Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Who could be mad?
At Viggo, I mean. Apparently, he and his new galpal, Josie D'Abry, stayed holed up in their Paris hotel room for an entire weekend. I am not mad at him and I celebrate her!
At Viggo, I mean. Apparently, he and his new galpal, Josie D'Abry, stayed holed up in their Paris hotel room for an entire weekend. I am not mad at him and I celebrate her!
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
Stop wincing and crying aloud
That's a quote from The Comedian himself who got himself back into my good graces (temporarily, I'm sure) by incorporating the Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown domestic dispute into his stand up. How did he do this? By pointing out the similarities between that case and one of my favorite movies of ALL TIME - What's Love Got to Do With It? He did Bobby as Ike. That was funny, mah friends.
Oh, well. Guess you had to be there.
In other news... Miss Essie Mae Washington Williams. As Mr. X notes, any one with that name demands the honorific. Miss Essie Mae looks (unfortunately) EGGZACTLY like her "illegitimate father." I adore that particular turn of phrase. So apt, isn't it? Anyway, my point is... what is the big deal?
Is it that Dixiecrat Strom Thurmond (the staunchest of supporters of Jim Crow segregation) obviously believed in integration of the most intimate kind in his private life? No, that just made him a hypocrite of the same stripe found throughout the history of this country! Can anyone say Thomas Jefferson? Who, by the way, believed that people of color were innately inferior to whites. Again, didn't stop him from sneaking around with Miss Sally Hemings. But that's another blog entry.
Could it be that Thurmond was 22 and Miss Essie Mae's mother was a 16-year old maid in his father's house at the time of their liaision? No, that's nothing. To be expected as a matter of droit du seigneur, natch.
Come on, people. The really big deal is that most Americans are shocked. Shocked. Please. Miscegenation - itself a misnomer BECAUSE WE ARE ALL OF THE HUMAN RACE - is not new and neither is being in denial of it.
Wake up!
That's a quote from The Comedian himself who got himself back into my good graces (temporarily, I'm sure) by incorporating the Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown domestic dispute into his stand up. How did he do this? By pointing out the similarities between that case and one of my favorite movies of ALL TIME - What's Love Got to Do With It? He did Bobby as Ike. That was funny, mah friends.
Oh, well. Guess you had to be there.
In other news... Miss Essie Mae Washington Williams. As Mr. X notes, any one with that name demands the honorific. Miss Essie Mae looks (unfortunately) EGGZACTLY like her "illegitimate father." I adore that particular turn of phrase. So apt, isn't it? Anyway, my point is... what is the big deal?
Is it that Dixiecrat Strom Thurmond (the staunchest of supporters of Jim Crow segregation) obviously believed in integration of the most intimate kind in his private life? No, that just made him a hypocrite of the same stripe found throughout the history of this country! Can anyone say Thomas Jefferson? Who, by the way, believed that people of color were innately inferior to whites. Again, didn't stop him from sneaking around with Miss Sally Hemings. But that's another blog entry.
Could it be that Thurmond was 22 and Miss Essie Mae's mother was a 16-year old maid in his father's house at the time of their liaision? No, that's nothing. To be expected as a matter of droit du seigneur, natch.
Come on, people. The really big deal is that most Americans are shocked. Shocked. Please. Miscegenation - itself a misnomer BECAUSE WE ARE ALL OF THE HUMAN RACE - is not new and neither is being in denial of it.
Wake up!
Thursday, December 11, 2003
Shoot, They Knew She was Ghetto When They Hired Her
Not much time for blogging today. Maybe this will hold you over 'til tomorrow.
Not much time for blogging today. Maybe this will hold you over 'til tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
When should I start to worry?
One of the stories on Morning Edition yesterday was an update on the Malvo Trial. A psychologist testifying on Malvo's behalf said that Malvo had been brainwashed by Muhammed. Okay. And then, the psychologist noted that Malvo had seen "The Matrix" over one hundred times. I knew it was coming! The black trench coat theory surfaces again. (And what fabulous coats they were.)
