The morons say "hi"...

[This is a parable about my job and some silly, silly vendors who don't seem to know which side their bread is buttered on.]

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in one of the largest urban kingdoms in the land. It was her job to purchase fruit for the children of the kingdom.

She purchased fruit from many different farmers, but there was one farmer, a rich, ugly, stupid farmer named Pearson Education, who had more fruit than anyone else, and who almost always had exactly the fruit the princess needed.

The princess hated buying her fruit from this farmer. She'd order apples and half the shipment would be wormy. She'd make a huge pineapple purchase, with free kiwi fruit as part of the promised gratis fruit in the contract, then have to pester and beg the evil farmer for the damn kiwis. Lately she had gone in for a massive order of kumquats, which she could get from no other farmer. Half the kumquats arrived on time, but the rest were back-ordered. She's still receiving tardy kumquats to this day.

Recently, the Queen of the realm gave the princess $50,000 and told her to spend it on more fruit for the children. The princess knew that there was a great need for bananas, grapefruit and persimmons, and that she, once again, could only get them from Farmer Pearson Education.

So she e-mailed Farmer Pearson Education:

I plan on purchasing one zillion bananas, one zillion grapefruit, and one zillion persimmons for the children of this kingdom, one of the largest urban kingdoms in the land. What kind of volume discount can you give me?

And the evil farmer took his time about e-mailing her back, but at last she had her reply:

If you purchase one zillion lemons and one zillion limes, I can give you a free bunch of grapes for every thousand lemons or limes.

And the princess e-mailed back:

I don't want lemons, limes or grapes, I want bananas, grapefruit, and persimmons. Look, do you want the $50,000 or not?

So far the evil farmer's reply has been:

...

The princess is about to say "fuck it" and go buy corn chips, is all I'm saying.

A hollow victory...

Our seventh anniversary was last Monday. As He Who Looks Hot in Jeans (HWHiJ, for the nonce, he will get much mention in this entry) works nights, and as we had just returned from Family Stuff in Michigan on Sunday, we hadn't pulled anything together for the date itself.

But I was poontling around in Neil Gaiman's blog at work on Monday (this is because my thyroid meds are off and all I can manage at work right now is poontling around in Neil Gaiman's blog. Fortunately, it's a fairly old blog with lots and lots of stuff to poontle. Yes, it's a word, goddamnit, because I say it is). Anyway, various reviews of Beowulf were intriguing me, so I called up my man and said, "I know what I want for our anniversary, I want to go see Beowulf."

"That's sounds cool," said my beloved, "Except I want to see The Mist."

I gave this some thought, and figured, well, if Beowulf, Mr. Magorium's Magic Emporium, Enchanted, and No Country for Old Men weren't out, well, heck, I'd want to see The Mist too. So I said We'll see, and set about securing a babysitter.

[Totally unrelated babysitter commentary:] When I called the secured babysitter on Thursday to finalize the start time -- which HWLHiJ and I had determined needed to be no later than 5:00 to make dinner and the movie -- she said, "Can't it be at 5:30?"

"I thought you got home from school at 3:15?"

"No, 4:15."

I did some difficult mental math, resulting in the fact that there were still 45 minutes here to work with. I hazarded a guess, "If dinner's the issue, I'm getting y'all a pizza."

"No, it's not dinner. I just need some time to relax after I get home from school."

Mind you, this kid's in the eighth grade, not med school. Am I a horrible evil bitch for having been utterly put off by this conversation?

Anyway, we compromised on 5:15, and I informed HWLHiJ, steeling myself for a whinefest, since he does not do well with having his plans dicked with (yes, even by fifteen minutes) and he said, "Oh that's okay, I've got a tutoring appointment until 5:00 and won't be home until 5:15."

So there ya go. [End unrelated babysitter commentary.]

I really wasn't opposed to seeing The Mist, but dinner was indeed a close shave and the first theater we went to, Beowulf was well underway and The Mist wasn't even showing. I was beginning to boil here, because all I had asked for was to see Beowulf, and now it was shaping up that I was going to get to eat Indian food and go home. Yay. However, we tried one more theater, where we had missed The Mist by 20 minutes, but Beowulf was just about to start.

