Friday, March 30, 2012

Mega-Madge and Me

I don't know what you've been up to but I've been busy googling of myself, securing mega-million tickets and listening to the new Madonna album.  You DO know that you are supposed to google yourself every now and then, don't you? I am always tickled of how many of "me" there are in the world--there are at least 18 people in the US with my same name.  I think there's more but I stopped counting after 18.  The most prominent one seems to be some lady in Florida who writes math books.  Definitely not me.  The majority of the same-named women happen to be minorities and live south of the Mason-Dixon line.  There is one who prances around dog rings in show dogs, one who made comments about how much she loves Doris Day and even one that lives in two places I have lived--oh wait, that is me.  Funny how some search engines think I still live where I lived 25 years ago.  I'm all good with that--stay away from where I am now.  I was a little shook up at how many photos of me there are on the Internet...all my blog photos show up as me.  Dear god, that's a lot of me.  I'm not sure how I can stop this, as I don't really have my name publicly tied to the blog, but I will be working on a way to make myself a little less visible.

I can't believe I just wrote that.  Me, the hog of the limelight, wants to be less visible.

My co-workers have decided to join the mega-million-madness by pooling our money and buying a pile of tickets for tonight's drawing.  I figure I could live with ten million (after taxes, of course) as my portion.  I don't play the lottery very often so it was exciting to go buy a ticket or ten.  I've already planned out how I will be spending it.  Relatives, take note: you will be getting a chunk of the highest amount allowed to be given tax free as a gift.  While that won't make you rich--I think it's only $10 or $!2,000--it will allow you to go buy new clothes and a few of Madonna's new album.  When I told the wife about my plans, she said, "Can't we spend the money on ourselves first?" I assured her that we would have plenty of money for ourselves.  I told my boss that would continue to work because one cannot live off of ten million dollars and besides, I really like my job. Well, okay--maybe I could live off of ten million dollars and I'm going to want to travel.  Maybe I can work part time.

Don't worry--after we win, I'll still blog.  After all, I will have all sorts of time to blog and I'll have actual things to blog about.  No more mundane subjects of no redeeming value.

As for Madge, I have to think about this new album.  Last time she put out a new album (a real album, not a greatest hits compilation), I didn't like it very much after the first few listens.  I blogged about that, you know. I believe it was 2008--I'll double check.  I grew to love that album and thought the world tour that accompanied it was great.  So, I'm not too concerned that I am not in love with this album. I believe it will grow on me and that I'll enjoy the accompanying concert.  Until then, I'll try and figure out why I think the album feels a wee bit desperate.  I do like a few of the songs and already have them stuck in my head, so I take that as a good sign.  I think my biggest "complaint" is that she wrote this pathetic diddy with the "F" word in the title...the first line of the song is the title of the song, so the "F" word is front and center. Why she had to do this, especially in a ballad, I'm not sure.  It just makes her sound like someone who is old who is trying to be cool. It's my least favorite song and the most desperate.  I have no problem with the "F" word. It's just that there was no need for it that I could figure.

Oh.my.god. I sound like a curmudgeon.

I don't think any of this album will get any play on top 40 radio.  The last album didn't, either but that didn't hurt sales and didn't keep her from making a bazillion dollars  I think me, MJagger and all the 50 year old gay boys of the world are keeping her in business.

Someone's gotta do it.

My ten million mega-million dollars will NOT give me enough money to become Madge's new friend so I'll have to look elsewhere. She poops more than ten million dollars a day. She eats ten million dollars for breakfast. I bet Lucy Lawless would gladly be friends with my ten million dollars.  I bet the other 18 people with my name would be friends with my ten million dollars.  I know the people living in my old apartments would gladly visit me and my money.....

....all I have to say is: Wait til I win that money--THEN google my name.  That'll keep all of us busy.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Hungry Gaming---Yum!

First of all, I need your help: If you have NOT read the Hunger Games books yet but plan to see the movie, please DO NOT read them before going to see the movie.  I am looking for someone to give me a non-book perspective of the movie. I thought the movie rocked, but I'm wondering if (a) the movie makes sense if you haven't read the books; (b) you thought the movie was good despite not reading the books; and, (c) the movie has the same emotional impact that it has on the book-reading viewers.

