Watercooler Talk Friday

The boss is out of town today, so there were several moments in the day where my ass actually wiggled out of the office and talked to the co-workers.

First topic of discussion was very important. I sent a co-worker to go look at the movie trailer for The Love Guru. Clearly an Oscar-nomination worthy flick coming out in June--and if anyone should get the Oscar nod, it should be Justin Timberlake, who is going to be the sole reason I'm watching this flick. Plus the site had the quite memorable quote of the day: "If you're happy and you know it: think again." That's my mantra, baby, right there.

The rest of it...well I was *going* to talk about but it got too long, too heavy, and displayed way too much of my ignorance about China-US relations. Clearly though I prefer to not worry about the direction the boat (America) is headed and will just play my fiddle to the best of my ability until the damned thing hits an iceberg and sinks itself.

The question of the day boiled down to this: when it comes to November and you head to the polls are you going to be voting FOR someone? Or are you going to do what most of us will be doing, "I'm not voting to FOR someone, it's more like I'm voting AGAINST someone." None of us knew who we wanted to voted for. All the options frightened us. And frankly I'm going to think it's a miracle if Bush doesn't get us in another war before he leaves office.

Revelation Monday

I found out I'm not a pessimist.

Look.

"Philosophical pessimism is the similar but not identical idea that life has a negative value, or that this world is as bad as it could possibly be."

I do not believe the world is as bad as it could possibly be. I have the utmost faith and belief that it can and will get worse.

Happy Monday!

Old Obession Thursday

Normally I don't write on my personal blog so often, but clearly I'm procrastinating on...well, everything.

And the Daylights Savings Time has totally #(%)*#()$#* up my week.

So I was up till 1 am finishing Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows--there is a certain point of the book where you literally can't put the book down, you have to start doing stuff one-handed and hope you don't, oh, crash your car and stuff.

So I've finished up the annual "Christmas" read of all the books, which is basically what I've done since I've started the series. Harry Potter is very...well, Christmasy in the way. Christmas is a big deal to him--so I read them at Christmas.

I read The Goblet of Fire for what, the tenth time? I honestly don't know; and in book 3, Harry acquires a map. In Goblet of Fire, a professor BORROWS this map and doesn't return it. Seriously. I realized suddenly he doesn't have his map back by the end of this book; and in book 5, when Harry is clearly holding the map once again, there is no explanation HOW this occurred?

So I'm calling out to other fans, does anyone *know* how he got the map back? Did I misread my 10th reading of book 4 and my whatever reading of book 5 and he did get it back?? Please help me. It's been driving me mad, and MuggleNet Staff won't return my emails.

New Obsession Tuesday

Yippee! The Young Riders Season 1 came in the mail last night.

This lovely show was on TV from 1989-1992. I went through a mourning period when it went off the air, being I was madly in love with The Kid (and frankly, Buck, Jimmy, and Cody.) Now granted, since nearly (dear God) 20 years have passed and my ability to suspend reality ("Are you kidding? How in the heck did they all just happen to end up there to rescue each other?") has dimmed since I've gotten so old; I find I'm not so old as not to enjoy watching them set fence posts shirtless, their tanned beautiful skin rippling under the Wyoming sun.

This was back in the days that Stephen Baldwin still looked hot; Josh Brolin was an unknown (but damn, what a cutie!); and Ty Miller was my future husband, though he didn't know it at the time.

It's still worth a watch if you get the opportunity. I realized my main attraction to The Kid (who'd I'd typically call The Beta) was because he had the best looking horse of the outfit. Obviously during my adolescence when horses mattered as much (if not more) than men.

If you don't mind your historical not very accurate (and hey if you watch any Hollywood historical, you do); your plots as holey as Swiss cheese; and your men young, ripped, and earnest--this is your TV series.

Anyone else used to watch this show? I could have been the only one.

Talladega Nights Friday

I was in the mood for some movies quotes...and Will was just speaking to me.

Ricky Bobby: Here's the deal I'm the best there is. Plain and simple. I wake up in the morning and I piss excellence.

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger.

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to picture Jesus as a figure skater. He wears like a white outfit, and He does interpretive ice dances of my life's journey.

Cal Naughton, Jr.: I like to think of Jesus like with giant eagles wings, and singin' lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd with like an angel band and I'm in the front row and I'm hammered drunk!

