Okay, the bags are packed, the pies are baked, the pets bathed (a Herculean task involving giving Fred his second official bathub bath ever, with some special non-bleach whitening shampoo for light-colored pets, then bathing Bella, then scrubbing and bleaching the bathub, then realizing Fred angrily peed all over some stuff, rinsing said stuff under hot water and soaking overnight in tub, re-bleaching and re-scrubbing the tub, washing peed-on stuff three times in washer today, then walking Bella in the rain, leading to muddy paws and growing sense of exasperation on my part). I have one more assignment, and then I'm on my way home for a few days of friends, family and carbohydrates. Yay!
For those of you who know where Casa Gaul is, feel free to come for pie on Thursday evening, hanging around on Friday and the inevitable Lancaster-shopping on Saturday. :) Be sure to mention how clean and lovely the pets are. ;)
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Almost Out of Here...
Okay, the bags are packed, the pies are baked, the pets bathed (a Herculean task involving giving Fred his second official bathub bath ever, with some special non-bleach whitening shampoo for light-colored pets, then bathing Bella, then scrubbing and bleaching the bathub, then realizing Fred angrily peed all over some stuff, rinsing said stuff under hot water and soaking overnight in tub, re-bleaching and re-scrubbing the tub, washing peed-on stuff three times in washer today, then walking Bella in the rain, leading to muddy paws and growing sense of exasperation on my part). I have one more assignment, and then I'm on my way home for a few days of friends, family and carbohydrates. Yay!
For those of you who know where Casa Gaul is, feel free to come for pie on Thursday evening, hanging around on Friday and the inevitable Lancaster-shopping on Saturday. :) Be sure to mention how clean and lovely the pets are. ;)
For those of you who know where Casa Gaul is, feel free to come for pie on Thursday evening, hanging around on Friday and the inevitable Lancaster-shopping on Saturday. :) Be sure to mention how clean and lovely the pets are. ;)
Monday, November 22, 2004
No, really... How do they know?
On Saturday night, I covered an art exhibit that has sparked a bit of controversary. I had to be frisked and have all my camera gear inspected by policemen AND a bomb dog, which, sadly, is fairly standard operating procedure these days.
I was crouched down to pull out each lens in turn. The bomb dog sniffs the bag like he was supposed to, but then he starts licking my face. I sort of patted the dog's head, because, you know, the dog is supposed to be sniffing out TNT or whatever. So then the dog rolls over on his back with his belly in the air. The police officer was like, "Wow, yeah, he's really not supposed to do that..."
I was crouched down to pull out each lens in turn. The bomb dog sniffs the bag like he was supposed to, but then he starts licking my face. I sort of patted the dog's head, because, you know, the dog is supposed to be sniffing out TNT or whatever. So then the dog rolls over on his back with his belly in the air. The police officer was like, "Wow, yeah, he's really not supposed to do that..."
No, really... How do they know?
On Saturday night, I covered an art exhibit that has sparked a bit of controversary. I had to be frisked and have all my camera gear inspected by policemen AND a bomb dog, which, sadly, is fairly standard operating procedure these days.
I was crouched down to pull out each lens in turn. The bomb dog sniffs the bag like he was supposed to, but then he starts licking my face. I sort of patted the dog's head, because, you know, the dog is supposed to be sniffing out TNT or whatever. So then the dog rolls over on his back with his belly in the air. The police officer was like, "Wow, yeah, he's really not supposed to do that..."
I was crouched down to pull out each lens in turn. The bomb dog sniffs the bag like he was supposed to, but then he starts licking my face. I sort of patted the dog's head, because, you know, the dog is supposed to be sniffing out TNT or whatever. So then the dog rolls over on his back with his belly in the air. The police officer was like, "Wow, yeah, he's really not supposed to do that..."
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Retail Therapy
The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with ONLY a loaf of bread are three billion to one.
--Erma Bombeck
What Ms. Bombeck said is true, but then there are days when you go out for a loaf of bread and find not one, but TWO, things that you just know are going to make somebody (or somebodies) incredibly happy, whether you're the one paying or not...
And they're both red.
--Erma Bombeck
What Ms. Bombeck said is true, but then there are days when you go out for a loaf of bread and find not one, but TWO, things that you just know are going to make somebody (or somebodies) incredibly happy, whether you're the one paying or not...
And they're both red.
Retail Therapy
The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with ONLY a loaf of bread are three billion to one.
--Erma Bombeck
What Ms. Bombeck said is true, but then there are days when you go out for a loaf of bread and find not one, but TWO, things that you just know are going to make somebody (or somebodies) incredibly happy, whether you're the one paying or not...
And they're both red.
--Erma Bombeck
What Ms. Bombeck said is true, but then there are days when you go out for a loaf of bread and find not one, but TWO, things that you just know are going to make somebody (or somebodies) incredibly happy, whether you're the one paying or not...
And they're both red.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
GBC Topic 4: The Dinner Party
Time: The Present
Place: A garden apartment on a small Mediterranean island that is not recognized as an independent nation-state by the UN
Dramatis Personae:
Cancer, (yes, the disease)
Dana Carvey
Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off
and the cast of the 1996 movie Twister, including Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Cary Elwes, The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride"
As our scene opens, Helen Hunt is bustling around setting the table in the cool, efficient manner that all of her fictional characters (except for Lynne Stone, the "bad influence" friend in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun") seem to exude. She is preparing a meal, which consists of Cheerios, organic black tea, steamed cruciferous veggies, and any other foods that in no way make one susceptible to cancer. As the FDA's expert opinions on what defines "cancer-preventative foods" is constantly changing, feel free to imagine the plates continually filling with one type of food, such as boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which then disappear, and refill with broiled salmon filets.
