Monday, September 25, 2006
i ruv ru
Everyone is making fun of Barbara Walters for saying that her dog said "I love you," to her. Why? My dog, Snake, part chihuahua and dachsund, talks to me all the time. Not only does he manage to form words, but he uses them in context. I will only list the instances when I have witnesses to Snake's words, but the experiences are many.
At first it was just enthusiastic meows, and we would joke about the dog spending too much time with cats. Now Snake calls me Mom all the time. That's not such a big deal, "mom" isn't too far off from a dog's normal dog sounds. The funny part is that he only says mom when he's with me.
When my husband comes home from work, Snake always meets him at the door. One day Snake let loose with a big "HELLO!" in his dog voice. Steve and I just looked at each other and said, "Did you hear that too?" A few weeks ago when I was leaving to go have lunch with my friend Cathy, Snake jumped up and yelled "Bye, Mom!" When we got outside, Cathy asked, "Did Snake just say bye mom?" I'm so glad when other people hear it too.
A really handy use of Snake's talking is when he wants to go out. He runs to wherever Steve or I happen to be, back and forth to the back door, barking and yelling "OUT!" until someone opens the back door. The only time he says "out" is when he wants to go out, and sometimes we don't open the door until he says it.
We used to have a cat named Raven who liked to smack Snake in the back of the head when he went near the food bowl. Twice I have heard Snake say "No" to Raven when he was confronted in the kitchen. Another time, when I said "No" to Snake, he said "No" back to me, matching my inflection perfectly, mocking me like a little smart-alec.
The other night, in front of a group, I held up a piece of chicken for Snake and told him I would give it to him if he said Mom. After three tries, he finally got out a convincing "Mom!"
Recently when my daughter was getting ready to go to her dad's house, I gave her a big hug and told her I love her. Snake jumped between us and said "I love you!" I'm so glad I had witnesses for that one! We all heard it.
The most suprsing talking dog experience I had was when we were riding in the car. Snake had been hanging out the window, and after a while I rolled the window up. He started waving his front leg at me and said "row rowl," several times. I didn't understand what he meant until he jumped up on the glass and waved his arm and said "row rowl," again. He wanted me to "rowl" down the window! I did, and he was happy.
The funnest Snake vocalization is when he listens to Steve and I talk and occasionally interjects a "Woooo!" as if he is commenting on our conversation. It makes us feel good when we can impress our dog.
Snake's talent has landed him a few voice-over parts. He did replacement vocals for the dogs in Legally Blonde 2, Bringing Down the House, the Unreal 2 video game, and he will be heard in the upcoming movie Flushed Away. Yes, my dog works more than I do.
I don't know, I've seen dogs on America's Funniest Home Videos who said things like "I love you" and "My mama," and stuff. If you live with your dog, spend lots of time together, it doesn't seem so far-fetched for the dog to start imitating speech. The interesting part is when the dog uses words in context.
The other day my mom and I were talking about how much Snake talks. She said, "He kind of gives me the creeps, maybe you should shoot him." I'm pretty sure she was joking, but if you get to thinking about what we "know" to be true, a talking dog is creepy. I think more people are just afraid to talk about it because they don't want to be called crazy.
At first it was just enthusiastic meows, and we would joke about the dog spending too much time with cats. Now Snake calls me Mom all the time. That's not such a big deal, "mom" isn't too far off from a dog's normal dog sounds. The funny part is that he only says mom when he's with me.
When my husband comes home from work, Snake always meets him at the door. One day Snake let loose with a big "HELLO!" in his dog voice. Steve and I just looked at each other and said, "Did you hear that too?" A few weeks ago when I was leaving to go have lunch with my friend Cathy, Snake jumped up and yelled "Bye, Mom!" When we got outside, Cathy asked, "Did Snake just say bye mom?" I'm so glad when other people hear it too.
A really handy use of Snake's talking is when he wants to go out. He runs to wherever Steve or I happen to be, back and forth to the back door, barking and yelling "OUT!" until someone opens the back door. The only time he says "out" is when he wants to go out, and sometimes we don't open the door until he says it.
We used to have a cat named Raven who liked to smack Snake in the back of the head when he went near the food bowl. Twice I have heard Snake say "No" to Raven when he was confronted in the kitchen. Another time, when I said "No" to Snake, he said "No" back to me, matching my inflection perfectly, mocking me like a little smart-alec.
