I think my moral compass is askew

I saw the movie "Hard Candy" today. It was a combination of "Extremities," and "Death and the Maiden." Without giving too much away, I couldn't figure out which character I wanted to win ... the pedophile or the sociopathic teenager? I mean, who wants the pedophile who lures a 14 year old girl over to his house to win? On the other hand, who wants a murderous 14 year old who tortures someone and perform a castration to win?

In the end, you hate everyone (much like the book "The Corrections (an abject piece of crap, in my opinion)), except Sandra Oh. "Did it rain?"

Not so Bad

As I was bemoaning my life the other day with such internal bon mots as "My job is hard" and "I work too much" and "My elbow hurts from playing golf" I was struck by just how fabulous my life actually is.

First, I have a job I love and it lets me go play golf in the afternoon if I want to (the benefits of being a partner in a law firm). Second, I have an amazing boyfriend who still finds me charming and quirky (which I am) instead of crazy and certifiable (which I am also). Third, I have the most amazing friends, both locally and globally.

Sure, there are bad theater goers and bad drivers. But, can that surpass having a great dinner with SeedySaxon in NYC, or seeing a dear friend on her birthday, or just spending a day watching Arrested Development in bed with the BF, or having a living room full of great friends?

I got it good. Just remind me of that on Monday ...

I Almost Forgot ...

... that was until I was gently reminded (by a very pointed email). In addition to all the shows I attended in NYC, I also was able to head north to Pelham to celebrate my dear friend Rhette the Vet's birthday along with her husband The Ferd. RtV turned 37 and I've known here for about 20 years. Jesus wept!

We met during freshman year at college and we immediately hated each other. Somehow, we've grown to love each other yet still maintain that love you/hate you vibe. Sure, she almost let me drown in a bathtub once. I can forgive that. I may or may not have also convinced her it was a good idea to lay in the street and pretend to be dead. Six of one ...

Sure, I'll hit the 4-0 before her but her husband The Ferd (who owns the original Night Stalker on VCR (kuddos!)) will hit it before all of us (except Bunny! (when do I stop evoking college hijinks to call a woman with two children approaching 40 Bunny!))

Who knows?

I hope you had a beautiful birthday, Rhette the Vet.

Ask me about toe floss ...

I Probably Shouldn't Have Said That ...

I'm driving through lovely Minneapolis on a gorgeous day today and, of course, was thoroughly annoyed with just about everyone else on the road, whether on foot, bike, or car. As I swore voraciously at the stupid woman ahead of me who decided to pull into the intersection and then, and only then, decided to turn on her left signal, I remembered one of my not so brilliant, or possibly deviously brilliant, driving tirades.

Last year, I'm driving, with windows down, through this little neighborhood full of chic shops and women who went to Vassar for Art History but Married Well and love Volvos and BMWs. They have this crosswalk to which drivers are supposed to yield to pedestrians. Since there was no one who looked like they were about to cross, I drove through, albeit at about 5 miles an hour. This little 6 year old Rhoda from The Bad Seed yells snottily as I drive through, "You're supposed to stop for walkers."

This prompts the gut reaction out the window of "Fuck you, little girl." A year later, I'm still not sure if this is something I should tell as a funny story or be very very ashamed of.

People I Want to Punch in the Face

I just got back from five or so days in New York City and went to a total of six shows. They ranged from really funny (Spamalot), to uncomfortably bad (Tarzan), to decent (The Color Purple). One thing I noticed is that, without fail, there was always someone sitting near or behind me that deserved to be punched in the face - generally, they are classified as talkers, eaters, latecomers, seat kickers, and general idiots.

At The Color Purple, there were the three girls who came into the performance one hour and twenty minutes late. I mean, if you're going to be that late, you might as well not even go - run down to Times Square, grab a bite to eat at the Olive Garden and then hop the PATH train back to New Jersey. If I owned a theater, I would institute a strict policy that all people who arrive more than ten minutes late you be denied entry until intermission. Although I must admit the three latecomers did distract me momentarily from the woman behind me who seemed to be wrestling open a giant bag of Combos or something. Jesus lady, eat before the performance. I turned around and looked at her and let's just say that she could have waited until intermission. The performances were great although the material left a little to be desired.

