has to do their work or else let their own grade suffer.

2. Cold weather

3. Professors who don't return their students work - ever. If you are giving other people a deadline you damn well better be giving yourself one too.

4. PT Cruisers

5. Zits

6. Humongous sunglasses that make people look like flies

7. Cooked cauliflower - BARF

8. Fran Dresher's voice

9. Knot theory. (I actually dropped the class, I've never ever done that before)

10. Sleeping bags.

11. Cooking. When I win the lottery the first thing I'm hiring out is the cooking.

12. Spumoni Ice Cream

13. Rush Limbaugh et. al.

14. Pet hair all over every freaking thing in my house including the food

15. Tuition.

Thanks Jason! Now how 'bout you, what do you hate?

My Hero

Whoever made this is a rock star. Suck it Dodge.

Got the link from Avitable.

Fresh Start

I've never been a resolution-maker at the beginning of the new year but this year some things have to change. Plus the nice thing about a blog is that if I put something out there for y'all to read, I might have a sense of being held accountable to someone other than myself and actually - you know - FOLLOW THRU. So here's my list of things I WILL change this year.

Get healthy. I walked up two flights of stairs at school yesterday and was sucking wind at the top - unacceptable! I'm no spring chicken but 35 is too fucking young to be so badly out of shape. So as a first step I'm going back to being a tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping vegetarian. I saw my doctor for a check up last month, my first in three years. Un-acceptable! Regular check ups and dental visits are also a part of my get healthy campaign.

Another thing I need to change - one that might possibly kill me - is to cut back on my special "medicine". (It's red wine. I love me some red wine.) I've fallen into the habit of having two or three glasses of wine most every evening as I wind down and while I'm not the heaviest drinker in the world, I know that it is not healthy and God KNOWS I don't need the extra calories. So drinking will be reserved for special occasions like trips to Las Vegas and graduating with my bachelor's degree. (I reserve the right to add other celebratory occasions to this list in the future during which drinking will be totally acceptable.)

Lastly I just need to move. I let our membership to the YMCA lapse because we never fucking went. We were the dumb assholes who paid through the nose for a membership to a place we never set foot in. I'm not going to re-join but I am going to walk the dog around the neighborhood a few times a week, park in the hinterlands of parking lots and just generally get off my ass more often. The stairs at school are going to be my friends and I will not take the elevator any more.

I will keep y'all posted on how I'm doing - hopefully a welcome benefit will be some weight loss but I am looking at this as a healthy life change rather than just a diet. Cause diet is just DIE with a tee.

A Thanksgiving Miracle

Remember my no-good-very-bad-day only eleven days ago? When I realized that daughter's passport was expired only three weeks and a few days before she was set to leave for Australia?

The universe heard my weeping because her shiny new passport arrived today. Only eleven days after we applied for it and those eleven days included Thanksgiving weekend.

I'm going to take the fact that a governmental bureaucracy has operated swiftly and efficiently as proof that Obama is the new messiah.

San Diego!

Have you ever met someone and just instantly clicked? Like, from the minute you meet you're laughing and joking as if you've been friends forever? That happened to me in February when I met my fellow blog whores Yo, Christy and Mel in Vegas for GTHAFR '09. And it was still in effect when we all met up again - along with TATTOO WHORE Shelly - in San Diego where Yo and Mel live.

For me it wasn't quite the crazy drunken time that Vegas was - I try to pretend to be a responsible adult when I have the kids with me - but that didn't stop us from having a kick ASS good time.

We tried to convince Marvelous Mom and Stepdan via a frantic flurry of emails and pictures to buy this boat but they refused since it is a "stinkpot" and not a sailboat. Sigh.

Shelly got a tattoo in Yo & Mel's dining room by a huge bald guy named Bubba who was wearing an orange jumpsuit with numbers on it and "just needed to make some quick green". He left when it was *almost* done, the sirens were making him jumpy for some reason.

Shelly is now Tattoo Whore and has a bodiless Boston Terrier tattooed on her arm. Honestly, I tried to talk her out of it - I was going to Vegas next and did NOT want to be present for the fireworks that would result when my non-tattoo loving father got a glimpse of it - but she was undeterred and let Bubba do his thang on her virginal skin. Well, virginal of tattoos that is. After all, she IS a whore. heh.

The Things have decided they want Christy to be their mother. She went on the roller coaster at Mission Beach with Thing 1, listened to Thing 2 wax poetic about legos and played Super Mario with both of them! She tried to talk them into coming home with her but they balked. Now that we are home, they've decided they're going to take her up on the offer after all. Their flight arrives in Boston tomorrow morning at 8am Christy. I hope y'all can pick them up, they've never ridden the train before!

Look at Thing 2, he is thrilled that Christy is letting him win! Or maybe she wasn't letting him win, she doesn't look too happy about it!

Here are my boys and I in the pool at Yo & Mel's place where we may or may not have consumed several gallons of bloody marys. (The whores, not the kids. They drank Dr. Pepper.)

And here is Thing 2 with Grandma Shelly, our persistent lady of the dog tattoo. A.K.A. Tattoo Whore. This was taken shortly after Daughter huffed out of the pool because we were laughing at her attempts to relegate her brothers to a 4 foot square section of pool because she was "USING" the rest of it. It's a lot easier to laugh at a hormonal hissy fit when I've had one or four bloody marys.

There are more - many many more - pictures but this is the short overview of BlogWhore '09. We had so much fun, laughed until our faces hurt and I cannot WAIT to do it again!

Happy Birthday You Whore!

Today I wrote a guest post for my friend Yo's birthday.  We are totally twins separated at birth.  Well, and by a few years too.

Go check out the twisted, naughty sense of humor that we share!