The other night, in front of a group, I held up a piece of chicken for Snake and told him I would give it to him if he said Mom. After three tries, he finally got out a convincing "Mom!"
Recently when my daughter was getting ready to go to her dad's house, I gave her a big hug and told her I love her. Snake jumped between us and said "I love you!" I'm so glad I had witnesses for that one! We all heard it.
The most suprsing talking dog experience I had was when we were riding in the car. Snake had been hanging out the window, and after a while I rolled the window up. He started waving his front leg at me and said "row rowl," several times. I didn't understand what he meant until he jumped up on the glass and waved his arm and said "row rowl," again. He wanted me to "rowl" down the window! I did, and he was happy.
The funnest Snake vocalization is when he listens to Steve and I talk and occasionally interjects a "Woooo!" as if he is commenting on our conversation. It makes us feel good when we can impress our dog.
Snake's talent has landed him a few voice-over parts. He did replacement vocals for the dogs in Legally Blonde 2, Bringing Down the House, the Unreal 2 video game, and he will be heard in the upcoming movie Flushed Away. Yes, my dog works more than I do.
I don't know, I've seen dogs on America's Funniest Home Videos who said things like "I love you" and "My mama," and stuff. If you live with your dog, spend lots of time together, it doesn't seem so far-fetched for the dog to start imitating speech. The interesting part is when the dog uses words in context.
The other day my mom and I were talking about how much Snake talks. She said, "He kind of gives me the creeps, maybe you should shoot him." I'm pretty sure she was joking, but if you get to thinking about what we "know" to be true, a talking dog is creepy. I think more people are just afraid to talk about it because they don't want to be called crazy.
Erik Viking
I first saw Erik the Viking in the theater in Malmö, Sweden in 1989, on the rare occasion that a movie is released in Sweden before it is released in the USA. After recently having attended a rock concert and being one of the few who danced, I was surprised at the uproarious reaction this movie.
By the time the credits started rolling, it occurred to me that I was watching Erik Viking with a group of actual Vikings, and that it really helps to have knowledge of Norse mythology. Here in the United States, we have plenty of movies that represent our past, real or imagined; but imagine how fun it must have been for our Scandinavian brethren to watch an international release where they had the inside scoop.
Erik the Viking was written and directed by my favorite Python, one of the most clever and talented people in the world, Terry Jones.
In the opening scene, Erik, played by Tim Robbins, meets Helga, (James Bonds Miss Moneypenny,) and accidentally kills her. This leads to much introspection, leaving Erik feeling unfulfilled by all of the raping and pillaging. He convinces the other Vikings to go on a quest to ask the gods to end the Ice Age and bring Helga back to the land of the living.
To explain how the voyage went, let me just say that Leif the Lucky was the first one to die.
On their quest, they find the dragon of the North Sea, visit Hy-Brasil, cross Bifrost the Rainbow Bridge, and enter Valhalla most of which is invisible to the Christian Missionary who tags along with the hope of making a few converts along the way.
Eartha Kitt is always fascinating to me, so I loved her as Freya.
Charles McKeown, John Cleese, and Terry Jones can each floor me with a mere change of expression, and Gary Cady (seen more recently in the Footballers Wives) was a very lovely Keitel Blacksmith. The legendary Mickey Rooney played Eriks crass grandfather.
Part of the reason this movie didnt do well is that a lot of people went in expecting something else, so they were disappointed. People who are familiar with Norse Mythology often appreciate this movie; perhaps the story relied too much upon expecting the audience to be familiar with the Norse Sagas. The editing was a little jarring in places.
No matter what the reason that this movie wasnt more popular, just know that this is not a Python film. Its clever and a littleoffbut its subtle, as if someone turned the Python knob down a few notches. Actually, Erik the Viking was originally intended to be a Monty Python film, but after the death of Graham Chapman, the others dropped out. At the last minute, John Cleese replaced Jack Lemmon as Halfdan the Black.
Erik the Viking is one of my favorite movies in the world, so I have coaxed nearly everyone I know to watch it with me at least once. Not counting the sentimental attachments connected to my first experience seeing this film in Sweden, Erik the Viking is smart, thoughtful, funny, and deserves a viewing. Even the credits are amusing!
Now, why cant we find this amazing movie on DVD?
By the time the credits started rolling, it occurred to me that I was watching Erik Viking with a group of actual Vikings, and that it really helps to have knowledge of Norse mythology. Here in the United States, we have plenty of movies that represent our past, real or imagined; but imagine how fun it must have been for our Scandinavian brethren to watch an international release where they had the inside scoop.