That said, there are no spoilers here, so everyone feel free to continue reading, whether or not you plan to read the book or see the movie.


I decided to go see the Hungry Gaming movie on opening day in IMAX.  I took four hours of vacation time, secured a ticket on-line from Fan-tastic-do and zipped toward the theater.  Water bottle and protein bar hidden for sneak-in snack, I pull into the parking lot.  Now, weekday theatre in our town is never busy, even on opening days, even for really big movies (even all those vampire movies have never been crowded), so I wasn't too worried about the event.....but, I did not anticipate what I saw before me....


As I am driving in, I notice FOUR giant yellow school buses lined up right in front of the entrance. Four!  Four buses with a bazillion middle schoolers pouring out of them.  Pouring! Stunned (with mouth literally dropped open), I park the car, try not to drop the water bottle hidden in my sleeve and head toward the entrance.


It is no exaggeration when I say the entire lobby was filled with middle schoolers.  They engulfed the place.  I couldn't even see the front of the concession stand.  I got my ticket from the kiosk and meandered toward the usher taking tickets.  I look at her as I had her my ticket and say, "Please tell me these kids are NOT going to the IMAX show."

A lady standing near my laughed.  She said she had just asked the same thing. The usher assured me the kids were not in the IMAX theatre and that they had several theaters to the opposite side of the showplace.  The usher also pointed out that there was a special line at the concession stand for people not with the school group.  I found this to be genius.

As for the movie, here's what I have to say:  (No spoilers, so do not be afraid.)  
(1) I thought the movie was quite true to the book.  Of course, they had to change some things, cut out characters, shorten interactions.  I was very pleased by this and feel they captured the essence and story of the book.
(2) I was quite surprised how I embraced the actors and actresses in their roles.  Reading a book, you imagine your "own" characters.  I had been disappointed when I saw the casting--those actors didn't look like I had imagined.  Yet, once the film got rolling, it all made sense.  I have to give the casting director credit.
(3) It did not seem long at all.  I never once looked at my watch (or, my cell phone--the younger generation doesn't look at watches) nor did I get antsy.  Time flew by.  I guess the movie is about 2.5 hours long.  I wouldn't have guessed that.  I would have guessed two hours, which is a compliment to the movie.
(4) Whoever came up with the idea of having Cinnabons available at the concession stand is a GENIUS.  Dear god, there is nothing better than the wafting of cinnabons and popcorn as you are standing in line waiting to get in the theater.  (Well, I suppose if they threw in there chocolate chip cookies baking, that would be the perfect trifecta.) I ate a Cinnabon and I don't ever eat them when I'm at the mall nor would I buy them to bring them home.  I couldn't say no--the aroma was too tempting.  It was six bucks for that puppy and worth every penny.  Sweet and salty is also a genius combination.  Damn you, theater owners!
(5) Bring your kleenex.  There are two scenes that I found gut-wrenching, even though I knew they were coming and I knew what was going to transpire.  I am wondering, though, if the scenes were so powerful because I read the book or because they were powerful on their own.  That's why I need to find a non-book reading viewer--to know if the scenes were as powerful for you as they were for me.  The scenes were quite true to the book and yet they still enveloped me in angst.  I did not have Kleenex, as I am not the crying-in-a-movie type of grrrrrl.  I had to use my sweatshirt sleeve, which is disgusting but worked.
(6) I will gladly go see the movie again.  Probably two times more.  The incredible scenery of North Carolina alone is enough to make me go see it again.
(7)  I know what I am going to be for Halloween and it's not Katniss. I will leave that to MJagger. She's got the look--dark hair in a braid and leather boots make her a shoo-in.  I have plans which include a lot of blue.  'Nuf said.
(8) I think that school deserves a medal.  They had everything organized. Everything! Good job by the school and by the theater. I'm still contemplating how I feel in regards to a bunch of middle schoolers seeing this movie as part of a field trip.  Alas, I'm just old and crusty when I use that kind of thinking.
(9) I am NOT looking forward to the third movie, as that book is so dark and so painful that I'm not sure I can deal with it.  Ugh, to think about putting all that in a movie!
(10) Go see it in IMAX if you can.  I know, I know--it's just another scam to make more money and movies are already expensive enough....but, all that beautiful scenery is begging to be enjoyed.  I'm sure it will be just fine on the smaller screen, but it really is worth it, at least IMHO.  It's kinda like Avatar--it was great in 2-D and still incredibly enjoyable, but seeing it in 3-D took it to a whole 'nother level.

