Trivial Tuesday

Today's Category: Pop Culture

I saw an ad for The Perfect Man on TV recently. This movie stars not only Chris Noth, Hillary Duff and Heather Locklear, but also Carson Kressley of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Surprisingly, this is not the first movie to star one of "The Fab Five."

Post the name of the movie and the Fab Five member who appeared in the film in the comments section to claim this week's bragging rights.

Update: Congrats to pagan_mystic for knowing that the other member of the Fab 5 who has been in a movie is Jai Rodriguez, who is not only in the upcoming remake of The Producers but was also in The New Guy way back in 2002. Brag away; the rights are yours, at least until someone answers tomorrow's challenge.

Car Windows

Just a brief note to the gentleman driving down the road while I was waiting to cross after picking up Jaspare's Pizza (again), and to anyone else who suffers from the same delusions that he does:

I should explain something to you about cars. The windows of cars are made of glass. Glass is transparent. This means that all of us outside of your car can still see what is going on inside your car. In summary, if you feel an uncontrollable desire to pick your nose, please do it somewhere else. I think I speak for almost everyone when I say that we neither need nor want to see that.

Thank you for your time.


Until later...

Seven Years

Today is our seventh wedding anniversary. I sometimes find it hard to believe that we've been married for that long. I find it even harder to believe that MK's managed to put up with me for that long. The thought of spending that much time with me fills me with dread. I can only imagine what it's like for anyone else. Somehow she's managed to deal with all of my insecurities, neuroses and just plain stupidity, and has not yet gone insane or tried to collect on my work-provided life insurance policy.

When it comes to things of actual importance, I can express my thoughts no better on my blog than I can in real life, so I'm left at a loss for how to say what I really mean. Do I say thank you, for what is so far beyond the scope of the normal phrase? Should I say "I love you", when that has become an overused and rarely meant cliche in our society? Maybe the way to say it best is that I hope when it's been fifty years, I'm still here trying just as hard to find a way to say exactly how I feel because there are still no words that mean enough.

I'm still kind of surprised about the life-insurance thing though. Getting money and not having to deal with me anymore: That's the definition of a win-win situation.

Ok, that's about 10 times more of my personal life than I like to have on this blog, so I don't think you have to worry about me becoming too sappy all the time. I'll now return you to your regularly scheduled nerdish ramblings, pop culture references and generalized idiocy.

Until later...

Waiter, There's A Fly In My Soup

Actually, this story has nothing to do with waiters or soup. As I sat at my computer this evening, I was noting the remarkable variety of disturbing things one can find by simply hitting the "Next Blog" button on Blogger. Thirsty, I reached for the bottle of water I had sitting on the desk. The bottle of water I had irresponsibly left uncapped. Unbeknownst to me, a fly had decided to investigate the contents of the bottle only to realize that it had never learned to swim. The saying may be well-known, but I assure you friends that ignorance is not bliss.

I put the bottle to my mouth and took a large drink. Water poured into my mouth, bringing with it something unidentified yet unmistakably solid. As I felt this, instinct took over and all semblance of manners went the way of the dodo, the passenger pigeon and my last remnant of respect for Tom Cruise. My brain thought, "Water is liquid. Ice isn't. True, but the water in that bottle isn't frozen. There's something else in there!", and I turned and spit the water out--onto the carpet but not the computer, manners may have been gone, but I still have priorities. MK, convinced that I had finally taken that last step into insanity, began shouting, "What are you doing?!?!?!?" I replied, as calmly as possible considering the situation (i.e. not at all), that there was something in my water and I didn't know what it was. I looked and discovered the offending insect. Finding the source of my problem did not make me feel any better, but it did send MK into a fit of laughter.

Several minutes and a considerable portion of a bottle of Listerine later, I'm back down at the computer writing this post and only mildly traumatized. MK on the other hand, still hasn't stopped laughing.

Until later...

In Case Your Self-Esteem Is A Little Too High

Here's a wonderful article for all of my readers out there. If you have been thinking a little too highly of yourself recently, this article will certainly help you out. If, on the other hand, you feel like everyone at your work hates you, maybe it can give you some help there too. Either way, you definitely need to know the Top 10 Reasons They Don't Like You at Work.

The article states that if one of the 10 reasons describes you then everyone at your work hates you. Look at reason number one. Now, look at the name of my site. Great!!! What happens if more than one of these reasons applies to you? To be honest, I'm not real comfortable about 5 and 6 either.

Hopefully, this article will be less traumatic for the rest of you.

Until later...

Doe, A Deer. A Female Deer!

As I drove to work yesterday morning, I noticed something odd on the side of the road. Standing just off to the left side of the road were two deer. I made sure to keep an eye on them to ensure that they did not decide cross in front of me. I'd like to say that it was because if I hit and killed a deer I would feel guilty about it, and that's partly true. However, to be completely honest, I was much more concerned with the damage that hitting an full-grown doe would do to my car.

As I continued along, I watched the deer contemplate how best to cross the relatively busy road. (We're talking about Kalamazoo, terms like busy and rush-hour are very relative.) Deer number 1 walked up to the edge of the road, looked around at the cars going 45-50 miles per hour (that's something like 75-80 kph for you metric folks) and decided to run away back to the trees behind it.

Deer number 2 edged closer to the road until it was almost on the pavement. When it saw the cars moving quickly past, rather than running away, it simply froze. It stared down the traffic and didn't move any closer. Of course, it didn't move any farther away either. As I watched deer number 2 contemplate playing a life and death game of Frogger, I thought of the many times a year I see deer dead on the side of the road, and I came to a conclusion.

Deer are stupid.


Until later...

Speaking of Being Stuck at Sea...