Erik the Viking was written and directed by my favorite Python, one of the most clever and talented people in the world, Terry Jones.
In the opening scene, Erik, played by Tim Robbins, meets Helga, (James Bonds Miss Moneypenny,) and accidentally kills her. This leads to much introspection, leaving Erik feeling unfulfilled by all of the raping and pillaging. He convinces the other Vikings to go on a quest to ask the gods to end the Ice Age and bring Helga back to the land of the living.
To explain how the voyage went, let me just say that Leif the Lucky was the first one to die.
On their quest, they find the dragon of the North Sea, visit Hy-Brasil, cross Bifrost the Rainbow Bridge, and enter Valhalla most of which is invisible to the Christian Missionary who tags along with the hope of making a few converts along the way.
Eartha Kitt is always fascinating to me, so I loved her as Freya.
Charles McKeown, John Cleese, and Terry Jones can each floor me with a mere change of expression, and Gary Cady (seen more recently in the Footballers Wives) was a very lovely Keitel Blacksmith. The legendary Mickey Rooney played Eriks crass grandfather.
Part of the reason this movie didnt do well is that a lot of people went in expecting something else, so they were disappointed. People who are familiar with Norse Mythology often appreciate this movie; perhaps the story relied too much upon expecting the audience to be familiar with the Norse Sagas. The editing was a little jarring in places.
No matter what the reason that this movie wasnt more popular, just know that this is not a Python film. Its clever and a littleoffbut its subtle, as if someone turned the Python knob down a few notches. Actually, Erik the Viking was originally intended to be a Monty Python film, but after the death of Graham Chapman, the others dropped out. At the last minute, John Cleese replaced Jack Lemmon as Halfdan the Black.
Erik the Viking is one of my favorite movies in the world, so I have coaxed nearly everyone I know to watch it with me at least once. Not counting the sentimental attachments connected to my first experience seeing this film in Sweden, Erik the Viking is smart, thoughtful, funny, and deserves a viewing. Even the credits are amusing!
Now, why cant we find this amazing movie on DVD?
Sunday, September 17, 2006
money well spent, but for the wrong reason
I get some of my sense of adventure from my mom. We both always like to try new things, go new places, and sometimes will pick the less attractive item just because no one else has one like it. I often find myself getting into situations that common sense would dictate "No! Stay away!" but I have to go along just to see what is going to happen.
My mom's daring side often comes out when she's on eBay. Sometimes, when she sees an unusual auction, her curiousity overwhelms her and she has to place a bid. Last spring she won an auction to receive a psychic reading and a picture of her spirit guide. For only eight bucks, how could she go wrong?
A few weeks later she recived a letter in the mail.
There's not a lot to say about the letter. It droned on about people we don't know, situations we have never been in, and my mom's Aunt Olive, who never existed, but is apparently now mom's spirit guide. She mentions the two sons my mom is going to have, Michael and Anthony, which is odd because my mom is pushing 60 and has three sons, none of which are named Michael or Anthony. She said my gramma is visiting my mom on the farm, but fails to mention which farm. Is Mom supposed to meet Gramma at Knotts Berry Farm? That's the closest farm connection I could come up with. At any rate, the letter made no sense, which is strange because usually, if someone just takes random guesses, they can at least come up with at least something that a person can identify with.
The really fun part, however, was the last page of the letter. It revealed the big mystery: the drawing of Olive, my mom's spirit guide! The spirit guide who watches over my mom, guides her through life, stays with her every step of the way, is none other than:
keep scrolling...
just a little bit further now...
I'm speechless.
My mom's daring side often comes out when she's on eBay. Sometimes, when she sees an unusual auction, her curiousity overwhelms her and she has to place a bid. Last spring she won an auction to receive a psychic reading and a picture of her spirit guide. For only eight bucks, how could she go wrong?
A few weeks later she recived a letter in the mail.
There's not a lot to say about the letter. It droned on about people we don't know, situations we have never been in, and my mom's Aunt Olive, who never existed, but is apparently now mom's spirit guide. She mentions the two sons my mom is going to have, Michael and Anthony, which is odd because my mom is pushing 60 and has three sons, none of which are named Michael or Anthony. She said my gramma is visiting my mom on the farm, but fails to mention which farm. Is Mom supposed to meet Gramma at Knotts Berry Farm? That's the closest farm connection I could come up with. At any rate, the letter made no sense, which is strange because usually, if someone just takes random guesses, they can at least come up with at least something that a person can identify with.
