Monday, 30 May 2011
Sunday, 29 May 2011
J didn't want to see Inception at first, but we're both glad he joined me. I'm even happier that the movie was sufficiently engrossing and thought-provoking to prevent him from spending too much time trying to guess what happens next.
We definitely liked the movie, though I don't understand the hype. No, wait, yes I do. Hollywood believes its audience prefers purposely dumbed down movies like Avatar*, or plain dumb movies like Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen. Hollywood did not believe its audience was smart enough to handle Inception. Not that Inception was ridiculously intelligent. It was fairly easy to follow along if you paid attention, and its shocking reveals were not necessarily that shocking (by the way, M. Night Shalalala, that's how you do it, for future reference). We loved the ending, of course. I'm a fan of inconclusion, which also probably pissed Hollywood off, because you don't have an inconclusive ending if you aren't going to do a sequel.
J and I did conclude that this would be a most excellent way to fulfill our vows and then amicably go our separate ways. Convenient, since I am now crushing on Joseph Gordon-Levitt, especially after that gravity-free fight scene that furthers my desire to see Stunt Coordination be considered for an Oscar category.
*I'm looking forward to Avatar 2 and even 3, because James Cameron is actually taking the time to make and release them and this time, now that he's set the precedent and established the world and the people, he will be able to include real plot and story. I know it seems like I'm giving more credit than is due, but, after watching him on Inside the Actor's Studio, I've gained a lot of respect for him because he's smart. Basically, think of the first Avatar as the worlds longest and most expensive commercial for both a series and a technology. I'm also very curious about his 2016 release of Battle Angel (Alita).
Friday, 27 May 2011
I tried to convince her to draw Emma Frost from Classic X-Men #7, but she was skeptical about the White Queen's level of morality in that picture.
I also figured out the source of her disjointed joints. She was initially drawing them based on colour - ie she was drawing the separate body parts by colour. I drew her a picture of Meggan in hopes of convincing her that drawing first with a pencil is okay. She understands now, as you can see by Cyclops, and we are off and running.
I'm so very happy.
Thursday, 26 May 2011
This doesn't justify breastfeeding moms being kicked out of various places (read: Texas) or the entire act being considered lude etc, but it does explain the rationale behind the thinking. The problem is that our culture has made boobies taboo.
[Abstract] In this paper I consider the ways in which lactation has been discussed as a form of maternal sexuality, and the implications this carries for our understanding of breastfeeding practices and sexuality. Drawing on knowledge constructed in the western world during the last half of the twentieth century, the paper identifies a shift between the radical ideologies of the 1960s and 1970s and the newer moral conservatism of the 1990s. The emergence of lactation porn and erotica in the 1990s has meant that the sexuality of breastfeeding has been contained in a subculture outside of dominant cultural values, and so maternal sexuality has become a muted discourse, sometimes bordering on the immoral and illegal. My project in this paper, however, is to argue that breastfeeding pleasure is physiologically 'normal' and should be productively rather than illicitly incorporated into the meanings we make of sexuality and of breastfeeding.
Further research scored me this article on breast taboo, which includes the following excerpts and quotes:
"Well, we do have a peculiar obsession with breasts in this culture. A lot of people think it's just the human nature to be fascinated with breasts but in many cultures, breasts aren't sexual at all. I interviewed a young anthropologist working with women in Mali, in a country in Africa where women go around with bare breasts. They're always feeding their babies. And when she told them that in our culture men are fascinated with breasts there was an instant of shock. The women burst out laughing. They laughed so hard, they fell on the floor. They said, "You mean, men act like babies?"
So of course, Simon and I have been discussing this... But seriously, what is it about our culture that keeps sexualizing everything and thus making it evil and dirty? Damn Victorians!
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
I don't understand why more movies do not have these. Hell, if a movie like The Missing, where Aaron Eckhart is roasted alive, then every movie ought to reveal to me their laugh out loud movie mistakes. I know you have them! I know because I've been on stage in highschool and I know the amusements of Karen forgetting her line ("No!") and then getting upset when the prompt refused to give it to her. Or any moment with Rick. And the props. Oh the props.
Okay, perhaps my highschool play bloopers are a lot funnier in my head. You had to be there. But thankfully, with movie bloopers, you can be there. And I, for one, am really happy that Nathan Fillion happens to be there with me.
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Obviously clowns aren't so horribly hated that they can't exist. We still have them at the circus, and we still have successful children's shows like Big Comfy Couch, and there's also good ol' Ronald McDonald (though it probably should be noted that in both cases, the clowns' human features are less exaggerated).
