Happy 29th Anniversary to Star Wars and 4th Anniversary to Tom & Ileana Adams!!!!
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Bored? Need something to do for several hours? I suggest...
The blue ball factory.
When you're bored with that, there's...
Another blue ball factory.
The blue ball factory.
When you're bored with that, there's...
Another blue ball factory.
Doomulus Prime.
Hey, remember this?
Well, look what was added to WoW a couple months ago:
Doomulus Prime
Okay, not quite as über, but still....
Hey, remember this?
Well, look what was added to WoW a couple months ago:
Doomulus Prime
Okay, not quite as über, but still....
Monday, May 22, 2006
Lordi Wins Eurovision!!!!
Proving that at least one country in Europe is cool
Current Score- Zombies: 1 Pop: 0
Check out the awesome Chuck Berry guitar duck walk and the guitar pirotechnics!
Proving that at least one country in Europe is cool
Current Score- Zombies: 1 Pop: 0
Check out the awesome Chuck Berry guitar duck walk and the guitar pirotechnics!
Don't Look, You'll Only Encourage Her
Wow, you sure shocked me this time, Madonna. Gee willikers, I wonder if you could shock me again.
Maybe if you had some Arockalyptic Zombie Cheerleaders. Now that'd rock--- I mean shock me.
Wow, you sure shocked me this time, Madonna. Gee willikers, I wonder if you could shock me again.
Maybe if you had some Arockalyptic Zombie Cheerleaders. Now that'd rock--- I mean shock me.
Movie Review: Dr. Zhivago
I was thrilled to be able to sit down and relax and finally attempt to achieve a balance between being a programmer, a full-time mom, and a housewife. With laundry beside me and baby across my knees, I settled into the couch for a record-breaking multitasking session of clothes duty, baby duty, and watch-the-library-rentals-before-they’re-due duty. My DVD of choice this time was Dr. Zhivago, mainly because I go through a phase about once a year of wanting inexplicably to watch a dreadfully dull historical drama starring Omar Sharif, preferably with Alec Guinness somewhere in the cast. Nightmares of last year’s fix did not prevent me from inserting the disk into the player and embarking on the next most frightening chapter of my chaotic life.
The first thing to greet my eyes was a startling image of Mr. Omar Sharif as an old man. He graciously thanked me for deciding to watch this film and informed me that he was, as an actor, particularly proud of it. He proceeded to tell me how much fun he had making the film, and ushered in the prelude like an old foreign gentleman introducing a sophisticated lady. Thank God for scene skippers on DVD remotes--there’s only so much staring at a dead forest with odd old American saloon music playing in the background an ADD child like myself can take before going postal. I feared for my laundry. I mean, what the heck is an American saloon doing in Russia? Exactly. So why do we have to have music that sounds like one?
Unfortunately, that same flabbergasting music plagued the entire movie…or rescued it. I can’t tell which. Just when I thought the movie wanted me to be sad, I would hear that music and sense that I was supposed to feel joyful because John Wayne was coming around the corner to punch someone‘s lights out. What did it mean, then, that I wanted to shred my laundry in angry protest against all modern film, most especially this one? The story left me with the same feeling I always get when I read “free verse” poetry without any rhyme or punctuation: willing and ready to shoot the idiot who wrote it and mug him for pocket change.
Maybe it was that I was just not high-minded enough to get into the characters. Let’s see: there was Dr. Zhivago, a poet with absolutely no moral backbone and the most horrid hair do ever to disgrace the head of man; his beautiful pregnant wife who adored him; a blonde nurse and her daughter; and a few other inconsequential background characters who contributed almost nothing to the pl--
No, I can’t bring myself to use it. Not the “p” word. Not the “pl” word. Not the “plo” word that ends in that criss-crossed letter of ours…no! I won’t! I can’t! I--
Finally, I get it. Zhivago is insane. He is a poet who cannot contain his genius so it drives him into madness. Why else would a man leave his beautiful pregnant wife to go be with some blonde nurse who has absolutely no personality, and better yet, why is he living in war-torn Russia, or even better than that: why is he (or anyone) living in such a freezing, icy place? Because he is mad. Why does he let the blonde nurse get away without making an attempt to go with her? And why does he die trying to catch up to her in the street? Because he is mad. The movie made complete sense once this dawned on me.
Yet throughout the entire movie, one thought kept coming comically to mind, especially after the nth scene of a freezing Russian countryside, which was surprisingly similar to the nth scene of a sweltering Arabian desert: “This is just as awful as watching Lawrence of Arabia backwards.”
Then…there was Alec Guinness! Where the heck did he come from? What? He’s trying to find his niece? What kind of cinematic “masterpiece” gives Alec Guinness less than 30 seconds of airtime to find his niece? Hm…one hour twenty minutes.
ONE HOUR TWENTY MINUTES!?!?!?! Everyone knows that Dr. Zhivago is renowned only for its length, and I had watched straight episodes of Looney Tunes for longer than that. A cold sweat broke out over my face. I laid the baby down, placed the laundry gingerly into the basket so as not to injure it, and surreptitiously, suspiciously approached the DVD player.
It couldn’t be.
I examined the disk as a doctor would a sick patient. The diagnosis was clear: it was a case of mistaken identity. The disk looked exactly the same on both sides. I had seen the “Widescreen” label on one side and put it in as is…
…and proceeded to watch the entire movie backwards. I began to laugh maniacally. Echoes of a Brittany Spears song I had never heard before began playing in my head: Oops, I Did it Again.
