Taking a leap
AOL is beta testing a weblog system right now, and given that I'm an AOL employee, it only seems right that I should try it out. So for now, at least, any new entries to PermagrinGirl can be found at PermaGrinGirl.
It's got some nifty features. I'm particularly fond of their IMBot that will allow you to publish to your blog as easily as sending an IM. They still have some bugs to work out - in particular in formatting and html support - but the beta appears to be completely useable so far.
Cheers!
Celeste
Showing posts with label Misc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Misc. Show all posts
Monday, November 11, 2002
Kevin Smith Gave Me Nightmares...
I live about an hour from Alexandria, so I can't get to my favorite video store more often than on the weekends these days. When I went this weekend, I picked up some real winners (both literally, and sarcastically speaking).
Vulgar caught my eye because it's a ViewAskew production, and a lot of the cast of Clerks and Mallrats are in it. The back description of the movie, however, is deceptively vague. Roughly, it said that the movie was about a down-on-his-luck clown that is elevated to celebrity status when he saves a child during a hostage situation... but that fame brings 'dark secrets' out of his past to light. I really wish I'd known that the 'dark secret' they were referring to was a graphically detailed gang-rape of said clown by a father and two-son team. This was the sort of film, that, after having watched it, I wished instensely for some Fantastik for the soul. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who doesn't get off on watching films like Faces of Death.
Fortunately, Pumpkin may not be industrial strength soul-restorer, but it comes close. The movie's style and characters are so similar in tone to But I'm a Cheerleader, with a feeling of earnest lunacy, that I would have sworn that they were by the same writer or director. They aren't, Pumpkin is by the same guys that brought us Dead Man on Campus instead, but Pumpkin and Cheerleader are ideological twins. The movie is sure to tweak a lot of noses, since the premise - a sorority girl falls in love with a retarded kid she's helping train for a special olympics style event - is far from politically correct. But, the actors in the film play their roles so straight, even though their characters are ridiculous, that you can't can't help but like them. The movie manages to walk a perfect line, avoiding the sort of over-the-top fun to be made of people with disabilities that you can see in Something About Mary, but also avoids the syrupy sort of "our poor broken angels" treatment of disabled folks that so many movies that aren't flat out mean fall into. I liked it enough, I'll probably buy it.
I live about an hour from Alexandria, so I can't get to my favorite video store more often than on the weekends these days. When I went this weekend, I picked up some real winners (both literally, and sarcastically speaking).
Vulgar caught my eye because it's a ViewAskew production, and a lot of the cast of Clerks and Mallrats are in it. The back description of the movie, however, is deceptively vague. Roughly, it said that the movie was about a down-on-his-luck clown that is elevated to celebrity status when he saves a child during a hostage situation... but that fame brings 'dark secrets' out of his past to light. I really wish I'd known that the 'dark secret' they were referring to was a graphically detailed gang-rape of said clown by a father and two-son team. This was the sort of film, that, after having watched it, I wished instensely for some Fantastik for the soul. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who doesn't get off on watching films like Faces of Death.
Fortunately, Pumpkin may not be industrial strength soul-restorer, but it comes close. The movie's style and characters are so similar in tone to But I'm a Cheerleader, with a feeling of earnest lunacy, that I would have sworn that they were by the same writer or director. They aren't, Pumpkin is by the same guys that brought us Dead Man on Campus instead, but Pumpkin and Cheerleader are ideological twins. The movie is sure to tweak a lot of noses, since the premise - a sorority girl falls in love with a retarded kid she's helping train for a special olympics style event - is far from politically correct. But, the actors in the film play their roles so straight, even though their characters are ridiculous, that you can't can't help but like them. The movie manages to walk a perfect line, avoiding the sort of over-the-top fun to be made of people with disabilities that you can see in Something About Mary, but also avoids the syrupy sort of "our poor broken angels" treatment of disabled folks that so many movies that aren't flat out mean fall into. I liked it enough, I'll probably buy it.