Of course, I've gone and done a wee bit of research and discovered this essay, from which I'm pulling a few excerpts:
“Kids around two or so are very reactive to a familiar body type with an unfamiliar face,” according to Dr. Ronald Doctor, professor of psychology at California State University, Northridge. Goldman, Michael. (2000) "Clowns are no laughing matter." The Toronto Star July 8
The second factor, most of them say, which also accounts for those who have not had a circus-trip or birthday-party gone terribly wrong, is to be found in the representations of evil clowns in mass media and movies, such as those already mentioned.
“Stephen King’s movie IT, which featured a demented, murderous clown named Penny- Wise, did for clowns what Psycho did for showers and what Jaws did for swimming in the ocean.” Goldman, Michael. (2000) "Clowns are no laughing matter." The Toronto Star July 8
Okay, but a couple differences come to mind. For one, there aren’t a ton of websites all over the net full of rants about how evil and awful and scary showers are (although that could be highly entertaining). And as for Jaws, C’mon now. In IT, Pennywise reaches up from the sewer and tears off the arm of little George Denbrough. Ok, that’s a pretty nasty thing. But sharks actually tear off people’s limbs, in real life! Sharks are an unequivocally real (albeit rare) danger; yet there is no vocal resistance against sharks equivalent to that which can be found toward clowns.
It would seem that the concept of evil clowns and the widespread hostility it induces is a cultural phenomenon which transcends just the phobia alone. Did it arise out of the phobia or the phobia out of it? And if people got the phobia out of the movies, where did the movies get the idea from?
(Stephen King's IT is often referenced in the essay, but he notes that King himself actually had a fear of clowns. there was also a real life incident similar to the events of IT that occured 5 years before the book was published)
“Throughout history, the idea of the clown has been linked with The Fool. Fool is usually taken to refer to someone lacking common sense, if not totally devoid of reason- and encompasses a broad range of characters, including both the village idiot and the harmless eccentric…The Fool’s characteristic traits are very much those of ‘Natural Man…’ Unimpressed with sacred ceremonies or the power of rulers, he is liable to be openly blasphemous and defiant; uninhibited in sexual matters, he often delight in obscene humor.” Towsen, John. Clowns. Prentice-Hall, 1976.
“Clowns have many striking characteristics as well as links with Shamanism…Fools and Clowns are sub-classes of Tricksters and share most essential qualities, including their association with supernatural… Their connection with the paranormal is unmistakable.” Hansen, George. The Trickster and the Supernatural. Xlibris Corporation, 2001.
And so now I have to ask you, my dear friends... are you afraid of clowns...?
1. Are you coulrophobic?
(A)Oh dear gawd make it go away!
(B)Clowns are funny! *honk honk*
2. If yes, what is it about them that you fear?
3. What caused your fear?
4. What about Ronald McDonald?
(A)Well.. I guess he's okay
(B)Oh dear gawd! Damn him and his salty fries!
(C)Mmm... salty fries
(D)How can anyone related to McDonald's be evil?
5. What about porcelain dolls?
(A)Oh dear gawd the eyes! Like a shark's eyes...dead! DEAD!
(B)No fear, but I wish my mom would stop making them all the time
(C)Who would be askeered of porcelain dolls? Now Barbie on the other hand...
Monday, 23 May 2011
This is dedicated to all us ladies who know what to do when Shao Khan says "FINISH HIM!" You know who we are. The ladies who have to tolerate the abuse from guys who tease us about -- like ohmigod -- breaking a nail. Yeah, I've broken a nail or two ... guess that's the sacrifice you make when you're playing football. Pink is not our favourite colour, we don't squeal when you bring your pet lizard to class, we can watch Aliens without closing our eyes, we know that Stan Lee has no relation to Sara, and we are aware that Akira is not the name of a car. Guys, don't be so surprised when we kick your butts at the arcades. It's not some strange phenomenon. We just happen to like the same things you do, and we can do them just as well, if not better. So give us a chance. You just might learn something from us VideoGirls .
Ladies, how many times have you walked into a comic store and been completely ignored as the male staff catered to every male customer that came in after you, having assumed that your boyfriend must be somewhere behind you? Or better yet, the only attention you get is when they give you the old up and down as they assess your assets. Oooooh, the horror when you open your mouth and enlighten them with your knowledge of the subject at hand. After convincing them that your collection of five hundred plus comics does not consist of Archie and Barbie, they suddenly become wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring stupidly at this strange alien being that in appearance is feminine, yet speaks like a male. Yes, I know who Bill Tucci, Joe Madureira, Frank Miller, Jim Lee, Garth Ennis, Alan Moore and many others are. They are some of my many favourite writers and artists, along with Marc Silvestri, although I prefer his work back in the mid-two hundred issues of Uncanny X-Men. Why are you guys so surprised that we know these things? The world of comics isn't just for you alone. Ask Amanda Conner, the lovely lady who drew that copy of Vengeance of Vampirella that you're holding.
