Waiting

Because he's still able to breathe, my dad is not technically brain dead, but all of his higher functions have stopped.
Nothing that made my dad my dad is left.
He opens his eyes reflexively, but he's not there.
Now we're just waiting.

In Detroit, Suck City

As I write this I am sitting in a Best Western in Detroit, unable to sleep thanks to anxiety, the effects of being in a strange place, an uncomfortable bed, and my brother’s snoring.
Naturally my only option was to squirrel myself away in a surprisingly comfortable chair and write a blog entry.
I didn’t start out the day wanting to find myself in a Best Western in Detroit, and, quite frankly, I’m not ending the day that way either.
But here I am.
The plan was to catch a flight from Detroit to Marquette. My brother had managed to schedule his flight out from Rhode Island in such a way that he and I would be taking the same flight out of Detroit. He even managed to get us seated together.
However, upon arriving in Detroit I went to the board to see what gate our flight was leaving from only to find that the flight was cancelled. The recorded message from Northwest that I found waiting for me in my voicemail informed me that the flight was cancelled due to the lack of a flight crew.
How does that happen? I mean, if you schedule a flight, don’t you necessarily schedule a crew?
Regardless, I went to the gate my brother’s flight was arriving at and waited for him, then the tow of us went to a ticketing agent to try to sort things out.
I had already been rebooked on a flight out at 1:30 on Saturday, but that one went to Marquette by way of Minneapolis and I wouldn’t get there until almost 6.
My brother was rebooked on a much earlier flight, which was already oversold. We got me put on standby, but then the agent – her name was Liz – found a somewhat earlier direct flight that I could get booked on and we decided that the best course of action was to book my brother on that flight as well rather than his even earlier, overbooked flight.
Once that was settled it was off to the motel, where we ate dinner in the motel lounge and were serenaded by karaoke singers, one of whom put in a surprisingly strong and stirring performance of that Billy Vera and the Beaters song At This Moment.
Watching my brother interact with people – the booking agent, the guy in the motel gift shop, where I spent $50 buying all of the stuff that I once again didn’t bring in my carry on just in case, and the waitress in the lounge – I was struck by how effortless it is for him, or at least how effortless it seems.
In a million years I could never ingratiate myself with people the way he can in a matter of seconds. As much as we’re alike – and we are alike in a lot of ways – we are two very different people.
As for my dad’s condition, we really don’t know much more than we did. The EEG shows brain activity, though it is abnormal, but that could simply be the result of age.
The only real indicator of brain damage is the simple fact that he won’t wake up.
He has seemed to respond to people, but it’s not clear how much of that is reflex, or even wishful thinking on the part of my mom and my sister.
There seems to be some hope that hearing me and my brother might provoke more of a response.
I don’t know.
I broke down this morning and tried to let out as much as possible before going out into the world. Better to cry alone than to do so surrounded by uncaring strangers.
I don’t know what to expect, I don’t know what I can reasonably hope for, and I quite honestly don’t know how I’m going to react when I actually see him lying there.
I suppose that I should head back to the room and try to get some sleep.

My Dad

I haven't spoken to my mother yet today, but she called my brother who informed me that my dad had a massive heart attack.
They believe that he is brain dead, but are waiting for a neurologist to confirm that.
My brother will be flying out of Rhode Island at around the same time that I'm flying out of Dulles. We'll actually be on the same flight out of Detroit, and should be in Marquette by 9:30.
Kathleen is giving me a ride to the airport and stopped in this morning to check up on me.
There are so many things I need to do right now.
I feel numb.
The one consolation I have in all of this is that I have no doubt that my dad knows how much I love him.

Dammit

While he was loading up the van for their drive out to Tucson, my dad collapsed today.
He still hasn't regained consciousness.
I'm leaving for home tomorrow afternoon, assuming that the early blizzard they're getting hit with doesn't keep me stranded somewhere.
If you believe in prayer, do some for my dad.

