Embrace the swass.

I decided, around 64 days ago, that I wasn't going to let this redonk heat do me in.

It is what it is. I cannot change it.

So I decided to embrace it.

I bike in the mornings because it takes longer than a run.

I run in the evenings because it's not as hot (note that I didn't say "cooler"), and because I live in a neighborhood that's safe to do so.

I have also embraced a lot of other things that come along with working out in the extreme heat and humidity...

Swass.

Swoobage (commonly known as swits, but I find this word a bit harsh on my innocent ears).

Swussy.

As you might guess, swass is sweaty ass. Swoobage? Sweaty boobs.

Do I need to explain swussy? Okay, thanks.

Guys experience the same phenomena, but theirs is called swootch.

Not gonna explain this, find out for yourself.

Anyway, you run in normal conditions and you get sweaty.

But running in such hot, humid weather and your creases get all swampified.

I guess I'd rather have all the SW's combined, momentarily, than an entire afternoon of pristine clean from not working out.

Embrace the swass, and whatever else is making gravy. You probably earned it.

Movie Review - Lovely Molly

I was surprised by how decent this was. But then, Eduardo Sanches directed, and if you liked his first film, The Blair Witch Project, then you'll appreciate the realistic, spooky bent he brings to the film.

The sense of dread throughout the film was pervasive and lasted through to the end. The actress, who is apparently new to the scene, did a fine job. I liked that she looked like someone you might be friends with from work or the gym. Normal, flawed, a little bit messy. She may have even been a little too real at times, which pulled you into the story more - she was believable in a way that made you think it could be you hearing the noises...

Some of the scenes are pretty graphic, including full-on nudity and sex, but it never felt gratuitous, and melded into the storyline. The violence feels real also. Sounds real, too, which was unsettling. I hate it when I'm watching a movie and when someone plunges a knife into someone else, you hear a metal-on-metal sound, but I realize it's kinda worse when the sound effect mimics what a sharp knife entering the back of the head probably sounds like. Pop, slurp.

I could've done without the sister. Annoying as hell, and not necessarily needed.

I was pulled along by the story, trying to figure out why lovely Molly behaved the way she did, and wondering what were actual clues and what noises and people and visual effects were meant to distract. It wasn't until close to the end that the story began to feel like it was unraveling, and loose ends were going to remain just that. Even so, I wasn't tempted to push pause or skip it - I had to know how it ended.

Well, the ending wasn't what I expected. It felt somewhat unfinished. And there was some weirdness as well that made no sense at all. I would argue that it leaves things wide open for a Part II. I wouldn't be opposed to that.

Being a horror movie fanatic, afficianado-wannabe, I've seen my share of spook stories. This one held its own with the likes of other "is she possessed or crazy or on drugs?" movies, and then some.

Three and a half stars out of four. Mostly because it's rare to find an atmospheric, somewhat unique horror movie these days.

The price for a baby in 1971 was....wait for it...

 My mom and I were recently going through old photos in an attempt to sort before we put them into albums.

We came across this spectacular one. Such a shit-eating grin, even at that age. Damn if I don't look like Winston Churchill...and hey, since I'm adopted, I could very well be a direct descendant...

My mom said I was very expensive when they adopted me through Catholic Family Services - $400, which would be about $2,300 today.

Holy crap. That seems pretty affordable, even by today's standards, recession and all. Now, I haven't been in touch with CFS lately, perhaps the cost is actually more than $2,300. I used a generic calculation method which I got here.

Seems low.

I have friends who've adopted kids overseas and shelled out well over $15,000 when it was all said and done. For the amazingness that my mom got from the deal (me), she was handed a bargain.

According to my mom, I started holding my own bottle at three months and was potty trained & walking by the time I turned one.

I hope to always remain such a quick study...

Lewis & Clark'n it...

I've been spending more time on area rivers to test my mettle. I'm fine kayaking on a lake, but depending on the current, some rivers are a little fast for me.