The really fun part, however, was the last page of the letter. It revealed the big mystery: the drawing of Olive, my mom's spirit guide! The spirit guide who watches over my mom, guides her through life, stays with her every step of the way, is none other than:
keep scrolling...
just a little bit further now...
I'm speechless.
the up-side of global warming
I'm certain I'm going to hell just for thinking like this this. Polar bears are drowning, the oceans are filling up, glaciers are melting, indigenous people are losing their way of life, not to mention it's getting freakin' hot for people like me who do not enjoy the sun's cruel touch.
But think of all the cool new stuff that could show up!
I keep fantasizing that the thaw is going to uncover the most intact mammoth specimen ever, and I can finally get that mammoth hybrid Ive always wanted. I don't dare dream of a mammoth clone, since freezing explodes the DNA into even smaller pieces so it can't be used for any Jurassic-Park-like experiments. But maybe some other treasure, like a homo sapien predecessor that has been frozen for tens of thousands of years in a block of ice, lying there in mid-scream with a spear in his ass, just like Kennewick Man, only this time with something covering his bones. Maybe under all that ice, some clue is going to show itself that could reveal how the first people came to North America.
On the other hand, if the oceans are actually getting higher, the water could be covering up some as-yet-undiscovered archaeological site. There is a theory that man came to North America by boat, traveling along the Bering Strait and/or the Aleutian Islands, and because the sea levels are higher now than they were 30,000 years ago, their possible camp sites along the beach would be long gone by now. There is no way we could suck up some of the ocean long enough to look.
New islands are appearing from under the melted icebergs; maybe a pre-historic site will show up on one of those islands. It's so sad, yet intriguing. At the very least, some sort of new artifact, uncovered by the melting ice would be an awesome find.
That doesn't mean that global warming isnt horrifying, but I cant help but wonder about what is going to turn up!
But think of all the cool new stuff that could show up!
I keep fantasizing that the thaw is going to uncover the most intact mammoth specimen ever, and I can finally get that mammoth hybrid Ive always wanted. I don't dare dream of a mammoth clone, since freezing explodes the DNA into even smaller pieces so it can't be used for any Jurassic-Park-like experiments. But maybe some other treasure, like a homo sapien predecessor that has been frozen for tens of thousands of years in a block of ice, lying there in mid-scream with a spear in his ass, just like Kennewick Man, only this time with something covering his bones. Maybe under all that ice, some clue is going to show itself that could reveal how the first people came to North America.
On the other hand, if the oceans are actually getting higher, the water could be covering up some as-yet-undiscovered archaeological site. There is a theory that man came to North America by boat, traveling along the Bering Strait and/or the Aleutian Islands, and because the sea levels are higher now than they were 30,000 years ago, their possible camp sites along the beach would be long gone by now. There is no way we could suck up some of the ocean long enough to look.
New islands are appearing from under the melted icebergs; maybe a pre-historic site will show up on one of those islands. It's so sad, yet intriguing. At the very least, some sort of new artifact, uncovered by the melting ice would be an awesome find.
That doesn't mean that global warming isnt horrifying, but I cant help but wonder about what is going to turn up!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Little Fella
Originally posted in May 2006:
Yesterday my nephew called me and asked me to come help him. When I got to his house he was out front holding a tiny baby bird in one hand, and was trying to keep the ants off the baby bird's dead sibling, at the same time trying to balance his giant backpack that he was still wearing after getting off the bus.
The baby bird had his mouth wide open and was whistling for some food. We buried his sibling and fed the bird bits of moist cat food poked into his mouth with tweezers.
My nephew watched over Little Fella until we took him to the wildlife hospital in Calabasas. He was so careful with the little tiny pink thing and was sad to let him go. It's so cool when a kid sees a helpless creature as something to take care of rather than something to abuse.
UPDATE: In August 2006, three months after River discovered Little Fella, he was walking through the front door of his house and a finch flew in! How often does a finch just fly into someone's house? The wildlife hospital had told him that Little Fella was a finch --was he coming back to say hi? I think it's quite a coincidence!
Yesterday my nephew called me and asked me to come help him. When I got to his house he was out front holding a tiny baby bird in one hand, and was trying to keep the ants off the baby bird's dead sibling, at the same time trying to balance his giant backpack that he was still wearing after getting off the bus.