VideoGirls don't just suffer for our sex in the comic stores. We save a lot of quarters at the arcades since some guys feel that we don't need to play the games there. But we save even more quarters when we do get to play and defeat challenger after stupified challenger in games other than Ms. Pac Man. We sigh quietly to ourselves when we hear the words "Holy $#}+! You're getting your @$$ kicked by a girl," (actual quote) from the ashamed friends of a challenger that just suffered 60% damage from Kabal's sixteen hit combo. We like to use the female characters from time to time in those fighting games because they are quick and nimble. Guys laugh because "only girls pick girls," but they never laugh when Rogue insults them at the end of a match. Instead, they hurry away with a pained expression on their faces that seems directly related to their suddenly deflated egos ("Say g'night, sugah"). Okay, we're not always going to beat you, but give us a chance to try. Here's a tip for you guys: don't EVER show us mercy. We don't need your pity. Unlike you, when we lose, we get over it quickly. We learn from our defeat and come back stronger for the rematch.
We don't need to cling madly to you at the movies fearing what will happen next on the screen. We're not scared of the violence and the horror. We can handle the blood and guts of The Relic -- in fact we laughed at it in The Wishmaster and we were just as impressed by the non-stop action in The Rock (which we have seen as many times as you). We couldn't wait for Con Air to hit the theatres and were incredibly bored during Little Women.
We can tell the difference between a water gun and an Uzi. We take our shoes off without fear of icky slimey things as we wade into the creek to hunt for frogs, turtles and crayfish. You can wrestle with us -- we don't break that easily. We like to play sports as much as we like to watch them, so save us room on the field, and on the couch along with a few beers when the Super Bowl is on. We can talk the trash and shoot the shit just as bad as you so don't be embarassed when we walk in and make ourselves comfy during your sex talks. And when your laser says "Tagged by Tyger Lily" on it at LaserQuest, it was because I was aiming at you and I hit you. It wasn't an accident and I'll prove it to you when I hit you again and again.
We still like to do "girlie things" now and then. We like to dress up and look sexy from time to time. But don't expect us to just sit around in our dainty bows and lace with our legs crossed when you guys are heading out to play baseball. This is us guys. Pay us some attention and give us a little respect when you see us in the arcades and the comic shops and on the fields. We're not all sugar and spice and everything nice, and we're not ornaments hanging on the walls. We can play too, so don't be so surprised when we do.
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Now that we understand Sheldon's character, we can appreciate him and find it amusing, but that laugh track was making us cringe. I was wrong about the jokes being written by non-geeks. It was the guy pushing the laugh button that was clueless.
Fortunately, either the laugh track grew more subdued as the show progressed, or else we managed to get used to it. Big Bang Theory is officially on the DVR list now.
Saturday, 21 May 2011
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
The surprising thing about this book is that about 75% of it involves the 20 years of ordinary life the princess spends in hiding. While the fear of what is pending looms, the story is mostly about her mundane life, and yet McKinley easily makes this most interesting with fantastic descriptive talents that never focus on anything that does not directly relate to that which is happening at the moment. Transitions from the past and the present are smooth and compelling. Overall, a brilliant interpretation of the Sleeping Beauty tale.
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Friday, 20 May 2011
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
It turns out I've been reading this book long before I picked it up from the library as a few of the chapters are previously published journal articles, such as:
The Inverse Power of Praise
The Lost Hour
See Baby Discriminate
I was immediately impressed by the book from the first chapter. The basic concept was to point out how much we underestimate and overestimate what children are capable of because we tend to view them as little adults. Even scientific minds who ought to know better have been testing children on various subjects without realizing how their little minds differ, and more importantly, how quickly they change - right up until highschool. The book proceeds, through various sociological and psychological studies, to show us where our thinking as adults (parents or not) has led us astray in raising our children, covering a broad range of topics, including hot button ones like bullying, obesity and racism.
It does not necessarily offer the solutions to any or all problems that can arise with raising children. Some topics, like the loss of sleep have easy and obvious solutions, while others are more complex. Instead, the book uses the various testing examples to reveal where our adult thinking has been incorrect. From there, it is our job as parents and teachers to change our way of thinking to better understand our children.