I Had A Great Title For This Post, But I Forgot What It Was

I woke up sometime shortly after 8 this morning and thought, “Okay, I’ll get up.”
50 minutes later I finally followed through on that thought.
As I had the 10:20 dentist appointment I didn’t have as much sitting around doing nothing time, so I had a bowl of cereal, took a shower, got dressed, and was on my way.
I was about five minutes early and ended up having to wait an additional ten minutes.  As I was reading a book on my PDA (On the Road by Jack Kerouac; I figured it was about time I got around to reading it), or rather, attempting to read, as I was distracted by a woman reading Highlights magazine to her (I’m guessing) three year-old daughter.
I have to say that the little girl was extremely cute, particularly as she laughed her head off as her mother said the word “peach,” as it was just one of those words that kids inexplicably find funny.  For example, when he was six my nephew Jeremy would collapse into a fit of laughter every time he heard the word “groin,” which he naturally ended up hearing a lot once we discovered his reaction to it.
Once I was in the chair the actual work took only a matter of minutes, and soon I was out of the chair, the inside of mouth tasting like rubber cement, and on my way to pay what I owed.
The cute girl with the big boobs looked at me, sighed, and said, “You’re going to be my problem child today.”
I responded with a pithy, “I see.”
I’m assuming her issue had to with the fact that my insurance is maxed out for the year and that somehow that was complicating the determination of my bill.
After doing some math semi-aloud, she finally said, “Oh, that’s more like it,” and told me that I owed $23 even.
As she took my card over to the card reader I saw just how perfectly her very tight sweater was following the shape of her breasts and sighed and shook my head sadly, and was soon on my way.
I’d e-mailed Kathleen earlier in the week to tell her that I’d be in the area today if she wanted to meet for lunch but hadn’t received a response either way so I gave her a call at work.
I got her voicemail and left a message, saying that I guessed I would just go home, but as I was waiting at a light to make the trip home my cell phone rang, and we made plans to meet in about 40 minutes.
Needing a way to kill some time, I headed to where we were meeting and gave my mother a call.  I’d had a voicemail from her saying that they were still home and I could call her if I wanted.
She and my dad were supposed to have left for Tucson this morning, but there was a problem with the water pump on the trailer they rent out, so my dad had to work on getting that fixed, as they couldn’t just leave for the winter while their renter had no water.
Eventually Kathleen arrived and we went inside, with Kathleen complaining about the sheer idiocy of people everywhere.
The place we’d chosen to meet for lunch is a big, upscale grocery store with a large food court.  It’s located directly across the street from our company’s HQ, and is therefore a popular lunch destination.
In deference to this, I noted that there was a sign listing some menu items that are actually named after some of our company’s products.
(As an aside, years ago I lived near a sub shop that I frequented regularly, generally getting the same thing.  I’ve been told that internally the sandwich had come to be referred to as the Jon-Paul Maki by the employees.)
Kathleen suggested that I take a picture of it, so I broke out the PDA and did so, at which point one of the employees said, “Sir, you can’t take pictures.”
I immediately went into smart-ass mode (though that’s pretty much my default mode anyway) and said, “Well, it’s a little late to point that out now,” then noted that it hadn’t turned out anyway, and, putting away my PDA, I said, “Okay, I’ll let you keep your state secrets.”
Kathleen described the policy as “gay” and said that it was only adding fuel to the fire of her existing bad mood.
When I said I didn’t know what I wanted for lunch, she said, “You want the same thing I do, but you can’t have it either:  some kind of big, frosty glass of something with lots of alcohol in it.”
She had a point, but that didn’t really help me to decide what to eat.
I ended up hitting the Chinese buffet.  Food is sold by weight, and what I bought was heavy enough to cost me $12 with my drink.
While we were eating I noticed an attractive women in a skirt and boots walking by (there were a lot of attractive women there; I always feel so rude in those situations as I’m talking to Kathleen and find my eyes wandering as if independent of my control to take in all of the scenery), and after she was past, Kathleen pointed out that she works with said attractive woman and that she had a story about her, though she had to finish her current story about a different co-worker first.
Once she finished her bitching….err, talking about her co-worker, she went on to tell me the story about the attractive woman.
