Monthly Archives: November 2008

It’s all the rage

Hey, I want to quit acting, too. Everyone who’s anyone is either doing it, threatening to do it, or talking about it to get press. I can’t keep up with Hollyweird trends. First it’s Scientology, then colonics (eww), Kabbalah, acai berry…what next? Buncha bandwagon jockeys, the lot. It’s a head spinna.

But back to the quitters. Look at the ever-growing list:

  1. Joaquin Phoenix – he’s concentrating on his music. Or is he?
  2. Nicole Kidman – she’s thinking about having more children instead. Err, wait. Maybe not. She’s under contract for at least two more major releases after Australia. One article I read featured the following reader comment: Whoever will they find to speak breathy and act flabbergasted in movies now? HAA
  3. Diane Lanehates the parts she’s been getting.
  4. Angelina Jolie – she wants to fade away and become a grandmother. Nah, just kiddin’. It was another publicity stunt. (Sorry, but I’m about as sick of seeing the “Jolie-Pitts” everywhere as I am of seeing these guys.)
  5. Nicolas Cage – acting turned him into a monster.
  6. Eddie Murphy – wants to do stage acting and standup.
  7. Gary Oldman – now that would be depressing. Seeing as how the article is over a year old, I hope he’s changed his mind.
  8. Alec Baldwin – couldn’t happen fast enough for me, pal. You said that a year ago and you’re still around — what’s the hold-up?

See, the thing is: don’t threaten to quit. Just QUIT. Bow out gracefully and quietly. Make people wonder aloud where you went, rather than when you’re going to actually leave.

The Thriller and I used to do the IRC thing pretty regularly back in the early days of internet chat (yes, before AOL), when everyone was on dialup. [In fact, read the sentence at the top of the original IRC Primer page. Heh. 93k — I dunno, that might take awhile.] Anyway, we’d be in a channel talking to friends, and some meanyhead would come in and cause trouble. When he/she was given a hard time by the other folks, we’d all get a rambling swan song — the “I Quit!” tirade. Snoozer. Just L-E-A-V-E if you’re leaving. Don’t announce it, fuh cripesake.

Oh, by the way — I’m leaving now, and don’t even try and stop me. I mean it. I’m really going. Right now.

Fink out (I quit!).

Weird Wednesday III

Ugh. Up since 2:45. But hey, I’m not one to complain. Gotta get up anyway, right?

:-)

Today’s weirdness is called Shuh-Mo Me the Money.

First, I say this: In my opinion, Michael Jackson was one of the most amazing entertainers in popular music history; genius, both in the studio and on the stage. I think it’s become hip for all the Kool Kids to dislike him and his music for the most part nowadays, and that makes me sad because many times, folks can’t separate the artist from the art. Or they don’t want to, or don’t know how, or don’t believe it’s possible. It’s also entirely acceptable that people just don’t like his music. Whatev.

So yeah, I (and a lot of others) believe that Jackson is talented, but I also think he’s a three-dollar bill. And a smart one at that. Behold…

Remember a few years ago, when he was up on molestation charges? Well, I recall wondering to myself, “Why did he go to Bahrain to escape, of all places in the world?” I thought it was bizarre, but I considered the source and went on with my life.

Ah, but hindsight is a great teacher, Grasshopper. Looky what we got here:

Apparently, MJ took refuge in the home (or in one of the homes) of Sheikh Abdulla, son of the king of Bahrain. Since Jacko was down on his financial luck, he promised the Sheikh the moon and stars in return for enjoying a lifestyle any prince would envy. The guy not only ponied up the cash to pay overdue Neverland bills, but also sprung for a $350,000 vacation for MJ and his pals, and a $500,000 advance for his living expenses upon his arrival in the Arab kingdom. He even paid for visits from a “mind mapper” to help Jackson focus his brain — at $37,000 a crack. HA

Jackson allegedly entered into a contract to do a recording project with the Sheikh (who is an amateur musician), as well as a tell-all biography that was supposed to net the pair major green.

Then, and I don’t know why, MJ got his fill of it all and bolted. Enter the lawyers and the litigation, to the tune of $7 million. Jackson is wide-eyed and kerfluffled: “I thought it was all a gift!” Shyeah. And the Big 3 are gonna manage their money really really well this time. Promise.

So, what happened here? Cynical minds could think this:

  1. Jackson needs a place to lay low, and the Sheikh, eager for the chance to schmooze with his idol, rolls out the welcome mat.
  2. Jackson plays along with the Sheikh’s big dream, telling the guy, “Sure, we can do a record together, and then write a book and a musical. Whatever you want.” With that promise, Sheikh becomes Sugar Daddy and pays all Michael’s outstanding bills.
  3. Ten months later, tired of life at the palace and ready to get back to his career, MJ bids the Sheikh a fond farewell and skips town. Thanks for the hospitality, gotta hit the road.
  4. Sheikh Abdulla, now at the anger stage of his grief process, wants his money back.

And, not surprisingly, Jackson is now “too sick” to make the trip to testify at the trial. He wants to stay in LA and talk by video instead.

I don’t know — I could be all wet. It’s all conjecture until after the trial. But I’d be hard pressed to concede that money didn’t have anything to do with his visit in the first place. I mean, Thrilla was broke, and being roasted by the press. What better way to continue in the lifestyle to which he had become accustomed than to shack with the Sheikh and wait for things to die down stateside?

