What a dope. I bashed a door into my face yesterday (and a sharp part of my glasses into my open eye), and now I cannot stop weeping (and writhing in pain). Fantastic — time to call the opthoalsghlaskdmfalgist.
All I really want to do right now is spend the night in a giant beagle. Instead, I’m getting ready to go to the emergency room.
Help, I’m stupid and I can’t see!®
Fink out.
RNF before the review:
~
(Is this a classy dude or what? Ohio’s finest. Yark. I’m sure he’s great and his mama loves him, but he just always looks dirty to me.)
Seems Big Ben is in a lil trouble again for pushing hisself on the ladies. Dandy hanky there, sport.
So the Thriller and I watched 2012 last night. For a doomsday movie, it felt surreal. I mean, I found myself thinking, “Is it OK to laugh here?” Faced with his house and entire street being swallowed in seconds by a massive earthquake, Jackson (played by quirky/cute John Cusack) jumps behind the wheel of his limo, family in tow, and makes wisecracks about his wild driving. I guess the director felt it was necessary to pad the horror with a little comic relief.
The story’s reality walls are thin at times (e.g., the world is crumbling but we still have all communication/internet/satellite services up and running perfectly?), but the special effects are beyond cool. Check out how they did it. It will impress you, even if the incredibly convenient date of “12/12” doesn’t. (Notice the dyslexic gaffe in the graphic.)
So, totally over the top in every way, garishly dramatic while keeping smart-aleck lines in tact, probably a metric ton of Chicken Little hogwash thrown in for good measure….yeah, I liked it OK.
On the Rat-O-Meter movie scale of five cheeses:
Happy weekend, fiends. Yay!
(And Rediscovered)
FO
Apparently, it’s anger management time again for Naomi Campbell, who allegedly roundhoused her limo driver. The Daily News calls her a cantankerous catwalker. HA
Once again, I will climb into the pulpit to laugh out loud at the lunacy: alcohol is legal, but pot isn’t. I don’t have time this morning to opine on that absolutely absurd paradox. The end.
Words I didn’t want to read this morning:
You are a public employee. You are paid with tax dollars. Your salary, retirement, health care, class size, curriculum, subject standards, teacher standards, school calendar, school day, and even school lunches are all decided by politicians. Your livelihood and work conditions depend on politics. ~North Central Ohio Education Association newsletter article on why I should care about politics
Yay.
So tonight will be a rare evening at home (our varsity men’s basketball team is playing their first tournament game, so I gave everyone the night off). Whatever shall I do? The Thriller is making dinner. That part will be fab.
FO
Last night’s rehearsal wasn’t all that bad. I told a friend in email this morning that at least it didn’t make me want to jump off the nearest bridge. Could the morning be breaking?
I go through this every year. There’s a definite order of things. First, teach the music. That’s fun. The singers are learning new stuff, and they immediately decide what they really dig, and which songs are not their favorites — but the learning is kind of fun. You know, like a discovery thing.
Then choreography rehearsals start, and some of the happy-happy falls away — especially for the kids who are not natural dancers (and they outnumber those who are). Frustration takes over almost immediately; they can’t do a fa-lap, the time step is out of the question, they can’t get the kicks high enough. I keep telling them that it’s a lot to learn at one time, and that they will get it eventually. It’s a long wait.
Next step: putting the stuff onstage with the singing and choreo. Train wreck. Lots of hair-pulling, and a small number of frustrated comments from the piano. All given in love, of course.
Penultimate phase: things actually look like they might someday, possibly, with an insane amount of luck, come together. That’s where we are right now, 24 days till opening.
We might make it.
FO
…