I would say, hey, it's not my fault that we didn't go see The Mist, but you and I both know we could have walked into the Stephen King movie 20 minutes late and still have gotten to see five minutes of trailers. HWLHiJ never seemed to work this out, and I, by my silence, became a passive-aggressive conspirator in forcing him to watch the movie I wanted to see all along. I'm admitting this to you, Inconstant Reader. I don't think HWLHiJ will ever figure it out.

Well, I knew I was in trouble as the action got started and HWLHiJ leaned over and hissed, "You didn't tell me this was animated!!"

HWLHiJ and his heavy sighs aside, I loved the movie. Yes the eyes were weird and yes the horsed SUCKED, but that is the sum total of my complaints. As I mentioned, I've read many reviews that liked the movie for a plethora of reasons. I flatter myself that my reasons are a little different:

1) The Storytelling: With an impatient man who now hates Harry Potter like DEATH because of the butchery of the first HP movie, I was worried as hell that I'd lose him to boggy plot points. (Little did I know that, upon realization that the movie was animated, I'd lost him, period, the end, no take-backs.) But anyway, if he hadn't been such a noodge about the fact that No, Virginia, they're not real people, the plot would have given him no cause for complaint.

It was clear, it moved at a fantastic pace. I found it interesting, intriguing and affecting. And anyone who knows me knows I did not read Beowulf in high school, I merely jumped up and down on the book, bullshat my way through class discussions, then went home and read Robert Asprin. But I got a huge kick out of the story and the best part was, here's this ancient epic that millions, perhaps billions of teenagers have slept through over the centuries and Gaiman and Avary never once let the story slow down. There was no room for sleeping.

2) The Language: I never expected HWLHiJ, author of the statement, "Why the hell would you want to say 'auspicious' when 'promising' says just the same thing?", to get off on the language.

As a linguistics dork, myself, I loved it. I loved the language, barely understandable to modern ears, shared by Grendel and his mom. I loved that a bard stood up and recited from the original poem, in the original language, as the fight between Beowulf and Grendel was reenacted. While the main portion of the movie was dedicated to making the story digestible to modern audiences, these shout-outs to the ancient originators were perfect touches.

Yes, I know, I am a dork.

So, my darling husband hated it. That makes me sad. I hope I don't do that to him -- I do try to be interested in what he's interested in. Even if I can't stand it, I give it a fair shake, and I've learned to like a few things along the way -- Electric Light Orchestra and epic fantasies being two examples that jump to mind. Possibly even zombie movies. Granted, I believe I can take the credit for his obsession with Great Danes and irises, but still...

It's always disappointing to try to share something you dig and have it be rejected out of hand. Especially over something as stupid as whether or not it's animated. I mean, for what it's worth, the animation (barring horses and eyes, yes) was AMAZING. What has been accomplished over the past two decades with CGI just BOGGLES MY MIND.

(My one question to the artists though, is why not just go a little Manga with the eyes? Give up on making them look real, it's not working. Just go big and limpid and at least they'll be pretty, and possible less distractlingly creepy. Anyone?)

And I don't often regret that I was robbed of all depth perception by an extreme case of strabismus, but I did in this case (and when I'm backing into a parking spot). We watched the 2D version -- and I could have physically seen the 3D version, but it would have looked just like the 2D version. As neat as the 2D version was for me, I wonder how cool having blood and spears fly out of the screen at you would have been. Perhaps my man would have enjoyed it more...

My next pathetic attempt will be to get him to see The Golden Compass. He's already up in arms because some moron on the internet said something about how the book does nothing but bash Catholics. I said, Dude, read the fucking book and then get worked up about it, and he said, I don't have to read the fucking book if I don't want to, and I said...

Seven years. Hard to believe, I know.

A denial, a denial, a denial, a denial...

I remember senior year in high school, hanging out in my friend Eric's car during lunch, with the seats fully reclined and Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" cranked on the stereo. That song, and a few others from the grunge era, grabbed me by the ears and spoke directly to my poor, dark, misunderstood soul. My reaction to them was visceral and pure. My devotion to the ideology and the boots, sincere.

Fifteen years later, I'm lying on my couch (in a fabulous pair of boots) watching a half-hour documentary about the making of that video. How it was the death knell for 80's hair bands and the voice of the disenfranchised Generation X. Dave Grohl, Crist Novoselic and the guy who made the video reminisced about Kurt and the anger and passion he brought to the soundstage.

