July 20th, 2008

Addendum

Reviewing is tough! Such is the restrictive nature of the form that yesterday’s review did not even include what I felt was the best bit of my film-going experience: what happened in the women’s bathroom after the show.

It was very crowded and noisy with the post-*Get Smart*, post-theatre-size soda crowd. Above the hubbub, though, I could hear teenaged voices yelling,
“Mira, are you here?”
“Yeah, I’m at the sinks!”
“Are you here?”
“I’m here.”
“If you’re here, I’m gonna come out.”
“Come out!”
“I’m gonna come out.”
If you are not a frequenter of women’s bathrooms in multiplexes, I should point that this is not abnormal aural wallpaper–I barely registered it. I did happen to notice the reunion of Mira with her companion exiting her stall–they turned out, unsurprisingly, to be pretty 17ish girls in shorts and elaborate ponytails. More surprisingly, their greeting to each other was not exchange of whispers and lipgloss, but whispers followed by shrieking and bouncing up and down in a tight embrace.

By this point I was registering the interaction rather accutely, and possibly doing a rather over-thorough job of washing my hands. As I turned, dripping, in search of hand towels, the girls approached me through the crowd (possibly because I was staring at them like a movie screen) and asked me for a tampon, which I gave them. I really feel I gave it to them both, they were such an intimate unit, though I’m sure they weren’t going share.

I don’t know, I was a little pleased to be involved in such a happy ending to a drama I’ll never really know, though I can sort of guess. I don’t really need more information, I don’t think. How much do I adore fluffy goofy teenagers? And how much do I want them not to be pregnant? *So much, both!*

Don’t wanna end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard
RR

July 1st, 2008

Distressing Lack of Narrative

On the sidewalk in front of an apartment building, this morning I encountered a cardboard box filled with mugs, labelled in magic marker, “Free Mugs!” This is not interesting, of course–the box contained the same mismatched promotional and gift mugs that everyone over 20 ends up with unless their house burns to the ground. We are all periodically putting these mugs in boxes and leaving them somewhere labelled “Free!” in the hopes that a teenager or fire victim will be able to make use of them, thereby rendering us un-guilty of “wasting” “perfectly good” mugs.

No surprises there. But the box had a subtitle: “Please do not cherry-pick. Take all (or none!)”

Why?

Aside from being completely unenforceable (I looked up at the building, but no one looked back), what could be the reason for this? Was there, buried in the bottom of the box, one really good mug that did not have the name of a florist on the side, as incentive to take the rest? Was there a unity of form that I was missing? Though I in fact fit into one of the categories on the sign just fine (I wanted “none” of the mugs), something in me suggested that an appropriate reaction to this aggression would be to take just one mug (the one with the orange and yellow and blue flowers) and sneak away cackling.

Why why why?

I actually have stuff I need to be doing and somewhere else I need to be, but I am posting this because it is *really bothering me*. Please send me a logical explanation of this scenario, so I can stop thinking about it. Otherwise, I worry I’ll go back to the box and see if all or none or some other number are there now.

All the lies in the book
RR

March 19th, 2008

“Kissing with tongue”–your opinion, please

Is that still part of the (pre)teenage lexicon, do you think? Or have they reverted to “French kissing” or something I haven’t even thought of because I am now officially old? Does anyone actually know any teenagers?

All insights appreciated!
RR

January 30th, 2008

Walking down the street, warm and misty out

Me (coughing): I’m a little sick.
B: You are.
Me (coughing)
B: You are a little ho(a)rse.
Me: Heh.
B: You remember that, that joke? Horse-hoarse?
Me: Yeah, heh. Baaaah.
B: …
Me: Neeeigh.
B: You’re a little strange.
Me: Heh.
B: Heh.
Me: Was that part of it?
B: Part of…?
Me: Was that a joke? Part of the joke?
B: Well, yeah. Because I said you were a little horse and you said “baaah” and then you said “neigh,” so I said you were a little strange for doing that.
Me: Oh, ok, that’s funny.
B: Yeah, you just needed some context.
Me: Yeah.
B: Only, you actually had context to start with, since you were there.
Me: Yeah.
B: Huh.
Me: It wasn’t like I was just working my way around the barnyard, though.
B: ???
Me: Like, I made a mistake, making the sheep noise, but then I corrected myself and made the horse noise. I wasn’t just doing all the animals, I wasn’t going to say moo next.
B: Ah.
Me: It wasn’t “baah comma neigh,” it was “baah cut off with dash neigh.”
B: I retract my earlier comment.
Me: The stenographer that we pull along behind us in a little red wagon will strike it from the record.
B: You aren’t strange at all.
Me: Duly noted.

Always one full on the ground
RR

January 20th, 2008

Technical Difficulties

You might have heard about the technical difficulties that recently took out my blender, coffee maker and season 2 of *Arrested Development*. They have more recently been preying upon *all* of my email addresses. I don’t imagine there’s too much pressing need for people to talk to me, and if there is, it’s likely by people who aren’t reading this blog, but just so’s you know–I probably didn’t get your email today, or possibly other days, either (it’s a bit hard for people to tell me this, since they can’t write to me!) If it’s urgent, call, or Facebook, or, um, pebbles at the window. But it’s probably not urgent.

I have seen all the fuss / and it’s no big deal
RR

December 4th, 2007

1000 Things in 2002

If you read the comments here at Rose-coloured, you might have noticed a while back that Fred mentioned a doing a 5-year anniversary edition of 1000 Things We Like. This is clearly the best idea in the world, and though Fred is now somewhere on the European continent finding new things to like, I thought I’d get the ball rolling with some sentimental memories.

