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• photos •
• little loves • Eddie Cibrian's Dimples
Because c'mon! Shame on Invasion's slowburn peril for not providing them a more frequent showcase. Wentworth Miller
He's my boyfriend. He is. No, he just is. He's all green-eyed, widow's-peaked, melting-pot hotness and oiled-massage voice. He's it. • past loves • |
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When I was walking home from the train last night, I noticed a brand new, giant, wooden crucifix pounded into the front lawn of St. Mary of the Lake. There are nail-a-guy-up-size nails and everything, but Our Saviour is suspiciously absent. Weird, eh? Then it hit me. ZOMBIE JESUS: He doesn't eat brains. He eats your soul! Zombie Jesus would be especially scary tonight. The fog here is so thick I can't see past the trees right in front of my windows. There's a real Jack-the-Ripper-hunting-along-the-Thames feeling out there. I'll bet Zombie Jesus wouldn't find it sporting to appear out of the fog and munch on some unsuspecting soul, though. He may be a zombie, but I gotta believe he's a fair guy. jlb | 22:12 I should be going to bed, but I just got back from the Music Box and, dudes, you have to see Cowboy Bebop: The Movie. Even if you don't watch the series. Trust me. I've only seen a handful of episodes on DVD, about which I just sort of said "meh." The movie kicked my ass. I think I held my breath through the entire monorail sequence. It's the best action sequence I've seen in a film -- live or anime -- in years. Damn, people! Super-bad Vincent dug his fingers into our anti-hero Spike's chest and twisted. I mean dug in and twisted. Dug. In. Twisted. It was awesome. I think I'm a little bit in love with Spike. I haven't been in love with a cartoon character since Disney's foxy Robin Hood, but I dig Spike's hair. And his roundhouse kicks. If I dream in anime tonight, I'll never make it to work in the morning. jlb | 00:31 I got to work two hours late today. It's not a big deal, but it's a recurring problem these last few weeks. Why? Well, I've been having the most vivid, weird dreams in the morning right before I wake up. Therefore, natch, I keep hitting my snooze and snuggling back into these dreams, which I'm sure just makes them weirder because I'm only half-asleep when they continue. Let's take this morning's dream as an example. I am a teacher at a school. The inside décor looks like a normal public school of the Hastings High persuasion, but the teachers live at the school, too, in little suites adjacent to their classrooms. For some reason, I'm wandering around the hallways looking for a bathroom. Then my alarm went off. Apparently, finding a bathroom was really important because I decided not to wake up, but to go back to the dream. Snooze button. DreamMe, wandering. I go into another teacher's classroom and into the adjacent living suite. There's a bathroom! I enter and shut the door, flip on the light switch. The entire bathroom is covered in white tiles and exists in two sections. The section I'm standing in has a strictly dorm-style shower. I peek around the corner into the other section, in which there's a sink, a mirror, quite inexplicably no toilet, and Vince Neil. (Yeah, I don't know either.) Vince has just finished blow-drying his hair. He proceeds to tell me that when he was younger, his hair was always really straight and he never had to blow dry. Now that he's older, it's got a natural wave to it, so he and his blow dryer are best friends. I sympathize with Vince and give him a little encouragement. I abruptly switch venues. I'm in a classroom now -- not my own -- standing in the doorway to the adjacent suite, just out of sight. Inside the well-appointed room, a bunch of my fellow teachers are plotting. I'm spying and I'm worried. I can't catch everything they're saying, but I somehow know that they're planning to kill Jack Bauer. Now I switch POVs. Instead of being the first-person teacher, I'm now a disembodied third-person observer, and the dream "character" I used to be is now Spawn! I'm watching Spawn spying on the scheming teachers for barely a second before the dream jump-cuts to an outdoor, slightly forested location. A tank comes crashing through what I think is some sort of concrete bunker and a woman -- who appears to be Claudia Finnerty, but who my dream identifies as Jack's wife, miraculously not dead -- exits the tank with the intention of killing her husband. Then I wake up just enough to think to look at the clock, see that it's 8:32 a.m., and scramble out of bed. That's my story. jlb | 13:20 Yesterday? When I wrote "February"? What I actually meant was: "Why the hell is it still snowing?" jlb | 12:06 Oh, by the way, I think I've time-traveled again. First from 28 back to 27. Now from April back to February. Damn. jlb | 13:00 Riffing on The One Who Doesn't Talk's post about his roommates acting really annoying because he's quiet one day, I have to share this. Sars writes an advice column as part of her site. Recently, she answered a question that, while not covering The One Who Doesn't Talk's problem specifically, gets close enough that he may find it useful to forward on to his less considerate friends. Q: What's an effective reply to exhortations to "Smile!" that won't piss off the person in question but will let him know that his comment isn't welcome? Dear Inside, There isn't one. Ignoring it, or responding with a flat stare held until the inquisitor looks away in discomfort, is pretty much the only rejoinder. And if you, dear reader, have chirpily told anyone, ever, to "smile," I would like to give you a piece of advice, to wit: shut the fuck up. I mean it. If you feel happy all the time, that's great, but I'll smile when I please and not before, and your telling me to isn't going to get it done -- it's irritating, it's intrusive, and it's a comment that's almost always directed at women, which makes it that much more irritating and intrusive since it implies that men can stomp around all grumpy if they like because they have Important Man Things to think about, but women ought to smile and speak in soothing tones or some shit like that, like, guess what? I run my own business, and it's in the red, so you can get a smile out of me by handing over a tax-free hundred grand. No? Then mind your knitting, Miss Merry Sunshine. With the possible exception of beginning a sentence with "no offense or anything," telling another person with whom you do not have a binding legal or blood relationship to smile is the single most goddamn annoying conversational gambit in the world, and everyone BUT EVERYONE you say it to HATES it, and you. Don't fucking do it. jlb | 11:28 Saw Daredevil tonight. Lame and unfortunate. Bad CG and too much of it. When the opening shot is a CG rat traversing the CG rain-filled CG gutters of CG NYC, you know you're in trouble. I mean, c'mon! A CG rat! Did all the real-life Hollywood rats turn the role down? Colin Farrell was hot and bald. He had all of ten minutes' screen time, and he didn't just chew the scenery, he bit down hard and swallowed whole. I would expect nothing less. Poor Spy Barbie couldn't go anywhere without a painful-looking push-up bra and a scary tan that made her look a decade older than she is. Then there was Affleck. I love Affleck. He's such a giant dork. But dorkiness does not translate to vengeful superhero. You have to be kind of afraid of the vengeful superheroes. You have to believe they'd kill you just as soon as look at you. I can't be afraid of Affleck. He's cuddly. I don't get the vengeance vibe. Awesome cleft chin, though, bud! I did like the fact that Daredevil got his ass super-kicked. I think they were implying that he's a prescription drug addict because superheroes who get their asses super-kicked need some Percocet like nobody's business. The moment when Kingpin gets kneecapped was pretty sweet, too. It kind of made me wish the film had an R rating. Vengeful superhero movies should have R ratings; it allows for more vengeance. Like The Crow. More than anything, Daredevil made me want to watch The Crow. I put it at the top of my Netflix list as soon as I got home. Mmm, Brandon Lee. Vengeance-y, R-rated goodness. I saw the film at the River East 21. No Junior Mints. Whoppers, though, and several giant paintings of Paul Newman on the walls. Excellent. He's got to be the best looking man ever. Ooh, hey, the trademark Sutherland velvet is gracing MGD commercials now. jlb | 23:25 Isn't it nice when strangers on the Internet understand you completely? jlb | 00:05 |
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