Finally, after much platitudenizing and deep searching of navels, they played the video. I lay back on the couch and tried to recapture the thrill, the throb of a song that was once the soundtrack of my world.

The Bear toddled into the room, watched the TV for a few seconds and pogoed (if forced to choose between music and animals, the Bear's head would probably just explode from the stress. Musical animals, now that's what Santa needs to bring!) then came up to me and handed me two inches of masticated banana. I handed it back and he shoved it in his mouth, creating fake banana teeth and growling (like a Bear).

I looked at the TV screen, then looked at my not-so-baby boy, his face a pastiche of potassium-rich sludge. I tried to imagine how this scene would play to my 18-year-old self and drew a blank.

Then I got off the couch and changed the TV to Cartoon Network. I've got better things to do with my time now.

Seriously, I should NOT be allowed to write titles...

I know, I know... I haven't posted in... months. After yet another extravagant promise to get back to the blogging. I'm a terrible liar (and the Blogger editor thinks that both "blogging" and "Blogger" are incorrectly spelled words -- now that's amusing).

To be sure, I've actually been busy, rather than wallowing in the depths of despair. Buddy's entree into the world of edumacation has been rocky and requiring a great deal of at-home support, for which I should be canonized. A month in, his teacher was declaring she was positive he would wind up being retained. However, with a great deal of reinforcement on my part and sheer herculean effort of will on Buddy's part, he has improved substantially and, at last week's parent-teacher conference, his teacher pretty much ate her words.

The Bear, who will be two in exactly one month's time, doesn't talk much (although he has the essentials down: "Yes", "No" and "Shut up!") but the other day, in the parking lot of Super Wal*Mart Almighty, he started singing "Charlie" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, clear as day.

I was pulling out onto a busy road some time ago, and realized that Buddy, usually a conscientious wearer of the seat belt, was unbuckled. I read him the riot act, then demanded, "Why on earth have did you not get your seatbelt on?"

And he replied, "I was busy pretending I could see with my nose."

And for further evidence that he should be apprenticed to Neil Gaiman forthwith, I submit to you my two favorite pages of a book he illustrated and dictated to me. (The final pages involve his resurrection at the hands of a kindly witch and his Mom's exultation over the return of her beloved son, so, no worries.)






























I absolutely adore my kids. Here's an unsurprising thing, though. I finally uploaded some photos to Flickr, and included this:















Which I foolishly entitled "Underwear Model", because he looks like a model, and yet you can see his Power Rangers underwear (obviously).

24 hours later, all of the items in my Flickr group had precisely 0 views, except that one, which had 17.

If your wondering what He Who Looks Hot in Jeans has been up to lately, well, he's been baiting liberals, thank you very much. I read the thread and had a few remarks to make about his tone, so he let me edit his parting shot. Anyway, guess which commenter I'm lucky enough to be married to and I'll link your site.

Sorry for the utter ramble, but I finally got Hot-in-Jeans out of town for awhile (hunting trip, surprised?) and got his computer (read: the one that works) to myself, so maybe I'll post again over the next days to continue the catch-up. Hell, Doxie's gone quiet again, so why not stop by and give me a read? If she's not posting, I'm the next best thing -- 20,000+ visitors at the long-defunct Mean Teacher can't possibly be wrong.

I am such a liar.

Crawling back to civilization

Maybe I'm on somebody's blogroll and they'll see the update and come and visit...

Hahahahaha. Anyway.

Dear blog,

I haven't missed you one little bit. But I need to get back to writing and to human interaction. In the year 2007, updating one's blog may be an important part of that.

I wasn't kidding that the infamous Wagon Scene in Zelda: Twilight Princess consumed my attention and soul for actual weeks, but I must confess even more distracting and frustrating events were going on as well.

The big problem was that I was summarily reassigned at work to go teach at the very worst school in the city. Now, I can handle teaching at a tough school, I've been doing it almost my entire career, but it's not my job anymore. I left the classroom. On purpose. So to be told to go back, and to go back to a school that has so many issues, and to pick up the pieces from a fired teacher who had done such an appallingly bad job...

Well, it pissed me off at first. But I was philosophical about it.

