Day 10 - a picture of you and your best friend(s)

First: The King's Speech was phenom.

Second: My computer is kaput. Meaning my picture selection is limited to what's already posted on facebook. Meaning these pictures are old and outdated. But still, they represent some of the best times spent with some of the best people.

One of many nights spent dancing in Marty's basement to The Who with the lovely Jessica Page and Christina Patti. The Keystone Light can is just a prop. We were drinking something much better...yeah.

I often feel wistful for the carefree exuberance that we felt in these photos. I mean, I had red hair and a rainbow flag - life just doesn't get better than that.

This shot includes a few of my favorite people. On a gorgeous spring day by the water. Oh, to be young again. jk. but really.

We interrupt this 30 days (or 30 weeks...) challenge to bring you the Gabriel quote of the day:

Aunt Liz: "So Gabe, where does Santa live? He lives at the North Pole, right?"

Gabe: "Yeah. And at the mall, too."

Day 9 - a song that makes you cry. good or bad cry.

I am a champion crier. Beauty and the Beast? Cry. A sublime line from Shakespeare? Cry. Stumbling upon a forgotten toy from my childhood? Tissues, please.

I don't know what it is. People used to tell me I was devoid of emotion. They would say: "Liz, you need to tell me when you're excited or mad because I can never tell what you're actually feeling." But the truth is: I am incredibly emotional. I feel huge feelings all the time. At every little thing. But those feelings are for me. I don't broadcast them. Just me being my solitary, introverted self.

So, ahem, sad song?

Wild Horses, as covered by The Sundays



This song has made me cry on more than one occasion. Was it a good or bad cry? Probably good. I love crying. Usually. It's so refreshing. Also, I will bawl at mostly anything from Sufjan Steven's Michigan album. And U2's All I Want is You. God, that song makes me ache all over.

Day 8 - your favorite movie of all time

Like I said, I don't do favorites. So this is like, I dunno, one of my top movies. Top 10? Top 50? Something like that.

As Good As it Gets, 1997

It's funny, it's sad, it's romantic. Greg Kinnear is a doll. And the dog is cute in that ugly-dog way, which is the best kind of cute. If this movie is on TV, I'll probably put the remote down. I think that qualifies as a favorite. All time? Sure. Why the hell not.

If my posts have been less than bombastic (which is what I aim for) blame it on 60-hour work weeks. The writer'y part of my brain is sloppy.

Day 7 - who you would meet, if you could meet anyone you wanted

Since most of my icons tend to be literary: Sebastian Flyte from Brideshead Revisited.


1. He epitomizes youthful decadence and beauty.
2. He carries around a teddy bear named Aloysius.
3. He is perpetually drunk. (he meets Brideshead's protagonist after vomiting through his dorm window...)
4. His name is Sebastian.
5. He has an extraordinarily dysfunctional Catholic family.
6. He would be like a fabulous gay best friend. Every gal needs one of those.
7. He says things like: "Charles! You're to come away at once. I've got a basket of strawberries and a bottle of Chateau Peyraguey, which isn't a wine you've ever tasted so don't pretend."

Such a shame that most of my favorite people are not actually people at all.

Day 6 - anything that makes you smile, every time

Dudley Moore's narration in Milo and Otis. Soooooo good!

Day 5 - a song that brings back good memories

I can see myself changing my mind immediately after this is posted. But I'm sticking with the first song that popped into my head:

Wednesday Morning, 3 AM by Simon and Garfunkel

It was the first month that I met Paul and we played this while carving pumpkins in his apartment. It was perfectly Autumn. And I very much knew that I completely loved the first boy of my life. And this song (and most of the subsequent tracks) always remind of how that felt. How that feels.

