O! The humanity

I spent much of the day weeping over how I think cell phones are ruining the culture and how it breaks my heart that I will probably have to join Facebook in order to be employable. Weeping. Over Facebook. That's the sort of thing I do. And yet, despite all my nuanced feelings about how communication should be more personal, less general than Facebook status updates, I feel compelled to write about it on my blog. To....no one. To everyone. So, that makes sense. But there I was, in an existential tailspin, bemoaning the fractured nature of human connection.

Then I dried my eyes, powdered my nose, and went downstairs to see the winter production, which was Charles Mee's bobrauschenbergamerica. And guess what it was about? Human connection. Maybe the play I most needed to see at 4:30 today.

Art wins again. Thanks, art.

Colloquialism

Last Friday, my friends took me out to dinner. Wasn't that nice of them? I thought so.

At one point, Jon leans over to me and says, "You can't look when I say this, okay?" I agree. "There's a movie star sitting at that table. Um...I can't think of his name. Did you see that movie Closer? With Julia Roberts...."

Now. I did see Closer. I saw it more than once, in fact. And there are only four characters in it. Two of them are men. Those two men were played by Clive Owen and Jude Law. I figure that Jon would probably be able to come up with Jude Law's name, which can mean only one thing: Clive Owen is sitting mere feet away from me. I do not react to this certainty with dignified calm. Indeed, I get all giddy and flushed. My intention is to cut Jon off with some expression that means, "I am astonished and excited by this thing you are telling me. In fact, I can barely believe it's true." There are various expressions in the lexicon that, while perhaps inelegant, might have been appropriate. Among them, "Get out!" "Shut up!" "No way!"

Among the expressions that does not mean this at all is "F**k you!" And yet, that is exactly what I said. Specifically, I said,
"F**K you!! Clive Owen is NOT in this restaurant."

I realize that this is not the sort of thing that would horrify many people, but it definitely horrified me, as I generally make it through meals without hurling abuse at my companions, particularly when they are also my hosts. It also definitely, albeit very briefly, horrified Jon (he said nothing, but I saw it flicker in his eyes). I was too embarrassed to apologize. I'm so sorry about that Jon. I didn't mean it.

Also, f**k you, Clive Owen. You totally made me lose my cool. And then you didn't even come home with me.

Taking the broad view

My mother is horrified to learn that I have yet to buy a pad for the rug I've had for a year. Apparently, with every padless step I take upon the rug, I am shortening its life exponentially. I don't really see why this makes sense, but I am willing to accept it. After all, she is my mother.

I've done a little internet shopping for a pad and still haven't purchased one since they are more expensive than I want them to be (i.e. more than $20). It occurred to me that perhaps a likely place for bargain rug pads would be the same place I purchased the bargain rug in the first place.

I go to the website. I type in "rug pad" to the search window.

In reply, I get this message: "Couldn't find results for 'rug pad,' searching 'rug' instead."

You know what? There were plenty of results for rug. Probably because it is a rug store.

Thanks, technology!

Niagara

I watched Niagara last night, which, strangely, I'd never seen. Among other things, it made me pleased that I was not around in 1953. It certainly seems as though it was a very tiresome time to be anyone's wife.

It did raise some interesting questions though.

1. How did Marilyn Monroe wear that much glossy lipstick in bed without getting it on the sheets?





















2. How did 1953 fashions make women look so fantastic while making men look so extremely silly?

3. Why is wearing a rented raincoat and galoshes and being hit in the face with waterfall spray romantic?


But mostly, 4. How are we to believe that this lovely, good natured, sensible woman

(Sadly, I can't figure out how to get the full picture to show up, but if you click on it, you may gaze upon her whole face.)



would ever be married to this dull-witted, big toothed, braying oaf? (Here is a little montage courtesy of AndiBGoode of his idiotic mug. Look at him closely and Imagine him talking too loud, telling his wife to stick her tits out, chortling with his boss, or getting all excited about the Shredded Wheat company where he works. Because he is good at all those things.)

Bilingual

On "Fresh Air" Javier Bardem was asked what it was like to act in English and he said [this is the part where we pretend this is an actual quote when really it's just what I more or less remember. However, I don't think Javier reads this, so we're probably safe]:

"Even right now, as I'm trying to talk to you and express my opinions and thoughts and be relaxed, there is a very busy office full of people in my brain. They are working to make sure I get the right intonation, the right word.... It's exhausting.

When I speak Spanish, that office is closed."

I love that. As my French is used more and more seldom, the people in my office do not maintain any sort of regular schedule. Sometimes they're called in so unexpectedly that they are obliged to show up in their pajamas and then, man, do they have to scramble. That's probably why they can't guarantee the accuracy of the verb tenses.