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Wednesday, 18 May 2011
The major buzz has died after Michael’s death. MSNBC, TMZ, Twitter and Google have fully recovered from their crashes after TMZ first broke the news and TV stations are no longer airing “the latest breaking news” and have returned to our regularly scheduled death and corruption. There are still at least a few months of rumours and speculation to go through, what with the fate of his children, estate and of course, the coroner’s report still pending.
Oh and the jokes. Comedians perhaps gave a momentary pause out of respect, but his death has brought a whole new source of fodder. Did you hear the one about the Lego?
Did the media overstate the international interest in Michael Jackson, thereby being presumptuous with their extensive coverage of his memorial and various homages to the icon? Or should we ask, “How many media representatives were fans, thereby indulging their fandom with these over the top presentations?”
My building reaction to his death and the subsequent outpouring of love and hate has surprised me. I was a fan when I was a child, and, despite intentions to pick up his rerelease of Thriller 25 years later (which I guiltily picked up this week), I thought my adoration had faded. (Not that I am or have ever been a shrieking idiot kind of fan. For me, fandom means appreciating that the person is still very much a human being like me, and wanting to meet them to find out just what they are like outside of the spotlight.)
Last night, I managed to skim through Tuesday’s memorial and again watched Al Sharpton’s speech, which I think was the most poignant of all, especially when he singled out MJ’s children and told them that there was nothing strange about their father. The only strangeness was in the way he was treated by the rest of the world. It brought a tear to my eyes because it was true. As was what he said about MJ continuing on despite everything and everyone that stood against him.
MJ will continue to be vilified by many because of his eccentricities. Sadly, most people who do so will never take the time to consider what might have made him what he became. The horrid irony of that is that MJ himself has always openly explained himself. He’s put it all in his music which has always been written and delivered from the depths of an obviously tortured soul. I’ve also been reading Macleans commemorative issue, which includes several very objective articles detailing various aspects of MJ, including the initial biography of his life. One article ends with a statement that couldn’t be more pithy:
“Michael Jackson never stood a chance.”
It is the curse of genius, it seems, to delve into madness far deeper than us normal folk. And MJ was definitely a genius. His mother describes him as a learning to walk baby who had none of the balance issues toddlers normally face. He was already gifted with rhythm and a pure voice. When he took to the stage at five years old, he was undeniable. He went on to pioneer so much for the music, dance and video industry in general and for Black people within these industries and more.
He wanted very much to heal the world and is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the celebrity with contributions to the most charitable societies, including his own. He wanted to save the children. Because above all, he loved the children. They represented that which was stolen from him (again, he explained this through song:”Have you seen my childhood?”) His desire to have children of his own was clearly to live vicariously through them (as it is for many parents, though many of us don’t realize it). Unfortunately, his “Peter Pan Syndrome” was his greatest flaw, and it’s what was used so often to drag him down.
Was he a pedophile? Well, to me, a pedophile is someone I would (irrationally) despise, more so that I have children of my own, and probably not permit an opportunity for redemption based on crimes committed. Was MJ a pedophile? No. I don’t think so. I think he was a child star who, unlike other child stars, didn’t merely get lost in drugs and alcohol, but actually became a child as he grew up because he didn’t get to be one before. I think a large part of that was due to the utter fear instilled in him by his father’s abuse and pressure to succeed. The latter became part of Michael as well. He became a shrewd businessman, but he was still, ultimately, a child in the end, expressing that in many forms, including childlike extravagance, megalomania, and of course, his desire to be surrounded by children, whom he said he was more comfortable with because they did not wear masks. I don’t deny that he probably did things with the children that we’d consider inappropriate, like run around naked. But I don’t believe that there was ever a sexual nature to these actions, not even the allegations of showing porn to the children. It reminds me of 12-year old boys finding their parents’ porn stash. Not dirty in his mind. He somehow retained (or gained) the childlike innocence that we all lose when we grow up and so when he said in a “shocking” interview that sharing his bed is the greatest act of love, he truly meant it as simply that. Not the dirty thing our minds twisted it into. An attempt to nationally recognize Michael Jackson was turned down by the Senate yesterday because, while his achievements and genius are great, far too many view him only as a “pervert,” though I wonder, if perhaps we aren’t the ones who are truly perverted because we have so lost our innocence that we can only see dirty sex in everything.
