Movie Reviews: Brick

O.k., here's the thing. I liked it o.k. It was fast-paced, there was a lot involved it was great. That's not my problem. My problem is that the little blurb at the back of the DVD listed Lukas Haas's character as being ominous, which I was utterly looking forward to. I mean, that's what the Amish Kid from Witness needs right? To be edgy and ominous and dark. Sweet. Bring it on. But he wasn't edgy or ominous at all. He was essentially the same old Lukas Haas with a gimp, a bad hair cut and a walking stick featuring a duck on it, which, the Hell? And then, the very next scene he's in? He's sitting next to a ceramic rooster pitcher smugly eating a cookie. Not very ominous, not the psycho dark portrayal I was hoping for. But it was signature Lukas. The smugly eating a cookie thing though? Cracked me up.

It just really felt out of place to me, his performance. I enjoyed the movie as a whole, even if I didn't understand what was going on fully, and everyone's performance (except for maybe Lukas's) in it. I especially enjoyed the kid who plays The Brain. I loved that character for reasons I can't quite explain. And I'll just say it now. Joseph Gorden-Levitt was amazing. He had the chops in this movie and worked it hard. All and all a good movie, especially with the cookie eating, I can't explain why.

Two Word Book Review: As Simple As Snow

Unfuriatingly Good.

FMK

Sometimes you are posed questions that you are never going to have adaquate answers for. Maybe, even if you thought about the questions a thousand times for a thousand hours, you still wouldn't adaquate answers.

There's a game we play on long road trips and on the off days when we need to kill time. I wasn't the first one to come up with it. I can't take claim for it. I'm not actually sure where I picked it up, on the internet somewhere. Fuck Marry Kill. FMK in polite company. The premise is simple. Name three people, usually of the same sex, alive, dead, real, imaginary, any three people you could think of and have the person you are talking with decide out of the three who they would Marry, who they would One-Night Stand and who they would Kill outright. It is a variation of Death is Not an Option, but with another variable and seemingly endless variations.

I got a call from Fighting Nun today. Driver's License (That's a friend's nickname. I'm calling him Driver's License because the subject of his age was a frequent subject of debate and conversation amongst us, to the point that he had Fighting Nun convinced he was much older than he actually was, until I asked to see his Driver's License) wanted Fighting Nun to ask me a rather serious question of the upmost urgency. Of the following people, who would I Fuck, Marry, and Kill? The people were Mr. Burns, Donald Trump, Larry King. I was pretty dumbfounded by the choices. I couldn't talk for a moment. My answer went like this: "I'd marry Larry King because he's got a bum ticker and could keel over at any moment, I'd Fuck Donald Trump (God Help Me!) and I'd Kill Mr. Burns because I remember too much about the episode where he was naked and yee-ach." Fighting Nun and Driver's License wanted to debate my choices and there relative merits, but we're all three at our respective jobs so we didn't have time to mull over the matter. I said we'd continue the conversation over beers and buffalo wings at Hooters. I hung up but started thinking about it more.

At first I thought my answer should've been: I'd Marry Larry King because his marriages have the life expectancy of a fruit fly anyway, plus the bum ticker (and hasn't he had as many marriages as by-passes? What is that about anyway?) I'd Fuck Mr. Burns (which, God Help Me!) and I'd kill Mr. Trump with his own hair, because Heh!

But now I'm aware that it's a trick question and that my answer should've been: I'd kill myself before I'd have to make that choice. Because Ye-ach! Shudder. Maybe the real answer is in the trite T-shirt many of the death-metal kids wore at my school "Kill 'em all. Let God sort 'em out." Which brings up an interesting question: If God was faced with the eternal question of FMK between Larry King, Mr. Burns and Donald Trump, what would God do? No, What Would Jesus Do?

I'm kind of convinced that Jesus would marry Donald Trump so that they could talk about their respective hair styles in The Great Beyond. I'm sort of convinced Jesus would kill off Mr. Burns, but I'm not so sure. I'm not sure that Jesus and Larry King would make great bedfellows. That just seems awkward. I'm now inundated with visuals of Larry King and Jesus spooning, with Jesus's hair all in Larry King's mouth. It's not a pretty visual, I have to say.