That said, go see the movie.  If you didn't read the book and go see the movie, you have GOT to tell me what you thought.  See the movie and.....may the odds be ever in your favor, especially when Cinnabons and popcorn are involved.
Jump Right In and Spit Back Out

I will get to the Hungry Gaming next blog.  This can't wait--a miracle of the Lord has happened....I jumped back into the medical loop and it spit me right back out!

I take this as a sign from the Universe that I am good to go and should stay out of doctors' offices for the issue of which I do not speak.

I went to the doctor, as planned, little white flag of surrender in hand.  As noted in the previous blog, I was hoping not to jump back in to the medical loop, because once you are in, it's pretty hard to get out.  Besides, all the tools and knowledge of western medicine have done me diddly squat poop--I guess it's that addiction to the white coat that sucks me back every now and again. Is there a 12-step program for this? "Admitted we were powerless over the white coated-eastern scoffing-laden-with-pharamceutical-cash doctor and that our managed health care has become unmanageable."  

My doctor always walks in, looks at me with a jaunty step, pretends to know who I am, gives me a hearty hello and a big smile.  I know he doesn't know me and I'm quite certain he has no idea what possibly could be my ailment; thus, he radiates happiness and gives empathetic look of concern on his face when listening to you.  Hey, that's almost as good as recognition.  Long story short: I whine, he listens, I whine, he waves an empathetic brow, I whine, he nods while reading the computer screen.  To make sure he is listening and to give emphasis to my whining, I add, "if you told me eating meat would help, I would start eating meat again today."

Thankfully, he does not suggest I start eating meat.

While whining, I give a side-note I can't exercise any more because the pain bothers me too much, he stops typing and looks at me.  I can tell this bothers him.

He indicates this is unacceptable.

I am giddy with gratitude.  This not being able to exercise seems to quantify things for him. I have finally struck a chord which shows how the quality of my life is being affected. He decides that I must exercise and that we must find a way to do this.  He drums his fingers on the table as he stares at the monitor and says that "we have to get you exercising. I don't really want to refer you to the surgeon." He then gives two thumbs up for myofascial release and tells me to keep doing this as it is very beneficial.

I can't believe I am hearing this.  My doctor just said gave two thumbs up to myofascial release and he has announced he doesn't really want to refer me to a surgeon. Doctors refer people to surgeons and specialists as part of the medical loop fun.  Here I am, not getting referring.  I start to think I'm delusional but he says it again.  This being spit out of the medical loop while trying to jump in is really mystifying me.  We discuss the plan of how I will exercise again. I am supposed to give this three months.

With this, I have been spit out of the medical loop.  I can work miracles in three months.  I am absolutely positive that I can work miracles in three months.


I decide to worry about seeing the Hungry Gaming on opening day and on buying new shoes instead of worrying about not knowing, once again, what truly ails me.  After all, one can't exercise without proper footwear......

I think I need at least two new pair of shoes in a three month's span, don't you?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Not Real: Not a crusty critter

After further review....

It appears our crayfish is a mushroom.

I went and dug up one of these puppies, in hope we would find mud puppies for dessert. Here it is, plopped on our driveway (which obviously needs to be sealed). Alas, it's just some funky fungus.

Guess I have more research to do.
Fungus Among Us


The Addiverse gives a big shout out and a hearty congratulations to Chick-a-hello and her best friend Scooter.  Those gayla apples are mighty fine this time of year.

My original blog, which was written over the weekend, never got published because I had second thoughts about it.  Suffice it to say that is was mostly me whining about my continuing medical saga.  I thought the post was pretty funny (I always manage to entertain myself), then I realized I was just giving "power" to the issue by whining/writing/giving attention to the issues. It's hard for me not to whine.  I can whine with the best (or worst) of them.  Here's what I'll tell you: I'm jumping back into the medical world loop.  Once you are in the medical loop, you have to go along for the ride.  Seat belt is fastened, hands will remain in the car at all times.  Here I go!

