Sometimes my musical taste skews so girly I feel like I need to keep it as a guilty little secret. (She & Him. The Doors*. Robyn.) Today, I am not keeping it as a secret, even though I should, because this song is pretty cheesy and girly. And the video...well let's just say someone had way too much fun in post.
*Is it just me or do all guys hate The Doors? Sure, they aren't the greatest band musically, but they had some catchy little ditties, and I like them.
I just finished a six week long sub job in a first grade classroom. I had a lot of fun, a lot.
One
day, I was in the library trying to find picture books for an activity
the next day, when I stumbled across "A Year with Molly & Emmett." I
of course had to temporarily abandon the task of finding books with
"wh" in the title and dive in to this book.
When I did, I was SO DISAPPOINTED. The story was terrible and not
at all entertaining.* Spoiler alert - Emmett is a cat and Molly is a
little girl well on her way to being a crazy cat lady. No really. On
their homepage**,
Molly says, "Hi, I'm Molly! I'm six years old and my best friend is a
cat named Emmett." The really upsetting part is that Emmett, in true cat
style, doesn't seem to be too into Molly. He says, "Hello. My name is
Emmett. I'm lucky to have a friend like Molly. Yawn...is it time for a
nap again?" Is this what young people are associating with my first
name? An asocial person obsessed with her cat?
Of course, there is the tragically nerdy and awkward middle
child, Molly McIntire of American Girl fame. She had those homely little
braids and couldn't even fashion a grass skirt that could withstand a
little water from her pesky brother's prank. Honestly.
I've never been unsatisfied with my first name, but methinks there should be less dorky literary Mollys.
A few months ago I was at a dinner and seated next to a couple that were deeply devoted Jim Jarmusch fans. When I told them I hadn't seen any of his films, they very enthusiastically recommended some.* I am always looking for recommendations from people, and so when I got home, I went on Netflix and added "Stranger than Paradise" to my queue. I was optimistic. It was described as a "minimalist comedy" and Netflix guessed that I would like it 4.5 stars worth. 4.5 stars?!? Awesome, let's do this thing! New favorite movie right here.
When I finally got around to watching it recently, I didn't love it. I don't think my not liking this film had much to do with what I call "The Adventureland Syndrome" of bloated expectations leading to utter disappointment. I do think it had to do with the fact that this movie is not my brand of fun. I returned the red envelope and promptly gave it a rating of one star - a far cry from the 4.5 they had guessed for me. But, even though I really didn't like it, ("minimalist comedy," seriously? I saw the minimalism, but where was the comedy?) I did think about the movie for a little while after watching it. Sadly, not it a good way. I kept thinking how it was a mutilated rehashing of the super classic Godard film, "Bande à part."
In "Bande à part," two guys with a desire to live like the American gangster movies they love, enlist attractive, charming, and a major girl crush of mine, Anna Karina, to help them commit a robbery. In "Stranger than Paradise" two hipster petty criminals drive to Florida with one of their cousins a very un-charming girl and try to win at the races. (The only actor in this film who has any craft or humanity is Richard Edsen, you know the garage attendant from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off.") Two films with awkward love triangles, both shot in black and white by choice, and one clearly influencing the other.
My question to Jim Jarmusch is, when you have such a tremendous starting off point of inspiration, how do you end up with "Stranger than Paradise?" (A title that is absolutely truthful.) Let's talk dancing scenes alone.
Another (more successful) scene influenced by Godard's film. (Tarantino named his production company A Band Apart, which produced Pulp Fiction.**)
Jarmusch chose the song super well. (It goes without saying that Tarantino chose one of the greatest songs ever.) And truth be told, I think if the actors were more charismatic/talented the movie could have worked for me, but as it stands, the 89 minutes I spent watching the film felt like 4 hours. Unless someone I know and totally trust tells me of another Jarmusch film to try, I don't think I'll willingly watch anything else.
*I did point them in the direction of his appearance on Bored to Death which was pretty funny.
**"A thirty minute film about a group of friends who like cheeseburgers, dancing and the bible." Community = hilar and abbrevs*** = my fave.
Last night I was with my friend Becky at a mattress store for her to buy a new and super comfy mattress. As we were chatting it up with the very personable sales staff, "Human Nature" by MJ came on -- one of my favorites. One salesman got all excited when it came on, and then tried to test me by asking me who sings it. I answered him, and then we started singing it together.