Full Disclosure: I'm sure I've watched "The Matrix" at least one hundred times and I haven't shot anyone.
Yet.
One of the stories on Morning Edition yesterday was an update on the Malvo Trial. A psychologist testifying on Malvo's behalf said that Malvo had been brainwashed by Muhammed. Okay. And then, the psychologist noted that Malvo had seen "The Matrix" over one hundred times. I knew it was coming! The black trench coat theory surfaces again. (And what fabulous coats they were.)
Full Disclosure: I'm sure I've watched "The Matrix" at least one hundred times and I haven't shot anyone.
Yet.
Monday, December 08, 2003
My weekend
Oooh, look. I've developed a theme. Let's hope I find a new one soon! The Amazing One and I were just girls together this weekend. The Comedian had an actual gig (YAY!) and was away from home. So, our weekend was quiet for the most part. Well, except for the Studio City Holiday Parade. The Amazing One's school chorus marched in the parade. As a proud member of said chorus, she was happy to participate. As her proud mother, I was THRILLED to participate. Even if it meant that I, too, had to march in the parade.
Have I mentioned that I hate parades? Except for the ones at Disneyland, I mean. Those are okay. Anyway, the kids were all extremely cute. With all the parents marching along, the number of paraders nearly outmatched the number of observers.
After the festivities, the Amazing One and I toasted one another with hot cocoa (homemade, mind you, not from any mix!) and watched The Pirates of the Caribbean. I am not providing a link as you very well know to what I am referring. Yo ho, me hearties. A pirate's life for me. If it comes packaged with Johnny Depp, count me in.
I mention this only because I had occasion to see part of Cutthroat Island over the weekend. Now, you may not know this film. Nor should you. It. is. bad. Not even a bourbon and cola could make it palatable. I know, I tried. I guess the programmers over at Starz thought that the Pirates blockbuster would make the viewing audience hungry for more pirate movies. Yeah. Good ones, maybe.
And, so.... another weekend gone.
Oooh, look. I've developed a theme. Let's hope I find a new one soon! The Amazing One and I were just girls together this weekend. The Comedian had an actual gig (YAY!) and was away from home. So, our weekend was quiet for the most part. Well, except for the Studio City Holiday Parade. The Amazing One's school chorus marched in the parade. As a proud member of said chorus, she was happy to participate. As her proud mother, I was THRILLED to participate. Even if it meant that I, too, had to march in the parade.
Have I mentioned that I hate parades? Except for the ones at Disneyland, I mean. Those are okay. Anyway, the kids were all extremely cute. With all the parents marching along, the number of paraders nearly outmatched the number of observers.
After the festivities, the Amazing One and I toasted one another with hot cocoa (homemade, mind you, not from any mix!) and watched The Pirates of the Caribbean. I am not providing a link as you very well know to what I am referring. Yo ho, me hearties. A pirate's life for me. If it comes packaged with Johnny Depp, count me in.
I mention this only because I had occasion to see part of Cutthroat Island over the weekend. Now, you may not know this film. Nor should you. It. is. bad. Not even a bourbon and cola could make it palatable. I know, I tried. I guess the programmers over at Starz thought that the Pirates blockbuster would make the viewing audience hungry for more pirate movies. Yeah. Good ones, maybe.
And, so.... another weekend gone.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
My morning
6:00AM precisely. My alarm clock (which I set faithfully each night) buzzes. I stretch out an arm and shut it off. I turn over and go right back to sleep (as I do every morning). I awaken at 6:40AM. Late.
After performing the necessary ablutions, I awaken the Amazing One at 7:00AM. She begs for "just a few more minutes." I, being a compete wuss where she is concerned, allow her this luxury. Also, the skirt that I've unearthed from a pile of clothes in the corner is wrinkled. I have to iron it. Now, I'm even later.