So now I'm stuck with more questions than answers. And a Larry King cuddling up to Jesus on a bear rug. I think I might have to go pray now.

Eragon

Eeeeeeeeee! The trailer for the movie looks so good (follow the link above)!!!! So frigging good!!! I can not wait! Not wait at frigging all!!!! December 15th bitches!!! I'll see you all there!!!

Warning: teeny weeny little nit to pick to follow: I'm just a little bugged at some of the casting in the movie. John Malcovich as King Galbatorix is not what I expected at all. And I definately did not see Jeremy Irons as Brom. I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt on this one, but they are not who I had casted for the part at all. I had Bernard Hill casted as the part of Brom. It just seemed more fitting somehow.

Thus ends the nit I had to pick. I'll save all judgement for the movie. Must go squee now. Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!! When's the third book coming out? Great I've got to go find out now. Eeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

The Bloody Munchkin's Media Consumption

Currently Reading - Freaking love this book. Like can't stop reading it kind of love. I pounded out roughly 200 pages in one day because it was absolutely driving me nuts. I'm not finished with it, but I better be done with it after lunch otherwise it will absolutely kill me. Fighting Nun, this is all your fault. You sighed. You just had to sigh didn't you!!! Jesus.

Listening To - I've listened to this album several times now, and I keep going back to it because it just feels right. Some songs I like way better than others but the whole album just fits. And it definately fits with my current reading material. It's kind of haunting actually.

Finished Reading - Sean Decker, if you ever come back to the Bay Area, give me a call. I'd love to buy you a beer. If there is a God in Heaven, we will some day be friends. I'd elaborate about how important this book is to me, how absolutely priceless your narrative is to my life, but I don't have time for that right now, just know that I loved your book and think the world of you and your story.

Not Watching - Sorry Jeremy Sisto. This one was partly my bad. I've recorded all the episodes, I just haven't watched them. But I've been busy. If they do happen to bring your show back, I will watch it. I promise.

Finished Watching - Good. Surprisingly Good. And Morgan Freeman is in it, which means it automatically jumps at least two letter grades. So I'm giving it an A+++. The Extra + is for Lucy Liu's hair. I covet that hair. COVET!!!! And if I was running the world I'd give the two body guards from the deleted scenes their own movie. If you watch the deleted scenes, you know what I'd mean.

Also Watched - Oy, Just Oy.

Two More Made-Up Band Names

The Perky Bastards

And, also because Fighting Nun might not shut up about it unless I put in on the website:

Amish Nuclear Administrator

I am officially putting a morterium on any further Amish references, otherwise its going to turn into a running gag we had involving Terri Shivo (which the less said, the better.) and by the end, we didn't even find those jokes funny anymore. I'm just saying.

Was this Really Neccessary?

Hall and Oates? A Christmas Album? I just... The words are in English but I don't understand. I'm with Omar though. They should call the album Deck the Hall and Oates, because perfect. Home for Christmas? Pffft.

Random Tuesday Morning Conversation

Fighting Nun: What's that light that's going off on your car? Oh, the Change Oil light. Tell your car its not time to change the oil. It's not time to change the oil.
Bloody Munchkin: Is it time to make the donuts then?
FN: Time to make the donuts?
BM: The Dunkin Donuts guy? It's time to make the donuts.
FN: Oh yeah. No not time to make the donuts.
BM: Well is it time to get ill?
FN: "What's the time? It's time to get Ill!" No its not that time. No its Amish Revolution time.
BM: Amish Revolution Time? Nah (coming up to red light) Stop. Hammer Time.
FN: No, no, no. Hammer Time is only between the hours of Noon and 2 A.M. That's the only time he's allowed, by law, to break out the Parachute Pants.
BM: No, that was before he became The Reverend MC Hammer. Now hammer time is between the hours 10 and 1 on Sunday. Do you think he wears the Parachute Pants during his sermons?
FN: Uhm No.
BM: You know what? That's a crying shame. I might actually start going to church if it involved MC Hammer and his Parachute Pants. Hell, I'd actually be a paying member of his church if he wore parachute pants during his sermons. "Do you know what time it is? It's Hammer Time. And. It's time for Je-sus-ah."
FN: That's nice dear. It's coffee time.

