Sunday, July 27, 2008

What do the mayor of Gotham and Adam Ant have in common?

Vote for me. I'm desperate, but not serious.

I saw The Dark Knight yesterday.

Whoa. Wow. Damn. Yikes. etcetera. As you've probably read and heard from everyone else by now, it's fantastic. Amazing effects. Heath Ledger giving the performance of his (sadly finished) life. Christian Bale, still hot. A riveting story that asks a lot of questions about good, evil and humanity.

But there was one question that went unanswered for me. One that dogs me still.

Why was the mayor of Gotham wearing eyeliner?

I mean, we all know why The Joker was wearing makeup. He's off his fucking nut. But why did the mayor look like he should be fronting Spandau Ballet? Gavin Newsom has the hair gel, but this is ridiculous. It bugged me enough that every time the mayor was onscreen, it's all I thought about. And considering how hard Gary Oldman worked, that's not really fair, is it?

Was he experimenting with gender bending, like the cute little Asian barista who gets me my latte at Starbucks? Was he secretly in cahoots with The Joker, wearing kohl in solidarity? (c'mon, The Joker didn't try THAT HARD to kill him.) Maybe it's a Gotham public sector thing, and Commissioner Gordon has a garter belt on under his suit. This really needs to be explained in the next film.

And if you ask me, the mayor concentrates too much liner on his lower lid. He needs to draw more emphasis to the outer corners of his deep-set eyes. I mean, if you're going to do it, go big or go home.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Steal this trash


I came out to my car this morning and all four windows were open. So was the sunroof. Now, I've been a little crazed this week, but I don't recall leaving the car wide open at any point yesterday.
That leaves two possibilities:

1. While unloading the car yesterday, Rick somehow accidentally triggered the windows and sunroof to open (My car is full of these little surprises)
2. Someone, somehow, got the windows down despite the definite locked-ness of my car. To do...something.

God I hope it's not number 2. Because that would blow. There has been a rash of burglaries in Boulder this summer. We've had our Burley trailer and a scooter stolen already. Losing an entire frickin' car would put me over the edge. I've seen that movie before and I hated the ending.

There's also the possibility that they didn't want the car, but rather the stuff piled in it. Of which there is much. If that's the case, the joke is on them. Because my car is basically a big rolling garbage bin. It's not surprising that they didn't want to steal any of my 27 empty water bottles. Or my three-week-old Boulder Weekly. Or that cornucopia of crumbs and dried fruit remnants that my kids are collecting in the back. I would estimate the total value of my car's contents to be about 3 cents and an empty GoGurt tube. (All of which, coincidentally, is probably IN my car right now!)

That's too bad. Because they didn't take any of that trash, and now I have to clean out my own damn car. Bummer. If they were going to break in, at least they could be useful.

Oh well. More incentive to actually be able to park my car in my garage. The contents of which are worth 4 cents. And Bret Michaels.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The shittiest president ever

Pardon me, can you please direct me to the GEORGE W. BUSH SEWAGE PLANT?

Oh, how I wish I were still a San Francisco voter.
This November, there will be an initiative on the San Francisco ballot to rename the Oceanside Water Pollution Control Plant the George W. Bush Sewage Plant. Swear to god. Some guy thought of the idea after several beers with friends. Then he put on an Uncle Sam suit, gathered 12,000 signatures and made it happen. Democracy kicks ass.
I'm considering moving back immediately so I can re-register and vote for it. Not that they will even need my help. There is just no way this thing is not gonna pass. And no matter how fancy and schmancy W's presidential library is, no matter how many speaking engagements he gives, even if he lays in state in the Capitol rotunda after a long life, there will be a shit treatment plant with his name on it.
It's a common and correct assumption that a sewage plant is pretty gross. People, you have no idea. My grandmother worked for many years for the City of Indianapolis. Her last job before she retired was in the office of the Indianapolis sewage treatment facility. One time I was visiting Grandma for the weekend, so my mom dropped me off with her on Friday afternoon at work. I cannot even desribe the stench. To this day I have never been anywhere that smelled so foul. Imagine 750,000 people dropping a dook in the same spot at the same time. Yup. I remember thinking, "Wow, Grandma must've really screwed the pooch to end up in this job." I was only there for a half hour and I'm still traumatized by it.
And now, people will smell that vile odor and think of our president. Not that they don't already. But it'll be official.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Only in Boulder

Overheard at the Farmer's Market last night:

"Dude, you are an embarrassment to Ultimate Frisbee."

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Casper the emotional dagger

Friendly Ghosts and pregnancy hormones do not mix

the movie was on TV tonight. You already know this because you all TiVoed it, don't lie. We watched it with Gianni because it is a fairly non-sucky kid movie, as these things go. I know this because I've already seen it. Oh, yes I have. About 3.7 years ago, Casper the Friendly Ghost nearly did me in.

At the time, I was pregnant with Tea and desperate to veg out with some premium channels. Casper was the best thing on (sad, isn't it? Somehow I just wasn't up for the HBO world premiere of Catwoman.)

So I watched our favorite friendly ghost in his first feature film, got into the plot (believe me, they packed a lot of nuance into those other three mean ghosts). Ninety minutes later, Rick came in to find me on the couch, sobbing my eyes out at the heart-tugging ending. Goes without saying that I will never, ever live that down. I hadn't cried so hard since I watched Babe 2: Pig in the City when I was pregnant with Gianni. Or as my friend Marjorie refers to it, "The Shoah of talking pig movies."

A week later, my friend Miranda, who was also pregnant, told me that she had a hard time sitting through Hotel Rwanda. I told her, "I lost it at the end of Casper the Friendly Ghost. I don't think Hotel Rwanda is on my dance card."

Anyway--we watched it tonight and I sat through the ending and realized, oh my god, I was a hormonal idiot. I mean, not even the slightest bit heart-tugging. I think Gianni and Tea actually stopped watching to do their taxes during that part of the movie. It's amazing what a little pregnancy can do to a body.

Imagine what would have happened if Casper were haunting the Hotel Rwanda. I never would have made it.