There's a race I'm thinking of doing, which takes place on the Missouri River. One of the items on my dirt nap list is to kayak on the Missouri, but would rather do so with a large group of experienced paddlers, during a sanctioned race. Safety is key here, due to the dangers this rivers is famous for - large, floating logs...super fast current, especially during high water, around the pilings and wing dikes....and barge traffic, which can capsize or pull a boat under.

Thankfully, the water level is very low due to the drought the country is experiencing, which decreases the chances for overly fast currents. However, the danger is still there.

The biggest river I've been on is the Illinois, and while I was with very experienced kaykers, it was still a little overwhelming.

I've got a few weeks before I need to register for the race, so I'm giving this a lot of thought. I really don't care about checking something off my list, but it would be such a great accomplishment to say I kayaked solo, 20 miles, down the longest river in North America, like Lewis & Clark did....word.

A request to the universe

I feel the following words/phrases are overused and need a break:

1. Bacon, when used describing how cool bacon is

2. Nom, nom nom, or nom nom nom

3. Salted caramel

4. Gingy, when used to describe a red-headed person

5. Mitt Romney

6. Rom com

7. Heat wave, record-breaking heat wave, heat advisory...generally, anything describing how blasted hot this weather is.

I guess that's it. Thanks.

I have a bad feeling about this...

I love Jennifer Garner. I will watch any movie she stars in, regardless of how crappy, like the remake of "Arthur" - I muddled through it just to see Mrs. Affleck bust out her unique brand of comedic timing.

She's got a new movie coming out called "The Odd Life Of Timothy Green" in which she plays a wife who cannot get preggers. She and her husband make some kind of magical wish, and the next day a dirty little boy appears who apparently grew in their garden.

Okay, whatevs. Sounds hokey, but sweet also.

My brother and I first saw the preview when we went to see "Ted", and as I was watching the trailer I got this very ominous feeling.

I'm pretty sure I can guess how this rutabega-boy story is going to end.

And I don't like it one bit. And if you have a heart, you won't either.

I think this little garden boy is gonna die.

I clued my brother into my prophecy, and he started giggling hysterically, and agreed with me. And then said he couldn't wait to see it. Our family enjoys morbid humor.

So, you may be wondering how I came to this conclusion. Well, it's pretty simple.

The preview shows him with petite, green leaves growing out of his ankles, and it appears to be springtime. To me, this means that he's "fresh from the garden, new and pure", much like a ripe-for-pickin' soybean plant.

Follow me so far? Okay, good.

Later on in the preview we get snippets of dialogue that make it seem as if he's special (obvs) and that he's teaching people lessons about life. The message seems to be that different is okay, and you can still laugh in a hospital bed at 80 or if you're a misunderstood tween Goth wannabe.

Nothing good can come of this. I've seen this kind of foreshadowing before.

The same plotline took place, loosely, in "Pay It Forward"....weird, sensitive little boy teaches people valuable life lessons, then he's shanked in the schoolyard.


But here, we have a plant-boy who is green during the spring/summer, and then fall comes around and he's playing in the DEAD LEAVES...

Shanking isn't part of this tots plan.

I'm thinking we'll get to see some shriveled, yellow leaves around his ankles that start to bend and break and, as the leaf dust is carried along the autumn breeze, he starts to have a difficult time walking/breathing/seeing....growing.

Because we all know what happens to plants during the fall, right before the winter. They die. And I'm guessing so will the kid.

But hey, he taught many people how to be more open and accepting and to laugh and love again, so it's okay. Right?

Wrong. This does not make it okay. Plant boy deserves a chance to live. And I guarantee the movie will involve doctors, and not horticulturists, in attempting to save his life. Because it's Disney. Evil, evil Disney.

I hope Disney don't play to formula and instead gives this a more unique and upbeat ending...like maybe the parents purchase copious amounts of Miracle-Gro which keeps the little tyke around longer, and he goes on to be a succeessful motivational speaker who doesn't make people walk on hot coals.

