1. A cold ginger ale on an upset tummy
2. Buddies who talk you down
3. Watching an episode of The L Word after missing 3.5 seasons and wondering what the hell is going on
4. Nag Champa
5. Hines Ward
I think, as an adult, I’m suppose to get all grumpy about the snow and gripe about how difficult it makes life, but I have to be honest. I love snow. When I was little, I can remember it snowing like this all throughout winter. Now it doesn’t seem to dump the white stuff like it used to, so I get even more excited about snowfall than I did when I was a kid.
The husband played at a club last night and I wasn’t feeling so great so I just stayed home. I ended up watching a couple older movies, namely For Keeps and Hackers.
I had seen For Keeps a couple of times when I was a kid. It was one of those semi-crappy movies that were on HBO constantly in the 80s. This was obviously before I was old enough to really get what was going on in it, but for being a rather melodramatic Lifetime-ish movie, it’s surprisingly bold in its depiction of an unexpected pregnancy and the frightening ways people behave when trying to deal with it. I’ve yet to see anything from pop culture that really accurately depicts how it feels to know that you’re in an icky situation with a pregnancy at a young age, and at the same time struggling with how impossible it is to convince everyone around you that you can make the right decisions for yourself. Juno came very close in many ways. I think both movies hit me in the gut most with some of the things people say to a woman when she’s pregnant and they don’t approve. It’s amazing how honest people get and how ugly that honesty is.
Hackers was another movie I hadn’t seen in years and it was almost painful in its 90s-ness. And it seemed entirely plausible that the people who wrote and directed the movie had never been in the same room as a computer. I nearly choked when they were drooling over a computer’s kick-ass 28.8 bps modem and the constant dubbing of people as 1337.
Errgh, I think I could probably replace this whole post with, “I’m a loser x300.”
Anyway, the Steelers play the AFC championship game in just a few short hours, then the new season of Big Love premieres, THEN The United States of Tara premieres. Just to illustrate how excited I am about those things, I’ll point out that I did nearly all of my reading for this week’s classes yesterday afternoon so that I wouldn’t have to worry about it today at all.
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Item Name: My Bloody Valentine 3D Advanced Screening Ticket
Quantity: 2
Rated R – includes graphic brutal horror violence and grisly images throughout and language.
Aw, yeah. I know how to make a date, no? Thought I’m quite concerned that the film contains “language.” I would prefer just grunting and blood. In 3D. No need for all that talking and plot and shit.
Also, because it needs to be said…
VICTORY TORTE! HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO!
As for Baltimore:
The more I think back to the period of my life when I was about 20 – 21 and how I lived at that time, the more I realize what a weirdo I was…am…was. Shut up. Someday I’ll tell you more about it, but one thing I need to frame this post with is the fact that I was working nights during the spring and summer of 1999 and living alone and was therefore completely nocturnal. I would get home from work around 1 or 2 a.m. and then do the things that people normally do when they get home from work but it was all bizarro.
I would eat dinner, fire up the AOL on the ol’ 56k, smoke cigarettes, and watch public access shows. I often ended up watching the local death/black metal show (The Gallow’s Pit?) and frothing religious dudes, but occasionally I would catch some gems. This is not from PCTV, but it very well could have been. Gawd richly bless you.
First off, I apologize in advance for a post that’s generally a downer at a time when folks are trying to focus on happiness, but I have to get this off my chest.
The other day, Tracey sent this link to the MamaPop writers. A group of teenagers in Ukraine brutally murdered people and took video of themselves in the act. A brief discussion among us followed, mostly expressing disgust at the actions of the teenagers and at the details that were available. Everyone mentioned reading a bit of the transcript, but not being able to look at the video that was included.
I looked.
Only for a few seconds, but long enough to realize what I was watching and what I was doing by watching.
I’m fascinated by death and particularly by deaths that are wrapped in crime. One of my favorite books is Shots in the Dark and I think post-mortem photography in general is an incredible art form. I’m not sure why. I’ve pored over those pictures and contemplated how peaceful the subjects look, even if their deaths were violent. Everything in their life led up to that moment and we all share that fate. We will all be stared at by people looking down at us and we will be unable to change their perception.
I’m also a huge fan of all manner of fucked up movies. I have my limits, of course…I’m thinking specifically of Audition and Japanese horror in general. Something about that type of cinema just doesn’t sit right with me. But I’ve seen some rather unspeakable things thanks to movies.
Somehow, looking at still images, especially in black and white, and watching films of actors, even if they’re based on a true story, is extremely different than watching that video. Perhaps the crime photos seem more kosher since they’re taken by a third party who is actually performing a service.
