Historical Ack-uracy

You know, Netflix has been kind of obnoxious lately.  Raising their prices, dividing their DVD and streaming services, sending me patronizing emails, and -- most offensive of all -- mailing me a string of disturbing movies.

Not bad movies, just... gross.  Like Gladiator a few weeks back.  Blood and beheadings and all that jazz.  And this week?  John Adams, which is technically a TV miniseries, but I regard TV movies and miniseries pretty highly so it might as well be a movie.

But, okay (GROSSNESS ALERT) there's a smallpox epidemic in Massachusetts, 1776.  And while John Adams is off trying to do the whole Independence thing, his wife, Abigail, decides to inoculate their children by exposing them to a bit of the smallpox virus. So this one friend of hers (a doctor? one can only hope) extracts some goo out of one of the... uh, lesions... of a seriously disgustingly infected-with-smallpox person, then inserts that into Abigail and the children's bloodstreams.  OH HELLS NO.  Well, guess what, THEY ALL GET SICK... the daughter most terribly.  She's got pox everywhere.  And they are nasttttty.  See, I always thought smallpox were like chickenpox, but smaller.

No.  They are bigger AND grosser.  Way, way grosser.

And, I mean, kudos to the John Adams make-up department for making that poor daughter look like a freaking garbage pail kid, but EW. MY EYES NEED A BATH NOW.

There are two more discs in this series, and I plan to rent them, because hey, it's good otherwise.  No, really!  I like watching a bunch of dudes in wigs debating and yammering endlessly and voting and stuff.  It's history, man.  And you know who plays George Washington?  David Morse!  The unfortunate side effect of this is that from now on, every time I look at a dollar bill or quarter, I'm automatically going to start quoting The Langoliers.

Oh well.

Chicken ala What The--?

Since early in my pet-owning days, I've had bizarre dreams about the animals I care for.  (Yes, I'm going to talk about my dreams today. You've been warned.)

FISH - I've had fish off and on since I was ten. Goldfish, Betta and Catfish, mostly.  Throughout the years, I've had this recurring nightmare (even when fish aren't a part of my family) where I have a fish in a tank or bowl or whatever, and the fishie keeps trying to jump out.  And I'm trying to physically stop it from leaping to its certain death. Either that or I'm trying to grab the fish while it's flopping around on the table and throw it back in. I'm terrified that the fish will die on my watch, and oftentimes I spend a lengthy amount of time trying to keep the fish in the bowl. Very frustrating, that one is.

DOGS - I have never owned a dog, but ever since I started dogsitting a few years ago, I've had this dream where I'm supposed to dogsit, but for whatever reason there's been a miscommunication, and I've not arrived at the house when I'm supposed to and the dog has been alone for days and I feel terrible.  That's it. Pretty simple, I guess. I hate to think how this dream is going to develop if/when I actually do have my own dog someday.  Uhhhh let's not think about that.

CATS - I don't really have cat dreams very often, which is a bit odd considering we've had at least one cat in my family since I was eight years old. Occasionally I've had dreams where a cat escapes and I can't find it. Now we have three cats. That said, ever since we got the third one, I've had this recurring nightmare in which I'm trying to corral all three of them in an emergency, and it's just physically impossible to hold them all.  I usually wake up from this one feeling pretty cranky.

I see a theme with all these dreams. Keeping the fish in the water, making sure the dog is being looked after, and trying to rescue the cats -- all of these dreams involve keeping the animal alive. Perfectly normal, right?

So somebody please explain to me what is up with my dreams about the chickens.

CHICKENS - Whenever I dream about my chickens, I dream that they have multiplied. Reproduced. Spawned. But not necessarily with more chickens. No, sometimes I'll go outside and find that my three little hens have been joined by two hens from a neighboring home... and a duck.  Like, these other birds will be sitting in the coop with the chickens, looking at me like, "Wassup?"  And I'm supposed to deal with it.  One night I dreamed that my chickens had spawned GUINEA PIGS, and I was running around trying to find cages big enough for all my new family members.

And then there was last night.

Last night's dream involved me going out to the coop to see that my three chickens...

... had been joined by a dog...

...a pelican...

... and, for good measure, a baby penguin.

Naturally, I ran for my camera and started snapping pictures of the adorableness.

Even my subconscious seems to know it is weird, because my very next dream involved me explaining THAT dream to a group people and laughing about how silly it is that I have these spawning dreams all the time.  How meta of me.

Well, that's all. Now that I've opened this (scary) window into my psyche, I hope you don't trip over your shoelaces as you run for the door.

Peace.

Fair Play

September 5, 2011.