Last night was the season finale of Lost. For those of you who haven't seen the final episode yet, didn't watch during the season but plan to watch on DVD, or live in a country where Lost hasn't started yet: Don't read this if you want to stay spoiler-free; there will be plenty of spoilers in this post. If you don't watch the show and don't plan to, feel free to read, but realize that you'll probably grow bored with me even more quickly than normal. And if you watched the season finale of American Idol instead of Lost, please seek psychiatric help immediately.

Recap:
The show focused on three major areas on the island (or close to the island): 1) The Hatch 2) TurnipHead and 3) The Raft.

1) The Hatch

Jack, Locke, Kate, Hurley and Arzt/Artz had been lead into the Dark Territory by Danielle to find the Black Rock and the dynamite stored inside. Danielle immediately and rather suspiciously deserted them as soon as they found the boat, but not before delivering one of the best lines of the season. When Hurley questioned how a pirate ship ended up several miles inland, Danielle replied, "Are you living on the same island I am?" Even the crazy lady knows this place is messed up.

The Lostaways retrieved the dynamite only to have the know-it-all Redshirt, Arzt blow himself up while explaining how to properly handle the explosives.

The monster (or something) attacked Locke and dragged him to a hole. While everyone else tried to free him, Locke begged them to let him go, insisting that he would be fine. They refused and tossed some dynamite down the hole instead.

After preparing to blow up the hatch, Jack pointed out to Kate that Locke was nuts and would potentially be a problem in the future.

Just before the hath was blown, Hurley noticed The Numbers on the side. He freaked and insisted that blowing up the hatch was a bad idea. Rather than trying to figure out why one of his companions was suddenly hysterical, Locke lit the fuse and blew the door to the hatch.

Finally, we see what is inside the hatch, and it is...a very, very, very long ladder leading down to a point where we can no longer see.

2) TurnipHead

Everyone is preparing to go to the caves as a temporary hiding place from the others until the hatch is opened.

Claire is trying to pack, but is panicked because she has a new baby and is still convinced that someone other than the dingos is going to take her baby.

Charlie begs Sayid for one of the guns to protect Claire and the as yet unnamed TurnipHead, but Sayid refuses on the grounds that the last time he touched a gun, Charlie emptied a clip into the only person who might be able to give them useful information.

Once Sayid has left to help others move toward the caves, Danielle shows up frantically asking Charlie and Claire to find him. When Charlie runs off to find Sayid, Claire sees scratches on Danielle's arm and has a brief flashback to a time around her kidnapping when she gave Danielle those scratches.

The next time we see Claire she is bleeding from a head wound and sans TH. It appears the French Chick is even more of a nut job than we realized.

Sayid and Charlie get guns and prepare to go after Danielle. Claire begs to go with them, but they refuse. She then begs Charlie to bring Aaron back...and thus TurnipHead was named.

As they chase Danielle, wouldn't you just know that Sayid and everyone's favorite heroin-addicted Catholic hobbit come across the plane containing a heroin conveniently packaged inside of statues of the Virgin. Who could resist the siren's song of drugs prepackaged with guilt? Apparently not Charlie.

They reach the origin of the black smoke (the sign that the "Others" are coming), but find the area deserted. Danielle and the baby are there as well, and she is distraught to find that the Others were not there. It seems that in her complete insanity, she decided it would be a good idea to try to trade them a new baby for the one they stole from her 16 (or so) years ago. She was convinced they would be there because she heard them whispering that they were going to take the boy. 'Cause, you know there's only one of those on the island...D'Oh!!

3) The Raft

Michael, Walt, Jin and Sawyer float along out to sea as if they actually have some reasonable chance of ever being found. As they travel, Sawyer reads all of the messages put into the bottle for families back home. One woman misses her family even though Sawyer knows she spends her island nights with Scott, or is it Steve? He is particularly perplexed when he comes upon a message from Hugo that says he's leaving 160 million dollars to his mom. If only Sawyer were privy to the flashbacks the rest of us see.

The rudder of the makeshift raft detaches and Sawyer leaps into the water to retrieve it. After a few tense moments, he manages to grab it and return to the boat. When is back onboard, Michael hands him his shirt and makes it apparent that he saw the gun Sawyer was given by Jack, "just in case." I'm not sure if he was angry, or if he understood and just didn't want the boy to see.

Michael and Jin have a conversation about the hooked on phonics program Sun developed for Jin. It seems he has learned to say several nautical terms and "eat." At least he has the basics.

Michael and Sawyer talk about child rearing tactics, and Sawyer reveals that his father shot himself when Sawyer was eight. Michael asks if that is why he wants to die, because the only reason to be on the raft was because he wanted to be a hero or he wanted to die. "I sure ain't no hero."

Turning the radar on one more time, the Craphole Island ex-pats find that they are picking up something. After arguing about whether to fire the one flare, they shoot it off and see the blip on the radar approach.

It's a ship! They're saved! Or not. The occupants of the boat, who seem to be going for a Gorton's fisherman meets Deliverance kind of thing, declare that they want Walt. Sawyer pulls the gun, but gets shot first. Jin and Michael are knocked into the water, and the Walt-nappers (the Others, I am assuming) escape with the kid, but not before tossing a homemade bomb onto the raft, leaving Michael, Jin and Sawyer (assuming he's not dead or attracting sharks with his blood) 15 miles away from the island with all summer to think about what they've done.

Thoughts and Theories:

Did we receive as many answers as I would have liked? No, not at all. Was I happy anyway? Absolutely. I felt that the episode was a great finale that help us understand more things about what was going on without revealing the big mysteries. We understand more about Danielle than ever before. We have seen the Others. We know that the hatch actually can be opened, leads somewhere and isn't a giant septic tank (which was my personal pet theory). Most importantly, we know that Arzt is explosive.

