This morning B1 goes to kindergarten, his first day of "big boy school." He's not looking forward to it, but that's always the case with transitions. I think once he gets used to the routine, he'll be golden. It's half-day kindergarten, which will be good, I think. I'm curious how it'll go.
Nothing else to report at the moment; the weekend blazed by, as I knew it would. I got nothing substantive done (except reading around 300 pages of The Terror). Now I'm back on the job, in a Skippyless office, wondering how long until Leona finally and irrevocably snaps.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Labored Daze
Out of one of our living room windows I see Venus, and a smoggy sunrise. All is quiet at the moment, although B2 is soon to wake up in earnest; he's gnawing on his blankie and baby-cooing.
I've been reading The Terror by Dan Simmons, and enjoying it (although also kind of analyzing it, what I think he's doing right and wrong with it, with a mind to my own work; then again, he's got like 20 novels under his belt, including some NYT bestsellers, and me, I got nothing, yet! Still, I think his editors could've helped him a little bit here and there, but they probably handled him with kid gloves).
Nothing fancy planned this weekend; for me, in my heavily-scheduled workaday existence, not having anything planned is a demigodsend.
My big accomplishment of last week was inventing a new word...
Smarmalade: unctuous, greasy charm; sleazy, pretentious fakeness.
I'm kinda proud of that one. I added it to the Urban Dictionary, which is what I do with any new words I create.
I had to get Daddy-crafty y-day with B1; we went out to eat, and B1 refused to eat anything in front of him (it was French toast). So after trying to get him to eat for awhile, and failing, I said "You know, Santa's watching, and if you don't try any of that, he's going to put you on his red list." B1's like "Red list?" and I said "Yep, for 'Naughty.' And that means you won't get anything but a rock for Christmas." and he's like "But I don't WANT a rock!" and I said "If you try that French toast, you'll be put on his green list."
I figured I'd appeal to his Capricorn greed and acquisitiveness, instead of fighting his stubbornness. And it worked; he choked down a few bites of French toast (we knew he'd not eat the whole thing, but we just wanted him to try it, since it was a new food for him), and his attituded changed from resentful opposition to us to excitement about the prospect of being in good with Santa.
When we got home, we made a green list, where we'll put a single toy item he wants for Christmas, which is contingent on him trying new foods -- if he tries another new food, another desired item gets on the list; if he doesn't try it, it doesn't get on the green list.
I know parents aren't supposed to bribe their kids that way, but I thought of it more like extortion, bringing the mighty Santa in as hired muscle to get the kid to play ball. Lord knows it won't be long before he doesn't believe in Santa, so I've got to do what I can, while I can!
I've been reading The Terror by Dan Simmons, and enjoying it (although also kind of analyzing it, what I think he's doing right and wrong with it, with a mind to my own work; then again, he's got like 20 novels under his belt, including some NYT bestsellers, and me, I got nothing, yet! Still, I think his editors could've helped him a little bit here and there, but they probably handled him with kid gloves).
Nothing fancy planned this weekend; for me, in my heavily-scheduled workaday existence, not having anything planned is a demigodsend.
My big accomplishment of last week was inventing a new word...
Smarmalade: unctuous, greasy charm; sleazy, pretentious fakeness.
I'm kinda proud of that one. I added it to the Urban Dictionary, which is what I do with any new words I create.
I had to get Daddy-crafty y-day with B1; we went out to eat, and B1 refused to eat anything in front of him (it was French toast). So after trying to get him to eat for awhile, and failing, I said "You know, Santa's watching, and if you don't try any of that, he's going to put you on his red list." B1's like "Red list?" and I said "Yep, for 'Naughty.' And that means you won't get anything but a rock for Christmas." and he's like "But I don't WANT a rock!" and I said "If you try that French toast, you'll be put on his green list."
I figured I'd appeal to his Capricorn greed and acquisitiveness, instead of fighting his stubbornness. And it worked; he choked down a few bites of French toast (we knew he'd not eat the whole thing, but we just wanted him to try it, since it was a new food for him), and his attituded changed from resentful opposition to us to excitement about the prospect of being in good with Santa.