Made-Up Band Names: Submission 10?

Thanks to a real estate magazine:

Historic Dairy of Distinction

It's like the Red House Painters, but with a twist...

Boo!

O.k., so I've been seeing this image everywhere on MSN, and it's scaring the little baby cheese sauce out of me. I mean that's just creepy. If this image is supposed to make me want to watch your vanity project 'Apocolyptico', Mel Gibson, then you sir should have checked yourself into a mental institution instead of Promises, or whatever rehab clinic you checked yourself into, Sugartits, because all this image makes me want to do is shudder. Loudly.

You did inform this kid he wasn't trying out for "Hannibal: The Early Years" didn't you, because that kid has a look in his eye that basically says "I'd like to have your brains with some fava beans and a nice bottle of chianti", which, and correct me if I'm wrong here, I don't think that was what you were going for, unless this movie is about a bunch of cannibalistic children, then you hit it right on the head.

I just... this kid just.... *shudder*. In fact I've kept comparing him to that one kid character in Dark City. You know, the small kid with the beady eyes and the really sharp teeth that bit Rufus Sewell and looked like he really enjoyed it? Yeah, I kept waiting for this kid to jump out of the picture and take a big bite out of my forearm. Looks Like I know what I'll be having nightmares about tonight. *Shudder*

Made-Up Band Names: Submission ?

I don't come up with enough made-up band names as much anymore, but this one was too good to pass up:

Pork Donut

I kind of invision this one as a Green Jelly type knock-off. Anybody else remember Green Jelly or am I like a bajillion years old? I mean somebody's got to remember that horrible heavy-metal rendition of "Three Little Pigs" they did back in the day. Guess it's just me then.

Fighting Nun Vs. Scientology

I probably shouldn't be telling this story, since technically it is not mine to tell, but it happens to be way toooooo good to pass up so I'll try and tell it anyway. I'll begin with the moral of the story first: Don't get suckered into taking a stress test. I don't care how cute the girl is. I don't care if beer shoots out of her nipples, it's not worth it. The cute girl will not sleep with you. No lap dances will be involved. Hell she won't even administer the stress test herself. She'll pass you off to someone less attractive. You be stuck, holding onto an e-meter without so much as another word uttering from the cute girl's lips and you'll be talked into spending six bucks on Dianetics.

Apparantly, Fighting Nun had not known this. Apparantly Fighting Nun had to learn it the hard way, the hard way being he had to spend the six bucks on Dianetics and give them a false address in order to slip away early. The actual story of what tooked place in Scientology center, not mine to tell. I will set the stage a little, just to give the story context. So for a month or so now, I've been taking a class in San Francisco one night a week. That one night a week, Fighting Nun meets me up in the city and we drive back home together. He usually has a little time to kill before my class lets out, and last night he inadvertantly decided to kill that time by getting suckered into a stress test. I'll leave that up to Fighting Nun to recount, if he cares to. The merciless fun I made at his expense after the fact? Definately a story I can tell. The resulting dialog went something like this:

Bloody Munchkin: I can't believe you got suckered into a stress test.
Fighting Nun: The girl was cute.
BM: Cute enough to get yourself hooked up to an e-meter?
FN: Uh, she didn't even administer the stress test.
BM: You got bait and switched into taking a stress test? Ha! You fell for the oldest trick in the book. That's how they hook you in.
FN: Well it worked. I had thirty minutes to kill and they took all of it. All. Of. It.
BM: I believe it. I hear some of those stress tests take up to an hour, sometimes longer. I'm amazed you made it out unscathed.
FN: Uhm, I didn't. I had to buy the book.
BM: We own Dianetics now?
FN: We own Dianetics now... You know you can stop laughing. It's not that funny. I fully intend to read it, just to you know, be objective.
BM: You're actually going to read it?
FN: I dunno. I am interested in keeping an open mind about religions and stuff, even if this one happens to be kind of cultish.
BM: I give you the being open minded about religions and stuff, but damn. Please tell me you didn't give them our address.
FN: I gave them a fake one.
BM: Thank god, because the Mormons still haven't left us alone and if those two organizations showed up on our doorstep, we'd have a front row seat to an apocolyptic battle of stellar proportions.