Cameron is sipping water from a glass goblet and crunching the ice with his front teeth. Bill Paxton is standing in the corner talking on a cell phone with his head cocked to the right, the only reliable way to get cell phone reception. The rest of the Twister cast is sitting side-by-side checking the latest weather reports as their laptops fry their reproductive organs.
Helen Hunt returns to the kitchen to chop broccoli, (which is the only cruciferous vegetable I can think of at the moment.) Dana Carvey is sitting on the counter crooning, "She CHOPS! She CHOPS! She's chopping BROCCO-LAY!!"
There's knock at the door. The Most Hated of All Dinner Guests- Cancer- has arrived. Cancer, an crone old of a woman with a deep, terrible, fake tanning-bed tan, enters the apartment with an air of malevolance, lighting a fresh unfiltered cigarette with one hand as another is still smoldering as it dangles the corner of her mouth. Some of the smoke seeps out of the hole in her neck. Her bronze skin is wrinkled like leather, and as she exhales a wisp of smoke curls out of the tracheotomy hole in her neck.
Cancer surveys the room, before removing the cigarette and spitting chewing tobacco juice on the floor. She greets Bill Paxton, who is shouting "ME, JO! You've got ME!" into his cell phone. He has been on so long that phone has actually grown hot against his ear. "That's my boy!" she wheezes, as she pulls an old fashioned perfume spritzer from her purse, labeled "Chemo." She mists it in her general direction, but manages to nail Dana Garvey over her shoulder. He runs to the bathroom to throw up. His hair falls out en route.
Cameron offers Cancer a glass of water.
"I brought my own," Cancer states, as she pulls a Shasta out of her purse. "Unless that's water from the well in the town where Julia Roberts sues the polluting corporation while wearing a balconette demi-bra and a thong?" she asks. [Dana Carvey weakly shouts SCHWING! from the bathroom.]
Helen tells her that it's Evian. Cancer shakes her head. "Ah, Shasta it is then. I ask you, what's the good in showing off your breasts unless they're leaking silicone?" The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride" looks up from his laptop. "There's shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a shame to ruin hers."
Helen Hunt serves the steamed vegetables. Cancer glares at her plate before sprinking her entire portion with Aspartame sweetener she has pulled from her purse, then digs in. Helen scowls, then replaces Cancer's veggie plate with an entree of broiled salmon. Cancer leans forward and sniffs her filet. She beams and takes a big bite. "Freshwater salmon from an American-Indian reservation," she explains, as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. "Mostly mercury anyway."
"That's IT!" Helen Hunt stands suddenly, knocking her chair over. "You BITCH!" She throws her plate against the wall. She advances on Cancer, who merely blinks: "Who the hell do you think you are?" Cary Wells (Hot British Actor Who Plays the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in Twister But Who Also- forget it, you know the rest) also gets to his feet.
"NO!" Helen Hunt shouts at him, doing her lines from the um, "climax" of Twister: "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" She points at Cancer. "You've never seen it miss this house, and miss that house, and come after you! You just f*ck everything up for everyone! That whole "What Cancer Can Not Do" thing is B*LLSHIT! It's B*LLSHIT! HOW MANY TIMES DO PEOPLE HAVE TO-" She turns to Cary Wells (HBAWPTEDJMITBWAPWITPB- you know that really isn't shorter): "WHAT?!?"
"Right," he says composedly. "Um, I just wanted to tell you all, despite the romantic fantasies you've all been carrying since you first saw the Princess Bride, that I am gay."
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screams Helen Hunt, the way Cameron does in Ferris Bueller when he realized that his father's car has been driven around by the skanky valet guys. "Isn't that my line?" Cameron asks, then shrugs and starts making with Cary/Wesley.
At this, Helen loses her temper in a hopping rage, then disappears in a puff of smoke like Rumplstiltskin. Cancer smiles slowly, then calls out to Bill Paxton, still on the cell phone in the corner: "Does your phone have a camera in it, sweetie?" She rasps. "My lady friends back at the clinic are going to DIE when they see this!"
The End.
Place: A garden apartment on a small Mediterranean island that is not recognized as an independent nation-state by the UN
Dramatis Personae:
Cancer, (yes, the disease)
Dana Carvey
Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off
and the cast of the 1996 movie Twister, including Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Cary Elwes, The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride"
As our scene opens, Helen Hunt is bustling around setting the table in the cool, efficient manner that all of her fictional characters (except for Lynne Stone, the "bad influence" friend in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun") seem to exude. She is preparing a meal, which consists of Cheerios, organic black tea, steamed cruciferous veggies, and any other foods that in no way make one susceptible to cancer. As the FDA's expert opinions on what defines "cancer-preventative foods" is constantly changing, feel free to imagine the plates continually filling with one type of food, such as boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which then disappear, and refill with broiled salmon filets.
Cameron is sipping water from a glass goblet and crunching the ice with his front teeth. Bill Paxton is standing in the corner talking on a cell phone with his head cocked to the right, the only reliable way to get cell phone reception. The rest of the Twister cast is sitting side-by-side checking the latest weather reports as their laptops fry their reproductive organs.
Helen Hunt returns to the kitchen to chop broccoli, (which is the only cruciferous vegetable I can think of at the moment.) Dana Carvey is sitting on the counter crooning, "She CHOPS! She CHOPS! She's chopping BROCCO-LAY!!"
There's knock at the door. The Most Hated of All Dinner Guests- Cancer- has arrived. Cancer, an crone old of a woman with a deep, terrible, fake tanning-bed tan, enters the apartment with an air of malevolance, lighting a fresh unfiltered cigarette with one hand as another is still smoldering as it dangles the corner of her mouth. Some of the smoke seeps out of the hole in her neck. Her bronze skin is wrinkled like leather, and as she exhales a wisp of smoke curls out of the tracheotomy hole in her neck.
