November 27, 2008

November 26, 2008

November 26, 2008

Open the pod bay doors, Hal. (Part 2)

Facebook and Pandora were obviously in a thankful mood, as they gave me even more blog fodder just this morning. I'm sure you're impressed by my almost real-time blogging. Ideally, a little 24-esque clock would pop up right now accompanied by that "Doot...doot...doot...doot" sound effect.

Use your imagination.

First up this time, Pandora:

"Headnodic"? Am I reading that correctly? Because if it means what I think it means (you can NOD your HEAD to it), "headnodic" may simulateously be the most ridiculous and awesome word I've seen this week.

Closing this round, Facebook:These ads popped up on my screen today. I see them as the comeditragic plot arch of today's single female. There's a bit of questionable fast food, a need (or hope) for an engagement ring, and the young woman's penultimate option for quick cash. (What's the ultimate option, you ask? The last resort? THINK ABOUT IT.)

I assure you that only one of those ads tempted me to click the thumbs up approval button. I'll leave it to you to decide which one.

Open the pod bay doors, Hal.

Though we’ve had a few rough patches (see: the time a virus bitchslapped my laptop), technology and I generally get along. Without it, I would certainly be out of a job…or at least much more familiar with an abacus. I’d also have a lot less to entertain me, though one might argue that the gazillionteen shows I watch on television already fill that need. Shutup. Whatever. Don’t judge me.

Sometimes, though, technology passes “It’s so useful,” veers around “It knows exactly what I want it to do,” and heads straight for “WTF does this even mean?”

Case in point:

I like to think of this status update as “Facebook fail.” If it helps, we can pretend the negative sign means this event actually occurred in the future. And if Facebook’s predicting the future, I retract my griping.

Here’s another one. I’ve been listening to Pandora all day at work (now that I have a job again), and last week I got this:

Don’t get me wrong: Pandora’s great. I like learning about music in ways other than iPod and Target commercials. But while I am maybe (maybe) on board through “danceable beats,” “lyrics about partying” cracks me up. Because I’m such a CUHRAZAY partier, y’all.

I’ll still turn against humanity soon after the robots take over in exchange for a moderately high-ranking position in the new robot-dominated world order. But I’ll be sure to bring my own music.

November 25, 2008

November 25, 2008

To Sights on My Commute

Dear Pennsylvania Avenue,

I one of the many Washingtonians who walks across you every workday. Twice. I must admit that at first, I got a little thrill as I crossed, realizing that one of the most important buildings in the world was just a few blocks down. Does the part of you at 1600 NW get a little chill? Potholes, maybe?

However, I’m sorry to say that the honeymoon phase is over. Pennsylvania Avenue, you’re a little wide for my taste. Let’s be honest: you’ve let yourself go. And the diagonal thing totally throws me. It’s like I’m crossing the equivalent of six lanes. On the way home, you trick me into thinking you’re actually I Street and that I’ve finally reached the train station.

Stop being such a tease.



Dear World Bank,

That you’re surrounded by vehicle barriers indicates your importance. As does your giant, white, pseudo-industrial façade. To be honest, you’re sorta hot, World Bank. I can easily imagine the plots of several thriller movies occurring in and around you. I can only hope for the day that, as I’m walking past, Jason Statham runs out with a gun and a bag of gold bars.

How can we make this happen?



To the Panhandler Outside the Farragut West Starbucks,

You know who you should ask for change? The people walking out of Starbucks, juggling their coffee and their change.

You know who you shouldn’t ask for change? The people running to catch the blue line train.

Just a thought.


November 24, 2008

November 24, 2008

Feed the Beast

Whether you’re a fan of one-stop shopping or not, I think we can all agree that it’s a timesaver. Even if you prefer to hit many stores in search of that one perfect gift, you have to admit that it’s faster to hit an ubermart, get a gift receipt, and cross your fingers. (I said “faster,” not “wiser” or “sure to make people love you.” Let’s be realistic, people.)

I guess I fall somewhere in the middle on the issue: I don’t mind checking out two or three places, but by the time I’m hitting store number four, I’m probably a) irritated and b) hungry. To be fair, those are also my default moods. So eh.

However, one thing that I absolutely prefer to one-stop shop (so to speak) is news. This is why I love USA Today (aka McPaper, I know) so much. It’s colorful It gives me news, business, sports, and entertainment in colorful easily-digestable form. I once read that the creator of USA Today purposely wanted only cover stories to last more than one page. Short attention spans ftw.