And as we left the train station:
FN: Try not fall down the stairs this time. (O.k., this statement needs a little prefacing. So two of the last three times leaving the train station, I almost tripped down a flight of stairs, which gave Fighting Nun plenty more arsenal in the "I married a clutzy dork" artillery, which he's got a stock pile of weapons on already, not like he needed more, but I digress).
BM: E-meter!
FN: Shut Up.

And later, on the drive home:
FN: Dude, why didn't I tell them I was already a member, like I was a high ranking part of their center? 'Yeah I'm like an... alpha-red member already... and stuff.'
BM: 'You're John Travolta?'
FN: 'Uh no. I'm.... his son. Yeah.... That's the ticket."
BM: Naw. You should said you were Danny Masterson's brother. They might've bought that.
FN: Who's Danny Masterson?
BM: The kid with the big fro on That 70's Show.
FN: That guy's a dork. He's a Scientologist? I don't want to be related to that guy. Next.
BM: O.k., you could've said you're Jenna Elfman's husband.
FN: The chick from Dharma and Greg? She's hot. O.k. That'll work. Lauren Graham isn't a Scientologist, is she?
BM: Not to my knowledge.
FN: Well, then I don't have to join then.
BM: Well that's a load off, now isn't it? I like how that might actually be a qualifying reason for you to join their religion, like it was also the reason for you take the stress test in the first place. Blindly lead into belief by some cute girl.
FN: Works for me.
BM: Heh. You bought Dianetics because a cute girl forced you to. Heh.
FN: I don't make fun of you for.... stuff.
BM: You make fun of me plenty. It's just that this incident is way funnier.
FN: It's not that funny.
BM: Tom Cruise has you on speed dial now.
FN: Stop it.
BM: Are you ready to accept Suri Cruise into your life as your personal savior?
FN: Quit it.
BM: Have you taken your vitamins yet?
FN: *Pouts lips* .... I... just...*pouts lips some more*

There was some bit about Paxil and Brooke Shields, but I can't remember it now. It was A material though, rest assured. I have a feeling that I'm going to use his adventure Xenu-land like Homer used Marge's gambling problem.

"Remember that time I sliced my finger open trying to peel a butternut squash and you laughed at me for like a few days afterward?"
"Yeah..."
"Well you took a stress test!"
"Remember that time you made fun falling down the stairs and bruising my butt?"
"Yeah..."
"Well yooouuu got sucked into a Scientology Center."

I'm going to have material for days and days. Now if you all will excuse me, I have to go craft some jokes involving John Travolta, Kelly Preston and something about Katie Holmes and a butterfly net, and then I have to call my lawyer to make sure Bert Fields hasn't issued any litigation threats...

*** Please note that I don't have anything against Scientology per say, I just found the whole thing rather amuzing. If Fighting Nun had somehow stumbled upon a Kabbalah center and was asked to buy a red string, rest assured that I'd be making jokes about Madonna, Britney Spears, and Tithing.

An incomplete list of persons, places, and objects that can bite me

For the week of October 1st-7th:

1. My headphones, made by a company that shall not be named but whose name sounds a whole lot like Hose - You can seriously take a big chunk from the fattest part of my ass. This is the third pair of headphones in two years to fall apart on me. Sure, I get them replaced for free because I call the customer service line and act all nice, all the while letting them know I could make a big stink about the string of broken headphone incidents I've had over the past two years, and they usually upgrade me to a swankier set each time because I'm all polite and stuff, but this is seriously the last straw. Just because the headphone speakers are made the the most high-falluting technology and stuff doesn't mean the company gets to cut corners and assemble headphones with the cheapest quality plastic a low-wage factory in South Korea can manage. This is the third head set that's plastic has crumbled. What are they using to assemble these things with, hardened play-doh? Damn, just damn!