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Synchronicity...
Strange... was reading Lilek's wonderful piece on generations' music this morning... while I listened to disc 2 of the Jimmie Driftwood - Americana boxed set. It just arrived from Amazon the other day. I'd bought two copies of the boxed set, one to give to my mother for her birthday, and one for myself, out of a sudden desire to remember something very nice from my childhood.
Why are top 40 tunes from sixty years ago considered children's songs today? I know why they have an appeal for me: these were songs my Mom liked. These were the songs from her girlhood. To my ears they sound like kid's songs because they were part of the household aural furniture when I very young; my Mom listened to these tunes just like modern Moms turn the radio to a station that plays Prince and Sade and Lionel Richie. I happily sang along - and I still remember her smiling as we sang to a Shari Lewis version of "Would you like to swing on a star." I had no idea were were forming a cross-generational pop-cultural bond. But few kindergarteners do.
I can remember helping my mother in the kitchen while she would sing "Mercedes Benz" or old Beatles tunes ("Maxwell's Silver Hammer" was a favorite of hers). I'll probably be singing along to the Cowboy Junkies, the Stray Cats, and Remy Zero while my children help me in the kitchen someday as well.
And Jimmie Driftwood... well if you haven't listened to him before, you should try and hunt some of his music down. If you have, you should listen to it again, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing such wonderful, heartfelt and fun music. I get sentimental when I listen to Jimmie Driftwood... he is an integral part of my associations with my maternal grandfather. Now, whenever I hear 'Soldier's Joy', I happily recall singing along to the song at the age of 8, when my grandfather would play these scratchy old recordings of Jimmie Driftwood he'd made off of the radio. How strange to pop a CD into the stereo of my car now, start the drive into work, and find that I remember the lyrics to each of the songs on the first album of the collection... music I haven't heard since I was 12 years old at the most recently.
If you haven't done it in a while, try digging up some old music you associate with your childhood.... I guess next I'll be hunting down CDs of Wee Sing Silly Songs...
Strange... was reading Lilek's wonderful piece on generations' music this morning... while I listened to disc 2 of the Jimmie Driftwood - Americana boxed set. It just arrived from Amazon the other day. I'd bought two copies of the boxed set, one to give to my mother for her birthday, and one for myself, out of a sudden desire to remember something very nice from my childhood.
Why are top 40 tunes from sixty years ago considered children's songs today? I know why they have an appeal for me: these were songs my Mom liked. These were the songs from her girlhood. To my ears they sound like kid's songs because they were part of the household aural furniture when I very young; my Mom listened to these tunes just like modern Moms turn the radio to a station that plays Prince and Sade and Lionel Richie. I happily sang along - and I still remember her smiling as we sang to a Shari Lewis version of "Would you like to swing on a star." I had no idea were were forming a cross-generational pop-cultural bond. But few kindergarteners do.
I can remember helping my mother in the kitchen while she would sing "Mercedes Benz" or old Beatles tunes ("Maxwell's Silver Hammer" was a favorite of hers). I'll probably be singing along to the Cowboy Junkies, the Stray Cats, and Remy Zero while my children help me in the kitchen someday as well.
And Jimmie Driftwood... well if you haven't listened to him before, you should try and hunt some of his music down. If you have, you should listen to it again, just for the sheer pleasure of hearing such wonderful, heartfelt and fun music. I get sentimental when I listen to Jimmie Driftwood... he is an integral part of my associations with my maternal grandfather. Now, whenever I hear 'Soldier's Joy', I happily recall singing along to the song at the age of 8, when my grandfather would play these scratchy old recordings of Jimmie Driftwood he'd made off of the radio. How strange to pop a CD into the stereo of my car now, start the drive into work, and find that I remember the lyrics to each of the songs on the first album of the collection... music I haven't heard since I was 12 years old at the most recently.