(I’d like to here pimp the Express, but only my DC area readers would understand. Once you all move here—I can’t see why you haven’t already—we’ll talk.)

For those of you more digitally inclined, I urge you to check out The Daily Beast, Tina Brown’s newest project. (Her previous projects include Vogue and a pretty interesting book about Princess Diana.) More specifically pertinent to the topic at hand (blog?) is the Cheat Sheet. In a nutshell, this sheet tells you what you need to know about our world now. Actually, wait, let me impress you with my mad Paint and Word skills.

Right now, it's obviously a little politicentric. But there's also the occasional story about business, entertainment, and, um, other stuff. Anyway, do you see how useful this is? I assume that since you, like me, are intelligent, inquisitive, and well-read, you, like me, also want to be informed. The Daily Beast’s Cheat Sheet can help you do that. (For those of you who converse with me regularly, I’ve just ruined a little bit of my “how does she know that?” magic. Even Heather has sources.)

November 22, 2008

November 22, 2008

Monologue of the Week

What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No. I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning, the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later, I get a postcard. I have a son, and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting. I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier.

November 20, 2008

November 20, 2008

My Thoughts on The Office

Overall thoughts: In my opinion, they saved the best for last with this episode. Dwight’s closing scene, recounting his perfect crime, was one of my favorite closing scenes ever. It just kept going, and going, and going. Phenomenal.

I also enjoyed the Pam and Jim house plotline. I suspected that she’d be freaked out, and that the writers would use this as a way to introduce tension in the relationship now that she’s back in Scranton. Luckily, she loved the house, shag carpeting, freaky clown picture, bad neighborhood, and all. They’re definitely going to have to put a lot of work into the place, so we’ll see how that goes.

The Toby/Michael stuff just made me uncomfortable. And not in a fun way.

Favorite quote: “Sometimes the ends justify the mean.”
Favorite quote, runner-up: “We should hang out by the quarry and throw things down there.”

Favorite character: Pam. While I would have just cleaned the microwave out myself (I’m considering doing so with the fridge at work), I appreciate her desire to passive-agressively snark at whoever made the mess. (By the way, do we think it was Andy? I didn’t totally catch what was up there.)
Favorite character, runner-up: Creed. Only he could calmly fake a talking head as DEA agents searched the office.

Favorite scene: The closing. There were European cities…and secret children…and Tiffany…SO good.
Favorite scene, runner-up: Pam vs. Ryan. Receptionist vs. temp. I wanted to see a smackdown. And frankly, my money’s on the girl.

(Click to enlarge.)

Things I’ve Read: Middlesex

Middlesex was not an easy book for me to explain to people. You can’t really respond to “What are you reading, Heather?” with “Oh, it’s a book about a hermaphrodite. Recommended by Oprah. That may or may not actually have happened.” Seriously, there is no point at which that sentence becomes okay, unless you are perhaps a middle-aged woman or Elton John.

For those of you not avid followers of Oprah’s book club (as I, apparently, am), Middlesex is a bildungsroman about Cal(liope) Stephanides, a hermaphrodite who lives years 1-14 of life as a female and the rest as a male. Cal’s grandparents were siblings (ick, I know), and thus genetic tomfoolery abounded. For those of you wondering, the novel was not set in Appalachia. Most of it takes place in Detroit in the 1960s.

I love a good bildungsroman, so I enjoyed that coming-of-age aspect of the novel. It was a lot more graphic than my usual commute reads, though. 7 a.m. is WAY too early to be reading about certain body parts, if you know what I mean. I was also paranoid that the person sitting next to me would look down at the page and then suspect me of being some sort of pervert, rather than my perfectly-normal self.


The thing that really weirded me out were the eerie similarities between the narrator’s life and that of the author. I realize that most authors put some of themselves into the main character, whether consciously or not. But the fact that both are Detroit-raised, of Greek heritage, and ended up with Asian women, as well as the author’s reluctance to talk about certain aspects of the book, make me wonder. I mean, if all that other stuff is true, well…? Talk amongst yourselves.

Middlesex (which is both the name of the narrator’s childhood home as well as quite possibly the cleverest play on words I’ve seen lately) won the Pulitzer Prize. I have to admit that it handles an extremely awkward situation deftly. It’s not a perfect book by any means, but it’ll make you think twice.

Just don’t read it on the train.

November 19, 2008

November 19, 2008

In My Opinion: Quantum of Solace

Some sequels expand on the original film. They take the ideas and characters and give them a new mission, or another instance of the old mission, or put them in space. As someone who’s seen the first film, you know just enough to give you some idea of what’s coming, but people who are new to the franchise can still jump on board pretty easily.

