That pic just about sums up my whole week . . . “how does this work again?” But I won’t bore with you with the details of my week; instead, I’ll bore you with something else. So last night, at Blackie’s suggestion, I sat down to watch my never opened copy of The Hours. Well, that didn’t last long, as it turns out you have to think, and as Mrs. Dalloway is among my very favorite books of all time, I would have REALLY had to think. And we can’t have that. Not on a Saturday. Okay, not on that Saturday, er, yesterday. So, I picked up on the multi-threads, multi-lives thing that was going on, and decided to watch Love Actually, a bug that I got from Kerry’s movie reviews.
I just love that movie, I really do; it’s so hopeful and good, so after watching it, I decided to watch the dvd special features thing–a thing I rarely do, except on the television ones that I love (Buffy, Supernatural, Firefly). So I’m watching these, and at one point the director guy talks about his moving us into the paintings of the African women and the African men and showing us that they are talking about love and romance and marriage and all the things we talk about. I knew this, of course, on some level, but for some whacked reason, that just hit me last night. A sort of light bulb moment, really, and I wondered if we’re not doing more about stopping vulture funds because we really can’t quite get that it’s important to help people who are PEOPLE. Just like us, with the same cares, concerns, and worries that we have.
Try as I might, I couldn’t find a vid of the deleted scenes I’m talking about in the film, so I’ll have to describe them, which is never as good. Sigh. So, there are these posters in the film that urge us to donate to charities to help the impoverished people of Africa, and the first poster depicts these two women carrying these huge bundles of something or other and walking across an arid, empty area. As we zoom in, we hear the two women talking about someone’s fiance (okay, they’re gossiping. yay!) and what a loser he is, and then they begin talking about their own husbands and how one’s very good looking but useless, etc. Just the sort of thing we all do, talk about love and loved ones, right? The second poster shows a man looking out over his failed crops (looks like a very severe drought has wiped them out), and as we zoom in on this one, his wife comes up and is funny and supportive and loving, and she cheers him up a great deal. Just the sort of thing that happens in loving families and relationships, right?
So I thought about all this, and I wondered if the reason so few people have signed the petition or written to their elected officials in the U. S. House of Representatives or to their U. S. Senator is that they think it’s something that doesn’t involve them? Or that it’s about people who are just so different, just nameless, faceless unknowns who are so different from us that there’s just nothing to be done. But they are NOT different from us, they are just the same in so many fundamental and important ways, not the least of which is that they love and laugh and live just as we do. Well, no, they don’t live just as we do, but they should have that opportunity, no?
Okay, that was the soapbox o’rama portion of today’s posting. Following are some pics from a fun evening out with one of my blog buds (now gal pal) Wendy Joy. Wendy’s been on my friends list since the beginning of my blog; she was my first friend here, actually, and though we’ve long known we live very close to one another, we’d never met. We’d talked about it. But then nothing ever came of it, until this past week, that is.
And here’s me, Ms. Unphotogenic of All-time Winner:
Scared and scary looking, huh? Personally, I blame Wendy. Or my camera. Something has to be to blame because I am almost certain that I don’t look like that.
Meeting a blog buddy is a bit nerve wracking because you really don’t know what to expect. We met at this little Mexican restaurant that has a good rep for good food and good margaritas. Well, says I, what’s to lose there? Yay! Btw, I had a mariachi song to put in here, but then decided that I’d not include all the pics and do a whole narrative thing (too boring for you all), so do a bit of a Mexican beat in your head.
Here’re the wall decs and the yummy chips and salsa to start:
. . .
One fab thing about going somewhere with a blog buddy is that you can feel comfortable taking pics of things and not feeling crazy or stupid or whatever. It’s for your BLOG, so it’s all good.
Here’s our server Gaby bringing us Wendy’s take out for her kids:
. . .
She’s really shy, as you can tell by the hand over face action, so we had to catch her unguarded:
One thing that helped with the nerves at meeting a new friend was the fab pitcher of margaritas (oooh, get them with good tequila and Grand Marnier, so smooooth), but do be wary of the effects of these:
. . .
That blurry swaying thing is pretty much how Wendy actually looked to me walking back from the restroom (joking, of course: we
were responsible. Ish).
Also, you may be compelled to take pics of the guys at the next table or with random guys just walking by:
. . .
I had my bag with me (and therefore my camera) in the bathroom, and thought it would be fun to take a couple pics of moi. Um, yeah, right. Couldn’t figure it out. Then my arms are just too short (I have a horrid pic of my shiny face . . . up close and scary; I’ve decided to spare you). But in this next one, at least those of you who’ve been curious about my camera can see it really well here. And wouldn’t it have been nice if they’d put some of those cool hats and paper animals in the bathroom, too?
And here’s another good shot of Wendy:
So that was fun, and I really had a blast meeting Wendy; we talked and laughed for ages!! Yay!!
Okay, so the other thing that’s been on my mind lately is the new Jeff Goldblum television series Raines. It’s sort of a Medium meets Rescue Me meets Monk, and because of that many headed monster feel, it’s just not that great. Instead of being original and interesting, it’s derivative and confusing and a bit .. . um, silly. The guy speaks to visualizations of dead people who are not ghosts and who therefore can only know what he knows; he’s talking to himself, in essence, well, projections of himself. It’s kind of stupid, though there are interesting moments when the writers tackle stereotypes and cultural difference. But Goldblum’s wonderful in my mind (if a bit difficult to buy as a homicide detective). Okay, he looks a little silly running, to be honest. Lanky and tentative at the same time; I know he’s crazily almost freakishly tall, so maybe they could cut back on the weird running scenes? Anyway, it’s only two eps out, so it may improve. But I doubt it.
Okay, I’m not going to be out goobered by Gloria, so here goes:
Take that!! Bahahaaa!!
[snip] . . . [snip]
and that . . . and that!