Or maybe they build him a special greenhouse, much like John Travolta's character had in "The Boy In The Plastic Bubble" which is one of the dorkiest, sweetest movies out there starring my favorite Sweathog.

Let's just hope they don't take him out back to the compost pile. That would be uber creepy. Green, which is cool, but still creepy.

Keeping my fingers crossed here.

Grilled cheese, mixed tapes, NYC, Pajama Sundays...

...these are a few of my favorite things:

1. Weekends at my favorite cabin with favorite people. Or alone. Nature is my salvation.

2. Paddling. River or lake, it makes no difference. The feeling is incredible.

3. Grilled cheese sandwiches on white Bunny Bread.

4. Conversations with new and old friends that are filled with depth, humor and surprises. Over coffee or tea, even better.

5. My dog, who has the best personality of anyone I've ever known.

6. Books. Real books you can hold that have pages you can fold over for reading later.

7. Clever writing, expert delivery and nuanced performances. See "Girls" and any Lars Von Trier or Wes Anderson film.

8. Anders Danielsen Lie. The world is a better place with him in it.

9. Music. Preferably live. Preferably punk, rock, folk or rockabilly.

10. My Felt, Fuji and Trek.

11. Holding hands at the movies.

12. Early morning rides, late night runs.

13. Marshmallows roasted over a campfire. No chocolate or graham crackers needed. The simplicity of getting the right amount of toastiness, peeling it off and starting over is beyond soothing.

14. Opaque tights.

15. Trips to NYC and Seattle.

16. The smell of rain-soaked sidewalks and leaves, powdery baby necks, lilac bushes, and pot roast with fresh rolls.

17. Finding art that I can't stop looking at, haggling down the price, getting it framed, then hanging it in just the right place.

18. Crocheting my own hats with soft, pretty yarn.

19. A good make-out session. The longer the better. Clothes on. Music in the background. Sometimes the promise of something more is better than getting the goods.

20. The art of creating a good mixed tape.

21. Horror movies. Bad or good. Fun times.

22. A day at the zoo.

23. Spontaneous daytripping. Preferably within 120 miles from home for a timely return.

24. Finding a great old movie on the telly late at night and staying up to finish it.

25. Peeling hand-picked apples lovingly by hand and making a pie with homemade crust. Then cutting a piece, still warm, and eating it with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

26. Shopping at or receving gifts/cards from Sephora, Plowsharing, Dicks Sporting Goods, Alpine Shop, REI or Craft Alliance.

27. Pizza. Deweys goat cheese, sausage & kalamata olive, Happy Joes Taco Joe no tomatoes, or Triple A's sausage.

28. Wearing jeans at work.

29. Training for sprint triathlons.

30. Sleeping in at least once a month. Any more than that and I would get addicted. It's happened, and it ain't pretty.

31. Billy Bragg, Jack White, Damien Rice, Lou Reed, Beastie Boys, old Indigo Girls, and Sezen Aksu.

32. Soft, semi-fitted sweaters in earthy colors.

34. Cinnamon or sweet mint gum.

35. Picnics in the fall.

36. Local festivals.

37. Growing my hair out and rediscovering the joy of hot rollers.

38. Seeing the Rocky Mountains in the distance. This makes me feel alive, happy and at home.

39. Falling in love.

40. Finding surprise notes in places like my book bag, bathroom mirror or my car telling me to have a good day or that I'm loved.

41. Chai tea latte. Meshuggah's or Mokabe's makes the best.

42. Dinner at Mangia, Shaved Duck, Bridge, King & I or Bottleworks.

43. Board games.

44. Professional massages.

45. When someone scratches my back or brushes my hair. Heaven.

46. The sound crunchy leaves make when walking through them.

47. Going to the pumpkin patch, picking out the best one, then scooping out the goop, roasting the seeds and carving up a good face for placement on the front porch.