Day 4 - an actor who you think is underrated and why

There are several ways we could go about this, depending on one's definition of "underrated." Are we talking about those unlucky thespians who, however well-liked and respected, have been criminally overlooked by the Academy? Because that list runs for miles. Or perhaps we go with a total no-name, one of those brilliant performers whose talent hasn't yet hit the mainstream? Or we could take underrated to mean those actors whose talent goes unnoticed because they are associated with the fluffy crapola movies they star in. A la Leo Dicaprio minus 13 years. (thank heavens he surfaced from the murky depths of Titanic...though, hell, who doesn't love that shit!)

Hm. This is weird, maybe, but I'm going with John C. Reilly. Sure, he's in a couple Will Ferrell stupidhead movies. But he's ALSO in Magnolia and The Hours. AND he's awesome in both.


Admittedly, I didn't understand a damn thing about Magnolia, but it was interesting nonetheless. Reilly was grand. I thought. I'm not up to elaborating, so take it or leave it.

Day 3 - your favorite band/singer and why

The Beatles

Favorite bands work on a sort of rotating basis. One album will hold your attention for weeks on end, then it's something new that wins you over. Maybe I'm being uncreative with my choices here, but that's how favorites work for me - my favorite things are familiar things, old things, things that cozily signify the best times. And The Beatles have been with me for as long I can remember.

Want to drive me up a wall? - tell me that The Beatles are overrated. That kills me.

This band has so many different sounds, so many different looks.

George was my favorite guy. Abbey Road is my favorite album. Don't ask me my favorite song.

Day 2 - your favorite song of all time

I'm terrible at favorites. I'd be hard-pressed to come up with a top 10 songs of all time, so asking me to single out one favorite song is like asking me which of my children I love best (though, that's probably easier than most protesting parents would allow you to believe).

I'm picking a song that is probably an obvious choice, but whatever 30 days challenge - who doesn't get goosebumps from Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah?" I try to only play this song on special occasions because I don't want its gorgeousness to ever wear off. If that makes sense. It does to me. This song is so achingly sorrowful and sublimely uplifting at the same time. Play it after a night of drinking while sitting on a porch in the cold of winter. Good stuff.

Day 1 - your life story in 8 sentences

After a 7-year birthing hiatus my parents decided to give this Catholic stuff another go, so I was conceived and named after a popular American Saint. Walking was a skill I was slow to master, but my mom says it was because I was so content to sit and observe all the beautiful new things right at my fingertips. Thankfully this grew into a full-time occupation, and the past 24 years have afforded me a wealth of heavenly items to marvel at. The first decade of my existence was a blissful one, spent in hand-me-down plaid jumpers, summer Bible school, and sweet ignorance. Things got hairy once I turned 11, but that's a fact found in most life stories, even 8-sentence ones isn't it? Nowadays I balance a tightrope poised between unequivocal joy and a sort of anxious melancholy, but I've learned to waste no time repositioning myself should I falter. Falling in love has always been my favorite thing. To date, I have fallen in love 6,294 times.

30 days challenge

Day 1- your life story in eight sentences.

Day 2- your favorite song of all time.

Day 3- your favorite band/singer, and why.

Day 4- an actor who you think is underrated and why.

Day 5- a song that brings back good memories.

Day 6- anything that makes you smile, every time.

Day 7- who you would meet, if you could meet anyone you wanted.

Day 8- your favorite movie of all time.

Day 9- a song that makes you cry. good or bad cry.

Day 10- a picture of you and your best friend.

Day 11- your favorite meal to eat for dinner.

Day 12- anything that makes you smile, every time.

Day 13- your favorite book/series of books.

Day 14- what’s happened in the past two weeks, in eight sentences.

Day 15- a song that reminds you of someone important in your life.

Day 16- a picture of you doing a school/recreational sport.

Day 17- a YouTube video you could watch a billion times and never get bored.

Day 18- anything that makes you smile, every time.

Day 19- your favorite place to go, out of state.

Day 20- something that makes you sad every time you see/hear/watch it.

Day 21- your favorite thing to do in the summer, with who.