If you haven't done it in a while, try digging up some old music you associate with your childhood.... I guess next I'll be hunting down CDs of Wee Sing Silly Songs...
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
Mmmm... Mmmmm... Good
Last night my boyfriend built up a roaring fire as soon as he got home from work, and as soon as I made it home, I marinated some really thick butterfly pork chops in a little sherry, soy sauce, mirin and some Melinda's. Once he got enough coals together out of the fire, we dumped them in our grill, and I cooked the pork chops over that... slowly. The result was the juiciest, most flavorful (but without obscuring the flavor of the meat) pork chop I have ever had. Yummy. I'll just remember to do it on a weekend next time... it takes a while to cook them this way (I had them on the grill for 45 minutes).
Last night my boyfriend built up a roaring fire as soon as he got home from work, and as soon as I made it home, I marinated some really thick butterfly pork chops in a little sherry, soy sauce, mirin and some Melinda's. Once he got enough coals together out of the fire, we dumped them in our grill, and I cooked the pork chops over that... slowly. The result was the juiciest, most flavorful (but without obscuring the flavor of the meat) pork chop I have ever had. Yummy. I'll just remember to do it on a weekend next time... it takes a while to cook them this way (I had them on the grill for 45 minutes).
Thursday, October 03, 2002
Friday, September 20, 2002
Someone who isn't related to me is actually reading this!
Wow. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that Clayton Cramer had actually responded to one of my posts on his weblog. I don't track traffic to this, so I had no idea anyone but my sisters were ever reading this. I'm honored.
And in response, I'd like to say that I agree with Clayton here. I'm all for abstinence in teens, and discouragement of promiscuity. I'm not so long out of my teens myself that I don't know the damage that sleeping around can do to your health, your sense of self-worth, or your reputation (and yes, reputation still is important). And yes, your chances of contracting an STD does increase with the number of people you sleep with... had I been lucky enough to find the guy I really wanted to stay with forever, I would have stopped right there. Unfortunately, relationships do end, or don't work out. Outside of celibacy until marriage (and even then, there's a risk, since you can't know for sure if the fella you're marrying is an untouched virgin), the best way to protect yourself from STDs is to be choosy, and careful.
Wow. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that Clayton Cramer had actually responded to one of my posts on his weblog. I don't track traffic to this, so I had no idea anyone but my sisters were ever reading this. I'm honored.
And in response, I'd like to say that I agree with Clayton here. I'm all for abstinence in teens, and discouragement of promiscuity. I'm not so long out of my teens myself that I don't know the damage that sleeping around can do to your health, your sense of self-worth, or your reputation (and yes, reputation still is important). And yes, your chances of contracting an STD does increase with the number of people you sleep with... had I been lucky enough to find the guy I really wanted to stay with forever, I would have stopped right there. Unfortunately, relationships do end, or don't work out. Outside of celibacy until marriage (and even then, there's a risk, since you can't know for sure if the fella you're marrying is an untouched virgin), the best way to protect yourself from STDs is to be choosy, and careful.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Welcome home, boys...
On Friday, we added the newest members to our family, Sweeney Todd and Bullseye, a pair of maine coon kittens. Sweeney has an orange and brown mustache and a white throat with a dark brown slash on it, and Bullseye is grey and white with a dark grey 'RCA Victor' ring around his left eye. Both are settling in nicely, but they're distracting me from other things... like being on time for work.
On Friday, we added the newest members to our family, Sweeney Todd and Bullseye, a pair of maine coon kittens. Sweeney has an orange and brown mustache and a white throat with a dark brown slash on it, and Bullseye is grey and white with a dark grey 'RCA Victor' ring around his left eye. Both are settling in nicely, but they're distracting me from other things... like being on time for work.
Thursday, September 12, 2002
I'd forgotten how powerful it is...
Clayton Cramer was kind enough to link to the lyrics for the Battle Hymn of the Republic. I used to know every verse (it was a favorite of mine in Sunday school), but had long since forgotten more than the first and last verses. Thanks to Clayton for linking to it; I'd forgotten how truly a powerful song it is.
