Why haven't I been blogging? Because my time has been spent pondering the ineffable conundrums of our time, such as:
Why is Fido a common dog's name? Where did it come from?*
What do narcissists do in therapy -- spend the hour forced to talk about other people?
How on earth did the wedding industry become so bloated and horrific that stores can charge $300 to $500 for a tiny little decorated hair comb?
Ah, great thoughts. And if anyone knows the answers to those eternal questions, let me know.
The horror movie party was a triumph, as usual, despite LL and JV's own personal horror movie in their digestive systems. Within six hours of my arrival (because it's all about me), LL took to her bed and bathroom, and I didn't really see her vertical for more than 24 hours. I did visit the sickroom a couple of times, but stayed as far away as polite conversation would allow, and washed my hands obsessively every 5 to 10 minutes. Apparently those precautions worked, as I remained plague-free. JV wasn't so lucky, but his case of plague was much less severe -- LOL had to go to the urgent care clinic to get a couple of liters of fluids pumped into her because she was so dehydrated, but JV managed to escape relatively unscathed. We feared for the party, but LL was singing power ballads at the top of her lungs Sunday morning, so it was on. Huzzah!
For the films, we basked in the brilliance that was Joan Crawford in the inexplicably hyphenated Strait-Jacket, and Melissa Sue Anderson in Happy Birthday to Me. Both made very little sense.
Strait-Jacket included horrific elements like an elderly Joan pretending to be a lusty young woman, an elderly Joan pretending to be acting as if she were elderly, an elderly Joan decked up like a lusty young woman and hitting on her daughter's fiance, the world's most annoying charm bracelets, tremendously bad parenting, really horrible childing, sculpture, wigs, axe-wielding silhouettes, stock characters just begging to be axed, and a shocking! twist! ending! that I called in the first 15 minutes. Go me.
Happy Birthday to Me shared some elements with Strait-Jacket, like actors playing way outside of their age range, and had a remarkably similar shocking! twist! ending! that I did not call this time, because it made no sense and came out of nowhere. Weird-ass movie.
As an added extra-special bonus, Shannon was in LA and managed to show up for the party, which was awesome -- I got to talk with her for a while, and she got to see the madness that is horror movie central. Joy!
I saw Amy and David briefly upon my return to this fair city, and we had dinner and went shopping. Amy, I'm sorry, I told mom and dad about the Oaxaca band -- it was just too funny not to. You may beat me about the head and shoulders when next we meet.
*I just talked to my dad, who told me that Fido is Latin for faithful, so it's been a dog's name since Roman times. Who knew? Well, besides my dad, who knows all sorts of obscure things. I inherited that talent from him.
Also, my dad would like me to post this immortal gem, one of his favorite jokes: Did you hear about the agnostic dyslexic insomniac? He was up all night wondering about the existence of dog.
Why is Fido a common dog's name? Where did it come from?*
What do narcissists do in therapy -- spend the hour forced to talk about other people?
How on earth did the wedding industry become so bloated and horrific that stores can charge $300 to $500 for a tiny little decorated hair comb?
Ah, great thoughts. And if anyone knows the answers to those eternal questions, let me know.
The horror movie party was a triumph, as usual, despite LL and JV's own personal horror movie in their digestive systems. Within six hours of my arrival (because it's all about me), LL took to her bed and bathroom, and I didn't really see her vertical for more than 24 hours. I did visit the sickroom a couple of times, but stayed as far away as polite conversation would allow, and washed my hands obsessively every 5 to 10 minutes. Apparently those precautions worked, as I remained plague-free. JV wasn't so lucky, but his case of plague was much less severe -- LOL had to go to the urgent care clinic to get a couple of liters of fluids pumped into her because she was so dehydrated, but JV managed to escape relatively unscathed. We feared for the party, but LL was singing power ballads at the top of her lungs Sunday morning, so it was on. Huzzah!
For the films, we basked in the brilliance that was Joan Crawford in the inexplicably hyphenated Strait-Jacket, and Melissa Sue Anderson in Happy Birthday to Me. Both made very little sense.
Strait-Jacket included horrific elements like an elderly Joan pretending to be a lusty young woman, an elderly Joan pretending to be acting as if she were elderly, an elderly Joan decked up like a lusty young woman and hitting on her daughter's fiance, the world's most annoying charm bracelets, tremendously bad parenting, really horrible childing, sculpture, wigs, axe-wielding silhouettes, stock characters just begging to be axed, and a shocking! twist! ending! that I called in the first 15 minutes. Go me.
Happy Birthday to Me shared some elements with Strait-Jacket, like actors playing way outside of their age range, and had a remarkably similar shocking! twist! ending! that I did not call this time, because it made no sense and came out of nowhere. Weird-ass movie.
As an added extra-special bonus, Shannon was in LA and managed to show up for the party, which was awesome -- I got to talk with her for a while, and she got to see the madness that is horror movie central. Joy!
I saw Amy and David briefly upon my return to this fair city, and we had dinner and went shopping. Amy, I'm sorry, I told mom and dad about the Oaxaca band -- it was just too funny not to. You may beat me about the head and shoulders when next we meet.
*I just talked to my dad, who told me that Fido is Latin for faithful, so it's been a dog's name since Roman times. Who knew? Well, besides my dad, who knows all sorts of obscure things. I inherited that talent from him.
Also, my dad would like me to post this immortal gem, one of his favorite jokes: Did you hear about the agnostic dyslexic insomniac? He was up all night wondering about the existence of dog.
posted by SAJ at
10:04 AM
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