Said story involved the woman borrowing a quarter from Kathleen, Kathleen later seeing her and, in an effort at initiating some friendly small talk, asking her if she got her snack or whatever she needed the quarter for, only to learn that the woman needed the quarter for a different kind of vending machine, and said revelation, being totally unexpected, left Kathleen feeling awkward and as though she had received too much information, too much information that she felt the need to pass on to others.
After lunch, having nothing else to do in the world, I came home.
My company requires that every employee undergo training in our standards for ethical and legal business conduct annually.  This is done through an interactive Web site and we can take time at work to do it, though not having speakers at my desk I would have to go to a different workstation to do so, so I decided to just do it from home and get it over with and claim the hour and a half it took me as OT, which is both ethical and legal.  How do I know?  I took the training.
Actually, the topics covered in the training had absolutely no bearing on me whatsoever, having to do with document retention and destruction, financial policies, and interacting with foreign officials.
It just boggles my mind that a company in which a good portion of the employees works in strictly technical fields, making no decisions involving any of the things covered in the training, there is no specifically applicable training for non-managers, instead requiring that everyone receive the same kind of training as everyone else.
I’m not a fucking accountant, I don’t make financial decisions, and I don’t have any access to financial records of any kind whatsoever.  I don’t make purchasing decisions, I’m not involved in sales, and I don’t work on contracts.
I monitor networks, period.  My interaction with other people is essentially limited to my counterparts employed by our vendors, technicians, and SAs.  I don’t need to know what’s considered a bribe in Uganda, okay?
Oh well.
As I get older I’m increasingly struck – and distressed – by the unreliability of my memory.  It’s often easier for me to remember things that happened 20 years ago than things that happened 20 minutes ago.
When reading, I frequently need to go back and reread a passage I’d read just minutes before.
One of the biggest problems, though, is my inability to simply recall something without requiring some sort of prodding.  I can’t just remember something on my own without having some kind of reminder.
This happens a lot with Scott and I as we discuss comics that we’ve read.  He might ask, “What’s going on in Nightwing?”  My response is usually something along the lines of, “Umm….you know….stuff.”
Scott will then say, “Wait, wasn’t that the one with the guy with the thing…?” which will spark my memory – however fuzzy it may be – enough for us to agree on at leas the broadest strokes of what’s happening.
That’s the problem, though; even with reminders, my memory still sucks.
In my case I’m not sure it’s entirely the result of age, as the period of heavy drinking that happened back some time or other (Who can remember when?) may have had some impact.
Even making a concerted effort to memorize things can be yield results that are spotty at best.
But as I said, events and facts that occurred sufficiently long ago – without being too long ago – I can often recall with crystal clarity.
A while back I was listening to the album Tribute, which features live recordings of Ozzy Osbourne and Randy Rhoads in concert.
A song finished and Ozzy was speaking to the crowd and I knew exactly what he was saying, spouting out, “Okay!  That’s what rock-n-roll’s about!  And the track we’re going to for you now is a number called Believer,” in perfect sync with him, even going so far as to extend the word “Believer” the exact way Ozzy did it.
Something similar happened the other night as I was flipping through the channels.  Apart from catching the tail-end of an episode the other night, it’s probably been like 20 years since I last watched an episode of Tales From the Dark Side.
And yet, as the opening sequence played the other night on Sci-Fi Channel the other night, I found myself, about a half a second ahead of the voiceover guy, saying, “Man lives in the sunlit world of what he believes to be reality.  BUT (with appropriate spooky emphasis), there is, unseen by most, an underworld.  A place that is just as real, but not as brightly lit.  A dark side.”
Now to be fair, in my early metalhead years I listened to Tribute so often that at this point it’s probably encoded in my DNA, but Tales from the Dark Side?  I was a casual viewer at best.
I mean, if I can pull the opening dialogue for Tales from the Dark Side out of my ass after 20 years why can’t I remember to buy eggs when I go to the store?
Or remember what my point was when I started writing this.
*Sigh*