48. Sushi. Crunch, Vegas and Snow rolls at Kampai are my fave.

49. Cool-weather hiking.

50. Pajama Sundays.

51. Breakfast for dinner. Sparingly, because it's gotta remain a rare treat or else it gets old.

52. Good hugs. Those arm-wrapped, hand-rubbing, meaningful ones.

53. Sheets warm and fresh from the dryer on a snowy day.

54. Spending time with my crazy, fun, loud, much-of-the-time innapropriate family. We swear a lot, and sometimes act like 10-year olds on a sugar high.

55. Sunsets that conjure up shades of pink, purple and burnt sienna.

56. Wearing socks. Another reason I dislike summer.

57. Flying to another city. The excitement to get to your destination, purchasing a crossword puzzle book and cheapy celebrity magazine, people watching, walking through an unfamiliar airport. It's rockstar.

Grungy Musings

Often called the "Lost Generation", Gen X'ers my age were damn straight-up lucky to be exposed to really formidable societal shifts (is there any other kind? lol) that took place during the mid 80's to the mid 90's. The music, fashion and other areas that underwent transformation during those years were some of, if not the, greatest. Lost is hardly the word to describe a generation that knew themselves well enough and sought to feel deeply, connect tangibly and find themselves during a time when the internet was still in diapers and technological aptitude didn't define one's worth. Not lost at all - living, scraping, howling to be heard and carving out a place for themselves.

Waxing on a bit much...better take it down a notch.

After many conversations with fellow GX's, I compiled a list that represent what a few of us believe about these wonderful, formative years of our generation:

1. Grunge and alternative music can never be considered "classic rock" in my opinion. Pixies, Dinosaur Jr., Echo, Sugarcubes, PJ Harvey, Sonic Youth and Pearl Jam will always be mainstays in my music collection, and are so tight and tasty and moving that they can easily slip into any generation and feel modern.

These and other bands wrote their own lyrics and music, and mastered their own style, which really wasn't as much style as it was substance. Whenever I listen to music from these two genres, I hear the depth in the effort behind the music. There's a connectedness and solidity to the message, the arrangements, the style in which the musicians played. There was a tangible soul that you could grab and shake and chew on.

Take, for instance, this lovely, crunchy example from Sonic Youth:


I'm no retro queen. There's a lost of music that came after 1995 that I enjoy, like my faves the White Stripes (the epitome of soulful, in my opinion), but I have a difficult time getting behind an artist who was groomed to look and sound a certain way, and is singing songs written, arranged and produced by others. Where's the soul in that process? I struggle with this.

The concerts I saw back then are tough competition for bands I've seen of late. Jane's Addiction, Tori Amos, Son Volt, Uncle Tupelo, Beastie Boys, Pearl Jam, The Melvins, They Might Be Giants, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dead Milkmen, R.E.M., The Specials, Fishbone, etc. Does it get any better?

No.

Since we're on the topic of music, I have to comment on venues. Mississppi Nights was the place to see bands, aside from Riverport for Lolla and Lilith Fair. M'Nights was dark-cozy-dirty and you could literally get close enough to sweat on the performers, and they could sweat on you right back. The American brought the larger acts that had acquired the momentum to make it off the smaller stages. Small or large, it mattered not to me - as long as I could get as close as possible and writhe along with the crowd, I was sated.

Later on in the 00's Pops brough about a slew of great acts - X, The Cramps, Skinny Puppy, etc. that felt like a resurgance from glad days gone by, but with new responsibilities as a true adult. It was a good time to revel in the past, but for a few hours, and lap up the hot licks these pioneers served up in a frothy, steamy pile of goodness.

I'm happy to say that even with the sad, untimely demise of Mississippi Nights, St. Louis isn't short on venues to showcase local and national acts. Plush is one of my new favorites as are the Firebird, Crack Fox, Old Rock House and Gramophone. The Pageant is okay, but it seems to bring out the douchebagettes at most concerts I attend - no respect.