Since my original blog is no longer relevant, I decided that I would blog about the mystery blobs in our lawn.  We've got these "things" for a lack of better word/term/description bubbling up from below--kind of like some kind of underground mushroom is trying to push through the turf.  They're pretty big, as far as I'm concerned--they've got to measure six inches wide.  They're black and look dirty but not like dirt.  We noticed them late fall and during the winter--they're multiplying and we now have like ten of these things. I went out and tried to take a photo of them, but the sun was already setting, so it's not the best visual:

All but this one of the mystery piles do NOT have a hole in the middle; this is the only one that does, so that's why I took the picture of it.  Most of the piles look like dog poop that's been sitting out in the rain--you know, if you have a big dog and it poops and you don't pick it up and it rains, you go back out in the yard and there's this pile of something that no longer resembles poop? That's what we're talking about here. If you have any idea what this might be, we are all ears.

In order to get an expert opinion, the wife called our lawn man.  I took him out to the piles (after all, the wife was already in her pajamas--I couldn't make her go out on the front lawn) and pointed to the problem.

Lawn man: "Wow! Those are crayfish.  In my 14 years of working in the business, I've never seen crayfish in a lawn."

He then looked around, a bit confused.  After all, we live in a suburban-type setting with no river/creek/pond anywhere near us.

Lawn man: "Do you have a lot of wild life around here?"

That's when I looked around.  Houses.  Mailboxes. Parked cars. Cell phone towers.

Me: "Um, well we have squirrels and rabbits." I thought about it for a few more seconds.  "I think we have a stray possum every now and again."

Lawn man: "Huh.  Crayfish! I'd just throw some dirt over them and re-seed." He smiled.

Me: "Throw some dirt on it?"

Lawn man: "Yup! That's what I'd do."

I went in the house and announced to the wife that we have crayfish.  Neither of us believe that for one second but we have no idea what it actually is, so I suppose we shouldn't poo-poo the idea until we have some other ideas. Our vote is that it's a mushroom/fungus type of ordeal.  We've had stink horns and puff balls and vomit/slime fungus but never crayfish-type bubbling-from-below fungus.

I think there is a fungus among us.  The Addiverse is offering a reward for information on what the hell is growing in our lawn and includes information on how to get rid of it.  If it does indeed turn out to be cray fish, I will give the Lawn Man the prize.

Maybe I'll just throw some dirt on him and keep the prize for myself.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

An Most Excellent Day

What's not to love about a day that features more tampons in the mail and the discovery of chocolate peeps?

Well, I must admit to being extremely disappointed that the Golden Arches decided to increase the price of their ice cream cones, but that's not such a bad thing when one gets a sparkly green box in the mail filled with bundles of love.

First, let's talk about the peeps.  I am pretty sure peeps don't qualify as a vegetarian product but one must make concessions when it comes to confections.  I hate peeps.  Don't eat them.  If I want that much sugar in such a small package, I'll go eat a tablespoon of raw sugar and call it a day.  That said, I was very intrigued when the wife held up a package with a chocolate covered peep in it.  Now, you KNOW I love chocolate so I wasn't able to say "no" to this product.  I figured it was worth the chance.  Suffice it to say that I found it strangely semi-tasty.  I'm still  no peep fan but this was much better than an original peep.  If you get the chance, try one.  I wouldn't spend any time seeking them out but if one crosses your path, just say yes.

As for the tampons, I received a sparkly green-glitter box in the mail, sent to me from the northernmost tip of Wisconsin.  It was filled with ob tampons.  As you can see, Lucy is very interested in what's in the box.  She was disappointed to see that this wasn't another package from a dog-related company (i.e. treats in the mail).  She doesn't need tampons, so what does she care? Those of you who visit the Addiverse often know what this is all about.  Those of you who only visit now and then have NO idea why I would be excited to get ob tampons in the mail.  I can't thank my transplanted cheddar head enough for the gift. Kiss kiss!

A final note about those ice cream cones: they went from fifty cents to 69 cents.  It had to happen, I suppose...but, it's messing with my money system.  I keep 54 cents in my car at all times because that's how I roll and that's how much they cost.  Now I have to figure out how much tax is on 69 cents so I can keep the proper amount of change on hand.....

...I'll focus on how much those little cotton bundles of love fill me with joy and not worry about the price increase.