Advantage Jon? Not Bloody Likely

So I went to the little homeowners meeting.
I learned a few things that were a little distressing, such as the fact that while there are 318 units in the development only 55 have been sold.
Stupid real estate market slowdown.
The other problem is that we aren’t going to be able to have any real say, as owners, in how things are done around here until after the last unit is sold, which could be well into the future.
However, at that point we get to decide on an actual board of directors for the homeowners’ association and we can decide to go with a different management company, different landscaping company, and so forth.
We can also, presumably, 86 the shitty cable company and go with a real cable company.
On the non-distressing side of things I learned that most of the concerns I have, such as the shitty cable company, are also the same concerns, for the most part, that the other owners have.
Not all 55 showed up.  In fact, there were only about a dozen of us there.  The only real thing that was decided is that we’ll probably have a holiday party and that, strangely enough, having it during the week would be the most convenient time for everyone.
The other thing I learned is what the demographics of the community are like, if we assume that this was a representative sample.
It’s mostly people who are older than I am.
In fact, there were only like four of us under 40.
Of course, what you’re probably all wondering, assuming that you’re wondering anything, is whether or not, within the under 40 component, there were any cute chicks.
Yes, there actually were.
One of them, a music teacher named Jen, was extremely cute.  I suppose she’s what you would call voluptuous, by which I mean she had big boobs.  
She was also very outgoing, and seemed to be the one person, among the owners, really driving the meeting.
Also, her ring finger was unencumbered, and she did make an effort to look my way several times, but that’s mostly because I arrived late, and I’m Jon, so I was kind of sitting apart from the rest of the group, so when she was talking her teacher training kicked in and she made sure to make eye contact with everyone, even the creepy loner sitting off by himself.
In any case, her presence might make me a little more inclined to get involved with my community.
Of course, there was one monkey wrench in the works in the form of one of the other under 40 people being a tall, strapping, good-looking firefighter.
So even if we assume that the music teacher actually is entirely single, as opposed to simply unmarried, I already have potential competition.
And I have to believe that a woman – any woman – will pick a tall, good-looking firefighter over a not very tall, nerdy, not very good-looking NOC Analyst 100% of the time.
Actually, my belief is that a woman – any woman – will pick any guy who isn’t Jon 100% of the time, and that belief has yet to be proven wrong.
On a completely unrelated note, as I was sitting down watching Law & Order SVU, I heard sirens nearby.  Given that I live near a busy street I didn’t think much of it, until I noticed just how nearby the siren was and heard police officers yelling for someone to get down on the ground.
Turns out the cops were in my parking lot busting someone in front of the building across from me.
I’m not sure what he did – and based on his protestations, he apparently wasn’t either – as I wasn’t nosy enough to go out and gawk, but couldn’t hear very well even through my open window, but eventually he was hauled away in cuffs.
Oh, and FYI, the episode of SVU that was on had a very sad ending.  It actually made me say, “That’s so sad.”
What was not sad, however, was tonight’s episode of The Colbert Report, which featured a “Salute to the American Lady.”
In one segment Stephen was talking to Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem about their women’s interests radio venture.  As they sat down to talk he realized that they should be over at “the set,” and brought them over to a kitchen set where the three of them conducted the interview while working together to bake an apple pie.  Minus the discussion, it was exactly the sort of thing you would see in a cooking segment on some morning talk show, and it was, quite frankly, one of the funniest and most brilliantly satirical things I’ve ever seen.  As he led them to the kitchen I had to stop eating the bowl of cereal that I had as a snack for fear of shooting Peanut Butter Crunch out of my nose.  Stephen keeps proving his genius over and over again.
I can’t help but wonder, though, if there are any people out there watching the show who don’t get the joke, watching faithfully and buying into his act and seeing him as someone who speaks for their beliefs.
I’m sure that there must be.
Hmm…I was saying that the Report wasn’t sad, but now that I think about that, I’m not so sure.

The Anniversary Of Momentous Events Or Denial Ain't Just A River In Brazil (Because It's In Egypt. Duh.)