A few minutes later, mattress purchased, we were going to leave and INXS came on the hi fi. (Speaking of songs I love!!*) I started singing it, and then of course air-drumming because that song demands air drums.** I was promptly told that I looked like the Cadbury Gorilla. It is in these instances when I am so glad that smart phones exist. I then watched the commercial and decided that that is a pretty fair comparison, although Phil Collins is not my jam.
*Again, I never said I had good taste.
**I play the air drums with great skill, tenacity and the true spirit of rock and roll, but having never even sat behind a "there drums" drum kit, I cannot say whether or not my natural drumming ability would translate.
Last November, KEXP's Song of the Day podcast introduced me to Alabama Shakes. I immediately fell in love with the single, "Hold On" which I then threw onto the Christmas mix. Their album doesn't come out until April, but to keep myself sane as I wait with breath that is bated, I troll youtube and grooveshark. I have officially become obsessed with these kids. Also, since I've, ever so reluctantly, had to give up on my life goal of being 5'6", it is now my goal to sound more like Brittany Howard. I dream big, friends, big and not at all realistically.
I had initially gone to my bookcase to pick up my old copy of "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" to reread it for a book club I've reluctantly agreed to join, but when I saw my copy of Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophil & Stella, I had to pick it up instead. Oh how I love, love, love this series of sonnets and songs. Sometimes you just have to sit down and read about unrequited and downright heartbreaking love. Or lust -- that's there too.
My favorites are :
II
Not at first sight, nor with a dibbed shot,
Love gave the wound, which, while I breathe will bleed;
But known worth did in mine of time proceed,
Till by degrees it had full conquest got.
I saw, and liked; I liked, but loved not;
I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed:
At length to Love's decrees I forced agreed,
Yet with repining at so partial lot.
Now even that footstep of lost liberty
Is gone; and now, like salve-born Muscovite,
I call it praise to suffer tyranny;
And now employ the remnant of my wit
To make myself believe that all is well,
While with a feeling skill I paint my hell.
XIV
Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire,
Than did on him who first stale down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,
But with your rhubarb words you must contend
To grieve me worse, in saying that desire
Doth plunge my well-formed soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end?
If that be sin, which doth the manners frame,
Well stayed with truth in word, and faith of deed,
Ready of wit, and fearing nought but shame:
If that be sin, which in fixed hearts doth breed
A loathing of all loose unchastity:
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
LIV
Because I breathe not love to every one,
Nor do not use set colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,
Nor give each speech a full point of groan,
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan,
Of them, who in their lips love's standard bear:
'What, he?' say they of me, 'now I dare swear,
He cannot love; no no, let him alone.'
And think so still, so Stella know my mind.
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art;
But you fair maids, at length this true shall find,
That his right badge is but worn in the heart;
Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do lovers prove;
They love indeed, who quake to say they love.
One of my favorite things to do online is troll Craigslist. Voyeurism - it is such guilty pleasure. Some people watch Reality TV, but ever since the first time I discovered these ads, I occasionally read these personals to see what kooky things people will come up with next--and it is a hoot. And what better day to check up than Valentine's? (Especially when I spent the evening with my brother and a friend at a PubQuiz.)
Here are the guys I responded to*:
keepin it real:
My favorite part of his ad, aside from typos of course, was the super awesome lighting scheme in the living room! Nothing says style quite like black leather couches with under car lights. He knows what he likes and he embraces it. That's great!
Would like to meat someone fun:
I really like that this guy is honest and upfront about his needs and desires. That's really attractive.
I have to say I was hoping that this next one would have been more like a how-to article instead of a question. Some of us have the exact same question, my friend.
I did not send this last guy a response, he's clearly too much of a downer for me. If you want to be bored with and pity humanity because they are pathetic, that's fine I guess, but really, that's your opener?
Needle in the hay stack - 40 (Portland)
...and what a hay stack it is. I'm Scottish and proud of it. I'm
educated and do not suffer fools easily. I'm bored with humanity and
can't wait for the "festivities" to begin once again. I'm always fine
in every way. I don't need permission to live or to be. My rights are
natural and I fear nothing but cowardice. I pity most of people because
they are truly pathetic. Is there a woman on this Martyr's day who
wants to meet a real man?
*Disclaimer: I didn't ACTUALLY respond to any of these fine people. I feel like I should be honest with you.