When we got home, we made a green list, where we'll put a single toy item he wants for Christmas, which is contingent on him trying new foods -- if he tries another new food, another desired item gets on the list; if he doesn't try it, it doesn't get on the green list.
I know parents aren't supposed to bribe their kids that way, but I thought of it more like extortion, bringing the mighty Santa in as hired muscle to get the kid to play ball. Lord knows it won't be long before he doesn't believe in Santa, so I've got to do what I can, while I can!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
All is frustration
I'm utterly alone on the job. No allies, no friends in-house. Short-term, I'm making way more money than I was, them throwing it at me to keep my fingers in the dam. But I can go a whole day without talking to anybody, now. For an extrovert like me, that's soul-hurting. Sigh.
I teased Leona this morning, asking her if she'll go work at Skippy's new place, once he's ensconced there. She gave one of her usual guarded nonresponses; I could see her doing it, frankly. If she ended up there, I'd be unsurprised, just like if she and Skippy ever married (haha, but you know), I'd also be unsurprised.
There's just me, myself, and I. I'm the only one I trust here, now, in-house. That's not a pleasant place to be. I miss my buddies, my friends and allies, people I could rely on. Now it's just nutjobs, nancies, neurotics, and nabobs of negativity. No!!
I need something to cheer me up...
Ahhh, that's better. Barely.
I teased Leona this morning, asking her if she'll go work at Skippy's new place, once he's ensconced there. She gave one of her usual guarded nonresponses; I could see her doing it, frankly. If she ended up there, I'd be unsurprised, just like if she and Skippy ever married (haha, but you know), I'd also be unsurprised.
There's just me, myself, and I. I'm the only one I trust here, now, in-house. That's not a pleasant place to be. I miss my buddies, my friends and allies, people I could rely on. Now it's just nutjobs, nancies, neurotics, and nabobs of negativity. No!!
I need something to cheer me up...
Ahhh, that's better. Barely.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Kate Jackson
Not THAT Kate Jackson, but the singer of The Long Blondes. She reminds me of all of my eternal crushes on musician chicks. And I'm always a sucker for a New Wave girl; everybody knows that punk boys always liked the New Wave girls, because they always looked better...
Not that the Long Blondes are New Wave, but that look of hers in that picture rocks! And I like the guitar babe in the background, too, despite all those pedals she's using. Just so long as one of them is a flanger pedal.
Not that the Long Blondes are New Wave, but that look of hers in that picture rocks! And I like the guitar babe in the background, too, despite all those pedals she's using. Just so long as one of them is a flanger pedal.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
A picture's worth...
I've always been haunted by this statue from WWII Stalingrad. What does it mean? I'd love to know the story behind it.
Yes...
I'm pleased that a few others agreed with my general dislike of LMS (bolded, below); this is from Wikipedia; I love the line about the bamboo under the fingernails...
Reviews
The film has a "92% fresh" rating from critics and 96% fresh from users at Rotten Tomatoes.[10]
Michael Medved gave Little Miss Sunshine four stars (out of four) saying that "…this startling and irresistible dark comedy counts as one of the very best films of the year…" and that directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, the movie itself, and actors Alan Arkin, Abigail Breslin and Steve Carell deserve Oscar nominations.[11]
Joel Siegel gave Little Miss Sunshine a rarely-awarded 'A' rating, saying that "Orson Welles would have to come back to life for this not to make my year-end Top 10 list."[12] Breslin's depiction of Olive Hoover has also moved many critics, with USA Today's Claudia Puig saying "If Olive had been played by any other little girl, she would not have affected us as mightily as it did." [13]
Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly gave the film a C rating, calling the characters "walking, talking catalogs of screenwriter index-card data."[14] Jim Ridley of The Village Voice called the movie a "rickety vehicle that travels mostly downhill" and a "Sundance clunker."[15] Anna Nimouse of the National Review writes that the "film is praised as a 'feel-good' film; perhaps for moviegoers who like bamboo under their fingernails. If you are miserable, then Little Miss Sunshine is the film for you."[16]
On the December 22, 2006 edition of The Tonight Show, Dustin Hoffman, who was on the show along with Abigail Breslin, said, "It's[specify] one of the best performances that I have seen in my entire life."