Day 22- a song on the radio that you actually don’t mind.

Day 23- a picture you found on Tumblr that you’ll never forget.

Day 24- anything that makes you smile, every time.

Day 25- five things you want to accomplish in before the end of the year.

Day 26- a picture or video of yourself 5-10 years ago.

Day 27- a picture or video of yourself taken within the past week.

Day 28- a song that will always make you happy.

Day 29- something happening in the next month that you’re very excited for.

Day 30- anything that makes you smile, every time



(yes, Maureen, I copied this from your tumblr the day I say it.)

walk like an egyptian

And I'm onto my final unread Jane Austen novel. Lift your hands up.

Squirrely vomit-inducing family drama-rama aside, the following has my tummy in a bind:

1. check engine light, flitting in and out of existence.
2. check brakes light, ditto.
3. balding tires.
4. um, no heat. which, IMO, is the most distressing item since I like live in Buffalo. And it's November.

But I won't let the Silver Bullet get me down because I had a mighty fine weekend. Halloween is the only holiday that actually gets radder once you become an adult. Christmas, Thanksgiving, eh. More depressing than anything, and they're usually workdays for me, anyway. Halloween, on the other hand, is always a good time. Provided you don't spend it with your head in the toilet. As kids you get to eat all the candy you want; as adults you get to drink all the beer you want. Maybe try the best of both worlds with a Sam Adams Chocolate Bock. Whoa baby.

Tanget: I sat Rick Jeanneret at work. Always cool to encounter sports-related celebrities (sort of). Except for that one time when Paul Gaustad's girlfriend/date was totally rude to me. Skank.

the rape scene went pretty well

Please, will someone do "The Night Man Cometh" with me for Halloween?

I got a new job.

Wait.

I'm sounding repetitive, I know.

I got ANOTHER new job. Because things never go as planned. When I have a sec I'll tell you about how things never go as planned. No promises, though. I'm pretty booked, and I'm pretty pooped.

But I will say: Chef Ramsey is hot. In his way.

That's it.

the extent of my interest in politics = inane youtube videos

Someone in the mood to gimmie a present? Just for being as kick-ass as I am? Alrighty then.

I can't help myself: I'm addicted to "Modcloth.com." I want eeeeeverything!

so pretty. so cute. so weeeeee!

Christ Almighty. If there's one thing I've learned from my 16-hour work day (with a two hour interval between jobs) it's this:

Jobs that don't involve customers are infinitely superior to those that do.

Last week I was all like, "P-shaw, I can totally be one of those sleepless types who fuel themselves with bottomless cups of espresso and 90-calorie granola bars, racing from job number 1 to job number 2. No sweat, baby."

At first, things seemed promising. Expectedly, I was on the groggy side, but that was a small price to pay for all the cash I'd soon be funneling into my bank account.

But one (then two, then three, then four) customers from the deepest layer of Hades supplied me with more than enough reason to say: Why the fuck bother with this?! Seriously, I'm thinking one non-customer job is plenty.

I know - bad customers are such a cliched complaint from anyone who has to deal with them. But holy hell. I used to really like people. Now I only "like" people with a sour taste of distrust so foul I automatically barricade my soul for protection. If I continue to allow customers to blugeon my sunny free-spirit to a bloody pulp I may never regain purity of consciousness again. I don't like this me. People who aren't even rude to me annoy me. Which doesn't even make sense, so the solution is to NOT work with customers anymore. Fine.

This library computer timer is making me feel edgy, so over and out.

"that which you hold, holds you"

Have you heard about the Bird House kids yet? Lately, they've been squeezing their way into a solid number of my conversations. Then, lo and behold, there they are on the front page of Sunday's paper.

Here's the skinny: about 5 years ago a group of young people took it upon themselves to fix up a deteriorating mansion on Bird Avenue in Buffalo. The squatters rode bikes everywhere, hit up dumpsters for groceries, set up a kind of communal living situation. People can crash there for a few days and then move on.