I guess we’ll find out, as yet another saga unfolds in the life of Michael Jackson. You know, the guy who still maintains he’s never had any surgery done on his face except to repair his nose so he could sing better.

Image credits: BBC, Ebony magazine, Associated Press, bahraingateway.org

B-r-r-r.

It is freezing in my little rat’s nest this morning. The first really noticeable snow of the season fell last night, and it looks pretty outside my back door.

Clicky:

Several schools in my area are already on a delay — there was lots of snow up Cleveland way, but it’s not too bad here at all. I don’t want a delay…middle school choirs need the rehearsal. Yikes.

It was so cold when I went to bed last night, I slept in a turtleneck, a sweatshirt, 2 pairs of socks, sweats and gloves. Yes, gloves. My little paws were freezin’. Must talk to the Thriller about this issue.

But, of course, there’s always this to calm my freezing, jittery carcass. Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, with just the right amount of vanilla DaVinci, and a double shot of whipped cream. Yummy.

Ok, back to reality. Hit the shower, then the street.

Aloha.

PS – Browns win! Browns win! (‘Bout time.)

Jing-a-ling jing

I hear Christmas bells in my little pointy head. And not because I’ve been up to my beady eyeballs in Christmas music since mid-October (which I definitely have), but because I happened upon some fabulous toys yesterday while looking for potential prezzies for Jakey’s stocking.

But this isn’t just *any* group of toys; it’s the mother of all groups of toys. Toys we remember from our childhood, and from when our kids were little. Toys that bring back memories. Toys that are still completely boss.

Have a looksee at the following (this will probably bore the youngins, but the crusties will get all nostalgic for sure), and thank Santa for Hammacher Schlemmer (students, we are SO hitting that place in NYC next year) and Back to Basics Toys, who still see the kid under the graying or disappearing hair.

Bozo Bop Bag!

Or, if your tastes truly run to the high end…

So what were your favorite toys? I’ll bet we’ll have a lot of “Hey, I remember that one!” rejoinders.

============================

PS.

Dear Santa:

I really, really, really promise to be good, if only I could have this. And I promise to only use it at school, and never on Rousseau or Jakey or Helen or Lars. Promise. So please bring it to me, because I want it, and because I need it. And I want it.

Happy Monday.

How I Spent My Saturday

Remember yesterday when I wrote about having a “lazy Saturday” and how life was “good” and I was looking forward to enjoying the day?

Well forget all that. Two hours after I posted, the world fell to crap and I hated everyone and everything — except you, of course.

I was really hating my web host. It started out as my fault. Well, I guess the whole thing was my fault, but that’s beside the point.

12 noon – I went into my domain’s control panel to enable an anti-hotlinking option. When I came out of it and went to the blog, everything except the homepage was gone. *poof* It was crazy. 404 errors all over the place. I went back in and disabled the anti-hotlinking script. No change. Everything was still bye-bye. I FTPd my week-old back-up. Nothin’ doin’. I just couldn’t figure out what was causing my categories, archives and posts to disappear all of a sudden. I spent the next hour scanning the WordPress forums for the answer that did not materialize.

1:30 p.m. – I thought I had it fixed, but as soon as I cleared my cache — curses! Feeling drained and like a failure after trying everything I knew six ways from Sunday, I broke down and submitted a help ticket to my web host (siteground.com — cool people). After going back and forth for an hour, the support rep, who was also stumped, offered the option of restoring my entire blog directory — 9 MB worth of posts, comments, themes, pictures, sounds, widgets and plugins — for $29.95.

So I parted with my $30 and they did the deed. Yay. I posted that everything was fixed. I went on a hunt for a good backup program.

Then, the apocalypse.

3:15 p.m. – I went into my WordPress dashboard and re-entered some information. There’s just one small detail: I entered one reference URL wrong. Ka-blam. Chaos. Locked out of the dashboard with no way back in to fix my stupid mistake. Curses! Back to the WordPress support forums. This time, I found an answer. I went into my PHP admin panel and rooted through the database until I found the wrong URL. I fixed it and saved it. Problem solved, right? Wrong.

5:30 p.m. – I tried logging back into the WordPress dashboard. My login link took me to some weird place, far, far away. Not to my dashboard panel. I sat in silence, jaw hanging open, staring at the screen. I could not believe it. What had I done? I couldn’t think of a single thing I could have ruined. I began a frantic search for a fix. In the meantime, code was broken and themes disappeared and there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. I finally got back to the login screen, but I couldn’t access it without doing a ceremonial rain dance first. The page I’d been using for nine months wasn’t logging me in correctly.

7:05 p.m. – I was just about ready to throw a tie rod. I couldn’t figure out why nothing was loading right; commands weren’t commanding.

And then I saw it.

I happened to compare my bookmark for the login site with the address in the location bar:

When Siteground did the restore, they changed the admin pages to load with the “www” intact — something I had never done since buying the domain back in February. Of course, they didn’t tell me this.

I changed my bookmark, and everything was fixed. Then I made some hot cocoa, sat downstairs with the Thriller, and thought homicidal thoughts.

And that, my fiends, was my relaxing Saturday.

Fink out.