Then we were left with several new questions: Were those people the Others? (I think so.) Where were they taking Walt? (Safety? Disneyland? To use his special powers for evil? For other "let's try not to think about that" purposes?) Was that a woman on that boat? If so, could it be Alex, stolen daughter of insanity? (Yep to the first, and it wouldn't surprise me to the second.) Was Danielle involved in kidnapping Claire earlier or was she trying to help her escape? (The jury is still out on this one in my mind. I'm going with helping to escape because of the next question.) If she was involved, who was Ethan? (I'll file him under Other for now.) Is Ethan dating Katie Holmes' cousin? Where does the ladder lead? (To the control room for the monster. Or perhaps to the Others' living quarters) Was it a reference to Pandora's Box when Locke said that what he thought was in the hatch was "hope" or was that just Lockespeak again? (Probably Lockespeak.) Is Sawyer dead? (I doubt it. He's the anti-Jack. We need both.) What about Michael and Jin? (Probably hanging on to some wreckage 15 miles out.) How did the Others know about the raft and that Walt would be on it? (Somebody told them.) Does the monster sound and act almost mechanical? (It sounds that way to me. It looks that way to me. But then what does that mean is going on.)

Share your own thoughts and theories in the comments.

Finally if anyone from ABC happens to be reading (don't worry I'm not having delusions of grandeur, I can barely handle delusions of mediocrity): Please run all the episodes consecutively next year. I hate the multiple breaks in the season.

Until later...

4 8 15 16 23 42

Book Review: Life of Pi

Before I start, I should say that I'll probably have a hard time reviewing this book very well, because I don't want to reveal too much for those who haven't read it yet.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel is deceptively simple in plot. An Indian boy named Pi loses his family in a shipwreck and is stuck on a life boat with a hyena, a zebra, an orangutan and a tiger. Eventually, only Pi and the tiger remain, and Pi must find a way to survive not only the ocean but also a rather hungry Bengal tiger for over 200 days.

While this description sounds simple and perhaps even cute, the book is hardly so straightforward. As Pi deals with trying to survive at sea, we follow his journey, and are forced to examine our ideas of life and death, faith and what exactly is truth.

The verdict: Life of Pi is a rare book combining wonderful storytelling with thoughts and ideas even more compelling than the adventure itself. Definitely very highly recommended.

Until later...

Trivial Tuesday

Today I have game for you, my loyal reader(s).

The category for today is Name That Word:

The singular form of this word is a term for the intersection of three roads or a collective name for the three "less important" liberal arts: logic, grammar and rhetoric. The more common, plural form refers to things of little or no importance. (I'm looking for the plural form.)

Post your answers in the comment section. The first person to answer correctly gets absolutely nothing (other than bragging rights).

Until later...


Update: Congratulations to palabra jot, who knew that the meeting of three roads is a trivium. The plural form of trivium is trivia, which of course means useless information. You see, the answer to our very first trivia question was "trivia." Aren't we oh, so witty? Ok, maybe not.

Book Review: About a Boy

While I'm not sure whether I'm actually allowed to like any Hugh Grant movies and still maintain possession of my Y chromosome, I have to admit to really liking the movie About a Boy. I did wonder, however, if this might end up being somewhat of a problem when I read Nick Hornby's novel on which the movie was based.

Fortunately, this turned out not to be the case. The novel is almost identical in plot to the movie for about two-thirds to three-quarters of the way through. The last section changes substantially from one to the other, but the tone and eventual conclusion are essentially the same. The characters are, for the most part, so similar to those in the movie that there was no interference between the two.

About a Boy reads like a dual coming of age story. Will, thirty-seven and independently wealthy, has yet to mature and realize that he is not the only person on Earth. Marcus, an even more awkward than normal adolescent, is just beginning to mature and realize the worth of thinking for one's self. We follow them in a dual-third person restricted perspective and see their growth and the impact they have on each others' lives.

Hornby has a dry, subtle humor that is easily enjoyed and has translated well to cinema on a couple of occasions (About a Boy, High Fidelity). The ease with which the reader can identify with each character increases the emotional involvement and makes the book an even more enjoyable read.

The verdict: I definitely recommend checking out this book. Anytime a book manages to have decent writing, characters that are good and believable, and happens to throw some humor into the mix for good measure, it will certainly be worth your time to read it.


Until later...

This Is My Last Post About Star Wars, I Promise

Despite recent appearances this is not a blog dedicated to Star Wars. It's just that I like to talk about pop culture, and right now Episode III is the 800 pound gorilla of pop culture.

We went to see Revenge of the Sith on Saturday. I'll give a review of the experience and the film and try to steer away from any spoilers that are not already common knowledge due to the other five films.

The theater was already packed with 30 minutes to go before the movie began. I love going to the movies, but hate having to sit next to someone I don't know. This process is made worse by the fact that the stranger sitting next to me inevitably has decided to wear enough perfume for a good six to ten people. This time was no different.

The theater darkened and the previews began. I was pleased to see a preview for The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I loved that book as a child and am very interested to see how it is adapted to the big screen. Coming soon: Mr. and Mrs. Smith, making domestic violence fun for the whole family. The final preview is for The Island. At one point, the words "From the director of Pearl Harbor and Armageddon" appear on the screen. Is that supposed to be a positive thing? Do they think that will make us want to see the movie? As the previews ended and the 20th Century Fox logo appeared on screen, applause broke out in the audience. I've never been one for applauding in a movie theater, mainly because applause is supposed to be a show of appreciation and in this case no one is present to receive the applause. The clapping died down, only to start up again as the words Star Wars appeared along with the familiar John Williams score. At this point, I could only hope that this wouldn't continue throughout the entire movie. (Other than sporadic applause anytime Yoda did anything interesting, it didn't.)