I told Tracey that I didn’t even know why I watched it. Morbid curiosity. Voyeuristic temptation. And I think, prior to clicking “play,” I didn’t totally believe it was what it was purported to be. What did I stand to gain by watching such a thing? Validation that such things, unimaginable as they may be, actually occur? Scratching some unacceptable itch?
I’ve always been fascinated and terrified by serial killers and people who murder for no apparent reason, at random. They set their own criteria, identify those who sin in their eyes, and deal them their punishment. From the time that I understood what these people did and how they did it, I’ve always been at least a little afraid that I would end up one of those random people. Our house being burgled last year by a man who crept into our house while we slept just a few feet above only exacerbated those fears. I’m still not able to watch my fucked up movies without feeling at least a little bit of panic.
The things that I saw in those seconds of jerky, cellphone video. I saw the nauseating glee. I saw beings who resembled humans and maybe once, a long time and a different reality ago, were humans that went grocery shopping and paid bills and stopped at red lights. And I saw…a face. Or something, a bloody, desecrated, disgusting, violated mess that used to be a face. And I could still see the question of, “Why?” running through a mind that was soon to stop functioning completely. And I could hear the echo of, “Why not me? Yet?” in the back of my brain.
It disturbed me in a way that I didn’t know possible. My worst nightmare came true for someone else and I watched it happen. I didn’t wield that hammer, but I might as well have stood there, in that cold, bleak forest, and watched it unfold.
By the time my brain said, “No. Stop,” I hadn’t assured myself of the slim chances of this ever happening to me or someone I know. I hadn’t cured myself of my paranoia. And I didn’t feel like I had a deeper understanding of how messed up this world is.
I had only accomplished one thing: watching someone be murdered.
Maybe I was stroking that part of my mortality that tries to deny itself, the part that likes to believe that I will call the shots, and if I cannot, I will call the shots for someone else. What separates me from Them?
I suppose what separates me is that I felt the urge to apologize after I chose to silence the giddy foreign language and the moist gargling breaths and the crunching leaves and the plastic bags. When I stopped, a different ending was still possible. Media feeds me truth and lies and joy and pain. And the brutal epiphany that reality and my place in it is more fluid than I’d like to admit. I’m sorry.
Long live the new flesh.
I never really thought about it until I started writing about advertising a lot on MamaPop, but I guess I’m rather grossly interested in the stuff and how it drives and marks our culture. Finding old commercials on YouTube shocks me back to childhood just the same way that a familiar sound or smell does. It’s an instant memory of a simpler period in life, when everything was kind of magical and I still felt…safe.
There are three Christmas-themed commercials that I’ve seen nearly every year for as long as I can remember. It’s kind of embarrassing to be so warmed by something as silly as a television ad but, heh, I have no shame.
Anyway, they are the Corona “O Tannenbaum” ad, the Folgers “Peter Comes Home for Christmas,” ad and Eat n Park’s “Christmas Star” ad.
I started this post the other day. Go ahead and read through and then I’ll meet you down at the bottom.
As I mentioned the other day, my semester is finally over. It’s a relief, sure, but I find myself uneasy about my final grade. But there’s nothing I can do about it now, so let’s discuss parties.
The baby had his birthday party this past Saturday and it was rather awesome. The Oaks Theater is available for parties so we booked that and showed one of the baby’s favorite Godzilla movies for him and his buddies. It was especially fun for the kids since they got to talk and giggle and wander around the theater during the movie. A taste of the forbidden! The guy at the Oaks also wrote a happy birthday message to the baby on the marquee, which was really cool for him to see.
It was a small group. The kids in the baby’s class don’t seem too big on birthday parties. But that was fine. Less noise, less stress, etc.
So, I highly recommend the Oaks for special events. I will note that it was a tad pricey (not surprising, really) and I’m thinking this will be our last big birthday party for awhile.
Of course, the baby started feeling crappy right as the party was ending and spent the rest of the weekend fighting off a nasty head cold.
I made cupcakes for the party, continuing in my deranged domesticity. Amber requested a picture of a cake wreck and I’m happy to deliver.
Those are chocolate cupcakes with mint icing, as per the baby’s request. I bought this pastry bag set the other day and it’s one of those crappy home baker sets, not a professional one. I don’t harbor any delusions that I am hiding a cake decorating superstar, but the pastry bag experience was rather frustrating. This is as far as I got the other day.
Anyway, yes, cupcakes. I went at them with the pastry bag set not really looking to make them fancy, but it just seemed easier to ice them with that than a butter knife or whatever I normally use. Not so much. But they tasted awesome.