First of all, Happy Birthday to my niece Jenni, who turns nine today.
One of the things that I remember most about the day Jenni was born was that later that evening there was a truly spectacular display of the Northern Lights.
If I recall correctly, it was also that weekend that, while out drinking with my friend Eric, a girl actually gave me her phone number, the first time such a thing had happened to me.
I remember waking up, hung over, the next morning and realizing what had happened.  Flush with a feeling of success, I said to Eric, “I got a girl’s phone number!”
“Yes,” he said, with a sort of paternal pride, “you did.”
Then he added, “But you can’t call her.”In a voice that was much smaller and much less triumphant, I said, “What?”
He went on to explain that he knew this girl and that she was trouble and that if I called her and began to pursue her, I would inevitably end up falling in lover with her and having my heart torn out, and so I had to “play it cool,” as it were, which meant that I couldn’t call her and that I had to pull back and avoid becoming attached at all costs.
Sleeping with her was, of course, acceptable, and was the ultimate goal, but I had to make sure that the whole thing was simply a meaningless hook-up.
I had to admit that he was right, for the most part.  I mean, I have my doubts that I would have fallen in love with her, but in the sober light of day it was clear that she was trouble.
After all, when I met her she was married and had a boyfriend.
She wasn’t exactly what you’d call a class act.
In the end I never even got a meaningless hook-up out of it, and, contrary to Eric’s hope, the receipt of her phone number was not the necessary boost to my ego that would make such a thing a regular event.
Anyway, the point is that nine years ago some momentous things happened, foremost of which was Jenni’s birth.
I went out this morning and finally did my grocery shopping.  Not much of note happened while I was going from aisle to aisle, apart from the brief appearance of a woman who looked like a slightly chunky version of Pam from The Office.  She looked enough like her to be her sister, and was even dressed the way Pam dresses.
However, as mentioned, I only saw her briefly as she appeared in an aisle long enough to grab something, then headed straight for a register and was long gone by the time I finished shopping.
When I had finished shopping I made my way to the self-checkout where a bachelor was just finishing up.  As he was paying I began loading my items onto the belt and while I was still doing so the cashier whose job it is to hang out by the self-checkout to help out just randomly came over and started ringing up and bagging my stuff.
I thought, “Okay…” and was uncertain as to whether I should be grateful or insulted.  I mean, was she just so bored that she figured she might as well do it for me, or did she look at me and assume that I wasn’t competent to work the self-checkout on my own?
Whatever the case I was soon home once again, where I began working on a picture that I had foolishly started late in the afternoon last Wednesday.
Checking my e-mail, I found, thanks to “Zalfiro,” that there is a third episode of Dexter which I had not yet seen, so I downloaded that and watched it.
After that it was back to work on the picture, and now I’m taking a break from that and doing this.

Back To Being Just A River In Egypt Department:
Anyone who has seen Brian’s latest entry over on Becoming a Firefighter has learned that he is no longer in denial about the fact that he is a dead ringer for actor Jeff Daniels.
He’s been denying it for as long as people have been saying it, so I’m glad to see that he’s finally accepted the truth.
Also, as Michigander, I want to thank Brian for his recent efforts shilling for the state of Michigan in TV spots.
Oh, wait.  That actually is Jeff Daniels in those commercials.
Quick creepy Jeff Daniels fact:  In the movie Fly Away Home, Jeff Daniels and Anna Paquin, who was at the time 14, played the part of father and daughter.
Nine years later in the movie The Squid and the Whale, they worked together again, this time playing lovers.
Can I get a huge ewwwwwwww?
Anyway, to help Brian ease into learning to live with the fact that he looks like Jeff Daniels, I thought I would point out that things could be much worse.
I mean, you could look like that guy who was born without fingernails and sweat glands, and is completely hairless, from the original version of The Hills Have Eyes, and who played the principal in the Motely Crue video for Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room.
Or how about Tor Johnson, star of Plan 9 From Outer Space?
Think how much worse your life would be if you looked like Hitler.  Or Bin Laden.  Or Carrot Top.
Worse yet, you could look like the celebrity I’ve been accused of looking like.
(And no, I’m not going to tell you who that is.  If you can’t see it on your own that’s your problem.)
All I’m saying is that there are worse things in life than looking like someone who’s most famous for a scene featuring him sitting on a toilet and having explosive diarrhea.

Anyway, I suppose I should get to work on dinner, as I have to be somewhere in about an hour.
My condo association is having a meeting tonight to give the condo owners a chance to meet and to create “activity committees” that will plan future events.  I have no intention of joining any committees, or participating in any of the events, but I figure I should at least check it out and meet some of my neighbors.
I’m sure it’ll be a blast.