Then I went and did the job, and that thin veneer of good attitude was pretty much demolished by the end of 3rd period on the first day. I won't dwell, but suffice it to say, my job was the part of my life that was going well, and when this shitstorm came down the line and made all aspects of my life desperately sucky, I spiraled into a depression, stopped calling friends or checking e-mail...

Finally the school year ended and I was released back to my "real" job, which I'd been away from so long I couldn't figure out what to do with myself once back at the cubicle. Fortunately, I had a trip to New Mexico (for my grandparents' memorial service and attendant family reunion) to look forward to at the end of June. Ultimately, I was so wiped by the preceding experience, that I took a week off sick before I left on vacation.

That helped. And getting back into the swing of things at work and another weeklong beach vacation in the beginning of August also did wonders.

Meanwhile, I refinanced the house, as the ARM we were stupid enough to get into was an ever-increasing source of disastrous friction between the husband and myself and that helped a lot of things at home. It's sad to say on your way to the beach, "Hey, maybe this year's trip will be even better because you will be speaking to me this time!" It also turns out to be true.

Buddy starts kindergarten in a matter of days. Thank God I got all the other crap dealt with because there's enough stress in this operation to age me twenty years.

So, thats the short version. How's everyone doing?

The above picture is of my two boys exploring White Sands.

Oh, and? I'm applying to law school.

If you need me, I'll be on the Hyrule fields...

... trying to cut my way through goblins and vengeful bomb-dropping birds as I escort a wagon with my amnesiac true love, some fat bar strumpet, and a sick mer-child in whose life rests the entire fate of the world.

As you can see, I, like apparently all other players of the Wii game Zelda: Twilight Princess, am stuck on a particularly vicious bit of gaming code and have little time to spare for blogging, eating or doing my taxes. Twilight Princess is such a fantasmagorically fun game and the Nintendo Wii is such a brilliant game platform that it has managed to suck in even me. And I hate video games.

I'm beginning to work up a healthy dislike for this game in particular. And He Who Looks Hot in Jeans is waaaaayy behind me (he's distracted by trying to win Olympic gold for the Canadian hockey team on the X-box 360), so I can't make him help me until after he's defeated the Fiery Wagon Ride of Carpal Doom himself. Which, if the forums (fora?) are any indication, he may never do either.

Meanwhile, my job sucks and I'm broke and I'm seriously considering firing my babysitter, despite the fact that I don't think I've got any other valid options for child care. Since I've sworn not to use this blog as a platform for bitching, I guess I'll just have to go one maintaining air silence. As I said, if anyone needs me, I'll be on Hyrule field, chasing that damn bimbo and her burning wagon around and around in circles.

Send bomb arrows. And a fire extinguisher.

It's like a medieval Kim Possible, only it's totally not...

I live under a pretty hefty rock, so I don't know if I'm ahead of or behind the curve on this one, but people, you have just got to go get the kids and watch Jane and the Dragon.

An obscure DirectTV channel called Ion carries VeggieTales and 3-2-1 Penguins! on a Friday afternoon network called Qubo, also available on our NBC affiliate on Saturday mornings. After the lovable Christian comestibles ran their credits, this new CGI confection came on, and I was immediately hooked. So were the rest of the Dungeons and Dragons dorks lounging around my living room getting a head start on their Friday night buzz. Buddy likes it well enough, but I bet he'll enjoy it more when he's older (he needs more explosions right now).

Anyway, things that are right about Jane and the Dragon:

• It takes place in a medieval castle, in an era of chivalry and, of course, dragons. As far as I'm concerned, every TV show, movie and book should have a similar setting. Even the ones about WWII.
• It's about Jane, a girl who wants to be a knight.
• It's made by Weta, who are singlehandedly responsible for everything that is awesome in my DVD collection so far.
• The CGI animation is well-done, but that's not a major accomplishment anymore. What is remarkable is the beautiful and extremely original styling of the animation: the colors are soft, and the backdrops look as if they've been drawn with colored pencils, and the character modeling is very appealing. Jane's hair is especially fun. Dragon's motion controls are genius, the giant reptile slithers over the walls of the castle like a skink.
• The stories are good and include a compelling moral for the kiddies -- and it's not too simplistic, there's room for discussion at the dinner table

A word to the wise, however: last Sunday I watched The Chronicles of Riddick and the Oscars, and I thought both were fantastic, so clearly I have absolutely no taste.