The changes to his appearance, some speculate, were also an attempt to get away from his past, or more specifically, from his father. Image generation suggests that he’d look just like his father at this age, had he not undergone all the plastic surgery. He apparently wanted to be beautiful. Evidently, to him, this meant more White features, right down to skin colour (attributed to a rare disease). His children and his choice of brides indicate this, and yet, despite an apparent physical move away from being Black in appearance, he remains a pivotal part of Black History [in America] and clearly, based solely on the representation at his memorial, he is still considered precious to the Black Community.
The memorial itself was a true tribute. It was a bit chilling that some of his own songs, sung in his honour, so accurately represented him in death and the tragedy of his life (no one chose to sing “Gone too Soon”). Some referred to it as “macabre.” Yes, it was, a bit. In fact, I think it was his greatest stage show ever. The 50 planned concerts that ultimately overtaxed his already depleted body and mind and unsurprisingly led to this moment would not have compared. The coffin being brought in to the hymned chorus of “Soon and very soon, we are going to see the King” was a fitting tribute to his megalomania. In death, he quite likely surpassed the goal that had eluded his perfectionism for so long: to create and market something even bigger than Thriller. I almost wouldn’t put it past him to have faked his death in order to achieve the ultimate in infamy and the ultimate opportunity for escape from those who continually hunted him.
As I said before, I am sad that he is gone, but happy at the same time because it means he now has some chance for peace that he could never find while alive. I am glad that the concerts never took place, because, while I do believe they would represent “the greatest comeback since Lazarus,” it would fail to subdue all the negatives that are attached to him, because of just how firmly those negatives are attached. I am sad that he didn’t get to show his children what he used to be (and even sing with his youngest son, as he’d hoped), but it’s probably better this way. They have already lived with the negativity surrounding their father’s life. And they are set for far more of it now in death. I hope they can make it through.
Tuesday, 17 May 2011
But first, some background on my hair: I have "semi-good hair" that I usually wear in it's natural curly/wavy state. However, I do, once in a while, perm it. Recently, I've been using the box perms because they are far cheaper, but they don't do nearly as good a job as driving the two hours to my hairdresser (no hairdresser in my area is trained to handle Black hair). The perms I use now are "organic" and I basically go through this process to ease the subsequent process of brushing my hair. A perm means less knots and yanking, more control.
I don't recall how young I was when my mom started perming my hair. Perhaps around 10? Since then, I have had a weave, braids, hot comb, cornrows and even a Jheri Curl.
My daughters have good hair. I know they have good hair, because once, at the supermarket, a nice Black lady stopped my White husband and my pregnant self and congratulated me on my choice of mate because it meant we would have beautiful children with good hair. Well, one has good hair and one has patches of good hair and a patch of really tight spirals that people think is adorable, but in fact, is a pain in the ass for both of us.
Yeahuh. Anyway, on to the documentary.
When Chris Rock's daughter, Lola, came up to him crying and asked, "Daddy, how come I don't have good hair?" the bewildered comic committed himself to search the ends of the earth and the depths of black culture to find out who had put that question into his little girl's head!
Prior to watching, I hunted down some reviews and found a blog that condemned the documentary for not offering a conclusion. The author felt Rock had copped out at the end. I believe the author missed the point that this documentary was made for Rock's daughters to help them to see what makes "good hair" and to allow them to come to their own conclusions when they are ready.
The film went over a lot of the facts I already knew, but revealed deeper things that I had not stopped to think about, even though they now seem obvious.
It was not shocking that women were sacrificing rent and food to pay for weaves and perms, or that children as young as four were being subjected to these harsh chemicals.
What was most striking to me was the idea of intimacy and the loss that comes from the fact that Black women who go through these processes do not like having their hair touched. Permed or unpermed, my husband likes to play in my hair. Rock interviewed some men who were fearfully candid about the fact that this is not possible with some of their significant others. I like to play with my girls' hair too and will run my hands through my husband's hair when it's not moussed and spiky. These are moments of intimacy that I take for granted. The men interviewed joked about this notion, but it seemed, underneath, that they were truly saddened by this restriction.
The various subjects Rock covered in the documentary circled around the Bronner Brothers Hair Show and its competitors. This provided the entertainment aspect of the film, but did not necessarily deliver any further insight - except, perhaps, for the one White hairdresser whom his clients called "The Hair Whisperer." He is the falmboyantly stereotypical gay hairdresser who probably isn't gay and doesn't understand why people think he is. The thing is, I've had a similar hair dresser and he too whispered to my hair. He made it so soft and straight - without chemicals or even a hot comb - that I spent the drive home with my head hanging out the window so I could feel the wind whipping through my hair.