It was one of those double-sided disks, and I am now a double-dumb, movie-impaired woman whom my husband insists must not be allowed to watch Omar Sharif movies alone. What can I say? I go through a phase about once a year of wanting inexplicably to watch a dreadfully dull historical drama starring Omar Sharif…backwards.
I was thrilled to be able to sit down and relax and finally attempt to achieve a balance between being a programmer, a full-time mom, and a housewife. With laundry beside me and baby across my knees, I settled into the couch for a record-breaking multitasking session of clothes duty, baby duty, and watch-the-library-rentals-before-they’re-due duty. My DVD of choice this time was Dr. Zhivago, mainly because I go through a phase about once a year of wanting inexplicably to watch a dreadfully dull historical drama starring Omar Sharif, preferably with Alec Guinness somewhere in the cast. Nightmares of last year’s fix did not prevent me from inserting the disk into the player and embarking on the next most frightening chapter of my chaotic life.
The first thing to greet my eyes was a startling image of Mr. Omar Sharif as an old man. He graciously thanked me for deciding to watch this film and informed me that he was, as an actor, particularly proud of it. He proceeded to tell me how much fun he had making the film, and ushered in the prelude like an old foreign gentleman introducing a sophisticated lady. Thank God for scene skippers on DVD remotes--there’s only so much staring at a dead forest with odd old American saloon music playing in the background an ADD child like myself can take before going postal. I feared for my laundry. I mean, what the heck is an American saloon doing in Russia? Exactly. So why do we have to have music that sounds like one?
Unfortunately, that same flabbergasting music plagued the entire movie…or rescued it. I can’t tell which. Just when I thought the movie wanted me to be sad, I would hear that music and sense that I was supposed to feel joyful because John Wayne was coming around the corner to punch someone‘s lights out. What did it mean, then, that I wanted to shred my laundry in angry protest against all modern film, most especially this one? The story left me with the same feeling I always get when I read “free verse” poetry without any rhyme or punctuation: willing and ready to shoot the idiot who wrote it and mug him for pocket change.
Maybe it was that I was just not high-minded enough to get into the characters. Let’s see: there was Dr. Zhivago, a poet with absolutely no moral backbone and the most horrid hair do ever to disgrace the head of man; his beautiful pregnant wife who adored him; a blonde nurse and her daughter; and a few other inconsequential background characters who contributed almost nothing to the pl--
No, I can’t bring myself to use it. Not the “p” word. Not the “pl” word. Not the “plo” word that ends in that criss-crossed letter of ours…no! I won’t! I can’t! I--
Finally, I get it. Zhivago is insane. He is a poet who cannot contain his genius so it drives him into madness. Why else would a man leave his beautiful pregnant wife to go be with some blonde nurse who has absolutely no personality, and better yet, why is he living in war-torn Russia, or even better than that: why is he (or anyone) living in such a freezing, icy place? Because he is mad. Why does he let the blonde nurse get away without making an attempt to go with her? And why does he die trying to catch up to her in the street? Because he is mad. The movie made complete sense once this dawned on me.
Yet throughout the entire movie, one thought kept coming comically to mind, especially after the nth scene of a freezing Russian countryside, which was surprisingly similar to the nth scene of a sweltering Arabian desert: “This is just as awful as watching Lawrence of Arabia backwards.”
Then…there was Alec Guinness! Where the heck did he come from? What? He’s trying to find his niece? What kind of cinematic “masterpiece” gives Alec Guinness less than 30 seconds of airtime to find his niece? Hm…one hour twenty minutes.
ONE HOUR TWENTY MINUTES!?!?!?! Everyone knows that Dr. Zhivago is renowned only for its length, and I had watched straight episodes of Looney Tunes for longer than that. A cold sweat broke out over my face. I laid the baby down, placed the laundry gingerly into the basket so as not to injure it, and surreptitiously, suspiciously approached the DVD player.
It couldn’t be.
I examined the disk as a doctor would a sick patient. The diagnosis was clear: it was a case of mistaken identity. The disk looked exactly the same on both sides. I had seen the “Widescreen” label on one side and put it in as is…
…and proceeded to watch the entire movie backwards. I began to laugh maniacally. Echoes of a Brittany Spears song I had never heard before began playing in my head: Oops, I Did it Again.
It was one of those double-sided disks, and I am now a double-dumb, movie-impaired woman whom my husband insists must not be allowed to watch Omar Sharif movies alone. What can I say? I go through a phase about once a year of wanting inexplicably to watch a dreadfully dull historical drama starring Omar Sharif…backwards.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Did you know that?.
If you Google "Joe Belland", F.U. News will be listed towards the bottom on the third page of results. Most of the other results are for a 1958 15th round draft pick by the San Francisco 49ers from Arizona State. There are also some for a Joe Belland of Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
If you Google "Joseph Belland", most of your results will be for a French wine that is the product of a Monsieur Joseph Belland. I will show up on the second page, for my contribution to BBspot's 3rd annual Geek Limerick Contest.
Now you know.
If you Google "Joe Belland", F.U. News will be listed towards the bottom on the third page of results. Most of the other results are for a 1958 15th round draft pick by the San Francisco 49ers from Arizona State. There are also some for a Joe Belland of Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
If you Google "Joseph Belland", most of your results will be for a French wine that is the product of a Monsieur Joseph Belland. I will show up on the second page, for my contribution to BBspot's 3rd annual Geek Limerick Contest.
Now you know.
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