MEALS TAKEN IN PUBLIC
lemon wolf cafe in beaver bay, minn., scallops, wild rice linguine: i think the photo says it all. meaty-fist sized, butter-oozing fresh scallops with a layer of parmesean cheese. this was so, so, so, so good. it was a little hard to eat, as i prefer my noodles in the forkable shape of velveeta shells and cheese. but when i did manage to make it to my face with a load, i liked the addition of slivers of wild rice clinging to the linguine. c
i mentioned earlier that a woman at the gas station used the word "divine" to describe the lemon wolf cafe's salads, and i am not sure she was far off -- although i hate saying words that require me to wear a corset. i had a lemon wolf blue cheese dressing that was div---. we also split a piece of lemon pie that was so tangy, my tongue still curls like i'm saying a spanish R just thinking about it.
"dr. horrible's singalong blog": i can't remember how many days this is available for free viewing and i'm too lazy to investigate, but this is a pretty fantastic way to spend 43 minutes of your life. neal patrick harris stars as a flawed villain looking for acceptance with the other villains, all while getting googly over the activist girl from the laundrymat.
much of it is in song. the only way i like to watch a musical is when joss whedon is the maestro. and like "once more with feeling" from season six of buffy, this one is pretty clever.
i like to think that if camp whedon ever got into a brawl with camp apatow, i'd totally be on team whedon, but i'd squirrel away "freaks and geeks" in my pillow case and it would be my little secret.
SITTING AROUND WATCHING MOVIES
"videodrome" 1983: typically, an abdomen gash that plays video cassettes, acts as a meat grinder, and can go couch-cushion-meets-coin on a handgun -- and later fuse said handgun with the gash owner's hand, forming something that looks like a rice krispie treat weapon is enough for me. slap a cronenberg credit and viola, new fave. this time my tiny, little brain just could not keep up and when james woods exploded into the creepy campfire chant: death to videodrome, long live the new flesh! i decided i already liked this movie once, when it was called eXistenZ, and i didn't have room to like it again. videodrome is my least-favorite cronenberg, of the seven i've seen.
"teen wolf" 1985: michael j. fox stars as a mediocre basketball player who gets pubertied into a werewolf. this makes him wildly popular among his sexier classmates. along for the ride is his friend styles, a man who wore ironic t's before they were ironic, and dared to "surf" on the roof of teen wolf's dad's hardware store van.
* just 8 years later, in the football movie "the program", a scene where the players layed down on the centerline of a road was removed from the film. now movies are curiously void of bad ideas from bad asses.
"the ninth gate" 1999:
this is the most fun movie i've seen in weeks. johnny depp as a rare book dealer slash book detective bitch. this movie is as straight and serious as it is silly and geeky funny with an underlying sci-fi, demon element.
madonna "hard candy" 2008: i've tried running to this three times and i am completely defeated.
here is a sentence the sixth-grade girl in flourecent pink socks never thought she would admit: i don't really like this cd. when the 50-year-old, yoga toned mother of how many sings a song about her lover finding someone just like her, but who isn't her and doesn't have her name, it becomes physically impossible for me to roll my eyes hard enough.
I should have seen the sign when you weren't here
Under a different light it's oh so clear
She was stealing stealing stealing
and now your feeling feeling feeling
She started dying her hair and wearing the same perfume as me
She's started reading my books and stealing my looks and lingerie
I just wanna be there when you discover
You wake up in the morning next to your new lover
She might make you breakfast
And love you in the shower
The feelings're momentary
Cause she don't have what's ours
She's Not Me
She doesn't have my name
She'll never have what I have
It wont be the same (it wont be the same)
i understand it's hard to write lyrics that rhyme with "... then i started writing children's books ..." and that no one would probably dance, or run, to it if she did. but words about junior high romances smack of a grown woman talking babytalk to an audience of stuffed animals.
i like madonna. i think she's a genius. i like her hair and i think she set the rules for branding oneself. and rebranding. and scrapping it all and throwing it into a different package and selling it again for more money. i like how she affected the lives of every girl who saw her bumping around a white room, dressed in black things that came tumbling from her slippery shoulders.
but "hard candy" reminds me of that first tape, her self-titled "madonna." a woman with her hair swept and gelled into what wind would look like if it wore aqua net, heavy head propped on a lacy glove. not the songs like "lucky star" or "borderline" but like the song "holiday" or "physical attraction" or "burning up" if those songs got all spazzed out on red bull and then stuck a fork in a light socket to meet today's recommended allowance of techno.
i liked her first tape when i was 8ish. a lot of times an artist will change so much from release to new release that you wonder how they got there. with madonna, it's like: why did you go back? and what are you doing, holding that chainsaw against that keytar?
admittedly, the song "four minutes" kind of rules.
week four is called "the fig newton phase" -- coined by chuck -- because it looks like the innards of that particular cookie is growing between my skin and the nail. according to the salesman at austin jarrow who sold me my new running shoes, this black toenail thing possibly identifies me as a vain woman who is unable to admit her true shoe size.
he gave me that diagnosis for free. i think he's wrong, because i don't think that sounds like me. but i can't be completely sure, as my size 8.5 running shoes are quite pleasant.