Cancer surveys the room, before removing the cigarette and spitting chewing tobacco juice on the floor. She greets Bill Paxton, who is shouting "ME, JO! You've got ME!" into his cell phone. He has been on so long that phone has actually grown hot against his ear. "That's my boy!" she wheezes, as she pulls an old fashioned perfume spritzer from her purse, labeled "Chemo." She mists it in her general direction, but manages to nail Dana Garvey over her shoulder. He runs to the bathroom to throw up. His hair falls out en route.
Cameron offers Cancer a glass of water.
"I brought my own," Cancer states, as she pulls a Shasta out of her purse. "Unless that's water from the well in the town where Julia Roberts sues the polluting corporation while wearing a balconette demi-bra and a thong?" she asks. [Dana Carvey weakly shouts SCHWING! from the bathroom.]
Helen tells her that it's Evian. Cancer shakes her head. "Ah, Shasta it is then. I ask you, what's the good in showing off your breasts unless they're leaking silicone?" The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride" looks up from his laptop. "There's shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a shame to ruin hers."
Helen Hunt serves the steamed vegetables. Cancer glares at her plate before sprinking her entire portion with Aspartame sweetener she has pulled from her purse, then digs in. Helen scowls, then replaces Cancer's veggie plate with an entree of broiled salmon. Cancer leans forward and sniffs her filet. She beams and takes a big bite. "Freshwater salmon from an American-Indian reservation," she explains, as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. "Mostly mercury anyway."
"That's IT!" Helen Hunt stands suddenly, knocking her chair over. "You BITCH!" She throws her plate against the wall. She advances on Cancer, who merely blinks: "Who the hell do you think you are?" Cary Wells (Hot British Actor Who Plays the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in Twister But Who Also- forget it, you know the rest) also gets to his feet.
"NO!" Helen Hunt shouts at him, doing her lines from the um, "climax" of Twister: "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" She points at Cancer. "You've never seen it miss this house, and miss that house, and come after you! You just f*ck everything up for everyone! That whole "What Cancer Can Not Do" thing is B*LLSHIT! It's B*LLSHIT! HOW MANY TIMES DO PEOPLE HAVE TO-" She turns to Cary Wells (HBAWPTEDJMITBWAPWITPB- you know that really isn't shorter): "WHAT?!?"
"Right," he says composedly. "Um, I just wanted to tell you all, despite the romantic fantasies you've all been carrying since you first saw the Princess Bride, that I am gay."
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screams Helen Hunt, the way Cameron does in Ferris Bueller when he realized that his father's car has been driven around by the skanky valet guys. "Isn't that my line?" Cameron asks, then shrugs and starts making with Cary/Wesley.
At this, Helen loses her temper in a hopping rage, then disappears in a puff of smoke like Rumplstiltskin. Cancer smiles slowly, then calls out to Bill Paxton, still on the cell phone in the corner: "Does your phone have a camera in it, sweetie?" She rasps. "My lady friends back at the clinic are going to DIE when they see this!"
The End.
GBC Topic 4: The Dinner Party
Time: The Present
Place: A garden apartment on a small Mediterranean island that is not recognized as an independent nation-state by the UN
Dramatis Personae:
Cancer, (yes, the disease)
Dana Carvey
Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off
and the cast of the 1996 movie Twister, including Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Cary Elwes, The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride"
As our scene opens, Helen Hunt is bustling around setting the table in the cool, efficient manner that all of her fictional characters (except for Lynne Stone, the "bad influence" friend in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun") seem to exude. She is preparing a meal, which consists of Cheerios, organic black tea, steamed cruciferous veggies, and any other foods that in no way make one susceptible to cancer. As the FDA's expert opinions on what defines "cancer-preventative foods" is constantly changing, feel free to imagine the plates continually filling with one type of food, such as boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which then disappear, and refill with broiled salmon filets.
Cameron is sipping water from a glass goblet and crunching the ice with his front teeth. Bill Paxton is standing in the corner talking on a cell phone with his head cocked to the right, the only reliable way to get cell phone reception. The rest of the Twister cast is sitting side-by-side checking the latest weather reports as their laptops fry their reproductive organs.
Helen Hunt returns to the kitchen to chop broccoli, (which is the only cruciferous vegetable I can think of at the moment.) Dana Carvey is sitting on the counter crooning, "She CHOPS! She CHOPS! She's chopping BROCCO-LAY!!"
There's knock at the door. The Most Hated of All Dinner Guests- Cancer- has arrived. Cancer, an crone old of a woman with a deep, terrible, fake tanning-bed tan, enters the apartment with an air of malevolance, lighting a fresh unfiltered cigarette with one hand as another is still smoldering as it dangles the corner of her mouth. Some of the smoke seeps out of the hole in her neck. Her bronze skin is wrinkled like leather, and as she exhales a wisp of smoke curls out of the tracheotomy hole in her neck.
Cancer surveys the room, before removing the cigarette and spitting chewing tobacco juice on the floor. She greets Bill Paxton, who is shouting "ME, JO! You've got ME!" into his cell phone. He has been on so long that phone has actually grown hot against his ear. "That's my boy!" she wheezes, as she pulls an old fashioned perfume spritzer from her purse, labeled "Chemo." She mists it in her general direction, but manages to nail Dana Garvey over her shoulder. He runs to the bathroom to throw up. His hair falls out en route.
Cameron offers Cancer a glass of water.
"I brought my own," Cancer states, as she pulls a Shasta out of her purse. "Unless that's water from the well in the town where Julia Roberts sues the polluting corporation while wearing a balconette demi-bra and a thong?" she asks. [Dana Carvey weakly shouts SCHWING! from the bathroom.]
Helen tells her that it's Evian. Cancer shakes her head. "Ah, Shasta it is then. I ask you, what's the good in showing off your breasts unless they're leaking silicone?" The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride" looks up from his laptop. "There's shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a shame to ruin hers."