AND I got my final grade for grammar and it’s an A minus. I’m not really sure how I pulled that off but I will so take it.
The title of this post refers to a story I was going to tell you about this yinzer baby shower I went to on Sunday and how I cleaned house during the loathed shower games. But it’s left me.
In fact, I am totally sapped of writing energy. I had an article due on Monday and I guess that and the usual end-of-semester meltdown have rendered me useless. I’ve been sparing you and subjecting the readers of MamaPop with my semi-coherent rambling. Lucky them.
Aaand I’m out of nothings to say. Instead, I’ll leave you with this clip from Sade’s Lovers Live DVD, which we started to watch last night and were stunned by it’s awesomeness.
‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the house…
Dudes were sleeping and drooling all over that heinous couch.
The pie crusts were baking, the mum without care…
…for she knew that wine would always be there.
I would totally translate the whole thing into “‘diddy” but I’m a tad too tired at the moment. But I will say that I am thankful for my family, for my opportunities, for writing, and for having time to think with a full belly. We saw Synecdoche, New York earlier and I’m thankful to know that I’m not the only one who thinks such weird things. I’m just glad that Charlie Kaufman puts them down on paper and has beautiful actors speak them for the screen. I’m thankful that art helps me to feel human. I’m thankful for my son, seeing the best pieces of me in him, knowing that I help people to experience him and all of his amazing thoughts and actions. I’m thankful for the husband and our life together.
And I’m thankful for Sidney Crosby and Yevgeny Malkin. 😉
Oh my god:
That mom is so nice. I’m trying to imagine something like this going down in our house, especially with some sour bastards like the husband and I in charge. There would be no hugs nor opportunities to express your disappointment or outrage in a constructive setting. Just: “EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP. SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. NONE OF THESE PEOPLE GET FAMOUS ANYWAY SO SHUT THE FUCK UP. AND KAYLEY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? DIDN’T I BAN YOUR ASS FROM MY HOUSE? GET OUT OF HERE.
Yesterday was mostly pretty awesome. I got so much love and birthday wishes. We got our house looking pretty cool:
I like having decorations for holidays but I don’t have any…creative vision, I guess. Nor do I have any patience for that sort of thing. Oddly enough the husband usually pulls those things together. He’s fancy like that.
I think this was the first year that the baby really got into trick-or-treating. He came away with a really impressive haul. We had a lot of trick-or-treaters, definitely more than in past years. Weirdly enough, a lot of them complimented me on the jack-o-lanterns, all of which I ended up carving myself while the husband was at the ER with his severed tendons and whatnot (horf). I mean, sure, they looked decent, but they were just the usual triangles and toothy grins. Occasionally, I switched it up with some circles. But these kids were all, “Wow, did you carve these yourself?” I don’t know. Maybe with those fancy patterns everywhere, these jack-o-lanterns are all throwback and shit.
We stopped down to the mother-in-law’s and while we were there some crappy head cold just descended on the husband and me. It was weird. We were fine and then all of sudden we both felt awful. We came home and I fell asleep at like 10:30 or something. I guess it helped since I don’t feel too terrible today.
The Pumpkin King rests after another successful Halloween.
I need to catch up on my shared items! Since October 29th:
God Hates Signs protest waged against Westboro Baptist Church
Are you talkin’ to ME? My note: “Thackeray Hall? I wonder if this was at Pitt.”
Ice Cube signs on for NBC cop comedy My note: “Wait. What?”
Wonkette: Jesus people pray that false idol will save God’s economy My note: “good luck with that, assholes.”
The Libby My note: “Somebody make me this.”
Drew’s Due My note: “I can already see the defense for this as some kind of twisted interpretation of free speech. Being a bully to people your own age is one thing. Bullying a kid when you’re an adult is just fucking messed up. I hope this asshole gets hit with a baseball bat many times.”
RA: The good, the bad, and the deep: Rick Wade My note: “My husband bit my style and became a writer.”
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: Charlie & Mac sing the song from Ferris Bueller My note: “HAAAAAAAAAAAA I’ve seen bits and pieces of this show and I’ve always ended up in tears from the awesome, promising myself to start watching it regularly and forgetting but now I must renew my commitment to this show and run-on sentences and candy.”
In Videos: Anti-Candy Corn Song My note: “Sigh. I miss the days of Noggin.”
10 Castration Scenes from Movies As a card-carrying feminazi, I consider this important research. I’ve only seen three of these, though. I’m slacking.
Welcome to Britney’s “Circus” My note: “I had to say “If You Seek Amy” fast like 50 times before I got it. These kids today and their innuendos.”