Some sequels have very little to do with the original film. They’re like spin-offs. Perhaps set in the same place, or with one of the first movie’s lesser characters. I call it the Scorpion King effect.

I’d have to place Quantum of Solace in the first category, though that would mean classifying this film as, well, a film. As much as I liked it, I came away from it thinking that I’d really just seen the second half of a movie and not an entire one. I think that watching Quantum and Casino Royale together would be spectacular. The Daniel Craig action alone would be worth your time and money. Because, um…


There is, of course, an ostensible plot. As all Bond plots, it can be summed up as “X person wants to do Y thing, and Bond must go rogue and stop it while bedding Z girl(s).” So you have that going on. As well as lots of phenomenal running, and shooting, and exploding, and setting things on fire. Seriously, I want Daniel Craig to always be running.

Would I see it again? Probably. But mostly for the giant explosions. And...

I'm hoping the next film is just this.

November 18, 2008

November 18, 2008

The Icebox Cometh

We all use our refrigerators for different things. I assume that like me, most of you keep food and beverages in there. Perhaps also science experiments, important documents, or clothing. There’s nothing like a cold shirt on a warm day, really.

But that’s the inside of the fridge. I think we all know it’s really the outside that counts. (Superficialism: now for appliances!)

A person’s refrigerator is like a little insight into their personality. A magnetic, take-out-menu-centric insight. For example, here’s mine:

You’ll note that the majority of it is related to The Office. No shocker there. I also have the Entertainment Weekly holiday movie calendar, because (as you may have noticed), I see a lot of movies. I’ve already blogged about the kid’s drawing on the left, and the collage thing on the right is just little things that amuse me.

But perhaps my favorite thing is the mood magnet on the right. It’s one of those “Today I am…” deals, with characters like “Little Miss Chatterbox” and “Mr. Messy.” I don’t update it every day (or even every week), but I like knowing it’s there, waiting to cater to my whims.

All of this, of course, would look even cooler on Amana’s dry erase refrigerator. That’s right: the entire fridge is a whiteboard. The WHOLE THING. Brilliant.

November 13, 2008

November 13, 2008

My Thoughts on The Office

Overall thoughts (for those who wanted them, and you know who you are):I felt like this was another “biding time” episode. I keep waiting for something BIG to happen. I guess the major development is the return of Pam. Definitely a welcome occurrence, though I thought her departure from art school was too abrupt. Way to write off your dream, Pam. (To be fair, I might write off MY dream for John Krasinski. People who live in glass houses, Heather…)

Michael’s not doing well, poor guy. Not even a rebound fling with a Canadian geisha could fix him. I’d like to point out that he still made the sale, though. Say what you will about Michael Scott: he knows sales.

I guess I was the last person to realize that the mice would play while the a cappella loving cat was away. I’m thinking Angela could use Andy’s drunk dial as a reason to break it off. I, however, would counsel her to remember the French speaking. AND THE BERET. Oh, good lord, the beret. Do NOT get me started on the awesomeness that was the beret.

Favorite quote: "We’ll press 'send' together."
Favorite quote, runner-up: "I want to see you naked." (I look forward to a spike in Google hits now that I have blogged that sentence.)

Favorite character: Andy. See BERET, above.
Favorite character, runner-up: Kevin. Loved the fist bump.

Favorite scene: The reunion of Jam. Duh.
Favorite scene, runner-up: The reunion of Ryan and Kelly, last scene. Ryan always looks either smug or shell-shocked. I prefer the latter.

(Click to enlarge.)

Remember This? Volume 8: Sabrina, the Teenage Witch

While on the treadmill recently, I was flipping through the cable channels and stumbled upon a Sabrina, the Teenage Witch repeat on ABC Family. I ask you to look past the fact that I was watching something on ABC Family (apparently a channel of angsty teens and movies with talking animals) and focus instead on the content. Sabrina Spellman, her zany aunts, and their magical adventures!

I’m now in the process of re-watching the series. It’s comfort food, really: this show takes me back to a simpler time, when Friday nights were all about TGIF on ABC and a little popcorn. Never underestimate the power of nostalgia. (Never overestimate it, either. I’m talking to you, McCain.) The show wasn’t always hilarious, nor was it ever really earth-shattering. But it was fun, and short, and cute. The characters were likeable and the premise (girl finds out she’s a witch; hilarity ensures) provided plenty of plot fodder. Though not, perhaps, enough for seven seasons. Once Sabrina went to college and the show switched to The WB, I think the shark had been jumped.