Helen Hunt serves the steamed vegetables. Cancer glares at her plate before sprinking her entire portion with Aspartame sweetener she has pulled from her purse, then digs in. Helen scowls, then replaces Cancer's veggie plate with an entree of broiled salmon. Cancer leans forward and sniffs her filet. She beams and takes a big bite. "Freshwater salmon from an American-Indian reservation," she explains, as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. "Mostly mercury anyway."
"That's IT!" Helen Hunt stands suddenly, knocking her chair over. "You BITCH!" She throws her plate against the wall. She advances on Cancer, who merely blinks: "Who the hell do you think you are?" Cary Wells (Hot British Actor Who Plays the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in Twister But Who Also- forget it, you know the rest) also gets to his feet.
"NO!" Helen Hunt shouts at him, doing her lines from the um, "climax" of Twister: "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" She points at Cancer. "You've never seen it miss this house, and miss that house, and come after you! You just f*ck everything up for everyone! That whole "What Cancer Can Not Do" thing is B*LLSHIT! It's B*LLSHIT! HOW MANY TIMES DO PEOPLE HAVE TO-" She turns to Cary Wells (HBAWPTEDJMITBWAPWITPB- you know that really isn't shorter): "WHAT?!?"
"Right," he says composedly. "Um, I just wanted to tell you all, despite the romantic fantasies you've all been carrying since you first saw the Princess Bride, that I am gay."
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screams Helen Hunt, the way Cameron does in Ferris Bueller when he realized that his father's car has been driven around by the skanky valet guys. "Isn't that my line?" Cameron asks, then shrugs and starts making with Cary/Wesley.
At this, Helen loses her temper in a hopping rage, then disappears in a puff of smoke like Rumplstiltskin. Cancer smiles slowly, then calls out to Bill Paxton, still on the cell phone in the corner: "Does your phone have a camera in it, sweetie?" She rasps. "My lady friends back at the clinic are going to DIE when they see this!"
The End.
Place: A garden apartment on a small Mediterranean island that is not recognized as an independent nation-state by the UN
Dramatis Personae:
Cancer, (yes, the disease)
Dana Carvey
Cameron from Ferris Bueller's Day Off
and the cast of the 1996 movie Twister, including Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton, Cary Elwes, The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride"
As our scene opens, Helen Hunt is bustling around setting the table in the cool, efficient manner that all of her fictional characters (except for Lynne Stone, the "bad influence" friend in "Girls Just Want to Have Fun") seem to exude. She is preparing a meal, which consists of Cheerios, organic black tea, steamed cruciferous veggies, and any other foods that in no way make one susceptible to cancer. As the FDA's expert opinions on what defines "cancer-preventative foods" is constantly changing, feel free to imagine the plates continually filling with one type of food, such as boneless, skinless chicken breasts, which then disappear, and refill with broiled salmon filets.
Cameron is sipping water from a glass goblet and crunching the ice with his front teeth. Bill Paxton is standing in the corner talking on a cell phone with his head cocked to the right, the only reliable way to get cell phone reception. The rest of the Twister cast is sitting side-by-side checking the latest weather reports as their laptops fry their reproductive organs.
Helen Hunt returns to the kitchen to chop broccoli, (which is the only cruciferous vegetable I can think of at the moment.) Dana Carvey is sitting on the counter crooning, "She CHOPS! She CHOPS! She's chopping BROCCO-LAY!!"
There's knock at the door. The Most Hated of All Dinner Guests- Cancer- has arrived. Cancer, an crone old of a woman with a deep, terrible, fake tanning-bed tan, enters the apartment with an air of malevolance, lighting a fresh unfiltered cigarette with one hand as another is still smoldering as it dangles the corner of her mouth. Some of the smoke seeps out of the hole in her neck. Her bronze skin is wrinkled like leather, and as she exhales a wisp of smoke curls out of the tracheotomy hole in her neck.
Cancer surveys the room, before removing the cigarette and spitting chewing tobacco juice on the floor. She greets Bill Paxton, who is shouting "ME, JO! You've got ME!" into his cell phone. He has been on so long that phone has actually grown hot against his ear. "That's my boy!" she wheezes, as she pulls an old fashioned perfume spritzer from her purse, labeled "Chemo." She mists it in her general direction, but manages to nail Dana Garvey over her shoulder. He runs to the bathroom to throw up. His hair falls out en route.
Cameron offers Cancer a glass of water.
"I brought my own," Cancer states, as she pulls a Shasta out of her purse. "Unless that's water from the well in the town where Julia Roberts sues the polluting corporation while wearing a balconette demi-bra and a thong?" she asks. [Dana Carvey weakly shouts SCHWING! from the bathroom.]
Helen tells her that it's Evian. Cancer shakes her head. "Ah, Shasta it is then. I ask you, what's the good in showing off your breasts unless they're leaking silicone?" The Hot British Actor Who Played the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in "Twister," But Who Was Also Wesley in "The Princess Bride" looks up from his laptop. "There's shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a shame to ruin hers."
Helen Hunt serves the steamed vegetables. Cancer glares at her plate before sprinking her entire portion with Aspartame sweetener she has pulled from her purse, then digs in. Helen scowls, then replaces Cancer's veggie plate with an entree of broiled salmon. Cancer leans forward and sniffs her filet. She beams and takes a big bite. "Freshwater salmon from an American-Indian reservation," she explains, as she dabs her mouth with a napkin. "Mostly mercury anyway."
"That's IT!" Helen Hunt stands suddenly, knocking her chair over. "You BITCH!" She throws her plate against the wall. She advances on Cancer, who merely blinks: "Who the hell do you think you are?" Cary Wells (Hot British Actor Who Plays the Evil Dr. Jonas Miller in Twister But Who Also- forget it, you know the rest) also gets to his feet.