2. My car stereo - O.k. car stereo, I really don't want to have this talk again. It's been done. It's kind of trite now, but yet I feel we must have it. I can't handle this little passive-aggressive thing you're forcing on me. I just can't. I get that it's your way of proving that the tape player needs love too, but I don't have any tapes any more. I have no love to give, and if you keep it up, interrupting my radio time that I need in order to get through my dreadful commute, well... there's actually not anything I can do but fume in your general direction every time you do it. Heck, I'm not even doing that anymore, you've actually forced me into the fifth stage of grieving regarding your little problem: Acceptance. I've just resigned myself that this is how you're going to act and then I revert into this fantasyland in my brain where I get to go at you with a bat all Office Space-stylee, and then I do the same thing to my headphones (but I can't do that to my headphones, otherwise I can't get a replacement pair). But seriously, stop it. I don't know how, but Fighting Nun somehow forces you into submission and compliance and it usually sticks for a couple of months, until all the sudden it doesn't. Do I have to let Fighting Nun ram you with a stick so you'll stop? Because you know as well as I do that that ramming things with sticks is one of his favorite pastimes and I really don't like that look in his eye when he gets started, but it that's what it takes so that you work all normal like, well, Fighting Nun ramming things with sticks it is.

3. The Giants Management - O.k., yes, the Giants sucked so hard they blew this season. I understand that, but dude. I mean, It's Alou. You should keep him in the clubhouse just for the sound bites alone, not to mention the righteous anger that is enough to get some radio personalities canned, cause seriously. And yes, you're right, your strategy of a veteran player surrounded by other veterans clearly did not work, so by all means, shake some stuff up on the roster, but for the love of little green apples, leave Alou out of it. You know, that mentality really peeves me, that "Oh, we had a phenomenally crappy season, let's get rid of the coach." The coach can only do so much out there in the clubhouse. He shouldn't be blamed because some of our pitching staff has some of the worst luck ever or any other reason. O.k., so when we canned Dusty Baker, he kind of did deserved it because he manages his pitchers pretty crappily, but Alou, in my mind, is a pretty solid coach, who givess some of the reaction shots on camera out of all the coaches I've ever seen(except for Bocci, because that mustache works ten times more than that coach does, except for the time he cut it off, I was all, "Who is that?" and Fighting Nun was "Duh that's Bocci." and then I gasped because the clean shaven look did nothing for his reaction shots), I mean Alou only has really one look but it's one part perplexed, one part angry, one part constipated and all sorts of awesome and I'm going to miss that.

4. Adobe Illustrator and Adobe Photoshop - I just... it's that... You just... HATE! Hatey Hate! Considering throwing a trout in your general direction hate!!! Just Grrrrr! I haven't been this mad at an Adobe product since I learned FrameMaker on my own. And I mean I was mad in those days. Fighting Nun and I would drive through downtown San Jose and I would shake my fist at the Adobe building and mutter "Why, I oughta" and revert into fantasies about storming their building, wielding insults at anyone in my direction like that immortal alien in the HitchHiker books ("You, good sir, and your software are nitwitts. Good Day.") Yes, I realize I have no idea what I'm doing in Photoshop, but see, the thing is, I just did exactly what I wanted to not a two days ago, and now you're telling me that I can't do the exact thing that I did, not 48 hours ago? How? Why? I don't understand. Are you being passive aggressive like my car stereo? Do I have to call Fighting Nun over here to ram a stick at you? I mean, do you really want to be on the recieving end of that? With that look in his eye? I didn't think so.