I actually also read the novels (yes, there were novels, shutup). While enjoyable, they didn’t quite compare to actually seeing the magic on-screen. Special effects: 1, Imagination: 0.

Plus, re-watching the series gives you the chances for such Mouse House synergy as this:

Ah, the good old days.

November 12, 2008

November 12, 2008

1923 Was My Year

There’s a Facebook application out there challenging you to learn your “real age.” I haven’t taken it, so I have no idea whether that entails answering questions, submitting a DNA sample, or something in-between. I do know from my friends’ results that one’s “real age” and one’s, um, real age seem to be pretty close. According to that test, anyway.

I think there are other, low-techier (but perhaps more accurate) ways of determining one’s real age. Look at habits. Look at preferences. Gauge the amount of crotchetiness. THEN decide how old you really are.

In my case, I’m ballparking myself somewhere in the early 80s. Seriously.

For one thing, I watch the show NCIS. While I’m not the only viewer born in the ‘80s, the average age of an NCIS viewer is 55.3. AVERAGE. That means that for every me watching this show, there is an 85-year-old also watching. We’re talking someone who lived through World War 2. Watching one of my shows. Give me a minute, because my head just exploded.

I also like to play bingo. Bingo has numbers, but they aren’t scary numbers. I can handle Bingo math…because it is non-existent. I’ve played a few times at a casino (a real one, run by Indians getting their revenge on the white man and everything), and let’s just say that most of the players appear to be on their last legs. Granted, they’re still pretty serious about the bingo. I’m just thinking a win could do them in.

Finally, I’m a big fan of prunes. No, that’s not code for something. We’re talking dried plums. I don’t like them for the fiber or whatever. I think they TASTE GOOD. Sweet and chewy and happy. The day I discovered Sam’s Club carries giant bags of them was a happy day indeed.

So regardless of what Facebook tries to tell me, I’m pretty sure I was born 60 years too late.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s an early-bird special at Denny's and I'm already late.

November 11, 2008

November 11, 2008

Writer's Almanac Highlight of the Day

I love Abigail Adams. I've written about that already, I know. But far be it from me to miss another opportunity to squee over her.

It's the birthday of Abigail Adams, the wife of the second U.S. president and mother of the sixth, born in Weymouth, Massachusetts, in 1744. She was a frail and sickly child, raised by her well-educated grandmother. Early on, separated from her friends and family, she developed her habit of writing letters, a habit for which she later became well-known.

She opposed slavery. She also strongly advocated women's rights, especially in the areas of education and property ownership.* She expressed these views freely in letters she wrote to her husband. She and John Adams had a close and happy marriage, though they often had to endure long periods of separation. She wrote long, lively, loving, witty letters to him whenever they were apart. She wrote, "I've always felt that a person's intelligence is directly reflected by the number of conflicting points of view he can entertain simultaneously on the same topic."** And while he was in Philadelphia working on the Declaration of Independence, she wrote to him: "As to your extraordinary code of laws, I cannot but laugh."***

John Adams was the second president, and she was the first first lady to occupy the White House — and she wasn't very impressed with the place, parts of which were still being constructed while they lived there. At the time, Washington, D.C., was a rural area, and she missed the city life of Philadelphia and New York, where they'd previously lived.**** She said, "I begin to think, that a calm is not desirable in any situation in life. Every object is beautiful in motion; a ship under sail, trees gently agitated with the wind, and a fine woman dancing, are three instances in point. Man was made for action and for bustle."

* Frak yeah.
** Page 145 of the Republican playbook.
*** The old-school "lol."
****'s no longer rural. I could do with a little more rural, in fact. Especially on the train after work.

Car Pay Diem

One of the many delights of moving to Virginia has been the quadrillion-fold process of registering my vehicle. Until now, my relationship with the DMV has been one of respectful avoidance. I leave it alone and ask that it does the same to me. I acknowledge its existence but keep a respectful perimeter. It’s like the Voldemort of state agencies.*

Unfortunately, Virginia likes a little more contact. Because in addition to the fact that every government entity that can tax my vehicle will tax my vehicle, I’m required to have my car inspected for both safety and emissions. I thought this would be easy, as the Virginia DMV’s website says they accept Wisconsin emissions tests. It turns out that not every DMV employee knows and/or understands the information on that website. Long story short: I had to get emissions testing and registration done TWICE on my car. Incompetence lives!