"NO!" Helen Hunt shouts at him, doing her lines from the um, "climax" of Twister: "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" She points at Cancer. "You've never seen it miss this house, and miss that house, and come after you! You just f*ck everything up for everyone! That whole "What Cancer Can Not Do" thing is B*LLSHIT! It's B*LLSHIT! HOW MANY TIMES DO PEOPLE HAVE TO-" She turns to Cary Wells (HBAWPTEDJMITBWAPWITPB- you know that really isn't shorter): "WHAT?!?"
"Right," he says composedly. "Um, I just wanted to tell you all, despite the romantic fantasies you've all been carrying since you first saw the Princess Bride, that I am gay."
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" screams Helen Hunt, the way Cameron does in Ferris Bueller when he realized that his father's car has been driven around by the skanky valet guys. "Isn't that my line?" Cameron asks, then shrugs and starts making with Cary/Wesley.
At this, Helen loses her temper in a hopping rage, then disappears in a puff of smoke like Rumplstiltskin. Cancer smiles slowly, then calls out to Bill Paxton, still on the cell phone in the corner: "Does your phone have a camera in it, sweetie?" She rasps. "My lady friends back at the clinic are going to DIE when they see this!"
The End.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Doom! DOOM!
Okay. I shot Passive Aggressive Bride's wedding on Friday, and I think that was the last wedding I will ever do. Except for Shauna, if she picks me. But then that's it! Never again. Or at least, not until 2006, when AJ and Kelly's weddings are finished.
Oh. My. God. First of all, there were 25 people in the wedding party, including six children under the age of seven, all of whom were emissaries from Crack Babies of America - so hyper, so badly behaved, so uncooperative, so insistent on picking their noses when I'm trying to shoot their photos... (I am not making that up. One jr groomsman did it, and then the others thought it was funny and wouldn't stop.)
It was a classic case of "You get what you pay for," honestly. The bride had a matron of honor, a maid of honor, seven bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids, and two flower girls. But they only reserved two rooms at the hotel for them to get ready in. (DOOM!) She wanted elaborate, full centerpieces, but she ordered them from a grocery store florist to save money. There is an employee from the flower department of Stew Leonard's (a grocery store that features animatronic cows on mechanical swings above the dairy section) running around with permenant scars somewhere. To give them credit, the women's bouquets *were* gorgeous...
The bride insisted that I do all of the portraits of the wedding party in fifteen minutes, so that she could enjoy her full cocktail hour. WTF? That's like asking me to bake a wedding cake in a toaster oven. It may have been workable, ideal even, if she would have agreed to see the groom before the ceremony and get everything shot then. I tried to explain the benefits of that arrangement for months. No deal. We were supposed to at least shoot the bridesmaids' photos before the ceremony, but then the bride had a meltdown (a sobbing, makeup ruining meltdown). The hairdresser ended up putting her back together, and I ended up screening visitors at the door like the Curly Mustache Guy in the Wizard of Oz: "Nobody gets in to see the wizard! Not nobody, no how!"
I told her that I hate pulling couples out of the reception for formal photos, and she insisted that the cocktail hour was more important to her and was certain we "could make it happen." Actually, she missed a bit of the cocktail hour after all because she almost passed out after the ceremony, in her first of two fainting spells. The matron of honor and I ended up pulling her corset off of her in the bathroom, and making her sit and sip Sprite for the first 15 minutes because otherwise she was going to have to end up going up to her hotel room to lay down. (Lay down? Lie down? Gwen?)
Meanwhile, in addition to the Must-Take List that was already two pages long, her extended family kept asking me for poses of "The bride and all her cousins" or "Me, all my adult children, and grandchildren." Also, the parents and grandparents were expecting to shoot the formal photos between the ceremony and reception, as is customary, and were extremely concerned we hadn't done so by 10:15 p.m., with the reception scheduled to end at midnight. Tell me about it. Did I mention that the cake wasn't cut, and the special dances (other than the First Dance) hadn't taken place yet? DOOM!
I finally managed to get everyone together for photos around 10:30 p.m. I have my work cut out for me with PhotoShop, because everyone was drunk and disheveled by then. At one point, when I went to straighten the bride's extremely crooked veil, she actually *stamped her foot* and snapped: "@ngel@, can do this any faster? I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" Her aunt whispered, "You're going to be twitching by the end of the night" in my ear, but I was sort of speechless at that point.
Finally, the Very Aggressive Grandmother managed to corral everyone into her most desired pose (20 people), and I shot it. I didn't know that the Grandfather's New Wife (referred to all day as "The Slut") was in the shot. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be in the shot. (DOOM!)
Massive family fight ensues, wherein Evil Granny yells at her Daughter, Daughter yells at the Bride, and Groom yells at Evil Granny. I try to smoothe things over by explaining I can digitally remove the Person in Question (a.k.a The Slut) from the photo, at which point, Evil Granny shouts "Excuse me!" and physically removes me from the coversation with a firm tap/"gentle" shove.
The Happy Couple returns to their reception, and everything goes as planned without further incident. I seek out The Grandmother, who agrees that digitally removing The Slut from the photo is the best course of action. Cake is cut, dances are danced, reception ends. At 12:15 a.m. I'm just finished packing up- the last extension cord is wrapped, the last umbrella folded, the last lightstand collasped, when the bride asks me if we can re-gather the troops and re-shoot the Fight-Causing Portrait Sans Slut.
No. No, we cannot. As I type this, I am retrospectively temped to stamp my foot and snap, "I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" I'm os glad I didn't think of doing that then. Instead, I tell her politely that I will take her out digitally, and I've already spoken to the Grandmother about it. I drive home from the Mountain Resort in a sleet/snow storm and crawl under the covers, where I have been camped for the last 48 hours.