Clayton Cramer was kind enough to link to the lyrics for the Battle Hymn of the Republic. I used to know every verse (it was a favorite of mine in Sunday school), but had long since forgotten more than the first and last verses. Thanks to Clayton for linking to it; I'd forgotten how truly a powerful song it is.
In your heart, you know its flat.
Kudos to Rand Simberg for exposing a shocking hoax attempting to tarnish the image of one of our nations heroes.
It all makes so much sense. Rand is absolutely correct. How could I be expected to believe that a 72 year old man would attack a 37 year old? Especially when the alternative... that a 37 year old film producer with an insatiable desire for attention doctored up a video to make it look like Buzz was punching him is so much more logical. To turn things back on that twit Sibrel, it was all obviously as doctored as the film of the lunar landing. Nice try though.
Kudos to Rand Simberg for exposing a shocking hoax attempting to tarnish the image of one of our nations heroes.
It all makes so much sense. Rand is absolutely correct. How could I be expected to believe that a 72 year old man would attack a 37 year old? Especially when the alternative... that a 37 year old film producer with an insatiable desire for attention doctored up a video to make it look like Buzz was punching him is so much more logical. To turn things back on that twit Sibrel, it was all obviously as doctored as the film of the lunar landing. Nice try though.
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Anniversary
Tonight, I'll light one candle for the innocents who were murdered on September 11th, and a second candle for the rough men who are visiting violence on those who have so greviously harmed us, and on those who would do us harm. No TV. No News (unless the unspeakable happens). Just my family, and reverence, on a day I will never be able to forget.
Tonight, I'll light one candle for the innocents who were murdered on September 11th, and a second candle for the rough men who are visiting violence on those who have so greviously harmed us, and on those who would do us harm. No TV. No News (unless the unspeakable happens). Just my family, and reverence, on a day I will never be able to forget.
Yowsa!
Clayton Cramer has a weblog.
For those unfamiliar with his work, Mr. Cramer is probably best known for his remarkably thorough debunking of Michael Bellesilles' made up sources, figures, and facts in his best-selling 'history' Arming America. Cramer is definitely worth reading.
Clayton Cramer has a weblog.
For those unfamiliar with his work, Mr. Cramer is probably best known for his remarkably thorough debunking of Michael Bellesilles' made up sources, figures, and facts in his best-selling 'history' Arming America. Cramer is definitely worth reading.
Way to go, Buzz!
Buzz Aldrin was simply giving the only answer a snoopy or rude question deserves. Note also, that the twit, Sibrel, is 37. Buzz Aldrin is 72 years old.
Buzz Aldrin was simply giving the only answer a snoopy or rude question deserves. Note also, that the twit, Sibrel, is 37. Buzz Aldrin is 72 years old.
Tuesday, August 27, 2002
Friday, August 16, 2002
Thursday, August 15, 2002
To Hell with Dieting.... How do I GAIN weight?
Whenever I get stressed out, I lose my appetite. This isn't good, because I typically register as 'underweight' by government standards to begin with. When I'm happy and healthy, I generally weigh in around 115 (which is thin for 5'4" but not obscenely so). This past week has been such hell though, that I've dropped 10 pounds and now clock in at a measly 105. I feel like the incredible shrinking woman. I want to eat, but when I'm upset, I can't. I have to try and cram calories into myself however I can manage, just so I won't pass out from lack of food. I switched from water to coke classic this morning, just for those extra 250 calories.
So thank goodness CSPI hasn't succeeded in their boneheaded campaign yet to tax high fat/high sugar foods. Without these foods, when I'm stressed out, I'd end up in the hospital. Without access to high-fat, no carb food like meat, there would be more diabetics on insulin, since they'd have trouble affording an atkins based diet.
