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Oh God No

They are making a sequel to Boondock Saints. Boondock Saints, or BS, is a terrible movie. It's pure shit. Somehow people have fallen in love with it, and for the life of me I can't tell why. OK, William Defoe is really funny, but he wasn't supposed to be. The Saints themselves are not marching in, they're stupid and violent. But for God's sake do not get into a conversation with anyone at anytime about this film because they will take you down. They will riddle you with quotes and poses as though it's source is the BIBLE. And now there is a new one. Below, my favorite scene from BS, a scene in which I almost choked on my Dr. Pepper out of pure astonishment. Fire fight! Fire fight! Fire fight!


Around 1:15 William, after conducting his imaginary bullet-ridden maelstorm, randomly shoots his own gun in the air. This is a great idea. I'm pretending to conduct unicorns and rainbows in concerto with Hello Kitty; where's my 9mm?

On a completely different note-do not wear media outlet garments in public. This attracts the crazies in a startling way. Of course, it is hard to deny the power of their yarn beanies and complete lack of sense. Mike, you are too nice. I loved the "type of sand" line.

The Tide is High

Saturday, the 24th, was a day full of surprises.
In the morning, my mother and I hosted a garage sale in my front yard, something that I don't do. I'm not against garage sales, but I do feel as though I'm poking through a strangers' underwear drawer at their behest. My husband loves garages sales, and so does my mom so on that stormy and cool morning my cast off undies, so to speak, were on proud display in my front yard. Tulsans are quite vociferous in their appetite for these sales; I've never seen a town so in love with them. It's as though an ebb of used baby toys, paperbacks, lamps, prom dresses, marbles and other once loved items slides back and forth across the town, and the same objects are sold again and again. These sales also transports the buyer and the seller to the ancient marketplaces. There are no ticket prices. Each item is assessed on the spot according to the appearance of the potential buyer and the game begins. Thank god this is a novelty form of purchase; most people are better at it than me.

That afternoon, after we loaded what we didn't sell into the pickup and deposited it at Goodwill, my mom and I drew ourselves long across the couches and watched a tornado on TV. As the elder son was with his father, and the younger was taking his nap, we were free to watch whatever we pleased, and after surfing for a moment we came to a rest on CNN of all things. They were broadcasting live a tornado that was sweeping across Oklahoma less than one hundred miles away from me. I wasn't concerned that the storm was going to reach us. The storm was too black and swollen to cover the distance between us. What it did instead was put on quite a show for half an hour. Up and down went funnels of all shapes and sizes, touching down prairie mostly save one pig farm. There were no fatalities, human or hog.

In the evening my mother took the boys out for a night on the town, and my husband and I took our garage sale monies and did the same. Our diner was a dismal failure, a textbook case of bad management, Cisco goods, and bad seating. We were buoyed by the fact that, if our food arrived in time, we were going to see the new Indiana Jones movie and related our memories of the series over an empty table. In record speed we ate and drank and paid for all of it, had a quick smoke, and made it in time for the film. I don't think I'm spoiling anything for anyone by stating that the film is a disappointment from beginning to end. I am still reeling from the mediocrity of it. My question: if a bridge is supposed to carry you from one side to the other, and the other side looks, acts, and seems predestined to bore, why cross it at all?

At the end of the episode we were completely sober. Leaving the theater we went directly to our dive and commenced to rectify the problem. While doing so, a flock of girls flew in, one after another, in their 80's inspired mall finery. After much noise and booze out they flew again, and so did we. It was the end to a strangely electric day. Maybe it was atmospheric, or maybe it was the act of doing something completely out of character, but I feel as though I've taken a small step forward somehow. And that is exceptional.

Just for Giggles

Too many times I've posted stuff that I faintly disapprove of, in my passive-aggressive way, so today I'm posting stuff that I think is super. For instance, this photoshopped picture of Prince. The adverts on the register read Pull Off. Come In! This couldn't be funnier in real life, but it would be immeasurably more awesome.
I also like a good costume on a cat. Without going into details be assured that I have had some experience in this department, and let me tell you, it's not easy getting a cat to wear a wig. But I don't just like American silliness, I'm tres international, Cherie.

The Writers Strike

I'm going through TV withdrawals. I am not lucky in the way some people are in that they will watch anything, everything the ninety channels cable grants them. Instead I love three little programs and with this damn strike (I support it; the claims are just) the writers have left me bereft of comedy. I miss:
The Office. Never has being consistently awkward so funny. I have worked for corporations before, and all of these characters have been my coworker or manager at some point. Who I miss the most: Dwight Shrute. The beet farm, Mose and Garbage, the evil glances aside, undying dedication to Michael and the primal howl weeping all wrapped up in a large goofy man. On the other hand, I feel a little short changed with the Pam/Jim stuff. I anticipated their realized attraction to each other for what, 3 seasons? Then all I got was a stolen kiss in her car. Who wrote that? Hopefully this strike will inspire the writers.
30 Rock. I think it's the spirit behind the performances and writing of this show that I love the most. I am not a New York City Person and likely will never become one, but the busyness of the city becomes fluid instead of daunting. Who I miss the most: All of them. This is a wonderful cast. Tina Fey is surprisingly adept, Alec Baldwin is a perfect straight man, Tracy Jordan makes everything funny. Kenneth, Jenna and Pete too are spot on. And the capers!
Always Sunny in Philidelphia. Watching this show is like hanging out with the funniest bunch of degenerate assholes you never wanted to hang out with. Nothing is sacred. Who I miss the most: Charlie. Just as much of an asshole as anyone else, but this little gingerbread man has heart. And a very short fuse.

When a Couple Dozen Eggs and a T-Bone isn't Enough

This Texas man really, really likes sausage. And not no goddamned 12 ounce sausage, but a 16 ounce sausage. Oh, and he knows about your little conspiracy Jimmy Dean Corporation. You've got over six hundred pounds of men and plump Scottish woman awares now! Stand up for your sausage, Texan.