5. The class I'm taking - Hey class, whatever big chunk that is left that hy headphones didn't take, you're free to have because bite me. This damn class has gotten me all worked up that I can't even sleep a whole night through. And the parameters for some of the projects I'm doing are so loose, that I have no idea what to do. Yes, I get that the point of graphic design is to make something out of a very thin assignment, but throw me a bone here, seriously. I need just a few little morsels to sink my teeth into so that I understand the assignments a little bit better, but no, nothing. It's all, conjure a project out of thin air, see you on Tuesday... Grrrrr. Hate. Bite. Me. Take a fleshy piece of rear end and go away!!! I'll just sit here, assless, seething at you and my car stereo, and everything else. Or, I could have Fighting Nun ram a stick at you... with that look in his eye.

6. My Body - I'm not that freaking old. I just turned 28 for Christ's sake. But yet my body feels all old and rickety. And it hates me. Since I started this class, my body has refused a full night's sleep. My brain just wakes up in the middle of the night, all synapses going, thinking about class, thinking about everything. Just. Going. I mean, the other night, I woke from the dead of sleep with a revelation about... Project Runway. No, really. I mean, WTF? It makes no sense. I love sleep. Love it. I'm very cranky and moody if I don't get my eight hours. I've started taking naps in my car just to cope. So shut up body! I'm tired and I want sleep the whole night and I don't want to wake up to wierd thoughts regarding a reality show I only sort of watch. Let me sleep a full night, or I'll start running. Daily. And I hate running. But I'll do it. Don't test me. And I won't threaten you with Fighting Nun and Ramming Sticks, because I tried that, and that only sort of worked, so I must find an alternate means to will you into submission.

7. The Weather - If my Headphones and the class I'm taking left any fatty tissue on my posterior, well then it's yours. Have at it. Part of the reason I'm pissed off at you, is that the inevitable has happened. The storms are back, marking the end of a rather eventful windsurfing season. Which saddens me. Let's all take a moment of silence. O.k., silence over. Also, you're giving me a sinus headache at the moment. Which means I'm going to be miserable, and crabby, and complainy (like I'm not already, heh) for the next two days because I have my temples will be throbbing out a beat that will sound remarkably like the beat behind "Time to Get Ill" by The Beastie Boys, which means I'll be muttering "What's the time? It's Time to Get Ill" for the next two days until Fighting Nun rams a stick in my direction. So shut up weather, shut up my throbbing temples, and shut up Beastie Boys. It's bad enough that whenever I ask Fighting Nun for the time "Time to Get Ill" is what I hear. Now my temples happen to be meting out that exact rhythem. Grrr Weather *shakes fist* one of these days!

There's more, but I'm too busy suturing my ass checks to complete it.

Money Opportunity

I have a great idea! I have a solution for this terrible time when poor helpless people are being attacked by "aggressive" squirrels (they have big pointy teeth). It's time for my dog to get a job, that's right kissinger you now have a full time job. I'm going to drive the dog to the park every morning to help these poor poor people. The dog's job will be chase the squirrels and teach them a thing or two about the civilized society we live in. I figure he can work off tips and at worst can at least feed himself on what he catches during the day.

Scenes From a Dentist's Chair

So, up until about a month ago, I hadn't been to a dentist in two years (shhh! Don't tell my mom). So I broke down and went a month or so ago. Yesterday I had to go back in to get a cavity filled. Can I just say that Dentists offices are a special brand of hell in and of themselves? Because they are. I never quite remember how much I dislike the experience, which is probably good for me, because if I remember how aweful each and every visit is, I probably would be quite worse with my dental care regime than I am, because Evil!!!

It's not that I hate dentists. Most dentists I've ever been too have been personable enough. Although my last one was a bit abrupt and a bit aggressive on the flossing thing. I really didn't appreciate the flossing tutorial, I'll just say. This dentist is nice. He seems like a good-natured guy, his staff is nice and one of his aides complimented my hair. His office is nice and pleasant, doesn't feel as antiseptic and unwelcoming as some. That part I'm good with. It's just well, It's a dentist. The light, the noise, the inspection. I just dread it. DREAD IT!

Here's a few snippets of my inner monologue during the process.