However, I must give credit where credit is due. Despite the fact that I created this screenshot specifically to snark about how THE WEBSITE LIES, IT LIES, MY PRECIOUS, it actually turned out to be quite true.

I didn’t even connect butt to chair before my number was called. I guess this is the plus side** of employees who just don’t care: they get you in and out pretty quickly.

* D-M-V-who must not be named?
** For the negative side, SEE ABOVE.

November 10, 2008

November 10, 2008

Just IMDb It

Like many people, I have trouble remembering names. I know there are plenty of tricks, like repeating the person’s name when you meet them, imagining their name written on their forehead, or perhaps asking them to wear a name tag whenever in your presence. Good ideas, all.

My system, though, seems to revolve mostly on picking which famous person they remind me of most. How does this help me remember their name, you ask? Turns out not at all. I never said it was a perfect system.

A couple of Saturdays ago, I was riding the train home a little before 11 p.m. I was a little dressed up, as one often is at 11 p.m. on a Saturday. Y’know. While Metro was definitely busier than the post-midnight hours, it was nowhere near as crowded as rush hour. (Seriously, sometimes it seems like the BEST you can hope for during the evening rush is to keep your grope count in the single digits.)

As my train was waiting at one of the platforms to load and unload passengers, a teenager started knocking on my window. I say “teenager,” though I’m the worst judge of age; I’m pretty sure he was at least 14. However old he was, he continued to determinedly knock, despite my best attempts to ignore him. After a while, he switched to obscene hand gestures. Classy.

While I perhaps should have been irritated, the only thought running through my head was “I’m being hit on by Walt from Lost.” Because I kid you not, this guy looked JUST like him. I knew that if I paid him any attention, I would just smile and start laughing, and there’s no way THAT would end well. (Note: I have researched pepper spray. It’s illegal to own in D.C., but NOT in Virginia. I’m on it.)

Like I said before, you’ll need to find another method to keep people’s names straight (or you could try my strategy of not really caring). This system is for your amusement only. And perhaps to fend off those annoying guys (or women, for my male readers) on the train.

November 7, 2008

November 6, 2008

November 6, 2008

My Thoughts on The Office

Favorite quote: "If history tells us anything, it’s that you can't go wrong buying a house you can't afford.”
Favorite quote, runner-up (tie): "What color mustard is his shirt?"
Favorite quote, runner-up (tie): "You juked the stats, cupcake."

Favorite character: Dwight. Whether it was outing Kelly the Conspiracist or proffering Schrute Farms for Andy and Angela's wedding, he cracked me up.
Favorite character, runner-up: Alex. Not just because the actor is also on Mad Men. (Well, maybe a little.) I just think it’s good for someone to make Pam really ponder her choices.

Favorite scene: Jim finding everyone’s mugs. What I thought was another Andy quirk turned out instead to be quite possibly the weirdest party favor idea ever.
Favorite scene, runner-up: The Schrute-Farms-as-wedding-site pitch. Can you say…subtext?

(Yeah, so the one time I use green pen, I can't figure out how to make the photo enlarge. Sorry about that. Bic and Blogger: 1, Heather: 0.)

That Girl

While catching up on Californication recently, I was pleased to see Judy Greer make an appearance. She’s one of those actresses that you’ve seen in small roles in a lot of things and can’t help but like.

Her most notable role for me is Kitty on Arrested Development, a show that was too smart for the vast majority of the American viewing public. Shame on you, nation. Shame on you.

(And now, a moment of silence for Arrested Development.)

(Thank you.)

Greer was apparently also in The Village, which I don’t recall at all. Then again, I watched most of The Village through my fingers. M. Night Shyamalan’s movies and I don’t get along terribly well. I go to see them and they return the favor by scaring the crap out of me.

Despite my admiration, I didn’t watch Miss Guided, her foray into a lead role. For one, I watch WAY too much tv already. For two, I think she might be one of those people who’s better in a secondary role. As someone for the lead to bounce stuff (not literally) off of. If not the comic relief, then at least a capable verbal sparring partner.

I think I join weird girls everywhere in celebrating one of our own who’s made good. We’d have a party…but we’re all too busy watching tv.

November 5, 2008

November 5, 2008

Good for Kindling

Since I assume most of you are NOT Oprah fans*, let me inform you that her newest favorite thing is apparently the Kindle.

Um, yeah. Okay.