The movie introduces us early on to a new character named General Grievous, a strange droid leader who appears to have end stage tuberculosis. As Anakin and Obi-Wan race to rescue the Chancellor, they have to fight droids, droids, more droids and Christopher Lee. Unfortunately, during various times this requires Hayden Christensen to awkwardly deliver cringe-worthy dialogue, indicating that the rumors of Lucas hiring someone to help with screenplay and a dialogue coach to make up for the fact that he's unable to work with actors have been greatly exaggerated. Throughout this episode I have the same question I have had since the prequels began: This guy is Darth Vader? I wrote it off in Phantom Menace because he was a little kid, but in Attack of the Clones and now Revenge of the Sith I have a hard time picturing the baddest man in the universe from Episodes IV, V, and VI as this guy who is really nothing more than a whiny punk. He supposedly turns to the Dark Side because of his inability to control his emotions (fear of loss, anger, hatred), but in reality he wanders around whining about how no one really understands him and how he wishes the Council would trust him with more. The other emotions are there, but they are lost under the incessant whining of a ten year old.

Like the two before it, this movie belongs to Obi-Wan, Yoda, Palpatine, and Mace Windu. Unfortunately, as anyone familiar with the original trilogy knows, only three of them are present by the time we get to Episode IV. Samuel L. Jackson supposedly told Lucas that he didn't want Mace Windu "going out like some punk", and he certainly didn't. This scene was one where you know what is going to have to happen but you can't help hoping that someone makes the right choice this time. No such luck.

Much like the other prequels, the movie is at its best when we are allowed to see things without having to hear anyone speak. Whether it is individual fights or full-fledged battle scenes, the adventure is absorbing. Once we return to the conversations between characters, from Padme and Anakin proclaiming their love to the discussions of the powers of the Dark Side, the dialogue and performances pull you out of this universe and reminds you that in reality you are sitting in a darkened theater watching some remarkably awkward acting.

In the end I was left with one last question: Was "Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!" really the best line they could come up with?

The verdict: It delivers the scenes we have been waiting for: Obi-Wan fighting Anakin on a volcanic planet. Palpatine finally revealed as the dark lord of the Sith to all those without deductive reasoning. The first breaths of Darth Vader as we have known him, and the return of James Earl Jones. Yet it also reminds us why the best of the Star Wars films was written and directed by someone else.

Better than Attack of the Clones, far better than Phantom Menace, nowhere near A New Hope or Empire Strikes Back, and very similar to Return of the Jedi in the feeling of completion.

Until later...

The Insanity Has Begun

The local news is currently covering the people lined up outside of theaters waiting for the 12:01 showings of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. As they went live to the on-the-scene reporter, we were greeted with the sight of a male reporter sporting the Princess Leia cinnabon hairdo. It seems that the fans decided that he would look better with a wig, and the atmosphere was apparently festive enough that he complied.

After confessing that he felt that he looked like Little Debbie rather than the daughter of Natalie Portman and Hayden Christensen, he began interviewing some of the people waiting for the film. A fan who could never pass for Ewan McGregor was dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi, the young version. I have to admit that the costume was impressive, but not enough to make up for the fact that he was out in public dressed as a character from a movie, and it wasn't even close to Halloween. Once our conversation about how he became "involved in Star Wars" ended, we returned to the studio and our overly cheerful anchors. Thank you Star Wars for reminding me why I never watch the local news.

As an update to my recent post about the massive marketing campaign George Lucas is orchestrating, Burger King is currently giving away Star Wars toys with the kid's meals. There are several different types of toys: Vehicles that shoot forward after you pull them back, Plush dolls, Water squirters, Wind-up figures that walk or--in the case of Yoda--do back flips, and Picture viewers including the Princess Leia figure which requires you to look up her skirt to see images from the films (I promise I'm not making this up).

At this point, we're still waiting for confirmation that the Mace Windu figure actually has BMF engraved on the bottom of his lightsaber.

Until later...

Little Green Men

Wind me up you must. Then backflips I will do.

Have I Told You Lately That I Loathe You?

Surprisingly, I am not the first person to write a list of songs I hate. Fortunately, it's a big internet, and there's room for all our lists. I'll try to stick to at least relatively new and "popular" (i.e. overplayed) things. So without further ado, The Fount of Useless Information gives you songs I could really live without ever hearing again.

Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani: Sorry Gwen, there was already a cheerleader pop song, and Toni Basil did it better. You know what though, let's extend this ban to all music involving Gwen Stefani after Tragic Kingdom.

Incomplete by Backstreet Boys: Backstreet's back and it is most decidely not alright. They were not enjoyable to begin with, but you had to understand that they were a boy band and unable to make any decisions for themselves. Now there's just no excuse.

Lonely No More by Rob Thomas: "I don't wanna be lonely no more"? Rob, you apparently ditched your grasp of grammar when you ditched the rest of Matchbox Twenty.

She Will Be Loved by Maroon 5: This Love was cool in a strange, I feel like I'm back in the mid-90's sort of way, and the version of This Love produced by Kanye West was even better. Unfortunately, She Will Be Loved moved Maroon 5 into the warbling, falsetto melancholia that psuedo-rock pop that plagues the radio.

John Mayer and Gavin DeGraw (as well as several others like them): I understand that it is an impressive thing to be not only a singer but also a songwriter. I can recognize that is a talent, I am duly impressed. It still doesn't make me like their music, though.

Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson: I dislike this song for the U in the title, for the fact that it's overplayed and the fact that it just isn't good. I admit that I watched American Idol the first couple of years. I even admit that I wanted Kelly to win that first year. This is not the Kelly anyone voted for. If I wanted angry girls singing pop music I'd listen Avril Lavigne. And on that note...