For those who have no idea what I’m talking about: in the summer of 2002, I read a novel which, while being otherwise rather good, was principally about adults, and the 12-year-old girls in the background were treated dismissively, especially when they started working on a list of 1000 things they liked. I *hate* it when adults are shown to be intrinsically more interesting than kids (which is why I hate The Gilmore Girls and I like positive endeavours and I wanted to make such a list with my friends, though we were adults.

Fred agreed with her characteristic enthusiasm, and so did countless others of our shared and separate circles. We began in late October and finished well before Christmas. Reading over the old list the past few days, I have been positively misty over the passage of time, the tenacity of friends and the no-end of goodness that there is in the world. I thought of putting the whole list up here, but that would probably break blogger, so below is just a random sampling, for inspiration. I’ll start the new list in the next post, and from then on, please feel free to add to it in the comments or by email. Even though we’re starting way later this time, perhaps we could still do it by Christmas??? Come back, Fred!!!!

All of New York City misses you
RR

585) kittens when they are so young their eyes are still blue
586) the Christmas displays at Pottery Barn
587) remembering an obscure tv programme with someone else who loved it once, too
588) the dreidel song
589) craisins
590) when you don’t understand and don’t understand and suddenly, like a flash, you do
591) how cheap long distance is these days
592) good complexion days
593) thick cotton tights
594) purging your closet down to only stuff you actually like
595) baking cookies for no reason other than enjoying the process of baking
596) very complicated notes to yourself that only you can understand
597) spearmint Trident
598) when the SNL cast loses concentration and giggles

You could say it’s my own damn fault

…for being cheap enough to buy the bottom-of-the-line coffeemaker, or being clumsy enough to smash the carafe by hitting it with a hot tray of corn muffins, or being weak enough to get addicted to caffeine, but I still think it’s stupid and unfair that Westinghouse doesn’t sell a replacement carafe for the cheapest coffeemaker on the market. Unfair to the cheap and clumsy and caffeine-addicted, I guess. Anyway, I now have a coffeemaker I could give you free of charge, never been used, as long as you can provide your own carafe. Hit me up, yo!

Who taught you to live like that?
RR

November 22nd, 2007

Rose-coloured Police Blotter

Item #1 — Next-door neighbour bitten (on ass) by vicious dog in Mac’s Milk. Dog was supervised only by small child, who cried at the sight of blood. Neighbour gave up on recrimination, went to get tetanus shot.

Item #2 — Car spun out on the street in front of my building, crashed into the front door of the house next to us. Fire engines blocked traffic, police traffic director unsympathetic to pedestrians.

Item #3 — Colleague’s expensive high-heeled shoe (1) lost/stolen at gym. Colleague angry, sad.

Item #4 — The meeting I came in early for has been cancelled.

What a world in which we live.

Now I know I had plenty of time
RR

November 5th, 2007

Disturbing mental processes

This morning, whilst getting ready for work, I followed a train of thought that cannot be produced here (not because I cannot remember; because it was too stupid) and arrived at an unexpected station: the reason that the 1980s cosmetic kit brand was bizarrely called Caboodles is because it is a kit and the name is reference the other half of the idiomatic expression, “the whole kit and caboodle,” which as far as I can tell, actually means nothing. I wish to emphasize that I was not *trying* to figure this out, I just somehow did. And while I am obviously concerned about the trivia my mind sees fit to pursue, it is also obvious that I find this information at least somewhat interesting, as I am after all reproducing it here for your dubious benefit.

Now that I have utterly discredited myself, I would like to recommend that you see the film Michael Clayton if you are at all interested in watching a slow legal procedural with a) no romance, b) no buddy banter, c) very little action (a car does blow up [twice]). I am not certain why I liked this movie, it is not my bag at all, but I really did think it was sharp and interesting and, above all, well-written.

Also long past the point that everyone else noticed, I have finally seen a movie with George Clooney that I could understand (*Oh Brother Where Art Though?* remains utterly inpenetrable to me) and realize that he is both talented and attractive. Who, when he was Jo’s concert pianist boyfriend Rick on the *The Facts of Life*, would have guessed? Even better was Tilda Swinton–in a movie full of (nuanced, interesting) archetypes, she played a character I have never seen before, and I think she did it brilliantly.

The plot (in the narrative and diabolical senses) concerns a bad pesticide and the lawsuit of the people it harmed, but this isn’t *Erin Brokovich*, thank goodness, and there are larger issues at play than “bad corporations are bad!”

I just love the way a good movie makes me feel–like the world has more pockets and reaches than I knew about before.

We’re coming off of the sidelines
RR

September 28th, 2007

Spinny

I’m a little manic today, possibly due to the fact that I had an extra coffee at the United Way coffee hour, or that I’m celebrating that it is Friday, or that I’m on the eve of super-exciting class reunion tomorrow and a theme-party (hobos!) tonight. Also possibly due to a bus ride of extreme awfulness this morning, wherein as I ran to the stop most of a bottle of soda leaked out into my bag, and spent the ride soggy and self-conscious, also sad about the wasted soda (good thing I bought two. I’m drinking the second one now, because of course I need way more caffeine). Now that my pants have dried, I have a new lease on life!!

I’ve pretty much had it with making sense, which is a fairly unfortunate state of mind to be writing blog posts in. What I really want to do is take a lap around the building and then lie down for a while. Which I might actually do. I’ll keep you posted.

The book of love is long and boring
RR