I won’t rehash my pro-book apologetic (though I will, apparently, link to it), but I’m afraid this is yet another area in which Oprah and I disagree. Don’t get me wrong, I admire the woman a lot. She’s from Chicago. She’s a successful businesswoman. SHE GIVES AWAY FREE CARS.

But the Kindle? Oprah was doing so much for the book industry with her book club. I highly doubt nearly as many people would ever have read East of Eden or Anna Karenina without the endorsement. (Because, seriously, those things are like doorstops—get thee to an editor, Tolstoy.) Thus I find it a little disconcerting that she’s sorta bitchslapping the publishing industry. Oprah, don’t bite the hand that reads to you.

Innovation be damned**; give me a book with pages any day.

* I imagine the Venn diagram of my fans and Oprah’s has an intersection…that is non-existent.
** Also, I believe, the motto of the second crusade.

November 4, 2008

Voles need love, too.

In yet another example of how funky our brains really are, there’s apparently a specific chemical that causes lovesickness. While the experiments in the study were performed on voles, one has to assume humans are pretty much the same. (I mean, most evolutionary charts go from blob to fish to vole to monkey to human, right? Right?)

Rather than rest on their vole-induced laurels, though, the scientists here hope to find a way to perhaps treat the chemical and alleviate lovesickness. Perhaps…forever! *dun dun DUN*

First of all, I believe the cure for lovesickness is Ingrid Michaelsen music and chocolate ice cream. But whatever.

Second, does this smack to anyone else of, I don’t know, the Twilight Zone? The young blonde has a break-up, decides to visit a “doctor” who promises to cure her depression, and ends up in a bathtub with no heart? I’m pretty sure there was a Felicity episode like that, at least.

Plus, the chemical isn’t all bad. People who are in relationships apparently get an extra boost. However, it appears to be mostly an emotional one, and not an “I can now leap buildings in a single bound” one. That would be cool, though.


I say we should be very cautious with the research in this area. Perhaps lovesickness has a purpose, even if it’s just the well-being of the chocolate ice cream industry.

November 3, 2008

November 3, 2008

To the Good Shows I Don’t Watch

Dear Bones, Chuck, Dexter, Grey’s Anatomy, House, Scrubs, and Weeds,

Each of you comes highly recommended by at least one person I know. Whether it’s your similarity to another show I watch (that’s you, Bones), your endearing quirk (Scrubs), or your endearingly-dorky lead (Chuck), you all have something that catches my attention. Most of you also have a very loyal (if not large) fan base, and I admire that, too.

As you know, though, I have so far been unable to commit. To put it bluntly, Good Shows I Don’t Watch, I just can’t treat you the way you deserve.

Let’s imagine how this would go.

We’d see each other a couple of times. I’d probably laugh a lot. Have a really good time. Things might even appear to be heading for, you know, something long-term. I’d tell my friends about it. Perhaps I would even BLOG about you.

But then we’d hit a rough patch. Maybe you’d have a week or two of repeats, and I’d wander back to the gazillionteen shows I already watch. I’d forget the things I like about you. I’d start badmouthing you to my friends. “It’s never on anymore.” “I thought we had such a good thing going and then it doesn’t show up.”

When you finally did come back, I’m just not sure I’d be right there with you. And you should have better than that.

It’s not you. It’s me.


November 2, 2008

November 2, 2008

Holiday Movies I'll See: A Threeve

Now that we've changed our clocks, the season of dark is officially upon us. Luckily, that also means Serious Movies are showing up in a theater near you. Though I'm a bit behind (I'd still like to catch The Secret Life of Bees, Changeling, and W), I eagerly anticipate these holiday movie offerings (pretension alert!):

Quantum of Solace (November 14)

As if you don't already know what this is all about. Please.

Australia (November 26)

Two words: historical epic. (For those of you who thought the two words were going to be "Hugh Jackman," I respond with a loud and biting laugh that trails into awkward silence.)

Doubt (December 12)

Based on the Pulitzer-winning play and starring Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman (and Amy Adams). The acting pedigree alone is worth your $10. The overt and covert commentary on race, religion, and human nature is just a bonus.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (December 25)

Brad Pitt plays a man who ages backwards; Cate Blanchett plays his love interest. I'm intrigued by the whole temporal displacement idea. It looks trippy, but in a classy way.

Revolutionary Road (December 26)

Yes, it's the reunion of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. But it's so much more than that. I'm hoping for an examination of social mores a la Mad Men. The good old days: not so good, after all.

Let the holidays—the angry, serious, melancholy holidays—begin.