Image 01

emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for November, 2009

thoughts while watching Re-Animator

Monday, November 30th, 2009

It’s that time again – movie club time!

The choice this week was one that Sam and Jason made together, for reasons that they worked out with their cyclist brains that are beyond the comprehension of a normal person. I’m on vacation today, and this is my last NaBloPoMo post. I was hoping to end with something a little more closurey, but you can’t deny movie club day when it comes upon you. I give you… my thoughts on Re-Animator!

  1. What is it about German heritage that seems to go so well with being a medical professional? It’s like sugar and spice. Peanut butter and jelly. Exploding eyeballs and crappy horror films from the 80s.
  2. We’re zooming in very very closely on the words ‘external rectus’. Maybe I’m just 12 at heart (ok no maybe about it) but did they just do a close up anatomical drawing of the body part I think they did? Heehee- butts.
  3. Since when do we call flat lined patients ‘straight lined’? I call bullshit – you’re making up your own language, H.P. Lovecraft, and I’m not going to let you get away with it. Also, I’m pretty sure that a normal autopsy doesn’t involve burning a hole in a skull and sticking a q-tip into it.
  4. The boob shot! And only ten minutes in. Point, Re-Animator.
  5. Was anyone else tempted to try pulling the skin off of a head after the doctor described it as ‘like pulling the skin off a large orange’? No? Yeah, me neither.
  6. I think our hero is wearing women’s scrubs. Either than or men’s used to have a much deeper v-neck than they do now.
  7. HE KILLED THE CAT!? Are you kidding me? I’m about two seconds from turning this off – that is unacceptable. Unacceptable, I say. Also, if you kill your roommate’s cat and he finds you bringing it back to life and is forced to kill it because it’s attacking you, the appropriate response is not to pretend the cat is coming back to life again behind him and then point and laugh.
  8. I will never take any medicine that glows or creates light of any kind. We can go ahead and add that to my fuck it list.
  9. They’re re-animating a dead body without taking him out of the morgue. How are they going to explain that, srsly? ‘Oh, well, we uh… this guy with the y-incision, turns out uh… he wasn’t really dead. Oh, that slavering he’s doing? That’s nothing, don’t worry about it. We’ll be leaving now.’
  10. Remember how I wrote about men not asking women’s father’s for permission to get married? I think that my boyfriend creating a zombie, allowing that zombie to kill my dad, and then re-animating my dad would be worse. Nothing like a little perspective.
  11. I think zombie dad just used his zombie powers to protect his daughter from a lecherous old man. An unexpected zombie upside.
  12. Herbert West, the anti-hero, apparently thinks doing the robot dance is how people act sneaky. Because nothing says ‘don’t look over here’ like popping and locking.
  13. According to this man’s facial expressions, having your disembodied head carried around by your body is sort of orgasmic. I have a hard time believing that’s what he was going for, but to each his own.

     

    This is pre orgasm face - I didn't think you needed to see that. I certainly didn't.

  14. The disembodied head keeps losing his breath. It is just me or does breath have something to do with, you know, lungs?
  15. Full on nudity at 1:09. In case you were waiting. Of course the nudity is slightly marred by the bodyless head grossly ogling it.  EWEWEW EWWWWW headless body is feeling up the unconscious girl! Thank you Re-Animator, for my next six months worth of nightmares. I was getting tired of the stuck-in-the-mall one from Dawn of the Dead. Oh… oh… the head is … ok this is the grossest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
  16. Pale zombie makeup really brings out the yellowness of your teeth.
  17. I swear the heroine’s name has gone back and forth from April to Megan in each scene.
  18. ZOMBIE DAD COMES THROUGH. Awww, I knew you would, zombie dad. That’s what dads are for.
  19. Apparently zombies have control of body parts that regular people do not – for example, intestines. I could not strangle someone with my intestines.
  20. I think the last zombie is a Klingon. I find that incredibly confusing, but who am I to judge.

