Risking Unpopularity

I like "The English Patient".

I don't like "Yelling At Briefcases".

I like brussel sprouts.

I don't like leggings.

I like some of James Blunt's songs.

Slip Of The...What The Hell?

I was talking to a clerk this evening at an Urban Outfitters who was neither a poseur moron or a bitchy cooler-than-thou punk (surprise, surprise) and looked over at a table near the cashwrap that featured crap of all sorts including a "Donnie Darko" talking (yes, talking) figurine. I said something like, "So, you think I should get the...What the fuck is that?!?" Here's the thing...yes, yes, I cursed in front of a child, nevermind that...he had never seen "Donnie Darko". Didn't know what it was. Didn't know it was a movie. Said most people there didn't know. For those interested, It's of the evil rabbit with a replacable person head. I have no idea what it says because I was immediately sent into a downward spiral of realizing I'm probably 14 years older than he is and he was probably 14 when the movie was being discussed. I highly recommended he see it.

Mad world.

That's Buffett With Two Tees

There are times when Jimmy Buffett songs pop into my head. It's usually "Cheeseburgers in Paradise" because that's a pet name for a local restaurant. So, sometimes that restuarant sponsors things and I hear it's real name et voila! There's the song! The other popular brain one is "Pencil Thin Moustache". The thing about these songs is that although they're in there, it's really just the titles and the ditties I can remember. Scant amount of lyrics (which is for the best), but precious little else.

So, moving down this train of thought, I once went to a Jimmy Buffett show in North Carolina. I had barely heard of the dude but some friends of mine - Ladue High girls - all loved him. When I went to visit Kristie in NC, her pop got us tickets to his show. I remember being out on a lawn with a lot of people in Hawaiian shirts and the ubiquitous parrot hats. I believe I bought a tee shirt. It had a treasure map on it, I think. I have no idea whatever happened to it.

And now here we are. At the point. Tees for events. I don't get 'em. I have tees from events I attended/participated in and I have to be honest, I never wear them. There are those folks that wear the day of and that's just ridiculous. I love going to concerts and seeing people in the tees of the concert we're collectively seeing. Ooooh...meta. Those people probably contributed to Darwin's theories. Regardless, even if you buy it and it's the week after, is that too soon? Is that too fanboy? Reason for all this, I have a Tori Amos "Under The Pink" concert tee that I've never worn. Ever. It's been washed and folded and moved to 5 different locales, but it's never been worn and yet there it is. Waiting for the day I finally get over myself and wear the damn thing. But I know that day will never come.

That said, I'm wearing a Ringo Starr tee right now. I know. What the hell? Reason is - I didn't go to the concert. I wore the hell out of a Love & Rockets tee that Jennifer bought me at the show and it was 4 sizes too big. Didn't go to that concert either.

Thus here's the theorem:
If A goes to concert and buys tee. Tee is never worn.
If A does not go to concert, but has tee procured for her, A will wear tee.
Therefore, for concerts with good artwork, send someone else.

And all of this was constructed while the old melon sung "oh I wish I had a pencil thin moustache ... da da da da da dee da da".

And Then This Sound And Bright Light Thing Really Confused Me

The "Lost" finale commercials promised me answers to all my questions. Or at least some of them. And yet, my questions haven't even been addressed! Here are just a few of the mysteries keeping me up at night. (For those that haven't been paying attention this season, go pray the Spy Daddy prayer again and avoid this for it is rife with spoilers.)

1. Why hasn't anyone killed Michael? Sure, there's good reason for tribal retribution on his ass for killing Libby, but the death of Girlfight was warranted. Shootings aside, his endless "my boy" bull is so frustratingly obnoxious that I would have bumped him off just on repetitious principle. I'd pay anyone an American dollar for the two-fold task of counting the number of times he's said "my son" or "my boy" and then forgetting that that coincidentally happened to be the number of stab wounds he received during his mysterious murder.

2. In the beginning, there were giant dinosaurs or something bitey and rumbly that terrorized our darlings and ate pilots. Did that thing give up on a life of intimidation and move to New Jersey to settle down and have a family? Where did that thing go? And for that matter, did it take the polar bears with it?

3. If there are fake beards and spirit gum, why can the Others and the Lostaways just unite and put on a really ripping production of the "The Pirates of Penzance" or maybe a two-for-one night with "HMS Pinafore"? Put the shooty, glarey, kidnappy past behind them and unite in staging Gilbert & Sullivan's maritime light operas? This seems like such a more noble pursuit than sneaking around and now that that pesky button has finally not been pushed, there's plenty of time to rehearse!

4. What ever happened to "the sickness" that everyone apparently got back in the day? Too H5N1 for the writers? Too boring? Less boring than two guys trying to decide whether or not to push the return key on a Commodore 64? We may never know.