So what was I coming in for today? Did he want to talk to me about evening out my bite, or was it about the night guard again, or was I getting the pesky cavity filled? I hope it wasn't a cavity fill. I've got to prepare myself for something like that first. Really I do. Aw, his dentist technician seems nice. It's nice that she's asking about my commute home. I wonder why she cares. "Will you be able to call someone if you feel woozy?" Why would I feel woozy. It's not like he's going to numb me. Oh crap, he is going to numb me. No, no he can't. Because I'm not coming in for a cavity fill. Am I?

Thanks for instructing me to lie down Mr. Dentist Man, but with your little automatic chair thingie, it's not like I really had a choice. So can we skip the semantics?

He's going to play a movie why he's all in my mouth. That's rather nice of him. Josh Grobin Live. I've heard of Josh Grobin. Not really heard his music, but my friends say he's cute, maybe this won't be so bad after all... Uhm, is he singing in English? And why is he warbling off key? I... don't understand?

So, uhm, he just used the little blue stick of numbiness on me. I think, yes I think this is a cavity fill...

BIG NEEDLE! BIG NEEDLE IN CHEEK! BIG EFFING NEEDLE IN MY MOUTH RIGHT NOW! AUGH! THIS, THIS IS WHAT I MENTALLY NEEDED TO PREPARE FOR. Your warbling and all those violins are not helping me right now Josh Grobin! Why didn't you tell me there'd be a big needle in my mouth right now, Josh Grobin, if that is your real name? Thanks for your hand nurse. Yes I know I'm squeezing hard, but there's a big needle, see, in my mouth, see? And it's kind of freaking me out right now. If I had time and the capacity to actually talk right now, I'd recount the story why I hate HATE needles, regarding pain medication that got injected in my buttocks when I got my Appendix taken out at the tender age of 14 and the needle I bent to tarnation because it hurt and I jumped and now I hate needles, but I can't recount that story because my mouth is numb right now and... Why'd you hand me safety goggles? Is that really necessary?

By the sound of the drill, and the five hundred instrument you just sat down in my mouth, I see that the safety goggles are a necessary precaution. Why am I suddenly thinking about that machine in A Clockwork Orange? Maybe Kubrick's inspiration for it is a dentist's chair.
O.k., so this Josh Grubin is pretty cute. He's kind of got a fro that he's working pretty well. I just... don't get the music. I... Oh dude. The dentist is coming back at me with all manner of... Don't want to know. Must close eyes. Should not look at the devil's tools currently residing in my mouth. But I must look at Josh Grobin's fro. Although... more warbling again. Yeah, I guess I'll pass... Closing eyes now.

Jaw tired. Must close mouth. Wow. I didn't know I'd get shunned for closing my mouth. Great a bite block. Why don't you just give me a bridle and tempt me with a carrot while you're at it. Pull on the reigns and ride me on in to town why don't cha?

O.k., so Josh Grobins like lead violinist or whatever? Very cute? She's rockin that violin hard ya'll, seriously.

O.k., more things involving needles, yes I understand it's only the composite and is not technically being inserted anywhere important, anywhere I can feel at least, but I don't want to see it. I just don't.

Ow! Or at least I think ow, but I don't actually feel ow, but I see blood. Yes he apologized for pinching my lip, but still. I'm bleeding over here. In the immortal words of Nelson "You made me bleed my own blood!" And do I feel any difference? You really have the nerve to ask me that? What do you think? You just filled my left jaw with enough novacaine to fell an elephant and you ask me if I CAN FEEL ANY DIFFERENCE? No. And also, don't expect to carry on a conversation with me, because I am dribbling right now and am not capable of it. Also, do me a big favor; when you are talking to me, address me. Because there were like nine different times when I thought you were instructing me to do something and you were actually talking to your assistant but I didn't know it so I made some sound trying to convey that I didn't hear you, and you're all, "Don't move. Don't talk." Well not my fault Mr. Glumbles-Instructions. I get confused easy.