The baby bird had his mouth wide open and was whistling for some food. We buried his sibling and fed the bird bits of moist cat food poked into his mouth with tweezers.
My nephew watched over Little Fella until we took him to the wildlife hospital in Calabasas. He was so careful with the little tiny pink thing and was sad to let him go. It's so cool when a kid sees a helpless creature as something to take care of rather than something to abuse.
UPDATE: In August 2006, three months after River discovered Little Fella, he was walking through the front door of his house and a finch flew in! How often does a finch just fly into someone's house? The wildlife hospital had told him that Little Fella was a finch --was he coming back to say hi? I think it's quite a coincidence!
Works better than Ex-lax
Today was my nephew's 13th birthday party. We took River to the funpark for go-karts, mini-golf, and laser tag, then went back to Kat's for cake and presents. I called my husband, Steve, and asked him to pick up some pizza before he met us at Kat's.
We were milling around Kat's living room, admiring the balloons and crepe paper, when Steve called me to let me know he had just pulled up out front and would I please come out and help him carry in the pizza and our presents. I was almost comatose from doing batting cages out in the sun, but figured I better be helpful, and not do something mean like send my ex-husband out to help him instead.
When I walked out the front door I was surprised to see two police officers crouched down next to the front of Kat's truck. Sunday isn't a parking restriction day, could it be they were going to give Kat a ticket, but for what? Who knows, in my experience Burbank cops are strict (I was once detained an hour and fifteen minutes and given an $80 ticket for having a brake light out) so I started walking over there to ask them what the problem was.
All of the sudden, the two cops jumped out from behind the truck, cocking their rifles and running toward me, screaming. I've been around guns most of my life but there is something alarming about a two armed men running toward you screaming, with that "clickik" sound coming from the gun. I froze for just a second, wondering if perhaps they found out about that time I parked 22 minutes in a 20 minute zone, but when one cop yelled "Where is he? Where is he?" and headed toward the neighbor's yard, I realized they weren't coming after me. Instead of yelling back, "He's bringing the pizza!" I sprinted back into Kat's house and slammed the door behind me.
If you see a gun, there is a possibility that soon there will be bullets flying through the air, that I know. I burst into my nephew's birthday party screaming "GET DOWN! GET DOWN! THEY HAVE GUNS!" and everyone just looked at me. I don't know how I earned this reputation, but everyone thought I was the type of asshole who would think that would be a funny joke.
Apparently nothing came of this incident, we didn't hear any gunfire, there were no corpses strewn about the lawn, no bullet-ridden desperados clawing at the front door, but the experience really did liven up River's birthday party. It was way more fun than hiring a clown.
We were milling around Kat's living room, admiring the balloons and crepe paper, when Steve called me to let me know he had just pulled up out front and would I please come out and help him carry in the pizza and our presents. I was almost comatose from doing batting cages out in the sun, but figured I better be helpful, and not do something mean like send my ex-husband out to help him instead.
When I walked out the front door I was surprised to see two police officers crouched down next to the front of Kat's truck. Sunday isn't a parking restriction day, could it be they were going to give Kat a ticket, but for what? Who knows, in my experience Burbank cops are strict (I was once detained an hour and fifteen minutes and given an $80 ticket for having a brake light out) so I started walking over there to ask them what the problem was.
All of the sudden, the two cops jumped out from behind the truck, cocking their rifles and running toward me, screaming. I've been around guns most of my life but there is something alarming about a two armed men running toward you screaming, with that "clickik" sound coming from the gun. I froze for just a second, wondering if perhaps they found out about that time I parked 22 minutes in a 20 minute zone, but when one cop yelled "Where is he? Where is he?" and headed toward the neighbor's yard, I realized they weren't coming after me. Instead of yelling back, "He's bringing the pizza!" I sprinted back into Kat's house and slammed the door behind me.
If you see a gun, there is a possibility that soon there will be bullets flying through the air, that I know. I burst into my nephew's birthday party screaming "GET DOWN! GET DOWN! THEY HAVE GUNS!" and everyone just looked at me. I don't know how I earned this reputation, but everyone thought I was the type of asshole who would think that would be a funny joke.
Apparently nothing came of this incident, we didn't hear any gunfire, there were no corpses strewn about the lawn, no bullet-ridden desperados clawing at the front door, but the experience really did liven up River's birthday party. It was way more fun than hiring a clown.