I slap together a not so healthy breakfast for the fruit of my womb. It's 7:20AM now. We have to leave the apartment in 20 minutes. I start yelling at my blessed event. "Hurry up!" and the like. She and I both start getting dressed. No delicious Mommy-made lunch for her today. Nope. She'll have to make do on the allegedly healthy and nutritionally balanced school lunch.
It's 7:30AM. I dash across the hallway into her room in my Jockeys to berate her into getting dressed faster. I search through her embarrassingly untidy lingerie (do eight-year olds have lingerie?) drawer for an undershirt. I pause to adjust said Jockeys. She says, "It's okay, Mommy. I'll just blot that out."
Ouch. Is all.
6:00AM precisely. My alarm clock (which I set faithfully each night) buzzes. I stretch out an arm and shut it off. I turn over and go right back to sleep (as I do every morning). I awaken at 6:40AM. Late.
After performing the necessary ablutions, I awaken the Amazing One at 7:00AM. She begs for "just a few more minutes." I, being a compete wuss where she is concerned, allow her this luxury. Also, the skirt that I've unearthed from a pile of clothes in the corner is wrinkled. I have to iron it. Now, I'm even later.
I slap together a not so healthy breakfast for the fruit of my womb. It's 7:20AM now. We have to leave the apartment in 20 minutes. I start yelling at my blessed event. "Hurry up!" and the like. She and I both start getting dressed. No delicious Mommy-made lunch for her today. Nope. She'll have to make do on the allegedly healthy and nutritionally balanced school lunch.
It's 7:30AM. I dash across the hallway into her room in my Jockeys to berate her into getting dressed faster. I search through her embarrassingly untidy lingerie (do eight-year olds have lingerie?) drawer for an undershirt. I pause to adjust said Jockeys. She says, "It's okay, Mommy. I'll just blot that out."
Ouch. Is all.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
Not so 'Simple' in the final analysis...
Unlike my dear co-worker friends across the hall, I had to watch the premiere broadcast of The Simple Life on regular TV like most other plebeians. My goodness, the reams any grad student worth his or her salt could write on this show. Let's just look at the issues, people.
CLASS - the huge elephant in the living room of American life. I'm still trying to decide what the heck is going on. On the one hand, you've got two girls who've got access to more money than they will ever, ever need. Oh, and they both were raised in the very lap of luxury, lest you forget. On the other hand, you've got an almost stereotypical American heartland farm family. That is, poor. No one comes out and says that though.
Well, conflict makes for good fiction. But this is Reality TV, you say. I say, "Hah!" But I digress. Our focus is on the efforts of the two silly, spoiled heiresses adjusting to life on the farm. To be fair, our mediators do spend a smallish amount of time recording the shock and awe experienced by the humble family upon the invasion on blonde, scantily clad, nubile dollar signs.
GENDER - well, they are young women, obviously. Very obviously. And according to what I've read, the producers deliberately sought out a family with teenaged sons. The promo for next week's show looked extremely salacious. Can't wait.
RACE - you know I have to play the race card when I have it (and I always have it). Conspicuous by its absence considering Nicole is the daughter of Lionel "Easy Like Sunday Morning" Richie. I scoured the crowd at the farewell party for the girls. No sign of the former Mrs. Ritchie, Brenda - she of the fast flying fists. I believe that she would have stood out in that particular crowd.
HAIR - what is up with their awful, horrible weaves? Yuck.
FASHION - these girls could bring the use of the word 'slattern' to all time highs.
I'll keep watching and posting on this issue. More later.
Unlike my dear co-worker friends across the hall, I had to watch the premiere broadcast of The Simple Life on regular TV like most other plebeians. My goodness, the reams any grad student worth his or her salt could write on this show. Let's just look at the issues, people.
CLASS - the huge elephant in the living room of American life. I'm still trying to decide what the heck is going on. On the one hand, you've got two girls who've got access to more money than they will ever, ever need. Oh, and they both were raised in the very lap of luxury, lest you forget. On the other hand, you've got an almost stereotypical American heartland farm family. That is, poor. No one comes out and says that though.