Two of the original residents went on to purchase homes and vacant lots on Normal Avenue where they carry on the Bird House legacy. They have vegetable gardens and a bee hive. They scout for curbside furniture and appliances. They pick up odd jobs to make ends meet.

The thing I find so appealing about their chosen lifestyle lies in its simplicity. Hinged on that is their sense of freedom. Shove aside all hippie propaganda about organic this and community that - I just like the idea of not being bogged down with so much stuff.

Says 25-year old Rich Majewski, "Most people my age are heavily in debt. They've got nothing to their names and owe everyone else in the world an average of $50,000. Why would you do that? That doesn't work."

These people don't work less hours because they're lazy. (or maybe that's part of it) But really, they don't work loads of hours because they don't need to buy new clothes or iPods or brake pads for their cars.

They don't need those things, so they don't need as much money, so they don't work as many hours, so they get to enjoy their lives.

Which, for young people without kids or spouses, sounds like a beautiful thing.

So, I have a blog?

oh.

free movies, we love you!

I'm baffled by people who don't think Steve Carell is funny. I mean, I get people who don't like, say, Will Ferrell. Or Adam Sandler, even. Maybe.

Regardless.

His voice for Gru in Despicable Me was nothing short of genius. Personally, I like kids' movies more than most things these days, so there you go. Another flimsy post propped up with photos. Of cartoon characters, no less. Woe is me.

And one more. Because these yellow dudes are just about the best thing in almost any movie.

I want a minion!

Thanks to Google's creative headers, I pretty much know the anniversary of everything.


So - Happy birthday, Frida Kahlo. Your paintings scare the hell out of me, and I saw your blue house in Mexico and I loved it.

Man, I hate when I’m holding a cup of coffee and I sneeze. Coffee all over.

I pulled into my driveway last night around 12-ish, and there was a troupe of flannel-clad teenagers carousing in my lawn. Once they noticed me it must have dawned on them that they were in the wrong yard, so they clumsily felt their way next-door. It seemed innocent enough, except for one girl (who, from their yelling, I gathered was called “Jamie”) This poor Jamie girl was absolutely blackout drunk, the kind of drunk you never want to be, especially at age 14.

I pretended to get stuff out of my trunk so that I could figure out if this girl was laughing hysterically or sobbing uncontrollably (strange how those two things can sound the same) Definitely sobbing. Moaning, actually. For a bit I thought she was on some kind of nasty drug trip, but her vehement declarations that she would “NEVER drink again” cleared that up.

The prospect of offering a glass of water or a ride home or a bucket to puke in crossed my mind. Mainly because her friends weren’t helping her out at all. But then, I sort of hate teenagers. I went up to bed, but not to sleep because I could hear EVERYTHING these kids were saying from my open window.

Jamie: “I just wanna go home! I just wanna go home! I just wanna go home!!!” (I’m almost certain Jamie is my next-door neighbor, so I’m baffled as to why she didn’t just march inside and go to bed.)

Other girls: “Jamie, shut the fuck up!”

Jamie: “I’ve hooked up with all of you, except you! I’ve hooked up with all of you, except you!"

Other girls: “Jamie, shut up or your mom is going to come outside!” (How did she not?!)

Jamie: “I can’t help it. Someone tell me where I’m going! Get away from me!”

Scuzzy teenage boys: “Not to change the subject…but who do you think has the best chest here? You girls wanna show us?”

Jamie: “He kissed me, but he only wanted you. He kissed me, but he only wanted you!” (piss-drunk teenagers tend to repeat themselves ad-infinitum)

I should have been at least a little peeved, but they were amusing enough. More than enough.

I'd say this 4th of July weekend was a major success.

because he speaks to me...

who knows if the moon's

who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where

always
it's
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

- E. E. Cummings

I’ve kept a journal since I was nine years old. And from my fairly sizable stack of composition notebooks, my favorites have got to be the ones that cover my traveling experiences. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but they are a riot. Probably because I was so drunk on the marvelous stuff all around me. So every single sentence, every syllable had to exude the same degree of passion that I felt.