There were many other interesting facts presented about the Black hair industry, most of which make me cringe because so much of it represents a level of opression and a denial of our natural beauty. The kind of opression that makes people condemn a star for cutting her hair or say hateful things about the condition of child's hair, believing her parents have done her a cultural disservice by not keeping her hair nice and neat like the Obama children.
Hollywood still has many stars who cling to the notion of having good hair - some of whom were interviewed for the documentary, and of course, this influences the public. Black hair and its "proper" treatment is an intrinsic part of (North) American culture. Fortunately, there are a few who go against the grain and aren't afraid to be proud of what they were born with.
Monday, 16 May 2011
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
I should have obeyed my instincts and not read this book, as per my pre-review. I knew I wasn't going to get exactly what I wanted, but I didn't expect this book to let me down so much.
It has Joss Whedon's name on it, but apparently, that credit doesn't go too far beyond "giving my brother some work." Zack's forward at the end of the book (because the tale is told backwards through Book's life) repeatedly uses the words "it was fun," and also tells us that the contrived, stereotypical beginning of Book's life was inspired by great sources. By the time I got to him saying that he wanted to make something to honour Ron Glass' character, I had had enough.
It's not entirely that he story of Book's past is unconvincing. The problem is that what we were given was a very basic, skeletal, point form Wiki entry that uses a few pictures instead of words. The story is told backwards, starting with his death in Serenity and heading back to his stereotypical beginning.
The shocking twist was, I suppose, acceptable - if only it did not negate the fact that Book was immediately and unquestioningly accepted into an Alliance hospital facility. This was my biggest disappointment of this book. The ultimate Book secret that hinged on that moment when he struggled to pull his Alliance ID from his pocket made no sense.
I'll go back to my illusions, thanks. I think I do a better job of honouring Ron Glass's character there.
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I have not had proper time to go over its details, but told my hubby about it who reported back to me that it was going to be as if Warhawk and Firefly had a really awesome baby.
Oh yes, I'm listening.
And then: "Our goal is always to innovate and provide fans with new, engaging experiences," said Scott A. Steinberg, Vice President, Product Marketing, SCEA. "Starhawk delivers all of this and more combining a run-and-gun gameplay style with our advanced Build & Battle system that offers new strategic options for the player while never taking them out of the action. Add to that a compelling story and robust online mode, and Starhawk will truly move the genre forwardï¿½an experience only enjoyed on PlayStation 3 that is sure to excite shooter fans and newcomers alike."
What the ... story to go along with my desire to blowshitup?
I'll probably uphold my record of sucking at actually flying a War/Starhawk, but as long as they have tanks, I will be an extremely happy girl.
Oh, FYI, be sure to search for "Starhawk PS3" as "Starhawk" alone gives you this:
"Welcome! I'm Starhawk, author of many works celebrating the Goddess movement and Earth-based, feminist spirituality. I’m a peace, environmental, and global justice activist and trainer, a permaculture designer and teacher, a Pagan and Witch. To see how it all weaves together, follow the many strands of my web."
Think I might have read her stuff ... I was probably not playing Warhawk at the time.
Sunday, 15 May 2011
SEX: Be safe. Your body is your body and you must protect it. If you are not comfortable in a situation, then you put an end to that situation. Your body; your rules.
SMOKING: Try it once or twice to say you did, then never do it again. There is enough information on the (guaranteed) health risks of smoking to make it obvious that you shouldn't do it. If you have friends who smoke, then politely ask them to stand down wind.
DRUGS: Daddy will happily roll you your first joint. Everything else? Don't be stupid.
ALCOHOL: Know your limit (you will figure it out after your first hangover). Do not drive after drinking and do not get into the car if there is a drunk driver behind the wheel. Call us. A grumpy, sleepy parent awakened to pick you up at stupid o'clock is, believe it or not, a lesser risk than the alternative.
Will we be angry if you break these rules? Probably. Will we still love you?
Saturday, 14 May 2011
Then I saw Shepherd Book. In hardcover, no less. I picked him up. I read the promises of revelation and Joss' name. I held him close and could not put him down. Seeking final confirmation, I asked the clerk for his review. He gave a half-assed nod of consent, saying that it wrapped up the character nicely. Truly, I didn't need his words. I was not going to let Shepherd go.
The question now is, am I going to read this book?
You see, I am a fan of the inconclusive ending. "An ending, to be useful, must be inconclusive," wrote Denis O'Neil in Batman: Knightfall (or something like that).
This belief allows me to stem my bitterness over the cancellation of Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles. I can channel my bitterness into imagining the What Happens Next. An inconclusive ending is a fanfiction dream come true.