Here's to YOU have a most excellent day.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Taxing our Brains

To understand the irony of the most recent mathematical transaction in our house, you have to understand that the wife was a math teacher for 17 years and I was an art major.  Now, I'm not saying that art majors are inferior to math majors--I'm just saying that if there is a mathematical equation, my money is going to be on the math person, not the artist.

Our tax refunds arrived in our bank accounts last week.  Because we are single in the eyes of the federal government, we have to file separately and thus get separate returns.   It's a pointless story to talk about the happenings of our money, so I'll just say that once we get our returns, we put our refunds together, as any other married couple would do, and the wife goes out and spends it. 

This year got a little more confusing than usual--why, I am not sure.  It seemed like a no-brainer to me but the wife kept insisting that I was wrong.  This made me nervous because I was pretty sure I was right but how does the art major argue with the math major about numbers? I swear to you this is the discussion that happened around our kitchen this week.

I'll base it this blog on $2000 because that's a nice round number easy for math majors and art majors to use. You should see me preparing for this blog--had to get my numbers figured out so I could appropriately and correctly explain this interaction....

Me: Hey! My tax return is in my bank account! $1500.  Woo woo!

The wife:  Mine arrived, too.  $300, just as expected.

Me: I'll write you a check so you can put the refund in your account so you can pay for the new furniture, right?

The wife:  Yes.

(Side note: we really are getting furniture.  We were on track to get furniture last year but the dog became the new furniture, with all her vet bills.  Thankfully, the dog is quite healthy so we are going ahead with the purchase.)

Me:  [I pull out my check book.]  So, I write you a check for $1500--right?

The wife: No.  We split it.  Besides, we haven't gotten our State tax return yet.

Me: Well, we haven't filed that yet, so no.

The wife: I'm including that in this equation.  I got $300, you got $1500, we're getting $200 more.

Me: Uh-huh.

The wife: That's $2000 total.

Me: Uh-huh.

The wife: How much are you keeping?

Me: Huh?

The wife: It's your return, you don't have to give me everything for the furniture.

Me: [getting really confused.  What IS she talking about?]

The wife: So you have to give me $1000 but you'll get the $200 from the State, so really you have to give me $1100.

Me: [REALLY confused.]  Why aren't I giving you all the money I got back?  Besides, you already have $300.  So, I should give you $800, right?

The wife: No,wait--you know what? Why don't you keep my part of the mortgage payment (which, for the purpose of this blog we will say is $500--I have to keep the math simple for illustration purposes)--$800 minus $500 is $300.  You should write me a check for $300 and then we'll be even.

Me: [Silent.  This is wrong. Way wrong.]  Are you sure? You want a check for $300?

The wife: Yes.  Do you think it should be less or something?

Me:  No--no, not at all.  I don't think your math is right, tho.

The wife: You own me $300.

Me: [grabbing paper and pencil] Let me show you.  If I have $1500 and I'm going to get $200 more and you have $300, that's $2000.  You want me to keep $500 for the mortgage, so that's back to $1500.

The wife:  Right.  Half of that is technically $750.

Me: Well, okay.  But, why am I cutting this in half?

The wife: because that's your return.

Me: [very confused, art major brain beginning to pound] But, we're putting our money together for the furniture.  

The wife: So, you write me a check for $300--that way you can keep $150 for yourself.

I am now WAY too confused to speak.  I write the check for $300 and hand it to her.  I go get ready for work, shaking my head, thinking that I need to give her $1500 from the return, give her the $200 when it arrives and she needs to put this $1700 with her $300, which makes $2000, which will pay for the furniture.  If she wants me to take out the $500 for the April mortgage, the equation is $1500 + $200 - $500 = $1200.  This has nothing to do with her $300 tax return in her account.  I should be writing her a check for $1200, not $300.  I don't even know what to think about this keeping $150, let alone where she got this $300 idea. I don't know what the hell she is talking about.  While standing in the shower, I think I should just shut up and enjoy my windfall.

I go to work and say not another word. When I get home, the wife announces she has figured out she was wrong.

The wife: I didn't figure this out correctly.

Me: Really?  [Duh.  I knew that.]

The wife: Right.  Here's the equation I worked out [shows me her scribbling with numbers and tiny little writing that I can't read, which I am sure is about what is what].