But it wasn’t all intoxication and excitement. Some of it was downright silliness. I came across the following, amidst colorful descriptions of sunrises and the black sand beaches of Santorini:

“Emily and I concocted a wild story about an Egyptian-bound cruise ship from Canada with maple syrup dripping off the sides, which was attacked by whales with knife-like tongues. It became shipwrecked; Sara lassoed the whales to bring us to safety. We made it to an island of flowing rum & coke and ice cream plants. And Nutella grew from the trees, but we didn’t have any crackers! We met the natives, who were half-whale, half-human. And then we found an underground passageway to the lost city of Atlantis where we found Mike Meravali chatting it up with the underwater creatures. Then we took our rocketship to the moon.”

Wha?

A thought: I think it’s really sad when I go back and read old journals, and there are phrases & quotes that were obviously inside jokes at one time, but I can’t for the life of me remember what the hell they mean.

Bacchus Wine Bar Summer Film Series:

Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Animal House

Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Big Chill

Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Legends of the Fall

Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Jaws

Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Devil Wears Prada

Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tommy Boy

Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Office Space

Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The Hangover

Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Dark Knight

Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Do The Right Thing

Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Big Lebowski

Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Anchor Man

Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Little Miss Sunshine

Wednesday, June 23, 2010
As Good As it Gets

Wednesday, June 16, 2010
American Beauty

Wednesday, June 09, 2010
The Color of Money

Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Enter the Dragon

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I truly cannot think of a better high than stumbling upon something that inspires writing. Scratch that - there's loads of things that are a better high (i.e. first kisses, Sam Beam's murmurs, fat paychecks, cuddling with puppies)

But oh sweet Jesus, artistic inspiration is like lightning from heaven! Especially when it's run dry for a while.

mmmm hmmmm.

In other news, I shaved Paul's gorgeous head of hair into a mohawk. He looks ridiculous, but he sort of deserves it for having such unforgivably gorgeous hair.

I'm a loser and I don't have Netflix, so I've been on a bit of a RedBox kick. I finally watched Crazy Heart, and it was superb. If I was male, I would want Maggie Gyllenhaal so bad. As it is, her brother will do just fine for me.

Speaking of ambiguous gender roles, I'm getting into Virgina Woolf - in my own way (which amounts to reading 1-2 of her books and then declaring myself an avid fan). Anyway, she's mad and killed herself so I'm bound to worship her.

And if the whole pink moped thing doesn't pan out, I wouldn't mind treking one of these babies across America:

(van spotted at Letchworth State Park, 2010)

In a perfect world, I would:

- own a bookstore with spiral staircases and moving ladders

- have long, thick hair

- drive a pink moped with a matching pink helmet

- cook vegetables from my own garden

- live in a secluded cottage with ivy scaling the stone chimney

- publish moving fiction in snooty journals that paid me handsomely

- understand Lost

It's Cinco de Mayo! Exercise your God-given, American right to get loaded in the name of a holiday whose origins and significance you know nothing about! Lime margaritas and guacamole are on the house tonight!

this happens. this is something that happens.

"And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes, and so it goes." Magnolia, 1999.

"I'll tell you everything, and you'll tell me everything, and maybe we can get through all the piss and shit and lies that kill other people." Claudia Wilson Gator

"What am I doing? I'm quietly judging you." Frank T.J. Mackey

kid books that would rock on screen

My nephews are finally getting to an age where I can read them stories. Personally, this is one those parenting things that I look forward to the most. That and Halloween costumes. In true Hall form, we still own all of our childhood books – really, the contents of our old bookshelves are the only items that I can justify keeping after all these years.