My dolls for sale at Enchanted Devas!
A few years ago I started making these Goddess dolls based on the Egyptian Nile Goddes, Nathor, from about 4,000bce.
I sold about fifty billion of them (give or take a few) online, and they were even featured in Art Doll Quarterly, but now you can only get them at Enchanted Devas at 5050 Vineland in North Hollywood. Enchanted Deva's will also be carrying my steel-reinforced bodices soon too. That means less time selling and more time creating for me!
So, go to Enchanted Deva's and buy lots of stuff! Remember, Christmas is coming up and no one wants any more of that Wal-Mart crap!
What the Huff?
For years, I refused to get involved in any new TV shows. I've been watching the Simpsons since the Tracy Ullman days so of course I have to keep watching, but that's it. I won't get involved in any other shows. Except Barney Miller, it's my favorite show of all time so I have to watch it when it comes on even though I've been watching the same episodes for almost 30 years, and of course I tune in to a Golden Girls episode now and then. But nothing I have to watch on a regular basis. I just can't handle the emotional investment. Okay, every two months or so I'll turn on The Office and My Name is Earl, but that's it. I will not be sucked in!
Along came Arrested Development. Once I got hooked, it got yanked out from underneath me. I was almost relieved of the burden of keeping up with the show. Really. I'm better off without it.
A month or two ago I ordered Showtime so I could watch their new series, Brotherhood. Honestly, I only watch it so I have an excuse to look at Jason Isaacs once a week, but I got the unexpected gift of learning new phrases like "Wicked Pissed!" and "Fuckin' Retahded!" When I was skimming through Showtime on Demand, I noticed the second season of Huff. I love Oliver Platt because he reminds me of my husband, and surely Showtime isn't going to be ditching this show anytime soon. They don't even have commercials, I'm actually paying to get to watch it, so I'm safe, right?
After watching the second season of Huff, I got curious about the first season. I couldn't find it to rent anywhere so I had to go buy the DVDs. I figured it was a worthwhile expenditure because I would be all ready for season three when it came out. Anytime now. When is season three of Huff coming out? I'm dying to know what happened with Tupper leaving the firm and that whole dead hooker thing and will he be a good dad and Teddy almost killing his girlfriend and does he ever take that pill that could help him but might kill him and does Huff move back in and will Izzy ever move back to her own place? And will Byrd always be an over-privileged brat?
While watching the Emmys yesterday I found out that Huff had been cancelled. What am I supposed to do with all of these questions? I can't even look at my season one DVDs; was it all just lies, or did it really mean something?
Now I hear that Arrested Development is coming back. I don't even know what to do with this information. I'm afraid to care, but once again I'm sure I'll be courted back with flowers and boxes of chocolates and promises of change.
Along came Arrested Development. Once I got hooked, it got yanked out from underneath me. I was almost relieved of the burden of keeping up with the show. Really. I'm better off without it.
A month or two ago I ordered Showtime so I could watch their new series, Brotherhood. Honestly, I only watch it so I have an excuse to look at Jason Isaacs once a week, but I got the unexpected gift of learning new phrases like "Wicked Pissed!" and "Fuckin' Retahded!" When I was skimming through Showtime on Demand, I noticed the second season of Huff. I love Oliver Platt because he reminds me of my husband, and surely Showtime isn't going to be ditching this show anytime soon. They don't even have commercials, I'm actually paying to get to watch it, so I'm safe, right?
After watching the second season of Huff, I got curious about the first season. I couldn't find it to rent anywhere so I had to go buy the DVDs. I figured it was a worthwhile expenditure because I would be all ready for season three when it came out. Anytime now. When is season three of Huff coming out? I'm dying to know what happened with Tupper leaving the firm and that whole dead hooker thing and will he be a good dad and Teddy almost killing his girlfriend and does he ever take that pill that could help him but might kill him and does Huff move back in and will Izzy ever move back to her own place? And will Byrd always be an over-privileged brat?
While watching the Emmys yesterday I found out that Huff had been cancelled. What am I supposed to do with all of these questions? I can't even look at my season one DVDs; was it all just lies, or did it really mean something?
Now I hear that Arrested Development is coming back. I don't even know what to do with this information. I'm afraid to care, but once again I'm sure I'll be courted back with flowers and boxes of chocolates and promises of change.