Well, conflict makes for good fiction. But this is Reality TV, you say. I say, "Hah!" But I digress. Our focus is on the efforts of the two silly, spoiled heiresses adjusting to life on the farm. To be fair, our mediators do spend a smallish amount of time recording the shock and awe experienced by the humble family upon the invasion on blonde, scantily clad, nubile dollar signs.
GENDER - well, they are young women, obviously. Very obviously. And according to what I've read, the producers deliberately sought out a family with teenaged sons. The promo for next week's show looked extremely salacious. Can't wait.
RACE - you know I have to play the race card when I have it (and I always have it). Conspicuous by its absence considering Nicole is the daughter of Lionel "Easy Like Sunday Morning" Richie. I scoured the crowd at the farewell party for the girls. No sign of the former Mrs. Ritchie, Brenda - she of the fast flying fists. I believe that she would have stood out in that particular crowd.
HAIR - what is up with their awful, horrible weaves? Yuck.
FASHION - these girls could bring the use of the word 'slattern' to all time highs.
I'll keep watching and posting on this issue. More later.
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Just how geeky am I?
Hmmm.... when it comes to viewing preferences, pretty geeky, I guess:
- I am a rabid fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel (the better show, even I must admit). Go here for scholarly discussions of both series.
- I could probably write a dissertation on The Matrix (just the first one, the sequels are just not worthy). Read up on the philosophy of the film here.
- I am right now in the midst of re-reading "The Lord of The Rings." December 17 just can't come quickly enough for me. See the trailer for The Return of the King here.
Upon reflection, maybe I'm not a such geek after all. Each item on this list has at least one thing in common: HOTTIES.
Okay, let's take 'em two at a time.
David Boreanaz and James Marsters (who are at this very moment gazing down at me from a fabulous Angel Season 5 poster in my office. Sigh!) HOT.
Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne (I LOVE HIM no matter what Mr. X and Lala may say). HOT.
Viggo Mortensen (OMG) and Orlando Bloom. HOT.
See. I'm not a geek.
Okay, I guess I really am. But that's beside the point.
Hmmm.... when it comes to viewing preferences, pretty geeky, I guess:
- I am a rabid fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel (the better show, even I must admit). Go here for scholarly discussions of both series.
- I could probably write a dissertation on The Matrix (just the first one, the sequels are just not worthy). Read up on the philosophy of the film here.
- I am right now in the midst of re-reading "The Lord of The Rings." December 17 just can't come quickly enough for me. See the trailer for The Return of the King here.
Upon reflection, maybe I'm not a such geek after all. Each item on this list has at least one thing in common: HOTTIES.
Okay, let's take 'em two at a time.
David Boreanaz and James Marsters (who are at this very moment gazing down at me from a fabulous Angel Season 5 poster in my office. Sigh!) HOT.
Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne (I LOVE HIM no matter what Mr. X and Lala may say). HOT.
Viggo Mortensen (OMG) and Orlando Bloom. HOT.
See. I'm not a geek.
Okay, I guess I really am. But that's beside the point.
Monday, December 01, 2003
Hmmm.... so much to say, so little time
That's because my boss - who is a great boss, as far as bosses go - stacked up work for me BIG TIME! That's what I get for leaving work early on the day before a long holiday weekend. My leaving early was his idea. Or was it? In any event, I didn't demur. I ain't that type o' gal.
In case you haven't seen it already, why don't you drop on by The Boondocks. Aaron McGruder just won't leave Condi alone. Anyone who gives a shout out to The Bishop Don "Magic" Juan is okay with me.
That's because my boss - who is a great boss, as far as bosses go - stacked up work for me BIG TIME! That's what I get for leaving work early on the day before a long holiday weekend. My leaving early was his idea. Or was it? In any event, I didn't demur. I ain't that type o' gal.
In case you haven't seen it already, why don't you drop on by The Boondocks. Aaron McGruder just won't leave Condi alone. Anyone who gives a shout out to The Bishop Don "Magic" Juan is okay with me.