It’s really cool, though. Gabriel’s been fixated on Where the Wild Things Are (I think he identifies with Max). I’d like to get the recent movie version for him because it was so astoundingly inspired and lovely. Film adaptations of classic children’s lit can make me a bit uneasy, but this one was superb. It got me thinking – what other kid books would make killer movies? And then I compiled a list. Because that’s what I do.

Liz's Top Picks for Kids Books that Should be Made into Movies (as it stands after 2 minutes of thought):

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery – Ok, so they actually DID attempt a movie version of this French masterpiece in 1974. My roommate and I checked it out of the library once, but it was rotten. They added all these super lame songs – it was just dumb. I don’t know. I adore this book, and I adore it exactly as it is – as a book. But I still think someone in the world must be creative and insightful enough to pull this adaptation off.

The Rainbow Goblins by Count Ul de Rico – If you were never lucky enough to have had this story read to you as a child, I feel bad for you. My soul ached the first time I looked at it as an adult. The illustrations captivated me as a kid – my sisters and I would just stare at the rich, drippy, vibrant pictures forever. Then we would laugh at the last page because it showed one of the goblin’s naked butts. I’m inclined to think Tim Burton could direct this shit out of this book-turned-movie. Only because it’s so dark and visually gripping. But then, his Alice in Wonderland was mediocre, at best. So.

Beezus and Ramona by Beverly Clearly – Ol’ Bev was my number 1. Beezus and Ramona was my favorite of all her “Ramona” books because it cut Beezus some slack. I always identified with Beezus since she was the older, more serious sister who didn’t demand everyone’s attention 24/7. After I started writing this entry, I did a little youtube action for trailers since I'd heard someone was making this movie already. I felt a little woozy after watching - ok, this is mostly diehard nostalgia talking, but - the friendship between Beezus and Henry Huggins is, well, sacred. And linking the two romantically - just yuck. C'mon people. Way to choke my childhood dreams. (Also, they got the title wrong by reversing the two names - this book is about BEEZUS! GEEZ...)

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle – This book is so strange and almost frightening and I could probably pick it up today and be just as mesmerized as the 11-year-old version of myself. There was a made-for-TV version several years ago that I’m pretty sure my mom taped for me and then I never watched it.

You can’t go wrong with Dr. Seuss (or can you?) At any rate, I’m patiently awaiting production of his pro-nature The Lorax. Woot WoOt.

Also, will someone just get the darn Hobbit done soon! The world needs a Tolkien movie sans Elijah Wood pronto!

say what

Most of my customers fall into 1 of 3 categories:

A. Customer arrives at box office window only to forget the title of their movie ("It's uh...uh...uh...that one...you know, the one with that girl...that girl with brown hair...you know what I'm talking about, right???")

B. Customer has no clue about anything in the universe. ("So, I'm in a movie theatre, yeah? Right then. So, what's playing now? What's that about? Did you see it? Who's in it? Who directed it? How much do tickets cost? What about 3D tickets? Do I buy the 3D glasses from you? What's Imax? What's the square root of pi? Why am I such a lousy person that makes everyone behind me wait 10 minutes while I decide what piece of Hollywood trash to waste 10 bucks on? I suck.")

Or -

C. (my favorite) Customer invents his/her own title.

From this past weekend: (See how many you can guess!)

Death of a Salesman (*for Death at a Funeral)

Backdoor Backup Plan (*for The Backup Plan) - sounds like a bad porno.

Kiss Ass (*for Kick Ass) - funnier, because it was ordered by a 100-year-old woman with dentures and a walking cane.

Diary of a Mad Wimpy Kid - conflating Diary of a Mad Black Woman & Diary of a Wimpy Kid

A wide variety of How to [Slay, Kill, Beat] Your Dragon/Dinosaur. Quite the reverse of how to TAME.

By the way, this was one of my favorite movies in a LONG time.

Toothless is so friggin' cute.

Hey Sabres – please stay in the playoffs long enough for me to get myself to Party in the Plaza at some point. Thanks.