Reviews
The film has a "92% fresh" rating from critics and 96% fresh from users at Rotten Tomatoes.[10]
Michael Medved gave Little Miss Sunshine four stars (out of four) saying that "…this startling and irresistible dark comedy counts as one of the very best films of the year…" and that directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris, the movie itself, and actors Alan Arkin, Abigail Breslin and Steve Carell deserve Oscar nominations.[11]
Joel Siegel gave Little Miss Sunshine a rarely-awarded 'A' rating, saying that "Orson Welles would have to come back to life for this not to make my year-end Top 10 list."[12] Breslin's depiction of Olive Hoover has also moved many critics, with USA Today's Claudia Puig saying "If Olive had been played by any other little girl, she would not have affected us as mightily as it did." [13]
Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly gave the film a C rating, calling the characters "walking, talking catalogs of screenwriter index-card data."[14] Jim Ridley of The Village Voice called the movie a "rickety vehicle that travels mostly downhill" and a "Sundance clunker."[15] Anna Nimouse of the National Review writes that the "film is praised as a 'feel-good' film; perhaps for moviegoers who like bamboo under their fingernails. If you are miserable, then Little Miss Sunshine is the film for you."[16]
On the December 22, 2006 edition of The Tonight Show, Dustin Hoffman, who was on the show along with Abigail Breslin, said, "It's[specify] one of the best performances that I have seen in my entire life."
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Little Miss Sunshine of a bitch
I'm still not talking about California, yet. Sorry!
But I had to mention that I saw Little Miss Sunshine over the week off, among other movies (The Wedding Crashers, Borat, and a couple of others I've already forgotten). I had a very Elaine-watching-English-Patient moment with Little Miss Sunshine (LMS). I hated that fucking movie. Wow, I don't even know where to begin with it. It's like a big dungheap of contrivances passing for funny, and empty windbagging passing for meaning. Overrated! Overrated! J'accuse!
There's some general thematic thread about winners and losers that runs through it, but the pat ending kind of cheapens that, I guess. But the setup for it, lordy -- like anybody would even want their daughter to try out for a beauty pageant at all, let alone a little chubby, cherubic girl like Olive Hoover was. C'mon. But they go with it because otherwise there's no movie there. Grandpa snorts heroin -- why? I guess so he can OD on it later and end up carried out of the hospital to make the trip with them (hey, National Lampoon's Vacation did it better -- the minute Grandpa turned up in the story, I was like "Oh, I bet he'll die en route and they'll have to transport him. Wow.) Why is Steve Carrell's (sic) character a gay suicide survivor? How does that actually serve the plot in any way, shape, or form? In no way, except for him to whine about being the world's foremost Proust scholar (overlooked by the guy who stole his man from him, but that's incidental to being passed over for a MacArthur Fellowship gained by his rival). Why is the freak Nietzsche-reading misfit deliberately mute in his quest for the Air Force Academy? Just something quirky for him to do, which is cast aside when, quite by accident, he discovers he's colorblind. Meh. Greg Kinnear's character is asshole du jour, another failure (reminded me a lot of my stepdad, actually -- even how he dressed), but that's not really very relevant -- I mean, he has an epiphany that a girlie beauty pageant's not good for his kid? No shit, Sherlock. And the mom realizes it, too, I guess -- she's mostly a cipher, filling in the Shelley Duvall (sic) role, I guess. And why does the bus crap out near the beginning -- oh, because it's a quirky thing to happen, gives the characters something to do.
The actors did well with the parts, and the girl playing Olive was cute as a button, in her geeky way, but Arkin was given a freebie for his teensy, largely pointless role in that movie -- I mean, he won an Oscar for that, didn't it? Didn't that movie with a bunch of Oscars?
Sure, the family comes together at the end, but it's all so much tinsel masquerading as gold. I know like 90% of the country/world loves this movie, but I was shocked by how much I didn't like it. I was searching for explanations, like trying to see what else the writer and directors did -- turns out, not much (they've directed music videos, the writer wrote a couple other things, but not much). And it showed. Spousette didn't like it much, either, although she was gentler with it than I was. I guess I write too much to cut a writer any slack in a story. But I'm very glad I only saw it on DVD, didn't pay cash-money for it.