2.  Many would argue there was no fashion back then - it was all old clothes wrinkled and worn with no thought behind it. That, my friends, can be considered fashion. Flannel. Doc Martens. Concert tees. Baby doll dresses/black tights/lace-up boots. Bargain Barn/Goodwill cardigan sweaters, vintage long-sleeves and ratted jeans. Birkenstock and wool socks year round.

Men who adopted the grunge look were okay in my book. Is there anything sexier then a guy sporting a pair of shorts, black boots with white socks, a soft, worn t-shirt preferably advertising some obscure yet genius soon-to-be-discovered band, complimented by a flannel or earth-tone checkered button-up? I think not. In fact, I believe my former husband was wearing this exact ensemble (sans flannel because it was August) when I first spied him across the quad, at which time I told my friend Pete that I would someday marry whoever that dude was loping in front of Nichols dorm.  Which I did.

Sadly (or not?) the mainstream film "Singles" (see pic below) was pretty accurate in what a lot of us wore around that time. I never wore such a hat, but I did don the tights/dress/boots/jacket look, and this is basically what most guys I knew wore, more or less:

A few years ago, Katie Holmes attempted to bring her own brand of grunge to the masses, bless her heart. It didn't take, but dammit, kudos to her for trying. BTW, the belts have to go... 

I have to admit I miss this look. I'm a dress for comfort kinda gal, and the fashion from that time was perfect for me. Don't get me wrong - I would put on my best goth/club duds when we went to Zone 8 or Metropol to dance, otherwise I was comfortable in my jeans, boots/Birks, tee with or without a cardigan to keep warm.

It was a time you could go through phases as a quasi-adult and not get too much frack for it. I had my goth phase, and my earthy-crunchy phase, and in the end settled on a comfy indefinable phase which has lasted through today. I have managed to hold onto a few of the primo articles from back in the day - a few concert t's, my Docs, and my favorite mock turtleneck, blue Gap circa 1990, which has held up well over time and looks great paired with broken-in denim.

Trends come and go - a few years ago it was back to mod, and word on the street is that 80's fashion (shoulder pads, neon, big and bold) is making a comeback. Not the best look, but if that gets us closer to bringing back grunge, I'll gladly suffer the leg warmer nightmare for a resurrection of flannel dreams.

"Yes, I'm quite all right, thanks for asking!"

Went to grab a magazine at the dermatologist's office, and this article teaser grabbed me:

This got me laughing. Sure, vaginas have freaky issues. These deep, dark caverns of love can go haywire for no reason, leaving you wondering if that "relationship" after college might be coming back to haunt you. Chances are, it's nothing a little trip to the gyno won't fix.

However, I was tempted to peruse the article to see what freaky issues they list and the accompanied "easy fixes" but I got called in to my appointment.

So this left me wondering, as I was shivering in a paper gown waiting to be frisked, what the easy fixes might be. I came up with what I feel might be very plausible selections:

1. Cucumber slices - much like easing under-eye bags, perhaps this would work for a tired triangle.

2. Beer rinse - this is supposed to give your locks shine. If you are a natural gal (anti-Brazilian), maybe it would rev up the carpet? But then there's the yeast, and if that's your issue you probably wouldn't want to add any more, hoppy or not.

3. Olive oil - word on the street is, it's a natural cure for dry skin. Applied sparingly, it could help polish the poonany.

4. Honey or egg whites - both are great for facials and tightening the skin. In this case, I guess you could call it a "frontal"...?

That's as far as I got. Feel free to try these out and report back. If anything, it could be a fun experience for you and yours.

White Stripes new song?

Sadly, no.

Just Sirius/XM abbreviating.

Joke's on me.

Man, it bums me out there will never be any new music by Jack and Meg. Here's the actual song:

Weekend randomness

Good weekend, overall. Canoodled, met up with friends, family time, good workouts.

Waking up early Saturday morning for my workout and bombarded with news of the latest mass shooting wasn't shocking, but it left me sad and fired up.

I could rant here but I'll refrain. What I will say is that I'm very sad for the victim and friends/families involved, including the shooter's friends and family. These people are in for a long recovery. Hopefully they get the help they need.