The Wicker Man
SPOILER ALERT
The Wicker Man IMDB page 1973
The other day I rented the original The Wicker Man so I could have a refresher before seeing the new movie starring Nicholas Cage. I first watched The Wicker Man many years ago because my old boss had told me about it. He was explaining to me how all pagans are actually Satan worshippers, and I replied that no they aren't, because they don't believe that Satan exists so how could they worship him? and he said "Oh yeah? Just watch The Wicker Man!"
This morning when I looked at the IMDB page from the 1973 The Wicker Man, I started reading the user comments, and then the message boards regarding the movie. I was absolutely shocked at how seriously some people take this movie. These must be the same people who go to pagan message boards to ask the regular posters there, "the insider's view" of the Harry Potter movies. Not only that, when people call The Wicker Man a "classic masterpiece" I'm more than slightly concerned.
The Wicker Man (1973) was so incredibly retarded that it was one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. The horrible songs, and I mean horrible, so you sit there with your mouth hanging open because you can't believe what you're hearing, and who could imagine a movie with so much sex and nudity could be so boring? I guess if you want to put yourself into the situation that the main character is in, you could feel frightened at the feeling something sinister was going on, I get that same feeling when I go to Olive Garden. In the end, after watching this "classic horror film," I was really only afraid of Christopher Lee's hair, both his own and the Cher wig and purple chiffon; and Brit's fancy little butt dance against the door that was meant to be erotic but was more like a febrile convulsion.
The Christian cop thought he was investigating a missing girl but really that girl was used as bait to lure him into being a human sacrifice. The pagans were evil, the Christian was martyred, and, in the end, everyone sang a song with Lambchop elbows. The writer wanted to make a movie about modern-day human sacrifice, and so he did, the idea is very scary, and it was very convenient to use a group that most people, especially thirty years ago, didn't know much about. Comparing the residents of Summerisle with any actual people is ignorant. The setting and circumstances were the product of someone's imagination and only an idiot would use The Wicker Man to make a logical point about religion. Why? It's not real!
After seeing it multiple times, I'm still not sure how my boss meant that pagans are Satan worshippers. That's okay, I'm done trying to figure people out, it's time for breakfast.
1973's The Wicker Man is C H E E S E Y, but amusing. See it if you like boobs, both the breast and the idiot kind.
The Wicker Man IMDB page 1973
The other day I rented the original The Wicker Man so I could have a refresher before seeing the new movie starring Nicholas Cage. I first watched The Wicker Man many years ago because my old boss had told me about it. He was explaining to me how all pagans are actually Satan worshippers, and I replied that no they aren't, because they don't believe that Satan exists so how could they worship him? and he said "Oh yeah? Just watch The Wicker Man!"
This morning when I looked at the IMDB page from the 1973 The Wicker Man, I started reading the user comments, and then the message boards regarding the movie. I was absolutely shocked at how seriously some people take this movie. These must be the same people who go to pagan message boards to ask the regular posters there, "the insider's view" of the Harry Potter movies. Not only that, when people call The Wicker Man a "classic masterpiece" I'm more than slightly concerned.
The Wicker Man (1973) was so incredibly retarded that it was one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. The horrible songs, and I mean horrible, so you sit there with your mouth hanging open because you can't believe what you're hearing, and who could imagine a movie with so much sex and nudity could be so boring? I guess if you want to put yourself into the situation that the main character is in, you could feel frightened at the feeling something sinister was going on, I get that same feeling when I go to Olive Garden. In the end, after watching this "classic horror film," I was really only afraid of Christopher Lee's hair, both his own and the Cher wig and purple chiffon; and Brit's fancy little butt dance against the door that was meant to be erotic but was more like a febrile convulsion.
The Christian cop thought he was investigating a missing girl but really that girl was used as bait to lure him into being a human sacrifice. The pagans were evil, the Christian was martyred, and, in the end, everyone sang a song with Lambchop elbows. The writer wanted to make a movie about modern-day human sacrifice, and so he did, the idea is very scary, and it was very convenient to use a group that most people, especially thirty years ago, didn't know much about. Comparing the residents of Summerisle with any actual people is ignorant. The setting and circumstances were the product of someone's imagination and only an idiot would use The Wicker Man to make a logical point about religion. Why? It's not real!
After seeing it multiple times, I'm still not sure how my boss meant that pagans are Satan worshippers. That's okay, I'm done trying to figure people out, it's time for breakfast.