Any song ever sung by Avril Lavigne: When one must feud with Ashlee Simpson and Hillary Duff for publicity, it might be a sign that one is not able to get by on talent.

Candy Shop by 50 Cent: A rare song that manages to be remarkably juvenile and remarkably offensive at the same time, while thinking that it is actually erotic or seductive. To help with my case I present to you the lyrics of the chorus (As always with lyrics, if you are offended, don't blame me. I'm just here to present the information to you.)

I'll take you to the candy shop
I'll let you lick the lollypop
Go 'head girl, don't you stop
Keep going 'til you hit the spot

Just Lose It by Eminem: First of all it's just a rehash of many of his previous popular songs. You could just as easily read the track titles off the back of his earlier CDs and get the same effect. Second, who in their right mind ever thinks that impersonating Pee Wee Herman repeatedly in a song is a good idea? Apparently, the same person who thinks having the sounds of flatulence in the middle of a song is also a good idea.

Baby Mama by Fantasia: Is it insensitive to burst out laughing any time I hear this song? No? Good, because I doubt I could stop.

I'm sure there are plenty more that I've forgotten, but this will have to do for now.

Until later...

Refueling

I bought gas today at less than $2.00 a gallon for the first time since February. It was $1.99, but still less than two bucks. As I happily filled my gas tank, I thought back to a time around 5 years ago when we stopped to refuel and paid less than $0.80 per gallon.

There are two things that really upset me about this incident. First is that I not only paid just under two dollars for a gallon of gas, but that I practically celebrated while doing so. What bothers me the most is that, in the short span of five years and before I'm even 30, I've become one of those old people who reminisces about how much cheaper and better everything was when I was young.

Soon, I'll start telling any teenager filling his parents' car at the pump, "Back in my day, I could buy a gallon of gas for less than eighty cents. Oh, yeah. Things were different back then." Then I'll hitch my pants up until the belt is just below my armpits and the hem of the legs is about three inches above the top of my socks, and I'll saunter inside to pay for my gas with the change in my changepurse.


Until later...

Book Review: She's Come Undone

Today at The Fount, we have the first of several reviews I've been too lazy to write recently.

I am a member of a book club with a few of my coworkers, and the most recent book club selection was She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb. This book is told from the perspective of a young girl named Dolores and follows her story from when she was very young to mid-life.

This, I believe, brings out the largest flaw in the book. Wally Lamb is a man, who is attempting to write as if he were a woman. He does so poorly. I only managed to get a few pages into the book before thinking that this was obviously a man who is not writing as if he were a woman, but a man who is writing the way he believes a woman thinks. The author went out of his way to describe everything in terms of senses, whether they were applicable or not. Since women tend to be more sensuous than men, even the smallest of experiences were described in tastes, smells, feel, sounds. While this may have been distracting, the situation became worse anytime the story reached an large or life-changing event and the author decided to turn up the volume on the "don't forget I'm a woman writing style." Another issue with the author writing from the perspective of a woman was simply in the nature of the story. As I stated earlier, the book followed Dolores from her early childhood to adulthood. As we see the progression toward an older adolescent and adult, her perceptions about the opposite sex change and, still using his hyper-feminized writing style, he describes her thoughts and experiences in ways that are best described as creepy.

In addition to the writing style was the fact that in the entire book, not a single character is likeable. Dolores herself is a brat as a child and as an adult refuses to move beyond her childhood. Her dad is a philandering, absentee father. Her mother is irresponsible and more like another child. Her grandmother is harsh, a racist and completely emotionally unavailable. Toward the very end of the book we are introduced to one character who is at least a little likeable, but who seems to have horrible taste in people. Having characters that the reader dislikes does not mean that a story is bad. If the characters are awful people, the story and the writing need to be that much better to make up for it. Throughout the entire book, I felt that it would have been nice if there was one person (just one, that's all I ask) that actually was able to comprehend the word transcendence.

The Verdict: Oprah may have recommended this book, but I certainly won't.

Until later...

Fun With Words

Maybe this is just the nerd in me, but there are some words I absolutely love. The problem is that I can't just toss them out in a conversation, because most of them have obscure or absurd meanings, and the others have much more common synonyms. Today, I'll list a few along with their definitions. If you like them, maybe you can start working them into your conversations as well, and then it can spread to your friends and coworkers then to theirs and theirs and theirs. With any luck, we'll soon have an epidemic to rival the black plague, only without the swollen glands and painful death part.

Defenestrate: To throw someone or something out a window. I find it odd that we need a specific word for throwing someone out the window. Imagine using this in a police procedural drama on TV or in a movie.

Cop 1: (looks down at body on parking lot) We've got another one Jed.

Cop 2: I know Ezekiel. This isn't good. That's the third defenestration this year.

Cop 1: No Jed, not good at all. Does he have any ID on him?

Cop 2: Yeah, the license says he's Augustus Gloop.

Mrs. Gloop: (Comes running in screaming) Is that my husband? I have to see him. What's happened?

Cop 1: (Grabs Mrs. Gloop and keeps her away from scene) I'm sorry miss, I can't let you get any closer.

Mrs. Gloop: I have to see him, that's my husband. Is he ok?

Cop 2: I'm sorry ma'am. He didn't make it; he was...defenestrated. (Mrs. Gloop begins to sob) Don't worry, we'll catch this defenestrator before he defenestrates again.

Callipygian: (Also callipygous) Having shapely buttocks. I can think of so many ways to use this one, and none of them are appropriate. Fortunately, they're all amusing.

Pretentiously introducing one's wife/girlfriend: "This is my callipygian counterpart, Sharon."

Alliteratively addressing a friend: "So my callipygous companion, what movie are we going to see tonight?"

Shouting to women on the street from a construction site: "Woo baby! You are one callipygian honey! I wish my wife was half as callipygous as you!"