So, I finished The Hypnotist by Lars Kepler (which is the pen name of the husband-wife writing team of Alexander and Alexandra Ahndoril). A great book - superb in style and story. It has a psychological bent that I really dug. I have the next one, The Nightmare, on reserve. If you're looking for something similar to the Dragon Tattoo trilogy, check it out.

In other news, I'm off fast food forever - and this includes chain restaurants like the OG, Yum and The Lob. Not just because I'd read this article a while back, but because my bod just feels better eating a pretty strict regime of whole foods - egg whites, fresh spinach and broccoli, edamame, gala apples, turkey breast, cod and brown rice. May sound boring, but it's fuel and it's tasty and that's it.

Whenever I throw something processed or deep fried into my diet my innards have a freak out. Now, I do allow myself to splurge once in awhile and get some local pizza from Dewey's, a medium-rare steak, a frothy brew from a local proprietor or even a chai latte from Kaldi's. But, fast food is off the list.

Do I miss it? Heck ya. I believe McDonalds has a secret ingredient called "mind control" which is why they up to, what, 800 Gazillion Served?

It's a wonder I kept eating it after working at Hardees during my high school days...scary stuff, man. The Burger King shoe-lettuce story is TAME compared to some of the things I could tell you.

I will say this - having had the experience of working in fast food during my formative years was an experience I think everyone growing up should have. It's like a crash-course in wilderness survival, psychology 101 and UFC training all wrapped up in a big, greezy bow. You're never the same afterwards, but you're a better person for getting through it. :-)

And in further news, my dog is such a dude. I had a pretty uneventful day planned (rare and lovely) so after my workout I decided to take him to the riverfront park to explore. It was dang hot, not a soul in sight, so we stayed for about 10 minutes and then hightailed it back to the car. Got him an ice cream cone from Rally's and he was pretty set for the day.

Gratuitous pic for lame post

I am plagued with the occasional night of insomnia. Last night was one of those nights.

So tonight, I am making like an octogenarian and hitting the hay early...for two reasons:

1. I have a super early workout planned, which I don't want to miss. It's so rock start to have the pool and an entire spinning room to yourself.

2. I am craving chocolate so much I could strangle a baby panda to get my hands on some. So I'd rather get some sleep and dream of licking said chocolate off of the fingers of a Jonathan Rhys Meyers look-alike (see above). Ingesting dream calories is better than consuming real ones.

That said, goodnight.

Top 10 Dream Jobs

If time travel was possible, talent was inevitable, and a decent salary was guaranteed, the following are my top 10 dream jobs (in no particular order):

1. University marching band director
2. War photographer/correspondent, 1938 - 1945
3. Jimmy Stewart's agent, 1937 - 1971
4. Bass player in a punk band, 1977-1980
5. Relationship architect
6. Documentary filmmaker
7. Film score composer
8. Psychotherapist (degreed 2010 - Check!)
9. Professional traveler
10. Cafe owner on the Amalfi coast

Does mayo come with the deep fried hooker?

Buzzfeed just posted an article, "16 Ingredients You Might Want To Stay Away From," which had me laughing out loud.

This reminded me of a menu item I found at a local eatery, of which will remain unnamed as it's a very tasty spot to eat and it was just a misprint....or so they say. You be the judge:

Oh, you meant prosciutto? Really? Lol...

Chevy Death Metal + Divine Intervention = A Pass

I ran across this video in my feed today, and it immediately reminded me of a day that I narrowly avoided getting mowed down by a wayward two-ton truck.

I remember everything very clearly. I was headed North on New Ballas Road towards Olive in my big ol' Ford Explorer that I'd lovingly nicknamed KBGB (Kristin's Big Green Beast). I was just about to pass the entrance to First Watch, and I saw this huge, old white Chevy pickup zooming out of the parking lot, onto New Ballas, into the lane next to me, and it wasn't completely turning into the right lane...it was coming straight at me. I was in the left lane, so I couldn't move over without hitting someone head-on.