Me: Right.  So how much do I owe you?

The wife: You own me $600.

Me: Huh.  Don't you mean $900?

The wife: where are you getting $900?

Me: Well, I gave you $300.  I'm supposed to be giving you $1200.  Isn't $1200 - $300 = $900?

The wife: Yeah.  So?

Me: So, I need to write you a check for $900.

the wife: Did you get the state refund?

Me: No.  But, I will.

The wife: But, you don't have it yet.  So, you can give me $100 when it gets here.

Me: What? Why aren't I giving you $200?

The wife: Don't we split that?

Me: Are you SURE you taught math for a living?
*********
For the record, I wrote the check for $900.  I had faith she'd figure it out sooner or later.  She eventually did:

The wife: Oh, you should have given me $1200.

Me: Really.

The wife: Yeah.  I don't know what I was thinking.

Me: Me neither.  So, the $300 + $900 is $1200, so we're all good, right?

The wife: Right.

Me: And, we're even, right?

The wife: Yes, until you get the state refund.  Then you owe me $100.

Me:  [OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD.OH.MY.GOD!!! WHERE IS SHE GETTING THESE NUMBERS????]  No. we're even.  I've already given you the money for the state refund that we didn't get yet.

The wife: Oh.  [pause]  Are you sure?

Me: Are YOU sure you were a math major?

The wife: Right.  We're even.

I don't think she is yet convinced about the money.  All I know is that the furniture has been ordered and is on its way, the state will send me refund in a few weeks and the dog is healthy.  Maybe I should just shut up and keep whatever money she thinks I should keep.

Me: Maybe we should have a joint checking account.

The wife: Maybe we should get divorced. This whole tax thing would be much simpler.

Me: What? Divorcing me wouldn't change this.  I'd still give you the refund in my account.

I can tell the wife is NOT following this statement or concept.  Someone get this lady some hormones!

Me: Yeah, maybe we should get divorced. That'll solve that problem.

She'll come to her senses tomorrow.  Maybe I should spend that money before she figures things out.....

Problem is, I'm not sure how much to spend because I'm not quite sure she even knows how much I have.....aw hell, I can just make up numbers and fire up the Internet before the hormones kick in!

Maybe I should've been a math major.  At least a math minor.

Wednesday, March 07, 2012

Face It

I could talk about how much the Republican candidates freak me out or how I much I've been contemplating the meaning of the warmest winter on record or how I'm excited about the arrival of my new Jillian workout DVD or how classy Peyton Manning was as he was cut from his team, but I think it's more important we talk about my face.

Now that I am 49.75 years old, my face--as I lamented about just a blog or two ago ("Freeze Frame, 2/16/12)--has taken on a mind of its own:
My facial skin is now incredibly pliable, which can be quite entertaining, albeit in a disturbing way.  I think I can get ten to twelve inches of skin stretched away from my face, which is perfect for making faces to scare small children. I like to scare tiny tots, so I am all good with this development.


Speaking of small children, I think I've lost a few in my frowny brow.  It always looks like I'm serious or angry but I'm really not serious or angry at all.  It's just what my skin has done. I can thank my grandmother for these deep crevices. They are an inheritance of the maternal type.  I best check them every once in awhile to look for dogs, dust bunnies and Jimmy Hoffa hidden in there. I've heard botox will help me not look so stern but really? Wouldn't I rather have more Madonna tickets than get botulism shot into my face? I'll keep my grandmotherly gift and Madonna tickets, thank you.

Lest you think I've always had those frowny brows, here I am in younger years, frowny brow free:

My jolly jowls are developing in a most droopy, surprising way.   I noticed this on my friends before mine became apparent. Now, they are giving me little waves "hello" when I look in the mirror.  I think the jowls are my least favorite change, not that it matters how I rank the changes.

I'm not bringing facial hair into this discussion, so cool your jets.

I am not alone in this adventure....thankfully, most of my beloved friends understand my plight.  They too are experiencing the change of the middle age face. Technically, we are more than middle age, but that's how we roll in America.  We are middle age qualified.  (Some of us are already AARP qualified.  I am awaiting my invitation.)