Pneumatic: Among other meanings, having a large bust. Coincidentally, I actually linked to an article a while back that used this word to describe Lindsay Lohan. Apparently in gossip columns, it's ok to comment on the size of someone's chest as long as you use a polite term for it. Non-gossip column suggestions for usage: see callipygian.

Onomatopoeia: Naming something with an imitation of its sound (e.g. pop). I like this one not so much for itself but for one of its adjective forms, onomatopoetic. On the rare occasion you can work that into a conversation, it's sure to get attention. Not positive attention, but attention.

Nonetheless: I like this simply because its a much more amusing word I can use to replace one of my verbal crutches, anyway.

Bildungsroman: It sounds so much better and so much less clichéd than saying "a coming of age story."

Redouble: To double. Huh?

Bubo: I thought this was appropriate, since I mentioned the plague earlier. It's such a happy sounding word for such a not-so-happy thing.

Superfluous: Excessive or unnecessary. Another one that makes my list because it's fun to say. Even better is the noun form, superfluity. Can anyone use that word and still be taken seriously?

Plethora: A superfluity or excess. This word is wonderful on its own, but is made that much better by an exchange in the movie Three Amigos.

El Guapo: Jefe, would you say I have a plethora of pinatas?

Jefe: Yes, El Guapo. You have a plethora.

El Guapo: Jefe, what is a plethora?

I can never hear the word plethora without thinking of that movie.

Logorrhea: According to M-W.com it is "excessive and often incoherent talkativeness or wordiness." A simpler way to define it would be this: Me.

Those are a few of the words that I really love because they are pointless, absurd or just fun to say.

Feel free to comment and share your own. Then go out and use these words. Impress your friends. Alienate your coworkers.

As for me, I'm going to bed.

Until later...

National Treasure

In addition to renting Hero this weekend, we also rented National Treasure. In the interest of time, I won't spend too long discussing it; I'll just give a few quick thoughts.

For those of you who haven't seen it, National Treasure is like an Americanized version of The DaVinci Code. Rather than running around Europe looking at historical artifacts for clues to find religious artifacts originally hidden by the Knights Templar, our heroes are running around the US looking at historical artifacts to find treasure originally hidden by the Knights Templar.

I was very impressed by the ingenuity of our Founding Fathers. They managed not only to start a country and to plan an elaborate scavenger hunt, but also to build a massive chamber underneath New York that no one's ever noticed.

As I watched Nicholas Cage struggling to deliver his lines with even a remote semblance of believability, I repeatedly found myself thinking, "Wait, this guy's got an Oscar, right?"

The Verdict: Much funnier than I expected. I laughed throughout the entire movie. It's too bad it wasn't supposed to be a comedy.

Until later...

Das Bat

Part I:

We live in a relatively rural area. It's not that far from the rest of town but remote feeling nonetheless. Our neighborhood is heavily treed and all sorts of small wildlife inhabit the area: squirrels, chipmunks, geese, swans (amorous swans it appears), various annoyingly squawking birds and the occasional muskrat. A while back we discovered that the area is also home to another type of animal, the bat.

We came home from work one day, after stopping off at the grocery store. We released the dog from his kennel and proceeded downstairs, loaded down with grocery bags to avoid making multiple trips up and down the stairs with them. (The house is small, but split into two levels with the kitchen downstairs...You know what, I'm not going to draw you a blueprint, just use your imagination.) MK was a few steps behind me as I came into the kitchen area, the dog trotting along side of me, head in a bag trying to determine what we brought him. Suddenly, I see something moving and hear a strange sound, much like a bird flapping its wing and coming straight at me. I have no time to form any rational thoughts, so I duck and drop almost completely down to the floor, as a grayish blur dive-bombs my head. At this point, I began to regain my thought process and a few thoughts came into my mind in rapid succession: "I feel like an idiot down here." "I hope I didn't have the bag with the eggs." "There's a bat in my house." "There's a bat in my house, and my dog wants to eat it." "That would solve the bat in the house problem." "That would make a terrible mess, and I don't want to clean that out of the carpet." "Grab dog!"

Leaving the bags of groceries lying strewn about the floor, I grabbed the dog by his collar just as figured out that this swooping, flying thing might just be a tasty McNugget with wings. He tried to pull away, but I was able to keep him by my side. At this point, the bat decided that while he may be annoyed that we disturbed his nap, the downstairs area with two people and a dog was probably not where he wanted to be. He flew upstairs, past MK, who was now pulling herself up off the ground as well. "Well," I thought, "at least I'm not the only one looking foolish down here on the floor."

"Keep the dog down here," she said, "I'll go take care of the bat." Since I was downstairs trying to console a dog who was desperate to find out what that flying treat was, I was unable to witness the capturing of the bat. All I know is that the catch and release program took about twenty minutes and involved the use of a cardboard box. The offending animal was released into the wild (i.e. out the front door), never to be seen or heard from again...

Part II:

Fast forward a year or so from that point to last night. As the time for bed approached MK heard a sound. A sound of tiny claws and then flapping wings. "Stay in there with the dog." Unfortunately, I had the door to the room shut, so I heard only muffled words. I opened the door and asked what she said. "Shut the door! Don't let the dog out! There's a bat out here!" I slammed the door in the dog's face, just as he finally got up the energy to get up, stretch and walk over to the door to see what was going on. As MK went on a quest for the appropriate bat hunting paraphernalia, the confused thing began circling the living room to find its way back outside. When she returned, the bat was nowhere to be found. She searched the living room, the downstairs. No bat. Perhaps it had managed to get back out after all. She gave up for the evening, and we went to sleep.