I remember thinking that "this isn't going to turn out well"...
And then, everything happened in somewhat slow-motion.
I was preparing to get slammed, really bracing myself against the driver's side door, and could hear a mewling develop in my throat. Funny how your body can go on autopilot when preparing for disaster...

I was watching the truck come towards me....and....the it SHIMMIED about a foot to the right. Yup. It shimmied. Shifted. Moved in a way that it shouldn't have. This allowed it to make the turn into the right lane and not invade my lane.

Now, you're probably thinking that the road was wet which could account for the weird, skidding backwards-movement. No, it didn't skid (it was a nice, dry spring morning). It was as if some invisible force picked it up slightly and slid it a foot over back into the right lane...away from me. The movement that truck made was 100% against any law of physics known to man. The entire truck moved a foot to the right, not just the front or back as it might due to a sharp turn of the wheel. Completely UNNATURAL.

When the truck was tucked away in the right lane, next to me, the driver and I looked at each other. I'm pretty sure my face mirrored what I saw on his - pure amazement. We were both dumbfounded.

I say my prayers...sometimes more than I ususally do, depending on what's going on in life. I believe we are here for a reason, and I also believe that about 99.9999% of what happens to us in life is by chance, fate, planned by someone or something. Most of what happens cannot be controlled by us. Right place, right time...and vice versa. Unless, according to my friend Shawn, you have the ability to use The Force. (He longs to live on the planet Alderon...)

But on that day, in that instant, I believe that some force intervened in our lives and prevented what could've been a very serious accident, perhaps with life-threatening consequences.

I believe I was spared, as was the driver, for whatever reason. We got a pass that day. Most definitely.

Ever since then I have been hyper-aware of other drivers, and try to anticipate potential errors in judgement and drive defensively. I take that situation as a warning...that perhaps I should strive to be a better driver. And pray more, which I do.

So when I saw this video, I wondered if the bystander didn't benefit from a little divine intervention?

Movie Review - Possession

I had recorded this from AMC a couple weeks ago. It was billed as a "cult classic", and I'd never heard of it. Not sure how this wonderous creepfest escaped me, but I'm glad I ran across it.

It felt like something David Lynch might have done as an undergrad on acid. The performances were very frenetic and vivid. The special effects were pretty darn good for a film made in 1981, especially the "squid" scenes. Weird stuff. It entertained, and surprised. Catch it if you can.

Man Up!

Is utilizing punctuation other than a period detrimental to feeling manly? The reason I ask is that I often see comments on Facebook from guys to their pals like these:

"Happy birthday, Joe."

"Congrats."

"Way to go."

Womp womp. When I see these types of sentences, they just come across as all kinds of sarcastic. I get the feeling that these particular guys believe that if they write anything more than the basics, or use punctuation above and beyond a period, they'll be labeled a sissy or too emotional, and get booted from the treehouse.

I'm betting these are the same guys who go to a movie and leave an empty chair between them and the next guy. When I see this, I laugh aloud & at a decibel level that is aimed at letting them know I've seen their wasted attempt at letting the world know that they are "straight" - I could care less which way you lean, quit taking up space.

Why is portraying oneself as devoid of emotion sacrosant to the epitome of manliness? Is there a playbook boys are handed upon puberty that shows them how to remain rugged and testosterony, even down to how they form sentences?

Maybe I'm reaching, but seeing this on a daily basis on Facebook and other electronic means of communication leads me to believe that either people have forgotten how punctuation works, or laziness has set in. I mean, can it be that important to keep with the period so that you remain a card-carrying member of the fight club?

Man up, I say. Use that exclamation point. Let them know you care. Show your friend that you're happy they had a baby, or graduated. It's an electronic symbol of a jovial slap on the back.

Paddle On...

I have embraced my inner paddler, and have been giving the kayak a good workout this summer. Aside from my usual lake excursions, I also started taking it out on local rivers - and boy has that been fun! The rivers are somewhat lazy, so nothing too crazy.