Let people make their own food decisions. The lefty health-food diet isn't necesarily the best one for everyone. If I ate nothing but the crap they promoted, I'd be in the hospital for anorexia.
Whenever I get stressed out, I lose my appetite. This isn't good, because I typically register as 'underweight' by government standards to begin with. When I'm happy and healthy, I generally weigh in around 115 (which is thin for 5'4" but not obscenely so). This past week has been such hell though, that I've dropped 10 pounds and now clock in at a measly 105. I feel like the incredible shrinking woman. I want to eat, but when I'm upset, I can't. I have to try and cram calories into myself however I can manage, just so I won't pass out from lack of food. I switched from water to coke classic this morning, just for those extra 250 calories.
So thank goodness CSPI hasn't succeeded in their boneheaded campaign yet to tax high fat/high sugar foods. Without these foods, when I'm stressed out, I'd end up in the hospital. Without access to high-fat, no carb food like meat, there would be more diabetics on insulin, since they'd have trouble affording an atkins based diet.
Let people make their own food decisions. The lefty health-food diet isn't necesarily the best one for everyone. If I ate nothing but the crap they promoted, I'd be in the hospital for anorexia.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
Wrestling as Opera
Since I am just sitting around, twiddling my thumbs... allow me to explain why I love the WWE.
World Wrestling Entertainment is widely derided as violent, mindless drivel, that is obviously faked. People associate wrestling fans with white-trash trailer park denizens. But I was raised in an upper-middle class home, did very well in school, and now have a very well-paid job. I eat sushi, rent foreign films, and every Monday and Thursday night, I plop my ass down in front of the TV and I turn on Raw or Smackdown!
Wrestling is modern American opera. Try watching an espisode with that analogy in mind, and you'll see exactly what I mean. Melodramatic plot-lines involving betrayal of friendships and loyalties. Glitter and sequined costumes. Fireworks! Instead of singing (although they do that sometimes, as well) they dance. You can't really call wrestling fighting since there's a predetermined outcome, only the most gullible will argue otherwise, and the moves themselves are choreographed and rehearsed. But what moves! These wrestlers performs stunts that would make a gymnast jealous. Watch Rey Mysterio fly through the air during a match, and you'll see what I mean.
Yes, its escapist entertainment, and its pretty juvenile. But its so much fun to watch!
Since I am just sitting around, twiddling my thumbs... allow me to explain why I love the WWE.
World Wrestling Entertainment is widely derided as violent, mindless drivel, that is obviously faked. People associate wrestling fans with white-trash trailer park denizens. But I was raised in an upper-middle class home, did very well in school, and now have a very well-paid job. I eat sushi, rent foreign films, and every Monday and Thursday night, I plop my ass down in front of the TV and I turn on Raw or Smackdown!
Wrestling is modern American opera. Try watching an espisode with that analogy in mind, and you'll see exactly what I mean. Melodramatic plot-lines involving betrayal of friendships and loyalties. Glitter and sequined costumes. Fireworks! Instead of singing (although they do that sometimes, as well) they dance. You can't really call wrestling fighting since there's a predetermined outcome, only the most gullible will argue otherwise, and the moves themselves are choreographed and rehearsed. But what moves! These wrestlers performs stunts that would make a gymnast jealous. Watch Rey Mysterio fly through the air during a match, and you'll see what I mean.
Yes, its escapist entertainment, and its pretty juvenile. But its so much fun to watch!
Tuesday, August 06, 2002
I Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!
Rand Simberg links to this gruesome story of a lion attacking a pair of lovers in the woods.
The first thing that popped into my head when reading it? "Was her name Thisbe?"
I know that's not exactly how the story goes, but its still pretty messed up. Two young lovers meet in the woods, a lion attacks, man runs away, comes back to find his girlfriend dead. So that doesn't follow Pyramus and Thisbe exactly... but its still pretty freaky.
Life imitates Shakespeare.