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I looked at the ceiling and there on one of the beams, pretending to be a knot hole or a greatly oversized moth was the resting bat. I told MK that I found it and was getting ready to try to deal with it when she said, "Keep the dog in here. I'll go open the front door." Puzzled, I replied, "I can do it. I don't mind. Are you sure?" "No, stay with the dog. I'll go do it." As she went into the living room and began poking the bat with a stick, I sat down near the dog who no longer even cared about all of this; sleep was much more interesting.

After rousing the bat with a thorough stick-poking, MK proceeded to chase the bat around and try to catch him. Managing at one point to take the time to assemble a flattened cardboard box in order to catch it as it dive-bombed her. The bat went into the box, hit the bottom and proceeded to bounce right back out, momentarily dazed, onto the floor.

While this was happening, I was still locked in a room with the dog. He looked up at me with one eye, as dog's often do, and I could tell he was saying to me, "Good. Way to be the man. Send the woman out to deal with the rabid bat while you hang out in safety with me." I attempted to rationalize with him, explaining that it was her decision, not mine. I stopped once I realized that he was a dog, I was trying to rationalize it to myself.

The dazed bat got back up off the floor and, tired of all of this strange box game, let himself out through the open front door. MK came back into the room. "It's gone. I got rid of it." Trying to maintain some dignity, I started again, "You know I could have done that or at least helped you. I didn't want you to have to deal with the nasty thing on your own." She smiled, "It wasn't nasty. It was so cute. You're lucky I didn't decide to keep it. You should have seen its little dog-face when I was poking it with the stick."

Then I finally realized that I didn't have to rationalize anything. It wasn't me she was trying to protect. It was the bat. To me they were nasty and I certainly didn't invite them into my house. Since I didn't invite them into the house, I certainly had no intention of playing the proper host. It wasn't the same to her. She liked them. They were cute and confused and scared. Ever the gracious hostess, she wanted to ensure that even the unwanted company, though being rushed out the door, was not traumatized by the experience.

Until later...

You Can Be My Hero Baby

I rented Hero on DVD this weekend, putting me only a couple of years behind the rest of the know universe. I went in worried that it might simply be a Crouching Tiger remix, and I actually felt that way for much of the beginning of the movie. There were several things I would have thought might have been better to have changed in order to give a little more distance. Many of the similarities could not be helped, but having Tan Dun score this movie, especially with an almost identical sounding score, only served to make it seem like an attempt to recapture the phenomenon of CTHD. A second odd choice was the casting of Zhang Ziyi. I'm sure she's a wonderful actress (I refuse to pass any judgment on the acting abilities of anyone speaking a language I don't understand. Too much is lost in the way things are said for me to make a determination based on subtitles that someone is a wonderful or horrible actor.), and there can be no doubt that she does well in performing martial arts roles, but I can't imagine that she is the only one who could have filled this part (then Zhang Yimou cast her in another similar movie, The House of Flying Daggers). Then of course is the issue of the Wuxia genre. I understand the flying or gravity-defying leaping, as the case may be, but after it has been used and copied in several movies it is no longer novel and becomes more distracting. Ok, that's the end of my griping about the movie; let's get to what was good.

It was gorgeous; everything about the look, from the sets to the scenery to the costumes to the movements of the actors was wonderful. As the story is told in a series of Rashomon style flashbacks, key backgrounds and clothing change in color from red to blue to white and our understanding grows. It's hard to get into the story without giving away too much. The movie tells of the unification of China and how several of the characters had to learn that sometimes the wants, desires or sufferings of one person are unimportant when compared to a greater good.

The Verdict: Recommended to those who are not too disturbed by wire-fu, not against subtitles and not of the opinion that a movie made in China about sacrifice for one's country must be communist propaganda.

Until later...

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Marketing Department

It seems that George Lucas is not content with collecting money from every parent, child and person with fond memories of his original trilogy that overwhelm good sense and make them believe that they have to go see his new movies. While Revenge of the Sith will almost certainly make a few hundred million dollars at the box office, Mr. Lucas needs more money to pay the bills for his soul-removal surgery. In an effort to stay one step ahead of the collections agents, Lucas is selling out his characters to any company willing to pay.

It isn't as if these are limited to the usual tie-ins. Sure there are the games, toys, video games, even a Star Wars/Lego combination video game, but it goes far beyond that. So far, I have seen Yoda and Chewbacca on Pepsi products and in Pepsi commercials. It seems that if you enter a code from certain Pepsi products over the phone, there is a chance that Yoda may answer. While I would relish the opportunity to chat with someone whose grasp of syntax is even more confused than my own, I don't know that I am going to run out and purchase cases of Pepsi for the chance to "Call Upon Yoda." Darth Vader and C-3PO are currently gracing the fronts of Cheeze-It boxes in a peculiar homage to gold medal winners on Wheaties boxes of years past. Chewbacca is now featured in commercials for a cell phone company. T-Mobile? Cingular? Verizon? I don't remember, nor does it matter. I can think of no reason to have my cell phone notify me of an incoming call by playing a Wookie roaring. I do have some dignity left. (It's a very small shred, but I promise, it's there.) Just tonight I saw Darth Vader in an ad for a new Slurpee drink available at 7-11. Even when I checked my email, the spam was from characters in the movie: "If Dysfunction you have, click here you must." "I've got a bad feeling about this. Mortgage rates are about to go back up. Refinance now." "See Padme live on her webcam. Free!!!!"

Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-Star Wars. Remember those groups of people I listed at the beginning? I'm in group number three. When Revenge of the Sith comes out, I'll be there. I won't be the fool in costume. I won't be the fool in line for months. I certainly won't be the fool in line for months at the wrong theater, but I'm still the fool.

Until later...