I love Lady Gaga. Weird.

I hate anagrams. Really.

So today was designated “Clean Out My Life Day.” I threw out mix CD’s from ex-boyfriends. Filled a wastebasket with uncompleted to-do lists. Found some stinky t-shirts jammed behind furniture. I even gathered a smashed up bunch of receipts and organized them according to the date.

I dumped out my bathroom drawer. Threw out about 60 crusty mascara tubes (why do I hold on to those?) and realized I have five (no joke) opened deodorant sticks. I’m afraid I have no explanation for that. Things like that give me the jeepers, makes me think I might have inherited my mom’s obsessive hoarding tendencies. Ugh, yuck, gross. No way.

Truly, (and this crushes my soul to say) when I watch TLC’s Hoarders, I’m not really all that aghast or freaked out. A little, but not a lot. Because my own house could be a serious contender for the show. It’s like one of those things you grow up with your whole life, so it’s just normal to you (like weird Catholic rituals…). Anyway, one day it occurred to me – this is not just messy clutter. This is straight-up loony bin material. But what can you do? Well, I’ll tell you: nothing. Unless it involves a very talented shrink and an even more talented volunteer clean-up crew, nothing. So it goes.

But life is life and after all, we all have a smidge of crazy in us. The lucky ones get a whole bunch. And the very luckiest possess a bright madness that shows them the prettiest sides of the universe.

Only because I don't want April to end up entirely blog-free:



Gorgeous, gorgeous man.

(and Maureen - this was weird... as I was about to post this, I was scrolling your site and saw that you posted the Paolo Nutini version of this song. Bizzaro)

Hands down, the most comforting thing on the planet: hugging a bundle of hot laundry fresh from the dryer.

Academy Awards 2010: dull to the max (yet oddly satisfying in its predictability).

Latest predicament: ran out of nail polish remover halfway through nail polish removal. whatta I do now?!

fat fat fatty

I'm finding it increasingly difficult to watch the Travel Channel while maintaining a healthy body weight. Since when did this channel morph into some hybrid Food Network concoction? I'm not complaining, though. It's unexplainable, but any show that features 15-pound burgers - I cannot look away. All the while I'm pounding fistfuls of nachos into my face. Yum.

Holy cow. These above-freezing temps have triggered some serious premature spring fever.
I need to be outside.
I need to be barefoot.
I need to eat fresh fruit and put wildflowers in vases and wear cotton dresses.
So close, yet so far away. So very, very far.

Other than that, Paul let me drive his stick-shift Volvo yesterday. It was buckets of fun.

I stole a ring out of the "lost and found" at work.

LOST is on tonight! la, la, la.

My 2010 Shakespeare Mission is going well, though I'll be happy once I finish this blasted 3-part Henry VI. Good grief.

"So, what does 3D mean?"....Really? No. Shut up.

We love the sun, yes yes. Also, Jeff Buckley's vocal chords and birthdays on Fat Tuesday.

So - ten nominations for Best Picture? Why? Scrolling the list, I'm pretty sure I could whittle it down to five. Ten is just so excessive. I have this sinking feeling that Avatar will bring it home. I mean it was ok. But I hate those people who come out of the theatre all wide-eyed and wide-jawed like "OHMYGAWD that was the BEST movie I've ever seen in my ENTIRE LIFE!!!" It was good, but it wasn't that good. Not "Best Picture" good.

Plus, it's difficult for me to ignore the fact that 50 consecutive days of sold-out shows has transformed me into a fire-breathing curmudgeon of death. Honest to God, I am not myself lately, no thanks to Mr. Cameron. So yeah. He's got that against him. Did he not receive enough adulation with Titanic? Down with Avatar and its insanely ludicrous dialogue!

I still have to see The Hurt Locker and An Education to make up my mind about who deserves a win. I was watching Up in the Air again today and God - it still blows me away. A brilliant, smart, effective movie. Def a fave of 2009.