Rand Simberg links to this gruesome story of a lion attacking a pair of lovers in the woods.
The first thing that popped into my head when reading it? "Was her name Thisbe?"
I know that's not exactly how the story goes, but its still pretty messed up. Two young lovers meet in the woods, a lion attacks, man runs away, comes back to find his girlfriend dead. So that doesn't follow Pyramus and Thisbe exactly... but its still pretty freaky.
Life imitates Shakespeare.
Sunday, July 21, 2002
...In fields of eternal catnip
My four year old maine coon, Mr. Bigglesworth had to be euthanized on Friday. He was dying from a combination of cardiomyapathy and acute kidney failure. He was only four years old. Apparently this is a condition that is common in larger male cats, especially if they tend to be a little overweight, and Biggie, bless all 18 pounds of him, was. When I first took Biggie home, he was so small, he could sit in the palm of my hand. He had trouble adjusting to his new house, and I had to hand feed him for the first week that he lived with me. As a result, we bonded very strongly, and Biggie thought that I was his mamma. He followed me everywhere; slept where I slept, stood sentry over me in the shower, sat on my lap while I read, and did his best to trip me up while I was cooking. But last Tuesday, he was acting a little listless. On Wednesday, he hadn't gotten any better, so I decided to call the vet on Thursday morning. The vet diagnosed the heart problems, and took some blood to do tests. Friday morning, Biggie had crawled down to the deepest, most secret part of the house, and was just lying there, trying to breathe. The vet called me that morning to break the news of his bloodwork to me. Given his heart condition, and the fact that his blood pressure was so low, treatments we would have tried on Biggie just weren't feasible. By the time I got him to the vet's office that Friday, Biggie was choking for breath, and fading in and out. The vet explained Biggie's chances for survival (nil) and I made the decision to have him euthanized. I held my cat in my arms while the vet gave him the shot to put him to sleep, so I know that he didn't feel any pain, just faded out quickly and peacefully. I can only pray that there is a kitty heaven filled with fields of ever-blooming catnip as far as the eye can see. I hope Biggie is there, and that he is happy, and that he knows that any time he wants to, I'll be there to scratch behind his ears and rub his tummy for him.
bye bye biggie baby. be good while i'm gone.
My four year old maine coon, Mr. Bigglesworth had to be euthanized on Friday. He was dying from a combination of cardiomyapathy and acute kidney failure. He was only four years old. Apparently this is a condition that is common in larger male cats, especially if they tend to be a little overweight, and Biggie, bless all 18 pounds of him, was. When I first took Biggie home, he was so small, he could sit in the palm of my hand. He had trouble adjusting to his new house, and I had to hand feed him for the first week that he lived with me. As a result, we bonded very strongly, and Biggie thought that I was his mamma. He followed me everywhere; slept where I slept, stood sentry over me in the shower, sat on my lap while I read, and did his best to trip me up while I was cooking. But last Tuesday, he was acting a little listless. On Wednesday, he hadn't gotten any better, so I decided to call the vet on Thursday morning. The vet diagnosed the heart problems, and took some blood to do tests. Friday morning, Biggie had crawled down to the deepest, most secret part of the house, and was just lying there, trying to breathe. The vet called me that morning to break the news of his bloodwork to me. Given his heart condition, and the fact that his blood pressure was so low, treatments we would have tried on Biggie just weren't feasible. By the time I got him to the vet's office that Friday, Biggie was choking for breath, and fading in and out. The vet explained Biggie's chances for survival (nil) and I made the decision to have him euthanized. I held my cat in my arms while the vet gave him the shot to put him to sleep, so I know that he didn't feel any pain, just faded out quickly and peacefully. I can only pray that there is a kitty heaven filled with fields of ever-blooming catnip as far as the eye can see. I hope Biggie is there, and that he is happy, and that he knows that any time he wants to, I'll be there to scratch behind his ears and rub his tummy for him.
bye bye biggie baby. be good while i'm gone.