Actually, wedding bullshit aside, I'm sick. I haven't felt like this since I had mono- exhaustion, body aches, enormous swollen glands. Luckily, you aren't supposed to be able to get mono twice. I have another day off tomorrow, and plenty of sick time to use before December 31 if needed. Feh.
Anyway, be good to each other, dear readers and fellow union bridesmaids. If I learned anyhting this weekend, it's that we should all take our birth control pills, drink plenty of fluids, and avoid operating heavy machinery in the presence of bridal magazines. :)
Oh. My. God. First of all, there were 25 people in the wedding party, including six children under the age of seven, all of whom were emissaries from Crack Babies of America - so hyper, so badly behaved, so uncooperative, so insistent on picking their noses when I'm trying to shoot their photos... (I am not making that up. One jr groomsman did it, and then the others thought it was funny and wouldn't stop.)
It was a classic case of "You get what you pay for," honestly. The bride had a matron of honor, a maid of honor, seven bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids, and two flower girls. But they only reserved two rooms at the hotel for them to get ready in. (DOOM!) She wanted elaborate, full centerpieces, but she ordered them from a grocery store florist to save money. There is an employee from the flower department of Stew Leonard's (a grocery store that features animatronic cows on mechanical swings above the dairy section) running around with permenant scars somewhere. To give them credit, the women's bouquets *were* gorgeous...
The bride insisted that I do all of the portraits of the wedding party in fifteen minutes, so that she could enjoy her full cocktail hour. WTF? That's like asking me to bake a wedding cake in a toaster oven. It may have been workable, ideal even, if she would have agreed to see the groom before the ceremony and get everything shot then. I tried to explain the benefits of that arrangement for months. No deal. We were supposed to at least shoot the bridesmaids' photos before the ceremony, but then the bride had a meltdown (a sobbing, makeup ruining meltdown). The hairdresser ended up putting her back together, and I ended up screening visitors at the door like the Curly Mustache Guy in the Wizard of Oz: "Nobody gets in to see the wizard! Not nobody, no how!"
I told her that I hate pulling couples out of the reception for formal photos, and she insisted that the cocktail hour was more important to her and was certain we "could make it happen." Actually, she missed a bit of the cocktail hour after all because she almost passed out after the ceremony, in her first of two fainting spells. The matron of honor and I ended up pulling her corset off of her in the bathroom, and making her sit and sip Sprite for the first 15 minutes because otherwise she was going to have to end up going up to her hotel room to lay down. (Lay down? Lie down? Gwen?)
Meanwhile, in addition to the Must-Take List that was already two pages long, her extended family kept asking me for poses of "The bride and all her cousins" or "Me, all my adult children, and grandchildren." Also, the parents and grandparents were expecting to shoot the formal photos between the ceremony and reception, as is customary, and were extremely concerned we hadn't done so by 10:15 p.m., with the reception scheduled to end at midnight. Tell me about it. Did I mention that the cake wasn't cut, and the special dances (other than the First Dance) hadn't taken place yet? DOOM!
I finally managed to get everyone together for photos around 10:30 p.m. I have my work cut out for me with PhotoShop, because everyone was drunk and disheveled by then. At one point, when I went to straighten the bride's extremely crooked veil, she actually *stamped her foot* and snapped: "@ngel@, can do this any faster? I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" Her aunt whispered, "You're going to be twitching by the end of the night" in my ear, but I was sort of speechless at that point.
Finally, the Very Aggressive Grandmother managed to corral everyone into her most desired pose (20 people), and I shot it. I didn't know that the Grandfather's New Wife (referred to all day as "The Slut") was in the shot. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be in the shot. (DOOM!)
Massive family fight ensues, wherein Evil Granny yells at her Daughter, Daughter yells at the Bride, and Groom yells at Evil Granny. I try to smoothe things over by explaining I can digitally remove the Person in Question (a.k.a The Slut) from the photo, at which point, Evil Granny shouts "Excuse me!" and physically removes me from the coversation with a firm tap/"gentle" shove.
The Happy Couple returns to their reception, and everything goes as planned without further incident. I seek out The Grandmother, who agrees that digitally removing The Slut from the photo is the best course of action. Cake is cut, dances are danced, reception ends. At 12:15 a.m. I'm just finished packing up- the last extension cord is wrapped, the last umbrella folded, the last lightstand collasped, when the bride asks me if we can re-gather the troops and re-shoot the Fight-Causing Portrait Sans Slut.
No. No, we cannot. As I type this, I am retrospectively temped to stamp my foot and snap, "I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" I'm os glad I didn't think of doing that then. Instead, I tell her politely that I will take her out digitally, and I've already spoken to the Grandmother about it. I drive home from the Mountain Resort in a sleet/snow storm and crawl under the covers, where I have been camped for the last 48 hours.
Actually, wedding bullshit aside, I'm sick. I haven't felt like this since I had mono- exhaustion, body aches, enormous swollen glands. Luckily, you aren't supposed to be able to get mono twice. I have another day off tomorrow, and plenty of sick time to use before December 31 if needed. Feh.
Anyway, be good to each other, dear readers and fellow union bridesmaids. If I learned anyhting this weekend, it's that we should all take our birth control pills, drink plenty of fluids, and avoid operating heavy machinery in the presence of bridal magazines. :)
Doom! DOOM!
Okay. I shot Passive Aggressive Bride's wedding on Friday, and I think that was the last wedding I will ever do. Except for Shauna, if she picks me. But then that's it! Never again. Or at least, not until 2006, when AJ and Kelly's weddings are finished.
Oh. My. God. First of all, there were 25 people in the wedding party, including six children under the age of seven, all of whom were emissaries from Crack Babies of America - so hyper, so badly behaved, so uncooperative, so insistent on picking their noses when I'm trying to shoot their photos... (I am not making that up. One jr groomsman did it, and then the others thought it was funny and wouldn't stop.)