All in all, a good watch. Possibly the best not-good movie we’ve watched since we undertook this crazy mission.

Emmanation rating: A dozen delicious vanilla bean cupcakes from your local bakery that your friend licked before giving to you.

come they call us

Sunday, November 29th, 2009

It’s not November anymore.  I realize the time stamp on this post is 11/29, and that’s technically true, but it’s December in my house and heart (and of course all the stores).

I have sparkly snowflakes decorating my window, a lit tree behind me, and icicle lights hanging from my loft. There are chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter and curry and rice bubbling on the stovetop. Admittedly neither of those is Christmasy alone, but they’re combining to make this sweet spicy yummy smell that’s totally working for me.

So in my house, it’s December. Merry December, darlings, whatever December means to you.

This dude loves December so much he's reaching out to give it a big ol fuzzy seal baby hug.

Ingenues with dark glasses

Saturday, November 28th, 2009

In my family, we make Christmas lists. They aren’t always honored, but they’re exceptionally helpful for a family in which three people bike and one can’t tell a Schwinn from a Bianchi, in which two read obsessively and two are lucky to find one book a year that holds their interest, and in which three eat dairy, one(ish) eats meat, and one eats none of the above.

I was the first to send out my list, although I have a sneaking suspicion that the tiniest sprinter has been working on his for awhile and is just waiting for the key time to distribute it – possibly after he next falls off his bicycle or talks about his migrating facial implants and we all feel bad for him. I wasn’t going to publish mine here because I thought there would be nothing interesting about it – and then I realized, I’m a blogger. I talk about uninteresting shit every single day (especially during NaBloPoMo) so there is really no valid reason to stop now.

So, here’s what I requested from my family.

1) A sewing machine. As I may have mentioned a bagizilllion times, I’m not the world’s tallest girl. That goes with me not having the longest arms and legs, and normal length shirts being long enough that they can’t be comfortably tucked in. Hence, I would like to become my own tailor. I realize that I could just hire a tailor, but that would reduce the chances of me discovering that fashion design is my calling and winning the next season of Project Runway (even though it’s lame now).

 

That could totally be my head on Heidi Samuel's pin.

2) A salt bowl. Preferably a beautiful ones in either dark or reclaimed wood or green. I have a little white porcelain bowl that I use now, and have absolutely no reason whatsoever to get a new one… but that’s what Christmas is for, right? Getting those little things you covet that you can’t justify buying for yourself? Oh, and something about virgins and mangers…. we didn’t really focus on that part, we were more interested in early morning croissants and those chocolate oranges you have to whack on a table. If whacking chocolate doesn’t spell Christmas, I don’t know what does.

I would more appropriately salt my cooking if I had this bowl, I'm sure of it. Positive.

3) Grey’s Anatomy, starting with Season 2. No explanation needed for this one – me and Meredith are soul sisters.

4) Art, baby. This is all from Gallery Nucleus, which I discovered after the boy bought me the absolutely fantastic Use Technology to Collect the Women.

The Host by James Jean

Torotoromarillaz by Mari Inukai

Tightrope by Vera Brosgol

Unsuited by Vera Brogsol

So there you go. That’s the list I put together every year to make sure I don’t end up with strange circular gears that I don’t know what to do with. I would of course also accept baklava, Whole Foods gift cards, and love – in that order. Of course, baklava and Whole Foods gift cards are synonyms for love in some languages, right?

Yes, I'm ridiculous

Friday, November 27th, 2009

Not only because I went skating again today after seriously taking out my hands and knees yesterday.

Mom and I were driving home from Thanksgiving (which was delish, thanks Cousin!) and I got to blabbing, as I am wont to do after a few glasses of wine. Damned if I can remember how we got onto the topic of jealousy, but there we were.