5. Black Rock. Pirate ship? Death site of a Hanso? Adam & Eve's accessory? An actual noirish geological formation? Would someone break it down to just one for me?

6. Who hired Michelle Rodriguez? She can't act. Seriously. She attended the Clint Eastwood Academy of the Dramatic Stare which is supposed to pass for elated, confused, mournful, and furious all without changing a facial muscle. The girl clearly graduated magna cum laude for the only time I thought she was really acting was when she was lying there motionless and I thought, "Oh hooray, she's dead.", and believed it to be true.

A Prayer For Spy Daddy

Lo, for you came upon this earth to kick the ass of foreign nationals and Joey Slotnick
You strove to eternally be thoughts ahead of Sloane and Olin
You, our Spy Daddy, could disembowl with mini blinds
And survived the great plagues of torture reaped by the Sark, the Lauren, and the Rossellini

We revere you, O Spy Daddy, above Bauer and Bond, for you are the one true super killer
Determined to protect your children from harm via any means necessary
Your giant ears of doom preserve you from sneak ups and surprises
Your commanding voice brings the weak to their knees
Your morse code batting eyes keep you from all harm

Sacrifice, O Spy Daddy, not yourself for the preservation of our world, but rather the Vaughn! The Dixon! Even the Flinkman!
But if you must sacrifice yourself, my sweet Spy Daddy, do it for causes noble and eternal
To save us, your lowly servants, from destruction and from more superfluous cast members being added
To save your daughter, the sainted Sydney and her progeny
To save the remaining memory of the formerly mighty "Alias"

Hallowed be thy name, Jack Bristow, our revered Spy Daddy, and all your works - cladding yourself in costumes varied, offering assistance to many, staring icily, and laying down an inescapable hail of bullets
Your gifts to us shall ne'er be forgotten
We bless you
We glorify you
We really loved Season 2

Amen.

Yeah, I kinda lost track of "Alias" during its suck phase. But, man, I loved that show. Loved it and I wasn't alone. Back in the day, there were so many people I knew that loved it, that it was like a cult of Spy Daddy. And now, on the TV, is Sark! Project Christmas Syd! French Poodle! Photos of Lena Olin! Ahhh...it's almost like the old days when I wore my SD-6 sweatshirt constantly (I still do, but now it's got ink spots where that pen broke in the wash and mysterious bleach stains so I try to only wear it at home).

This show was so good, so suspenseful, so exciting, such a guilty conspiracy theory pleasure that watching some of it now is just painful by comparison. Dead Nadia talking? All those new, not-as-good people? Painfully little wig? Precious little kick? But then there's Sark looking dreamy and Sydney coming back to life again just like the old days. If only it were the old days. If only Spy Daddy could kick the scriptwriters in the head and someone was in a rubber dress.

Who knows? There's still time left and a mysterious sphere.

Sweet Christ

Why did I even start this thing? It's over a month since I went on and on about the dogs in my neighborhood and haven't written anything since. What a freakin' snooze. So, in some effort to try to recap the last month, here are the things I've been thinking about in no certain order.

1. I'm really starting to feel bad for Britney Spears. How many mothers out there drop babies and install the car seat wrong? Probably close to all of them. Sad part is she's gotta see her whoopses played out in front of millions of people. That would be enough to make me crawl in Saddam's spiderhole and never come out.

2. Speaking of Saddam, not nearly enough antics at his trial lately.

3. Flew to DFW for work and there's a castle in Terminal D. A shiny, silver castle built around a blue lit tunnel that you pass through when leaving your gate. This is my new favorite airport terminal and despite the fact that I was incredibly tired, I walked though that blue castle tunnel four times.

4. Prom was just as good the second time around and my 2006 shoes were much better than my 1991 shoes. Plus, I didn't lose them.

5. I am incapable of making a vacation decision. One day it's definitely Jamaica. Next day I'm off to Iceland. Day after that there's some cruise offer from my parents. The following day I'm going to Africa to see my elephant. The only thing that can cure this is money. And the time to spend it.

6. Yes. I adopted an elephant. His name is Kora and lives at the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust. Everyone should adopt an elephant from the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust. Go. Adopt one. They're orphans for chrissakes. Do something good with your money.

7. More platelets! Donate more platelets! We went Saturday and although it hurt like I couldn't believe to start, I settled right in to the "Arrested Development" episodes and was again rewarded with sugar cookies like none I've ever had. These cookies are nearly as good as the oatmeal raisin ones from that bakery in Minneapolis from which Amy Harkins used to send me cookies.

8. See that? I didn't end a sentence in a preposition.