It was a classic case of "You get what you pay for," honestly. The bride had a matron of honor, a maid of honor, seven bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids, and two flower girls. But they only reserved two rooms at the hotel for them to get ready in. (DOOM!) She wanted elaborate, full centerpieces, but she ordered them from a grocery store florist to save money. There is an employee from the flower department of Stew Leonard's (a grocery store that features animatronic cows on mechanical swings above the dairy section) running around with permenant scars somewhere. To give them credit, the women's bouquets *were* gorgeous...
The bride insisted that I do all of the portraits of the wedding party in fifteen minutes, so that she could enjoy her full cocktail hour. WTF? That's like asking me to bake a wedding cake in a toaster oven. It may have been workable, ideal even, if she would have agreed to see the groom before the ceremony and get everything shot then. I tried to explain the benefits of that arrangement for months. No deal. We were supposed to at least shoot the bridesmaids' photos before the ceremony, but then the bride had a meltdown (a sobbing, makeup ruining meltdown). The hairdresser ended up putting her back together, and I ended up screening visitors at the door like the Curly Mustache Guy in the Wizard of Oz: "Nobody gets in to see the wizard! Not nobody, no how!"
I told her that I hate pulling couples out of the reception for formal photos, and she insisted that the cocktail hour was more important to her and was certain we "could make it happen." Actually, she missed a bit of the cocktail hour after all because she almost passed out after the ceremony, in her first of two fainting spells. The matron of honor and I ended up pulling her corset off of her in the bathroom, and making her sit and sip Sprite for the first 15 minutes because otherwise she was going to have to end up going up to her hotel room to lay down. (Lay down? Lie down? Gwen?)
Meanwhile, in addition to the Must-Take List that was already two pages long, her extended family kept asking me for poses of "The bride and all her cousins" or "Me, all my adult children, and grandchildren." Also, the parents and grandparents were expecting to shoot the formal photos between the ceremony and reception, as is customary, and were extremely concerned we hadn't done so by 10:15 p.m., with the reception scheduled to end at midnight. Tell me about it. Did I mention that the cake wasn't cut, and the special dances (other than the First Dance) hadn't taken place yet? DOOM!
I finally managed to get everyone together for photos around 10:30 p.m. I have my work cut out for me with PhotoShop, because everyone was drunk and disheveled by then. At one point, when I went to straighten the bride's extremely crooked veil, she actually *stamped her foot* and snapped: "@ngel@, can do this any faster? I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" Her aunt whispered, "You're going to be twitching by the end of the night" in my ear, but I was sort of speechless at that point.
Finally, the Very Aggressive Grandmother managed to corral everyone into her most desired pose (20 people), and I shot it. I didn't know that the Grandfather's New Wife (referred to all day as "The Slut") was in the shot. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be in the shot. (DOOM!)
Massive family fight ensues, wherein Evil Granny yells at her Daughter, Daughter yells at the Bride, and Groom yells at Evil Granny. I try to smoothe things over by explaining I can digitally remove the Person in Question (a.k.a The Slut) from the photo, at which point, Evil Granny shouts "Excuse me!" and physically removes me from the coversation with a firm tap/"gentle" shove.
The Happy Couple returns to their reception, and everything goes as planned without further incident. I seek out The Grandmother, who agrees that digitally removing The Slut from the photo is the best course of action. Cake is cut, dances are danced, reception ends. At 12:15 a.m. I'm just finished packing up- the last extension cord is wrapped, the last umbrella folded, the last lightstand collasped, when the bride asks me if we can re-gather the troops and re-shoot the Fight-Causing Portrait Sans Slut.
No. No, we cannot. As I type this, I am retrospectively temped to stamp my foot and snap, "I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" I'm os glad I didn't think of doing that then. Instead, I tell her politely that I will take her out digitally, and I've already spoken to the Grandmother about it. I drive home from the Mountain Resort in a sleet/snow storm and crawl under the covers, where I have been camped for the last 48 hours.
Actually, wedding bullshit aside, I'm sick. I haven't felt like this since I had mono- exhaustion, body aches, enormous swollen glands. Luckily, you aren't supposed to be able to get mono twice. I have another day off tomorrow, and plenty of sick time to use before December 31 if needed. Feh.
Anyway, be good to each other, dear readers and fellow union bridesmaids. If I learned anyhting this weekend, it's that we should all take our birth control pills, drink plenty of fluids, and avoid operating heavy machinery in the presence of bridal magazines. :)
Oh. My. God. First of all, there were 25 people in the wedding party, including six children under the age of seven, all of whom were emissaries from Crack Babies of America - so hyper, so badly behaved, so uncooperative, so insistent on picking their noses when I'm trying to shoot their photos... (I am not making that up. One jr groomsman did it, and then the others thought it was funny and wouldn't stop.)
It was a classic case of "You get what you pay for," honestly. The bride had a matron of honor, a maid of honor, seven bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids, and two flower girls. But they only reserved two rooms at the hotel for them to get ready in. (DOOM!) She wanted elaborate, full centerpieces, but she ordered them from a grocery store florist to save money. There is an employee from the flower department of Stew Leonard's (a grocery store that features animatronic cows on mechanical swings above the dairy section) running around with permenant scars somewhere. To give them credit, the women's bouquets *were* gorgeous...
The bride insisted that I do all of the portraits of the wedding party in fifteen minutes, so that she could enjoy her full cocktail hour. WTF? That's like asking me to bake a wedding cake in a toaster oven. It may have been workable, ideal even, if she would have agreed to see the groom before the ceremony and get everything shot then. I tried to explain the benefits of that arrangement for months. No deal. We were supposed to at least shoot the bridesmaids' photos before the ceremony, but then the bride had a meltdown (a sobbing, makeup ruining meltdown). The hairdresser ended up putting her back together, and I ended up screening visitors at the door like the Curly Mustache Guy in the Wizard of Oz: "Nobody gets in to see the wizard! Not nobody, no how!"