There is literally** nothing I love more than the idea of an elaborate marriage proposal. Well, maybe an elaborate marriage proposal in public, that's better. Wait again, I think it needs to be an expensive, elaborate marriage proposal, public would be best, but just as long as it takes a huge chunk of money that could have been put to a more appropriate use*** I could rally. But I certainly don't agree with the recent Sunfiltered blog post about proposals going out of control. Not at all.
The bigger the better!
Similarly, I used to think that nothing said "awesome proposal!" quite like a JumboTron at a professional sports game, with thousands of eyes on you, and all of that peer pressure to say yes, lest you be the bitchy girl that broke that poor guy's heart. But, I have changed my tune. I'm sure by now you've all heard of the $10,010 engagement package the fine people at Pizza Hut are shelling out. Talk about the perfect way to be proposed to: a limo (who doesn't love being driven around in a really big, gas guzzling car?), a videographer and photographer, a not-at-all taste specific jewel the color of pizza sauce, FIREWORKS(!), and $10 worth of pizza. Before I knew this option was even a possibility, I would have been satisfied with any other mode of proposal, but not anymore. Now I do know it's a possibility, and will subsequently never be happy without fireworks or pizza.
Image totes stolen from http://www.pizzahut.com/proposal.html
But did you read the fine print****? Ay, there's the rub! Only ten packages are available?!? The package has to be purchased by the 14th, and used by the end of March?!? Pizza Hut, how am I going to find a guy in two days when I've been trying for 29 years unsuccessfully. Damn you, and your dangling of fairy tale dreams, that aren't at all the tackiest thing I've ever heard of, only to rip them away just because of the very minor fact that I don't have anyone willing to marry me, let alone spend $10,010 for a few hours' time.
Valentine's Day just surpassed Christmas as my least favorite/most depression inducing holiday. Thanks a lot, Pizza Hut.
*I wish there was a something I could do, similar to italics, to communicate sarcasm. Is there an emoticon for that?
**Literally, not figuratively or practically, LITERALLY!
***Like say, anything else...
****Also, only one package per person, so polygamists better luck with some other fast food chain. Maybe try Cupcake Gourmet - there's no fireworks, but an 8 carat diamond isn't too shabby.
So, again this year I gave many of you a little mix CD to accompany the oh-so-festive Bah Humbug cards. And many of the many of you have asked me for the track listing, and I've said, "Oh, I printed it on the back of the card." But, I had a conversation this week with my friend Tiffany who told me she liked "track 14." I told her I'd send her the track list. I should have used a bolder font. So in case you missed it and long ago recycled the card, here is the playlist:
Last week I got a text from my friend Tom which said, "Your blog has become a constant in my apt. and amongst my circle of friends and we have all requested more stories like "so last night at FHE." Me and several of my friends will randomly make a fist and do a punching motion in the air to remind us of the line 'full powered homoerotic fisting' which sends us into hysterics just so you know."
I was flabbergasted and of course totally flattered. And then I lied and told him I'd get right on it. Here's the thing, Tom, in order to come up with more posts in which I am scandalized and then trash people, (like the guy with the worst haircut ever,) I'd have to first be scandalized and then second write things I probably shouldn't about people with terrible hair, per se.
Let's pretend I was someone who was more often scandalized, or put in to places I could be scandalized in: then I would have far more anecdotes like the sacrament meeting molestation to share. And let's also pretend that I wasn't trying to be a nicer person, and wasn't at all concerned about receiving emails from people who don't like being made fun of: then I would unapologetically trash people as fast as my sitcom-trained mind would allow. But, as luck would have it, I don't seek out sketchy things, I am trying to be a nicer person, and like Wallace Shawn, I don't like confrontations and have thus tried to stop trashing people, at least with any detail in this public forum. So, until I decide to just stop caring and speak poorly about anyone who could potentially find this weblog, or become way more conservative or frequent super sketchy places, I'll probably not have anything like last night at FHE for Tom.
So, I will give you some links to go to posts from many, many moons ago in which I was either excessively cruel and gossipy or absolutely grossed out by other people's actions.
I hope these past posts can tide you over until I happen to spy something as disturbing as the fisting - other than the fact that tonight at FHE Dottie and the fister were totes getting their flirt on. I wanted to slow-motion scream "NOOOO!"