SHUT UP JOSH GROBIN! Shut up Josh Grobin's singing, shut up Josh Grobin's spastic violin section with the swaying of drunkenness, shut up Josh Grobin's squinting while singing, and God help me, shut up Josh Grobin's hair. You are not helping right now.

And I'm done. Dude, just dude. Stupid Josh Grobin.

Damn You Sweeps!!!!

Damn You all to Hell! Look, I'm taking a class alright. My brain is much from 8 hours of working, plus another three I feel I must put in on class work every night, but you make it so hard. Soooo Hard. Mostly because of the pretty.

What was I watching last night that I swore I wasn't going to watch last night? Jericho. Why? Skeet Ulrich. Yes, he's seen better, prettier days. But darn it, it's Skeet Ulrich. No what else I can't watch on Tuesday nights because that's the night of my class? Stand Off. Know why I want to watch it? I think the answer is obvious... Ron Livingston with a side of Micheal Cudlitz. Know what else premiered last night? Kidnapped (which I recorded). Know why I have to watch Kidnapped? Jeremy Sisto. His dimples command me. Can you say no to the dimples and the curl-fro that will not stop? Well, I know my husband can, but that's besides the point.

And then there's Monday nights. I'm so Prison Break's bitch. I'm sorry but Wentworth Miller + William Lichtner = Bloody Munchkin's eyes glued to TV. And I can't watch any of it with any regularity until 2007 because I'm taking a class. I'm so hurt right now. I'm just going to curl up in a corner and wimper until next year's sweeps...

The only Willie Nelson Story You'll Ever Need

"Willie Nelson Cited for Drug Possession"

I love this story. I love the fact the arresting officer's name is Willie Williamson. I love that he smelled a strong odor of marijuana when he entered the tour bus. I love how they listed out every illegal substance he had in his possession. I love that he was busted with a misdeamenor charge. I love the fact that everyone named in the story could theoretically be a card-carrying member of AARP. I love Crazy, Druggie Willie. Oh Willie, don't ever stop you old coot you!

Also uttered during The Amazing Race

"There are two teams with hot girls in it. I.... I'm so happy. Who do I choose? I've never been faced with this problem before."

Uttered while watching The Amazing Race

"Rednecks are cool"

The Guessing Game

You ever have a conversation with somebody revolving around some small little pop culture minutia and then all the sudden they make some reference to an actor, only they don't remember the exact actor, but he only had a lead part, like once, and he played a detective, he thinks, and the name of the movie had maybe, two letters in it, they think, and that guy was also in another movie was about some like, I don't know, court case or something, with some blond headed lady, they think? So then you spend the next fifteen minutes trying to guess who they were talking about, trying to pinpoint they movie they were in with that actress who did that one thing that one time, but was also in this movie, about some court case or something*? And then you spend another fifteen minutes on Imdb just trying to figure out what the hell they were just talking about, and another five minutes on top of that trying to figure out if they knew what they were talking about?

Yeah, that's annoying. Listen sometimes it can't be avoided. There's odd little pop culture detritus stuck in all of our brains and we might not quite remember what said piece of detritus once belonged to, and sometimes we need help figuring that out. Or maybe we're a bit forgetful and we just can't seem to recall these sort of things. I get that, but there are limits people. LIMITS. Don't go asking tons of pop culture questions I don't have the answers for because I will HAVE to find those answers because I didn't have the answer from the getgo so now your question has become my question and I MUST SOLVE IT or it will bug me all day. ALL DAY.

So do me a favor, mmmkay? Next time we have a conversation about movies or actors or whatever the hell, either come up with something concrete, or go answer your own questions on Imdb first, and then we can talk about the movie or actor in question ad nauseum. But don't expect me to do the ground work for you (although I probably will because I'm a completist that way) because if you don't know how wonderfully the Imdb actor search and the Google Image Search work in unison, you're a hopeless case and we shouldn't be friends.

*The answers to the above pop culture cunundrum were, in order Peter Coyote, E.T., Glenn Close, 101 Dalmations and The Jagged Edge. Got all that? Understand my annoyance now?