Next was Spamalot and it was wonderful and funny. Fortunately, nothing sticks out in mind as being too obnoxious although listening to a group of sixteen year olds quote Monty Python while entering the theater wasn't too fun. I should give them slack as I think I might have probably done the same.

I then saw Ring of Fire which is a revue of Johnny Cash songs. The music was, of course, great and the performances were top notch but the staging of the numbers came of as a live Branson version of a Hee-Haw skit. It was very much, "Hey! Let's act out A Boy Named Sue." There was a woman behind me who insisted reading the Playbill to her boyfriend, as if he couldn't read it himself. Before the show I turned around and looked at her and she had that Soviet Internet Bride look although there wasn't any discernible accent. Anyway, about twenty minutes into the show, she gets up, pushes her way through to the aisle and disappears. She reappears right before the end of the first act and repushes her way back to her seat. At intermission I overhear her reading the musical numbers list trying to figure out what she all missed. As you know, Johnny Cash had a song called "Daddy Sang Bass" which, as we all know, is pronounced as "base." Sad Soviet behind me insisted, three times no less to read "Daddy Sang Bass" but pronounced it as the fish, not the vocal part. I found this incredibly funny and started laughing out loud. People in the aisle looked at me funny as I there was no one near me. This just made me laugh even harder until I was so far caught up in the giggle loop that I couldn't escape.

I saw Tarzan and it did not go well. First, the show was horrible. Second, the songs were not memorable. Third, most of the cast were dressed as apes and swung around on bungy cords and stuff. Four, the staging was really awful. Hell, I could have come up with a better concept than that. I'm still trying to figure out how Jane ended up taking her clothes off before getting caught in a giant spider's web. Oh, and I started laughing when the spider made it appearance. It looked like one of the aliens that always appears in the Simpsons' Halloween episodes. Five, kids, kids, kids. Six, talking kids with adults who didn't explain to their children about theater etiquette and the difference between watching a DVD and being in a show. I was forced to turn around and in a normal speaking voice publicly shame the woman and her two kids. It was fun!

Lestat was okay but I don't anticipate it having a long run. Of course, who would have thought Mamma Mia would have been a success. I had the privilege of sitting in front of someone who kicked the back of my seat about fifty times. This prompted me to mention during intermission that I would prefer he stopped.

Sweeney Todd was great although the person next to me was a mouth breather and smelled weird. Then, there was the man behind me who pretended to know much more about the show than he did. I think it was an effort to impress his date. It was apparent, at least to me a Sondheim aficionado, that this man was an idiot and deserved to be punched.

Basically, I love to go to the theater but hate everyone that sits around me. I wonder if that's a character flaw?

Can't I Just Buy the CD?

I was in Borders today to buy the new Morrissey CD. As I approached the counter I was asked:

1) Did you find everything alright? Yes.

2) Would you like to sign up for our on-line newsletter? No.

3) Would you like to join our Readers reward Club? No.

4) It's free. No.

5) Can I get your home phone number? No.

What the hell? Is this 20 questions? What happened to plopping down your merchandise before a sullen disaffected employee who would ring it up and let you leave in peace? Yes, I would love to save 15% on today's purchase but no, I do not want your 30% interest store credit card. Jesus, if you want to steal my identity, just dig throught my garbage like other identity thieves. Maybe I should just hand over a urine sample at the beginning of each transaction and tell them that all the answers to their questions are in there.

Oops, what I meant to say ...

So, I'm in ABQ and the Greeth, Dr. A., went out to have about 7 martinis each and then decided to go home and play Scattergories. While playing and trying to justify our drunken answer to such simple directives as "girl's name" "letter E" the Greeth pops up with the name Eunice Kim. I though his answer was cute and meant to be preventative just in case someone else chose Eunice as a name but without a middle name. I settled on Ella but that didn't come with a great back story. 5 commented on why he would include a middle name and the Greeth remarked that Eunice Kim was indeed, her whole name. He then launched into a drunken explanation of who Eunice Kim was and her role in his high school awkwardness. Within his explanation, we collectively ran off into the tangential sunset. Basically, Eunice Kim taught us that sometimes, we all say, inadvertently, the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Case Study One: The Greeth is in homeroom in his Concorde Massachusetts high school and trying to talk to this girl, Eunice Kim, who happens to be Filipina. A friend interrupts and the Greeth stammers about his friend and means to tell Eunice Kim that his friend is both a geek and a goof. Sadly, the Greeth tells Eunice Kim that his friend is a "gook." I'm sure that went over really well.