For those who love it, what do they love about it? What are the lessons in it? I want to look it up on Wikipedia, see what people say about it. I remember deriding Donnie Darko as a "deep movie for shallow people." LMS had that kind of quality to it, like awkwardness pretending to be funny, and emptiness for depth.
The Wedding Crashers was somewhat more amusing, although it was surprisingly thinly written. I want my comedies served up with thick slabs of Funny, and while TWC had some bits that I liked (including Rachel McAdams -- drool), but overall it was pretty weak, went on a trifle too long -- but it still managed, in its own slobbery way, more depth than smirking LMS clearly thought it had.
And that's my piss-and-vinegar film review for today!
But I had to mention that I saw Little Miss Sunshine over the week off, among other movies (The Wedding Crashers, Borat, and a couple of others I've already forgotten). I had a very Elaine-watching-English-Patient moment with Little Miss Sunshine (LMS). I hated that fucking movie. Wow, I don't even know where to begin with it. It's like a big dungheap of contrivances passing for funny, and empty windbagging passing for meaning. Overrated! Overrated! J'accuse!
There's some general thematic thread about winners and losers that runs through it, but the pat ending kind of cheapens that, I guess. But the setup for it, lordy -- like anybody would even want their daughter to try out for a beauty pageant at all, let alone a little chubby, cherubic girl like Olive Hoover was. C'mon. But they go with it because otherwise there's no movie there. Grandpa snorts heroin -- why? I guess so he can OD on it later and end up carried out of the hospital to make the trip with them (hey, National Lampoon's Vacation did it better -- the minute Grandpa turned up in the story, I was like "Oh, I bet he'll die en route and they'll have to transport him. Wow.) Why is Steve Carrell's (sic) character a gay suicide survivor? How does that actually serve the plot in any way, shape, or form? In no way, except for him to whine about being the world's foremost Proust scholar (overlooked by the guy who stole his man from him, but that's incidental to being passed over for a MacArthur Fellowship gained by his rival). Why is the freak Nietzsche-reading misfit deliberately mute in his quest for the Air Force Academy? Just something quirky for him to do, which is cast aside when, quite by accident, he discovers he's colorblind. Meh. Greg Kinnear's character is asshole du jour, another failure (reminded me a lot of my stepdad, actually -- even how he dressed), but that's not really very relevant -- I mean, he has an epiphany that a girlie beauty pageant's not good for his kid? No shit, Sherlock. And the mom realizes it, too, I guess -- she's mostly a cipher, filling in the Shelley Duvall (sic) role, I guess. And why does the bus crap out near the beginning -- oh, because it's a quirky thing to happen, gives the characters something to do.
The actors did well with the parts, and the girl playing Olive was cute as a button, in her geeky way, but Arkin was given a freebie for his teensy, largely pointless role in that movie -- I mean, he won an Oscar for that, didn't it? Didn't that movie with a bunch of Oscars?
Sure, the family comes together at the end, but it's all so much tinsel masquerading as gold. I know like 90% of the country/world loves this movie, but I was shocked by how much I didn't like it. I was searching for explanations, like trying to see what else the writer and directors did -- turns out, not much (they've directed music videos, the writer wrote a couple other things, but not much). And it showed. Spousette didn't like it much, either, although she was gentler with it than I was. I guess I write too much to cut a writer any slack in a story. But I'm very glad I only saw it on DVD, didn't pay cash-money for it.
For those who love it, what do they love about it? What are the lessons in it? I want to look it up on Wikipedia, see what people say about it. I remember deriding Donnie Darko as a "deep movie for shallow people." LMS had that kind of quality to it, like awkwardness pretending to be funny, and emptiness for depth.
The Wedding Crashers was somewhat more amusing, although it was surprisingly thinly written. I want my comedies served up with thick slabs of Funny, and while TWC had some bits that I liked (including Rachel McAdams -- drool), but overall it was pretty weak, went on a trifle too long -- but it still managed, in its own slobbery way, more depth than smirking LMS clearly thought it had.
And that's my piss-and-vinegar film review for today!
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