Here is what a day in the life of the boy looks like, on average – just the parts that are key to my point: He gets up. He goes to work after a couple of hours, where on a big day he works with two other men, some days there’s one guy there, and quite often he works alone. Sometimes he doesn’t even go to the office, preferring to work from home. Either way, if we don’t have plans, there’s a not horrible chance that he’ll stop in at one of the restaurants on Main Street for lunch or an after work drink – or both. He knows everyone who works in all two of said restaurants, some of whom are female. He does not generally talk about them and is not shy about bringing me up in stories when the occasion is called for.

Here is what one of my average days looks like, with the same parts highlighted: I get up and run and go to work. I drink coffee with a friend of mine who I’ve worked with for several years (male). I IM with five other friends about lord knows what all freaking day long (Shovonda, my brother, and three male coworkers). I stop by the office of my sort-of mentor to gossip and have him trim my bangs if there are any stray hairs (male and while it doesn’t sound like it, straight). I go to a bazillion meetings with my team (all male). I then come home and incessantly repeat every morsel of the day in this fashion ‘I was with Allen in the cafe and Bob stopped by and told me that Corey was having a breakdown, but on my way up to his office Devon called me in to ask about the interview…’ etc. I don’t talk about him much at work – I do everything that I can to avoid reminding the men I work with that I’m a young woman, which having a boyfriend certainly does.

In our social lives we’re much more likely to hang out with people of our own gender. While he has lots of female friends, most of them are attached to a man that he knew first. I have fewer male friends outside of work – my besties are pretty much female.

He is a mild flirt. He has charisma that he’s not fully aware of, and I’ve seen firsthand the effect he has on women. Even with me sitting there. (Coughcoughbitchescough.)

I am a passionate and ambitious flirt. A couple of examples of the things I’ve done at bars while the boy was actually there with me: accept a sip from a stranger’s drink while deciding if I should order it, huddle in the corner with a man I just met listening to his dating philosophy, and … actually, I think that’s enough examples. Because my dad is reading.

Are you waiting to hear why I’m ridiculous, or have you caught on?

I get jealous – he does not. He sees maybe ten women a week who aren’t me and pays them no undue attention – he appreciates them for who they are when they’re worth appreciating and that’s where it stops. I see triple digits of and spend not insignificant amounts of time with men who aren’t him, and have been known to get details of the lives of strange men that their therapists don’t know.

If our places were switched, I would have a little green fit every single day of my life. He sees who I am, knows that I love him and would never do anything to hurt him, and doesn’t give it a thought. I know that he loves me and would never do anything to hurt me, and yet.

Hence, I am ridiculous. He is awesome.

oh right

Thursday, November 26th, 2009

I forgot to get the things I’m thankful for in writing. Spoiler warning: mostly mushy and not particularly funny.

I’m thankful for my family: that my mom and dad are literally close by and that my brother and I are close enough that his living in Portland doesn’t stop us from being friends. I’m thankful for all the time I got to know my Grandpa and how much my Grandma still loves him, even though he’s gone. I know it’s hard for her, but I’m always going to be thankful for that kind of love when it intersects my life.

I’m thankful for the family I chose: my best friends, both furry and not, and the sweetheart that is the boy.

I’m thankful for all the silly things that make me happy: Eastwick (even though it’s cancelled), Under the Dome on audio book, and everything else that happened this year that I’ve since forgotten about.

I’m thankful for the toughness that I got from somewhere (thanks again mom and dad) that enabled me to fall down today, bang up my knees, break/strain/dislocate my thumb, and keep skating. Also, I’m thankful for roller skates, and for being in a position in my life that I can take up a sort of expensive sort of dangerous pretty hard new hobby just because I feel passionately about it.

I’m thankful for all those lovely people on the periphery of my life. Even if they never become besties, I am better and happier for knowing each one of them.

…. I think that’s all. I mean I’m thankful for lots more stuff, like 30% of sweaters at Gap and Banana tomorrow, but that doesn’t really seem Thanksgiving worthy. So yeah, that’s all.