Case Study Two: My friend Don Reilly once accidentally said that his bookmark was a birthmark but only in front of a girl with a big strawberry birthmark on her face.

Case Study Three: Dr. A reports that in a high school biology reading, someone continually read aloud "orgasm" instead of "organism."

Does that mean that if I think "Thank You" but it comes out "Fuck You" I can be forgiven?

Welcome back to the 80s

I headed out on Tuesday night to Albuquerque to attend a CLE. I had lived there for a few years in the late 90s and was excited to get back and see all of my old friends. I met up with some on Wednesday and went for lunch. On our way to lunch, I saw a woman wearing a yellow double breasted jacket with shoulder pads that would have made the costume designers on Dynasty feel inferior. But wait, it's 2006, right? Not in New Mexico. Here, women still use curling irons so that they have ringlet framed faces. Late 80s clawed bangs, whether forward or back, are still in vogue. Hot rollers? Still sold at the Walgreens.

Last night I saw a woman at a bar wearing denim shorts, black hose, tan shoes, and some sort of strappy top without a back. I'm sure she thought she was very fashionable. No wonder I felt out of place wearing my pink toile western cut shirt that I bought in Buenos Aires. With a pair of leather pink Airbornes (also bought in BA). Suddenly, I'm the odd one?

As the old saying goes, "Welcome to New Mexico, please set your watches back 20 years."

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to Don, the man who came up with the name Happy Chicken Swing Set. I heart thee. As you can read from the posting about the birth of HCSS, the name was born over weird South American pizza.

Please Stay off the Road ...

I'm happily driving to work this glorious Monday morning, pretending: A) it's not Monday morning; B) I'm not all screwed up because of the time change; and C) I love to go to work, when I notice this woman wearing headphones while driving. Now this isn't the first time I've seen this but this time they weren't the little ear buds/ear plug kind. These were the full on Princess Leia Organa sort that cover the entire ear and probably came with that curly cord with a giant plug. How can you drive with those on your head? I know this is illegal (headphones generally) because I once got a ticket in PA for doing the same (at which time my Mom found out that I had my license suspended for 3 speeding tickets in 6 months (I was 18!)). I've actually had a few tickets in PA even though I never lived there - but no speeding tickets.

Then I pull up to a red light in the inner most lane (but not a dedicated left turn only lane) and the car in front of me, when the light changes, pulls into the intersection and then, and only then, puts on her signal to turn left. Now I'm stuck behind her with a parade of cars zooming by in the outer lane and I am stuck. This is not the first time this has happened either.

Then, a car pulls out right in front of me and proceeds to go 10 miles under the posted limit. On this particular road, that means he's going 15 mph. Doesn't matter that there was nothing coming behind me or the car couldn't have waited.

Oh, and I'll share the road with you my bicyclist friend when you begin to obey all the trafic laws. It's no wonder motorists hate bicyclists. I rarely tend to use my car horn but sometimes some idiot's behavior is so egregious that I'm forced to use. Sadly, I have one of those new fangled car horns that is built in so you kind of have to hit a region of the steering column and hope for the best. I have about a 50% rating on successfully hitting it. Instead, often I end up angry and frustrated, furiously hitting my steering wheel to no end ... except maybe a sore hand.

I only have a 20 minute commute, mostly on sidestreets so there is very little variance. But, in that 20 minutes, about 7 cars and drivers piss me off to no end so that by the time I get to work, I'm in a foul mood. Even though I generally tend to skew to the "you're an asshole" personality (or nascent sociopath as one on-line personality quiz suggested), I try to be a good driver. Won't someone else try the same?