Now I'm going to eat my free ice cream from the Top's Monopoly game.

my computer works again!

If Avatar wins "Best Picture" I will throw up.

There's more to be said on the subject, but I'm just not up to it. Later.

mean people can be funny!

The blatant ill-will and downright snarky cruelty possessed by an overwhelming segment of the American population will never cease to astonish and bewilder my naturally polite and obliging sensibilities. Call me naive, charge me with unfounded optimism or too buoyant a personality - but I truly just can't get my mind around mean people.

Stupid people I can stomach, mostly. Who doesn't get a slight touch of the dum-dums from time to time? But unwarranted rudeness, deliberate nastiness - it just doesn't register.

There are, thankfully, those rare but oh so sublime occasions in which a mean-spirited individual with every intention of breaking someone down, inadvertently makes me giggle. Or laugh uproariously.

A personal favorite is witnessing beastly customers duke it out with EACH OTHER. Nothing satisfies the soul like a pair of ruffled suburbanites physically (and forcefully) shoving each other in impatient frustration. This weekend, though, a certain dissatisfied customer topped them all. Her comment card read:

"Spent $52 on tickets (Glenn Beck/O' Reilly show) and $25 on snacks. Think you guys could spare some soap for people using the bathroom. HOPE YOUR FAMILY GETS SWINE FLU!!!"

ha. ha. ha!

I have about 600 responses that I could slam in this woman's face. But it's not even worth it. It's sad - she will never know how hard she made me laugh. Or the fact that you're supposed to mail comment cards to our corporate office. Or that we shredded that comment card to bits. After we all had a good round of hearty laughter.

Thanks lady!

up in the air...i wish.

After spending the past hour perusing an old travel journal from my semester abroad, I believe I've found the solution to my mind-numbing world-weariness: Priceline.com

Seriously...my customary carefree, chill state of mind has degenerated into an abysmal cavern of apathy. One good ol' plane ticket oughta jumpstart all enthusiasm gone astray. Because, God, I was so damn excited about EVERYTHING when I was traveling. Fun things happened. Like all the time. Even the bad things that happened were fun. Sleeping on the streets was fun and spilling beer in your opened suitcase was fun. I miss that kind of fun. I miss this:

[excerpt from "Liz's Austria Journal" written during a 20-plus hour boat ride to Greece, circa October 2005]

"Claire and Phil and I spent the night in a freezing stairwell. It was 8 am, I was fast asleep. Suddenly, I'm startled awake to Phil yelling, "PASSPORTS!!! PASSPORTS!!!" So I get mine out and I'm all out-of-it and then I look around and realize - there's no one there. Bastard."

My life used to be so cool. Heh.

This weekend did present a break from what I like to think are the longest 3 months of Buffalo (Jan -March = HELL). Paul and I roadtripped it out to Washington D.C. for the March for Life, stopping in at State College along the way to pick up a friend. In all honesty, the march was mostly an excuse to get out of Buffalo and to visit with Paul's nephew and nieces in Virginia. Highlights from the trip include dancing to Hall and Oats at a bar, one meal abundant with avocados, and playing outside in reasonable temperatures.

the world must be peopled!

In my book, the ubiquitous New Year's Rez is a total wash, but since I'm hooked on list-making and I'm certainly no stranger to failure, I usually jot down a few hopefuls.

This year, though, I'm circumventing all crash diets and vague resolve to "become a writer" (as meaningless a phrase as "going green") by keeping the list down to two (you heard me) goals for 2010:

1. Drink more water. I like this one because it's virtually impossible to fail. Also, it's free.

2. Slightly more challenging, I hearby declare 2010 the year of Sir William Shakespeare. Meaning I will buckle down and work my way through all 37 of his plays. (we're not talking sonnets here - blech) Then I will watch film versions with Kenneth Branagh.

So that's that. More H20. And more cross-dressing lovers than I'll know what to do with.