Many fans who lose their beloved shows cry bloody murder for their return and, as a result, get their wish. Sometimes, our wishes result in Serenity. Other times, they result in the Farscape: Peacekeeper Wars or Buffy and Angel comics. Not that the latter were horrible, but they were, well, they could have been better...
As for Shepherd Book. This book about Book promises to tell me his secrets. It promises to confirm or deny my belief that he is actually a former Operative who, like the Operative in Serenity, knows too much to simply be killed. I'm fairly certain that it will deny my guilty little fantasy involving Book actually being Zoe's father, who wanted, in his old age and regret, to spend time with his daughters, one of whom is an Alliance member - oh the drama! - without them actually knowing who he is and who he was.
My will is not that strong. I will probably end up reading this book before the weekend is over and, as predicted by some of the reviews, I will be disappointed.
Until then, Book remains my mystery...
Friday, 13 May 2011
I blame them for my subsequent apathy. Yeah! It's their fault that I lost my real life fire!
Fortunately, I have the internet. Here, I can RAGE! I can FLAIL! ( \0/ <-- flailing!). I can post about how GRRR I am about important causes and condemn the powers that be for using their powers to be! (Damn them!) When I'm wronged, I do not need to address the wrongdoer directly. I can just come and complain to my blog. If I'm really lucky, my followers will take up my cause for me and hashtag, retweet, share and like me into infamy! I don't even have to lift a finger to fight for my own cause after I've pressed the "publish" button!
The internet is such a neat place to vent your righteous fury on various topics, without ever having to really do anything about it. Thankfully, some of us are less apathetic than others. Some of us put our powers of disagreement to good use and hack Sony, mirror Wikileaks or convince SciFi that crackers do matter. Some of us even get up from in front of the computer to go that extra mile and fight even harder!
The rest of us? Well, we have so many other important things to do after we get our vents out and finally turn off the computer for the night. There's that DVR list to catch up on. That big bookshelf... napping...
Thursday, 12 May 2011
1 large chicken
4 tsp Salt
2 tsp Paprika
1 tsp Cayenne Pepper
1 tsp Onion Powder
1 tsp Thyme
1 tsp White Pepper
1/2 tsp Garlic Powder
1/2 tsp Black Pepper
1 cup Chopped Onion
Blend all dry spices together rub onto chicken, make sure you sprinkle some inside the cavity. Put in a Ziploc bag and refridgerate over night.
The next morning . . .
Put chopped onion in the cavity, dump the whole thing into the crock-pot and cook on low temperature for 8-10 hours. It will fall apart when you take it out of the crock.
(I don't use chopped onion, I usually quarter the onion and leave the skins on and put in a halved carrot and celery, or whatever I have to use!)
It also makes the house smell like you're Suzy Homemaker!
Wednesday, 11 May 2011
When I spend my morning reviewing the important things on the internet first, (today, My Little Pony), time seems to oblige me at a much more respectable pace. I can then schedule my work for the afternoon when I have exhausted my entertainment.
If I ruled the world. the work day would begin at 10am and end at 4pm with an hour for lunch. I could actually focus on work during that time, knowing that I don't have to drag things out to make them fill more minutes. Productivity would skyrocket and life would be much more satisfying.
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
Starting with Rugger Ducky's base recipe, with tips and additions from Amelia S, Stephen Allen, Deacon Frost, Paul Was and Philena Rush!
1 box of elbow macaroni
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp minced garlic
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 cup flour (alt: bread crumbs)
1 cup evaporated milk
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp mustard (optional)
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese (medium to sharp)
1 cup chopped bacon (or ham, etc)
2 tbsp butter
1 cup parmesan cheese
1 cup panko bread crumbs
1. Boil one box of elbow macaroni until almost tender. Drain and set aside in large baking dish.
2. In a sauce pan, melt butter, add minced garlic, brown lightly.
3. Add salt and pepper and lower temperature.
4. Whisking steadily, add flour and mix thoroughly.
5. Add evaporated milk, continue mixing until smooth.
6. Blend in sour cream (and mustard).
7. Slowly add cheese. Continue whisking until smooth. Remove from heat.
8. Add sauce to pasta and mix well. Add meat.
9. Topping: Melt butter and remove from heat. Add bread crumbs and cheese and stir. Spread over top.
10. Bake at 350 degrees for about 15 minutes, or until the top is brown and bubbly.
Saturday, 7 May 2011
I learned about these nasty little things two years ago when they decimated my beautiful lilies. Since then, the girls and I have been waging war against them. The little bastards couldn't wait a week for my lilies to spawn before they were invading them with their munching and fornication. So insulting the way the sit their mounting each other with their bright red backs, mocking me. Well mock my spade and the bottom of my gardening shoes, bitches.