1973's The Wicker Man is C H E E S E Y, but amusing. See it if you like boobs, both the breast and the idiot kind.
and your little dog, too
I'm officially tired of seeing girls carrying around Chihuahuas like they were knock-off Louis Vuitton bags. Louis Vuitton is, by the way, playing a practical joke. Why else would something so ugly be so expensive? I picture him laying there night after night, giggling away on his huge pile of money. I'm not sure how one giggles with a French accent but Im imagining a foppish chortle.
Sorry, Dad, I know you work for Louis sometimes, but its true. You're in an industry that hawks ugly purses.
Anyway, back to my point. A chick carries around a little dog and then everyone else has to do it too. Jelly bracelets and Birkenstocks are one thing, but monkey-see-monkey-doing a living creature is sad. Think about the final outcome: the dog is going to live about 14 years, which is about 11 years longer than the duration of the average style. When it's not cool anymore, its just a small puddle machine, and the liquid/body weight ratio is astounding.
Little dogs usually like to be carried, so that works out well for them, but they dont like to go outside to pee when its cold, and Im pretty sure they dont like to wear clothes. Once I put a sweater on my dog and he flew backwards around the house and ran into furniture and mowed over a few cats and upturned the trashcan. I had to catch him and hold him down and undress him. It made me feel mean so I don't put the sweater on him anymore, no matter how much he stands there and shivers while holding one paw in the air.
Whats going to happen to all of those nervous little dogs when theyre no longer cool? They're going to go to some twitchy little dog jail where theyre going to have caffeine withdrawals and suffer terribly from the cold. The yipping will be deafening, but at least they won't have to wear those humiliating outfits and get splashed by an overturned Starbucks when a neanderchick wearing espadrilles tries to drive the SUV and talk on the phone.
I'm not knocking the little dogs, I love little dogs. I'm the proud mother of a wienerhuahua named Snake. I got my first dog, a Chihuahua named Puddles, in 1974, then I had a Chihuahua named Chico, a Chihuahua named Buggs Alive, and a Chihuahua named Brutus (thanks Viki!) a Dachsund named Ginger and a miniature pinscher named Cowboy Bob. I won't go into the names of all the big dogs, because thats not really my point. My point is, dogs are not accessories; they are responsibility.
Somebody please tell me women aren't getting pregnant because its cool to sport a big belly. Can't we just get knocked up the old-fashioned way, by accident? Or are babies the new Chihuahua? That couldnt be, Paris hasnt been seen with one, has she?
Sorry, Dad, I know you work for Louis sometimes, but its true. You're in an industry that hawks ugly purses.
Anyway, back to my point. A chick carries around a little dog and then everyone else has to do it too. Jelly bracelets and Birkenstocks are one thing, but monkey-see-monkey-doing a living creature is sad. Think about the final outcome: the dog is going to live about 14 years, which is about 11 years longer than the duration of the average style. When it's not cool anymore, its just a small puddle machine, and the liquid/body weight ratio is astounding.
Little dogs usually like to be carried, so that works out well for them, but they dont like to go outside to pee when its cold, and Im pretty sure they dont like to wear clothes. Once I put a sweater on my dog and he flew backwards around the house and ran into furniture and mowed over a few cats and upturned the trashcan. I had to catch him and hold him down and undress him. It made me feel mean so I don't put the sweater on him anymore, no matter how much he stands there and shivers while holding one paw in the air.
Whats going to happen to all of those nervous little dogs when theyre no longer cool? They're going to go to some twitchy little dog jail where theyre going to have caffeine withdrawals and suffer terribly from the cold. The yipping will be deafening, but at least they won't have to wear those humiliating outfits and get splashed by an overturned Starbucks when a neanderchick wearing espadrilles tries to drive the SUV and talk on the phone.
I'm not knocking the little dogs, I love little dogs. I'm the proud mother of a wienerhuahua named Snake. I got my first dog, a Chihuahua named Puddles, in 1974, then I had a Chihuahua named Chico, a Chihuahua named Buggs Alive, and a Chihuahua named Brutus (thanks Viki!) a Dachsund named Ginger and a miniature pinscher named Cowboy Bob. I won't go into the names of all the big dogs, because thats not really my point. My point is, dogs are not accessories; they are responsibility.
Somebody please tell me women aren't getting pregnant because its cool to sport a big belly. Can't we just get knocked up the old-fashioned way, by accident? Or are babies the new Chihuahua? That couldnt be, Paris hasnt been seen with one, has she?