I told her that I hate pulling couples out of the reception for formal photos, and she insisted that the cocktail hour was more important to her and was certain we "could make it happen." Actually, she missed a bit of the cocktail hour after all because she almost passed out after the ceremony, in her first of two fainting spells. The matron of honor and I ended up pulling her corset off of her in the bathroom, and making her sit and sip Sprite for the first 15 minutes because otherwise she was going to have to end up going up to her hotel room to lay down. (Lay down? Lie down? Gwen?)
Meanwhile, in addition to the Must-Take List that was already two pages long, her extended family kept asking me for poses of "The bride and all her cousins" or "Me, all my adult children, and grandchildren." Also, the parents and grandparents were expecting to shoot the formal photos between the ceremony and reception, as is customary, and were extremely concerned we hadn't done so by 10:15 p.m., with the reception scheduled to end at midnight. Tell me about it. Did I mention that the cake wasn't cut, and the special dances (other than the First Dance) hadn't taken place yet? DOOM!
I finally managed to get everyone together for photos around 10:30 p.m. I have my work cut out for me with PhotoShop, because everyone was drunk and disheveled by then. At one point, when I went to straighten the bride's extremely crooked veil, she actually *stamped her foot* and snapped: "@ngel@, can do this any faster? I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" Her aunt whispered, "You're going to be twitching by the end of the night" in my ear, but I was sort of speechless at that point.
Finally, the Very Aggressive Grandmother managed to corral everyone into her most desired pose (20 people), and I shot it. I didn't know that the Grandfather's New Wife (referred to all day as "The Slut") was in the shot. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be in the shot. (DOOM!)
Massive family fight ensues, wherein Evil Granny yells at her Daughter, Daughter yells at the Bride, and Groom yells at Evil Granny. I try to smoothe things over by explaining I can digitally remove the Person in Question (a.k.a The Slut) from the photo, at which point, Evil Granny shouts "Excuse me!" and physically removes me from the coversation with a firm tap/"gentle" shove.
The Happy Couple returns to their reception, and everything goes as planned without further incident. I seek out The Grandmother, who agrees that digitally removing The Slut from the photo is the best course of action. Cake is cut, dances are danced, reception ends. At 12:15 a.m. I'm just finished packing up- the last extension cord is wrapped, the last umbrella folded, the last lightstand collasped, when the bride asks me if we can re-gather the troops and re-shoot the Fight-Causing Portrait Sans Slut.
No. No, we cannot. As I type this, I am retrospectively temped to stamp my foot and snap, "I want to dance! I waaaannnt to daaance!" I'm os glad I didn't think of doing that then. Instead, I tell her politely that I will take her out digitally, and I've already spoken to the Grandmother about it. I drive home from the Mountain Resort in a sleet/snow storm and crawl under the covers, where I have been camped for the last 48 hours.
Actually, wedding bullshit aside, I'm sick. I haven't felt like this since I had mono- exhaustion, body aches, enormous swollen glands. Luckily, you aren't supposed to be able to get mono twice. I have another day off tomorrow, and plenty of sick time to use before December 31 if needed. Feh.
Anyway, be good to each other, dear readers and fellow union bridesmaids. If I learned anyhting this weekend, it's that we should all take our birth control pills, drink plenty of fluids, and avoid operating heavy machinery in the presence of bridal magazines. :)
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
I feel like I could vomit blood.
Yesterday when I was voting, I actually got a little misty-eyed, thinking that this was it, that here was our chance to change things, to make things right, to show the world the compassionate and just country America can be.
I am heart-broken, not necessarily because I believed in Kerry, but because the people who taught me right from wrong, who worked three jobs each to help me earn my education, who took me to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s home, church and grave, who instilled in me a deep respect for scientific research, voted for Bush. And they did it in my name, because they believed we would be safer from a terrorist attack in New York City if we didn't change administrations.
I doubt that we will be able to undo the damage that this president has done, and will do in the next four years, in my lifetime.
Not in my name. Not in my name, not ever.
I am heart-broken, not necessarily because I believed in Kerry, but because the people who taught me right from wrong, who worked three jobs each to help me earn my education, who took me to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s home, church and grave, who instilled in me a deep respect for scientific research, voted for Bush. And they did it in my name, because they believed we would be safer from a terrorist attack in New York City if we didn't change administrations.
I doubt that we will be able to undo the damage that this president has done, and will do in the next four years, in my lifetime.
Not in my name. Not in my name, not ever.
I feel like I could vomit blood.
Yesterday when I was voting, I actually got a little misty-eyed, thinking that this was it, that here was our chance to change things, to make things right, to show the world the compassionate and just country America can be.
I am heart-broken, not necessarily because I believed in Kerry, but because the people who taught me right from wrong, who worked three jobs each to help me earn my education, who took me to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s home, church and grave, who instilled in me a deep respect for scientific research, voted for Bush. And they did it in my name, because they believed we would be safer from a terrorist attack in New York City if we didn't change administrations.
I doubt that we will be able to undo the damage that this president has done, and will do in the next four years, in my lifetime.
Not in my name. Not in my name, not ever.
I am heart-broken, not necessarily because I believed in Kerry, but because the people who taught me right from wrong, who worked three jobs each to help me earn my education, who took me to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s home, church and grave, who instilled in me a deep respect for scientific research, voted for Bush. And they did it in my name, because they believed we would be safer from a terrorist attack in New York City if we didn't change administrations.
I doubt that we will be able to undo the damage that this president has done, and will do in the next four years, in my lifetime.
Not in my name. Not in my name, not ever.
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