I've already caught and crushed some of their eggs. Hopefully, I can keep at them long enough to prevent any of the babies from growing and pooping. Because, to add to their horridity, not only do they destroy the leaves of my plants by eating them, but the larvae actually poop and cover themselves with it, leaving nasty black lumps and trails over the remains.
Meanwhile, I am now certain that the spiders in the house are organized and that they smell fear. Particularly the fear of my 3yo daughter. There is no other explanation as to why they only show up in her room, during the middle of the night, and then move on to the living room by day, where she plays. And in the 10 minutes from her abandoning her trike to do something else, another started building its home on the handle bars, thus ending the day's bike riding lessons.
She explained this morning at 3am, through kissed away tears, that she was okay with them being in the living room, but not in her room because it was her room.
Come on spiders. She's willing to compromise. Let's negotiate here. I already have promised you all the mosquitoes that seem to be ever so fond of my ass.
Friday, 6 May 2011
As the show progressed, though, I found myself becoming more and more annoyed with their constant references to stuff from MY youth. She-ra. Cocoon. Other stuff I can't remember right now.
While the actors did not look 90210 young, they also didn't look all that old either. Why were they talking about my nostalgia like they *lived* it? By the second round of commercials, I was on IMDb checking on their birthdates. Early 1980. Hm. Well. Okay. Sort of. Fine. It's their nostalgia too.
I have no clue why this upset me so. I've been enjoying my girls' enjoyment of She-ra, He-Man and most recently, GI Joe and Thundercats. We love being able to share this with them (although hubby is no longer able to watch Thundercats as, in his old age, he's realized just how frustrating and stupid it is that the Cats don't just kill Mumm-ra instead of letting him go every damn time).
I have also been lamenting how much this dates me.
But when I saw people that I didn't think actually had been watching my shows in their youth, I got real uppity about the idea of them pretending to know what they were talking about. Even though I have confirmed their ages, I still feel the need to contact them and perhaps quiz them on their knowledge to see if they are legit...
That's my nostalgia, and I don't want to share!
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 tsp each baking soda/powder
1/2 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup sugar
3 ripe bananas
2 tsp vanilla
generous helping of milk chocolate chips
1/2 cup of icing sugar
1. Combine flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cocoa powder.
2. In a separate bowl, beat butter and sugar until fluffy. Beat in egg. Mash in bananas. Add vanilla and beat to combine.
3. Stir in flour mixture and chocolate chips until well combined.
4. Drop dough by teaspoonful into icing sugar to coat and roll into little balls
5. Bake at 350*F for 14 minutes or until firm
NOTE: Image is from a recipe for Chocolate Banana Peanut Butter Cookies.
Monday, 2 May 2011
- As much as I would like our soldiers to come home, I am also not naive enough to believe that a war that should not have been started will so easily end with a simple departure. Especially now. Be on your guard. It's a good thing those threat levels were changed recently. We might just be needing them.
- Oh Foxnews:
- Bin Laden was allegedly buried at sea because no one wanted him. That is, Pakistan couldn't take him back because that would probably look worse than this already does. For the record, Bin Laden probably built his million dollar mansion there when General Musharraf was in charge.
- Side note: Megatron was also buried at sea, and look what happened to him.
- Who gets the $25 million bounty?
- I am so happy that Bin Laden's death occured on Obama's watch. It will aid, at least superfluously, in his struggles for acceptance among some.
- Of course, the conspiracy theorists are already bouncing on this one, and rightly so. The events surrounding this do sound pretty fishy and conveeeeenient. An administration that has had to deal with so much doubt and conspiracy ought to have covered all aspects to minimize questions.
- It certainly helped
After a week in which Obama released his long-form Hawaii birth certificate, he said Trump could now focus on the serious issues, from whether the moon landing actually happened to “where are Biggie and Tupac?”
Of course, Trump could easily turn this around. Afterall, have we seen Bin Laden's death certificate?
Personally, I feel that putting someone else down to raise yourself up is poor behaviour, especially for a leader of any kind, but I think Obama deserves this one and I am impressed that he took it and ran like a mofo.
After showing the clip [of Simba's birth from The Lion King], Obama delivered the punchline, addressing his frequent critics at Fox News: “ I want to make it clear to the Fox News table: That was a joke. That was not my birth video. That was a children’s cartoon.”