It's the last day of the Oregon State Fair, which is apparently also "Cow Judging Day."  We can hear mooing from all the way out in the parking lot.  I wonder what the judges look for in a cow.  Bone structure?  Smiling with their eyes?  Did I just invent America's Next Top Cow Model?  Once, when I was a kid, I went to the county fair and played that carnie horse racing game and I won a stuffed cow. He was wearing overalls. It's the only time I ever won anything at those games, not counting the numerous ashtrays I procured from my stellar dime-throwing skillz.

Llamas, I think?  I went to this spinning wheel show once (and yes, I'm ninety-four. What?) and out back they had a barn with alpacas and goats and things, and I was talking to my little cousin about them and I called them llamas and the farmer guy there was like THEY'RE ALPACAS. And quite frankly I didn't care.  Just like I don't care if Koalas are or are not bears or what camels are called when they have one hump, not two.  But whatever these things are, aren't they cute? They're like big ol' poodles. I want one.

Mmmm.  To quote one Mr. Garfield the Cat: "Candy candy candy candy candy!" I especially covet the giant gummy bears.  Every time I go into a candy store and see one of those, I think I would love that. I'm going to get me one of those one of these days.  And really, they're only about $5 so it's not like it'd be this crazy purchase.  But something always stops me.  Maybe because when they're that size, biting off their heads (the integral part of consuming gummy bears) seems like it would be difficult. And I abhor difficulty, especially with candy. Which is why I've stopped eating Fun Dips. I'm sorry, but they simply take more than they give.

"Crazy Animal Races."  I've seen Pig Racing before, but not this.  This has goats and sheep and all manner of fowl.  They're lined up at the starting gate and then sent forth around the track while the audience cheers.  At the end, they get food.  Meanwhile, four kids in the audience get to be cheerleaders.  Whichever animal wins, the kid from that cheering section wins a small checkered flag.  After the show (which is actually quite adorable and hilarious) the announcer tells us that anyone can get their own checkered flag at the nearby concession stand for two dollars.  Gosh!

Then again, $2 sounds like chump change when you consider the price of being flung in the air on this fun contraption.  $30 will get you up there for a minute.  It's $50 if a couple wants to go together.  $20 grants you video footage.  I get that this thing must have to have insurance up the wazoo, not to mention pay somebody to run it, but it all still seems a wee bit crazy.  Much like the people who choose to ride it. 

Now this is more like it.  For $8 you can get zipped inside a big plastic bubble (like a hamster!) and walk around on the water (like Jesus!)  This is what I love about the fair.  Stuff like this.  Crazy new things you can try.  It makes the discontinuation of World's Fairs in my country a little easier to bear.

Now here's a ride I can totally get behind.  Har har, literally, amirite?  But serious, the chair lift thing is great.  You get to ride over the entire fair, thirty feet up.  You get to see everything.  Like... the tops of tents.  And... the tops of people's heads.  Not to mention the stuff behind the tents.  And after seeing some of the goings-on behind the food vendors' tents, well... it really makes your appetite waver.

UNLESS...

 Yes, there's always an exception. I have some great, unbridled love for the giant baked potato.  Some fairgoers go for the corn dog, others the massive turkey leg, still others the old familiar sno-cone.  But I seek out the potato grande, and always will. I don't care if those potatoes are fed hormones to help give them their impressive girth.  I don't care that for the price of one potato I could go to the store and buy a whole sack of the things.  Nope.  I don't care.

Oh hey, yet another ride you won't get me on. I realize this is ten times tamer than the catapultchacallit, but still. No.

Well, it's about time to go. How about one last look at the animals? Here are some... uh...

 ... some goats? Mutant kangaroos?  Sigh.  Animal identification has never been my strong suit. 

That's better!  Those are goats.  Totally.  I mean... 

yeah, I don't even know anymore.  

I'm going home.

Until next year...

Ickiness Maximus

Those of you who've been reading this blog a while may remember my issues with one Mr. Russell Crowe.  First I was worried he'd ruin Robin Hood.  Then I saw Robin Hood, and was like, eh, he was okay, I guess.

Well, after that, I decided to grit my teeth and go watch Gladiator.   

Cuz, you know, I'd heard it was pretty good.  I can't remember where I heard that.  Maybe the Oscars.  I'd also heard it was violent.  But I figured, if I could make it through Beowulf, 300, and Tombstone, I could certainly handle 2 more hours of ye olde blood and gore.

So, to those of you who haven't seen it -- warning -- spoiler alerts, etc.

I counted eight beheadings.

Forty-three dismemberments.

Three hundred and thirty-eight stabbings.