The wife and I went to dinner last night with three of our most wonderful friends.  A great time was had by all.  Because we are all in the general vicinity age-wise, we are all enjoying the same age-related issues, including changes in our facial presentation.  We embrace it and laugh about it because we really are powerless over our skin and our crease lines have become unmanageable......unless, like I've said before, you are Madonna and can have plastic surgery.  None of us have the inkling or interest in such nonsense, so embrace our faces we shall do. 

We cannot fight gravity.  Or, so they tell me.  No wonder all those parts are going south (and east & west, in some cases).   Life would so suck if we didn't have gravity, so go with it.

I embrace my gravity-changed face but I'm not so sure I'll ever be able to embrace my wobbling triceps, though.

I am SO going to have to take video of that.  My triceps, not gravity. 

Here is one of my triceps in 1987:













Here is one of my triceps in 2011:











Okay, okay, so that's not my tricep. It's Madonna's tricep.  I'm fantasizing. It COULD be my tricep.  She's older than me, so she gives me and my triceps hope.  I don't think she's had tricep-enhancing surgery, so I am motivated: this is what I aspire to by the time I'm 50. POW! POW!

Hmmm.  I think I'll stop pulling the skin on my face and do a few push-ups.  

Ah, hell--I'm not gonna do a push up.  I'm gonna go eat another piece of chocolate and pretend I did the push-ups. Then I'm gonna go scare some small children.

Anyone seen the dogs lately?

Thursday, March 01, 2012

I'm Hungry

Only 22 more days to the release of that Hungry Movie!  The title image for the Addiverse at this time pays tribute to the book and pending movie.  (Hungry people: Notice I used the word tribute.) For those of you who are not in the know, there is a trilogy of books about the future where people play in an Olympics-type annual game...where all of the 24 contestants ends up dead except the victor.   Yum!

I know, I know, it's VERY dark, so it's really surprising that I agreed to read the books.  If it hadn't been Three Hawk and Argo Warrior Princess making the referral, I probably would have passed.  I'm all about happy, laughing, smiley books and movies.  I don't want serious, sad, depressing, pained, dark movies or books.  I mean, Harry Potter is about as dark as I'm willing to go and that's a stretch.  I want feel-good or really, really no-brainer stupid, sophomoric entertainment.  (And, no dying dogs.  I do not under any circumstance watch movies where the dogs get sick, injured or die. You could offer me $100,000 and I wouldn't watch.  Okay, for $1,000,000 I'll watch that Marley dog movie but not for one penny less.)

If you haven't read the Hungry books, I suggest that you give them a try.  Just make sure you have strong anti-depressants in the house.  I loved the books. LOVED.  I hear they were designed for teens but I'm thinking this is pretty dark stuff for eighth graders and they certainly didn't read like "young adult" books.   Since I already told you that the game requires 23 of the 24 players (tributes, as they are called) are gonna end up dead, you can imagine that there can't be a very happy ending in the works. 

It could be worse--all 24 could have to end up dead. 

I am a bit concerned about the movie, as movies NEVER do justice to the books.  Part of me is concerned that they will water down the movie to the point the story is lost--part of the beauty is the angst and seriousness and grunge of the the whole thing. Another part of me is worried about how they are going to depict all this death and pain in a way that doesn't make movie goers want to slit their wrists or get schnookered on the way home. Yet another part of me is worried the actors won't do the story justice.  I mean, I have a very specific imagine of how the characters look in my mind's eye.  I am a very visual person, so I have a very detailed vision of what the towns and people and game locations look like.....the movie is bound to be way different.  I have to suspend any preconceived notions I have so I can enjoy the movie.  What if the star is too wimpy, too clean, too nice, too pretty, too soft? What if the drunk isn't drunk enough?  Let it go, I tell myself.

That said, I am psyched about the approaching movie release.  I plan on being there opening day and I'm saving up my calories so I can eat sickening amounts of popcorn.  I've read the trilogy twice through and I'm thinking I should give them one more run before opening day.  I'm not sure the wife wants anything to do with this movie, so I'll have to drag MJagger with me.  She liked the books so I figure she'll be great company.  Although we can't go together on opening day, I will also go see the movie with Argo and Three Hawk (I don't mind seeing movies twice, especially when it gives me the chance to experience the film with fans of the book).

Read the books.  And, may the odds be ever in your favor.