Susan: It's because it's what you love, Ricky. It is who you were born to be. And here you sit, thinking. Well, Ricky Bobby is not a thinker. Ricky Bobby is a driver. He is a doer. And that's what you need to do. You don't need to think. You need to drive. You need speed. You need to go out there, and you need to rev your engine. You need to fire it up. You need to grab ahold of that line between speed and chaos, and you need to wrestle it to the ground like a demon cobra! And then, when the fear rises up in your belly, you use it. And you know that fear is powerful, because it has been there for billions of years. And it is good. And you use it. And you ride it; you ride it like a skeleton horse through the gates of hell, and then you win, Ricky. You WIN! And you don't win for anybody else. You win for you, you know why? Because a man takes what he wants. He takes it all. And you're a man, aren't you? Aren't you?
Ricky Bobby: [pauses] Susan, I've never heard you talk like that... Are we about to get it on? Because I'm as hard as a diamond in an ice storm right now.

Ricky Bobby: [television commercial] Hi, I'm Ricky Bobby. If you don't chew Big Red, then f-*bleep* you.

Chip: [to Ricky Bobby] Are you just going to let your sons talk to their grandfather like this?
Ricky Bobby: Hell yes I am! They are winners! That is how winners talk!
Carley Bobby: If we wanted two wussies, we would have named them Dr. Quinn and Medicine Woman!

Lucy Bobby: So how was your day driving with you father?
Ricky Bobby: Well let's see. I got mauled by a cougar, my Crystal Gayle shirt is ruined, and I didn't learn dick about driving. Other than that, it was great.

Ricky Bobby: [running around on the track in his underwear] Help me Jesus! Help me Jewish God! Help me Allah! AAAAAHHH! Help me Tom Cruise! Tom Cruise, use your witchcraft on me to get the fire off me!

Cal Naughton, Jr.: Please don't let the invisible fire burn my friend!

The Written Word

I'm not a very good journal-keeper. I like to collect them, mind. I have a stack of 70-sheet notebooks, a number of leather-and/or-cloth-bound journals, and post-its to myself everywhere in my room, in my purse, in my car. But I'm loathe to commit anything personal down, anything really personal.

Now mind you, I have a desire for immortality, and what is more immortal than the written word? Would we know a guy named Shakespeare if he hadn't written down those eternal words: To be or not to be, that is the question. Maybe, but maybe not.

The written word is viable. Imperative. We wouldn't have know the Golden Rule if someone hadn't taken the time to write it on papyrus. But I hate committing my little treasure-trove of Hellionisms to journal entries. Well, perhaps I don't mind the outrageous ones. But I do mind writing down the stuff that journals are actually made for. The vulnerabilities. The "I hate Jane Smith, that two-time, double-crossing snake that stole my boyfriend!" or "My boyfriend Tom kisses like an eel." Or my personal favorite Hellionism: if I had an opportunity to run over Chris Roberts, I would. Then I'd back up and hit him again. Rat bastard.

There are lots of things people remember about me that I don't remember at all. Seriously embarrassing little anecdotes that I would have been content never remembering at all until they showed up at Happy Hour and decided to share that tidbit with all my new friends. Perhaps it would be easier if I'd quit just doing embarrassing things, then nobody would bother to remember them at all. But that's not likely to happen.

Anyway--I have all these leather journals that no one would ever see and I won't even commit my own follies for my own eyes (I figure I'll have enough of Hellion This Is Your Life come Judgment Day, you know?)--and yet some people use their blogger to post their real vulnerabilities out there for all web-eternity. (I don't mean the pre-teen who's despairing about That's So Raven being canceled. I mean: My husband is a cheating scumbag and his new girlfriend, my former best friend Jessica, is a cheating whore type blogs. Or work woes blogged, using real names of bosses and co-workers.) Doesn't that seem dangerous to you all?

I don't know if it's stoic-father or what, but isn't there something dangerous about expressing every single emotion that filters through us before we've had a chance to digest it and figure it out? I don't know. It just makes me think of Tom Riddle's diary from Harry Potter. Little Ginny Weasley poured all her feelings into it, and it talked back to her, justified her feelings, soothed and petted her--and in the end, it turned out really badly.

What do you think? Yea or nay? Does it matter this is a wide-world forum? I mean, technically, now many people are likely to read your inner-most thoughts, right?