And a pony fell down.

Also, two tigers died for the cause.

GROSS, Ridley Scott.  Just gross!

But there's something in the movie that's even scarier than all of that...

See, there's this guy named Commodus, and he's played by Joaquin Phoenix...

Yes, Joaquin Phoenix. AKA little "Leif" Phoenix from Parenthood, the punk kid who destroyed his father's dentist office in a fit of anger and had to be educated in manhood studies by Keanu Reeves, but turns out okay (and relatively unscathed) in the end.

Well, heh, Joaquin Phoenix's wrongdoings in Gladiator make "destroying daddy's dentist office" look as mundane as jaywalking on a deserted highway.

COMMODUS IS SO. FLIPPING. EVIL!!!!

How evil is he?  Let me put it this way.  He makes these guys...

 (The Joker - murderer, sociopath)

 (Hans Gruber - terrorist, murderer)

 (Lord Voldemort - dictator, murderer)

look like THESE guys...

Don't believe me?  Here's a short list of Commodus's crimes in the 2 hours we get to spend with him:

-He kills his own elderly father while HUGGING HIM

-He orders Russell Crowe killed (Russell escapes)

-He orders the gruesome deaths of Russell's family (that goes through)

-Later, he taunts Russell about how his family died

-He threatens to kill his own nephew

-He forces his sister to be his lover

-He tries to kill Russell Crowe in the coliseum with tigers

-He kills Russell's friend

-He kills Russell's mentor

-And, in the end, he stabs Russell and then sends him out to the arena to fight.

He's such a terrible, arrogant, punkass psycho, that when he faces in Russell in the end, and Russell kicks his ass (despite being wounded), it is nothing short of awesome.  GO, RUSSELL, GO!

And even though I know it's just a movie and Russell's just playing a character... well, darnit, I like that character.  I'm totally behind that character.  He kicks booty.  Specifically Joaquin Phoenix's evil booty.  And for that, he gets a Gold Star in my book.

So that's 2 for 2, Russell Crowe.  You're on my good side, now.  At least until you go on another phone-throwing spree.  Yeah, we all have our dark moments, but come on!

i can haz computers?

Running a school computer lab (my new job!) has made me think a lot about when I was in elementary school. (Oh, here it comes...) 

In the beginning of my educational career, there wasn't a single computer to be found in our school building. But around 1988 they got a dozen or more Commodore 64s. I loved those things! The teachers taught us how to program on them. Typing, typing, and more typing would produce... an octagon. Yay. Once or twice they let us run games. I was all over DD's Playground, of course.

I remember the day the librarian introduced us to a Mac. It had a mouse. (LOL, a thing that is a thing that is not a rodent!) There was this little tutorial on the computer where you could practice clicking and dragging, like, a piece of paper and put it in a trash can. BEST. THING. EVER. I would sit there and just throw the little piece of paper away, over and over.

In junior high, we had two roomfuls of Macs. Same with high school. They took floppy disks. You could save your work on one, and use it on another computer... until it got an error and died. Also, the computers now had the internet! It was so exciting. My friends and I would use it to chat with each other, while sitting right next to each other in the lab. Yep. We were oh so clever and awesome.

In the early 2000s, when I first began working in an elementary school, they had just acquired some brand shiny new blue iMacs. Remember how iMacs came in all those colors? So pretty. Ten years later, those same blue iMacs are basically just big blue paperweights.

These days in our computer lab, they have bright, shiny silver iMacs. Those have replaced the 50-pound eMacs we had from 2002-2008 or so. (Yes, fifty pounds. We still have a bunch of them in the lab, and I've been delivering them to different classrooms this week. When this job description mentioned "lifting up to 50 pounds," I always imagined that sentence pertaining to a fallen-and-can't-get-up child on the playground, not a computer with bricks sitting inside it. Seriously, bricks. Why would a computer contain bricks? I don't know! WHY ARE THOSE COMPUTERS SO HEAVY? On the bright side, I guess they're pretty robber-proof. You'd have to be crazy to try to steal one. Well, also because they're crappy.)

Nowadays, with just a few clicks, a kid can get online and chat in realtime with people from all over the world. They can blog about their field trips. They can watch how crayons are made. 

That totally beats making an octagon.

And throwing away a sheet of virtual paper.

Though I'm not sure that it beats DD's Playground... that game was the best!

Celebration!

Hallelujah! I got a job! And for the first time in eight years... something that doesn't have the word "temporary" attached to it!  Where's that dancing hamster gif to celebrate?  I need that.  Well, there's this, but that site just gave me a seizure, so nevermind.  Here are some balloons instead.