Idol Hands Are The Devil's Workshop

With all of the hype surrounding ABC's expose tomorrow night, I had to revisit the subject of American Idol. I have not watched the show (save for either flipping past or switching to Fox a few minutes early and catching the end) since my initial confessions post. Not watching, does not, however, mean that I have been paying so little attention that I don't know what is going on, thanks in no small part to a local radio station's insistence on recapping each week during their morning show.

Last week, Constantine, the "rocker", was booted, sending shockwaves through the audience, contestants and judges. Paula Abdul was reduced to tears, saying "Constantine...I am shocked. I just lerful snerful. They adxded woarthding," before degenerating into complete hysterics and preventing even every third word from being intelligible. The ouster of Constantine raised many questions for me.

Was anyone that shocked? He was horrible. The vocals on his rendition of Nickelback's "How You Remind Me" were at least 100 times worse than the original, and (in case this has escaped your notice) Chad Kroeger is not exactly Pavarotti.

If he was as hardcore rock as he claimed to be, what was he doing on American Idol? I asked the same thing before about several other supposed "rockers" as well as season one's "punk" princess Ryan Starr. (Because everyone who is truly punk wants to be on a pop music show and then go on to do ads for Old Navy.) Advice for all current or future Idol contestants: Singing covers of rock songs does not mean that you rock.

Did his parents really love the Hellblazer comics or were they just fans of Roman emperors who offered deathbed conversions?

Most importantly, it also made questions Paula's histrionics. Was this truly the "nice" judge overcome with emotion after seeing a contestant leave too early, or perhaps was it something more? After all, this is part of the bombshell ABC intends to drop on us all: According to ABC, Paula had an affair with allegedly abusive (to his sibling not Paula) and arguably tone-deaf contestant Corey Clark. You can read more about this situation here and (please forgive me, this may be worse than when I linked to Britney) also here.

Allow me to give you a quote from the ABC news article about the special (emphasis mine):

Clark, then 22, said that during the competition he had an off camera relationship with Abdul, then 40, which was at first platonic but later became sexual. He said Abdul, who was herself a chart-topping singer in the late 1980s, initially told him, "I want to look out after you like I'm your mom." He said Abdul then quickly changed her mind and said, "Well, maybe more like your special friend."

In conclusion, I think I speak for all of us when I say, "Ewwwwwwwwwww!" It seems that idle or Idol hands are indeed the devil's workshop.

Until later...

Don't Panic

On the subject of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Fount of Useless Information has this to say:

The film actually translated the tone, style and story of the book about as well as they could be translated to 110 minutes on the big screen. That is not to say that the movie was perfect, or even great for that matter. Far too many times, fans of the series will find themselves wondering where a certain scene has gone or why some of the exposition of the Guide itself is missing. These are, of course, to be expected: Movies must be enjoyable, movies must be simple to follow, movies must reach a large audience, movies must pack as much action and romance into the short run time as possible, and above all movies must make money. That these changes were not unexpected does not mean that they are not disappointing. Any fan who went in expecting to see a dramatized version of Douglas Adams' book will be sorely disappointed.

The casting choices all seemed to work relatively well, though the always-impressive Sam Rockwell managed to make the character of Zaphod Beeblebrox even more annoying than he already was. While Rockwell, Mos Def and Freeman gained top billing, the show was truly stolen by Marvin, played in body by Warwick Davis and in voice by Alan Rickman.

The visual interpretations of many of the scenes were impressive to see, but that can only take a movie so far. With its wit tempered by the limitation of the Guide's role in the film, THHGTTG became less of a clever satire and more of an amusing farce. While the movie remained enjoyable, it failed to live up to the high expectations that almost all Adams fans set before casting ever began. The ultimate question is: did it ever have a chance?

Until later...

Today Is The Greatest...

Each month in the Kalamazoo area there is a local magazine published called Today. I end up picking it up every month at one of the local businesses that provides free copies. I do it to see if there any local events coming up or any new restaurants that I would like to try. I could easily skim the table of contents and ignore anything that didn't specifically fall into one of those two categories. Unfortunately, I almost always end up reading some of the articles, which then results in me shouting at inanimate objects, specifically the pieces of newsprint I am trying to decipher.

It seems that in the interest of savings, the Today Magazine is attempting to prove the infinite monkeys banging the keys of an infinite number of typewriters theory. This is a wonderful idea, and I'm sure all of the simians are most grateful the opportunity. As a reader, however, I would suggest that if they continue to employ refugees from the zoological gardens, it might also help to have a copy editor on the payroll. Any of you who have read my blog more than once realize that spelling, grammar and the like are not my strong suit either, but I make no claims of being even a quasi-professional.

In my search for interesting dining establishments this month, a wonderful article came to my attention. It featured a new restaurant called Fandango, which we will apparently all add to our "list to try of new restaurants" in the area (could you make sense of that? Me either.). Fandango specializes in small plate dining called "Tappas." The article doesn't really specify, but this may be related to a style of dining that is the specialty of many Spanish restaurants, usually referred to as tapas. It's draw is the "interactive" dining experience, since other restaurants in the area simply anesthetize you and shovel their offerings into your mouth. The article also explained that the "tappas style eating focuses on comradory (sic) and fun." After making sure that we all understand that Spanish cuisine is not Mexican, the author tells us about a few of the items on the menu. Among them is the "lobster with chorizo sausage" served with "a buerred blanc sauce." I have attempted to discover what might be in a buerred blanc sauce but thus far have been unsuccessful. According to Wikipedia, Buer is "a Great President of Hell, having fifty legions of demons under his command." I can only assume from this name then that it is some sort of white demon sauce.

I'm sure the restaurant is a wonderful place. In fact, I intend to go check it out. I just don't understand how this article could have made it past any editor. Of course, next month I'll go back out and pick up the new edition and start the whole process over again.

Until later...