Seriously Boring Day

I woke up this morning sometime shortly before 9 and as I was lying there in bed I thought, “Any minute now someone from my dentist office is going to call to confirm my appointment tomorrow.”
Within two minutes I was proven right…and wrong.
I did get the call, but my appointment is for Wednesday.
Either way I was up and so I got started on my usual morning routine of sitting around and not doing much of anything, with an eye toward eventually showering, shaving, getting dressed, and going grocery shopping.
At around 10 I realized that it was a holiday and that would mean more than the usual number of people being out and about.  I decided that I didn’t really need to go grocery shopping and that I wasn’t especially interested in doing so.
I also realized that I wasn’t especially interested in being awake either, so I got back into bed for about an hour and a half.
After I got up again I pretty much spent the rest of the day doing nothing again.
Seriously; I did jack today.
I watched a movie, watched the finale of Eureka, and watched the latest episode of Dexter.
Eventually I made hamburgers for dinner and that was pretty much the high point of the day.
Based on the seven million sirens I’m hearing now I’m guessing that Brian is probably having a much more exciting evening than I am.
Oh, and to fill in, briefly, for Scott once again, last night’s episode of The Venture Bros. was another winner, though it was a little light on the Brock ultra-violence, though as it is a two-parter there’s still time.  Best bit of the episode?  Phantom Limb using some of The Monarch’s former prison acquaintances as skeet-shooting targets.
Anyway, I don’t have the energy for a proper entry (what with today being so exhausting), so this one is going to have to suffice.

Laughing At Perverts, A "Hard" Movie To Watch, It's Midnight, There's Money, And It's Madness!

So last night after I got home from work I ordered a pizza, as for a variety of reasons I never got around to eating a proper lunch ag work, and then I sat down to watch the hours of TV shows that had come on after my extremely early bedtime over the past few days which I had recorded.
Among the shows I recorded was the latest installment in the Dateline NBC series in which they set up sting operations to catch online sexual predators.
If you’re unfamiliar with the show, basically they have decoys from a group called Perverted Justice who go into chat rooms pretending to be teens (typically a 13 year-old girl) and engage in conversations with adult men which, invariably, and generally pretty quickly, turn to sex. They then encourage the would-be suitors to come meet them at their home where the parents will be “away” and get to know each other better.
The house is filled with hidden cameras, and a correspondent from Dateline is waiting in the wings with printouts of the chat logs to have a little face-to-face discussion with the men to ask them just what they were planning to do as they show up to spend some time with a 13 year-old girl.
Generally they claim they had no intention of doing anything improper, and that the chat sessions were all “fantasy” which they would have never acted upon, even though they showed up at the real house of the object of their fantasies – generally with alcohol and condoms in their cars.
After talking with the correspondent (or running away the second they spot him, usually when they’re attempting to spy on the actress posing as their dream girl, who has stepped behind a divider where the correspondent is waiting, ostensibly for the purposes of changing into a swimsuit so that they can get in the hot tub together), they head merrily on their way, albeit somewhat frustrated, at which point the cops swoop down on them and bust them.
It’s essentially the same thing over and over again, but watching it never gets old. There are just so many things that make it compelling. For one thing, you can’t help but wonder at the compulsive need that drives these men to take such stupid risks. I mean, the show’s been on the air long enough that you have to know that you’re being set up, and yet these sick bastards are willing to take the risk on the off-chance that they really might get to have sex with a 13 year-old. In fact, in the previews for an upcoming episode they show that they’re catching someone whom they’ve caught once before in a different sting.
Listening to the excuses they come up with is entertaining as well, particularly when everything they claim can instantly be contradicted by the chat logs. One guy tried to claim that he was having a party and one of his friends got on the computer and pretended to be him as a joke. The story didn’t hold up long, though, as the chats had occurred over multiple days. Straight-faced, the correspondent asks, “Was this party going on for many days?”
For me, though, the best part is just watching these grown men sit down and cry like babies as they realize just how much they’ve screwed their lives up and you can sit there and not feel the least bit of sympathy or feel even slightly bad about taking pleasure in their misery because they fucking deserve it.
You could probably make a case for saying this entrapment, but I don’t think that flies. We’re not talking about someone who was tricked into buying a nickel bag of pot for his own personal use or some other non-violent, petty crime that is essentially victimless. Sure, there is no actual 13 year-old girl involved in this at any point (even the actress waiting at the house pretending to be the girl is over 18), but the fact of the matter is that the pedophiles don’t know that, and it’s really only luck of the draw that they ended up chatting with a decoy rather than a real teenager.
The latest episode had a special treat in the form of footage of disgraced Congressman Mark Foley appearing on MSNBC and praising the efforts of Dateline to capture online predators. And people wonder why I love irony so much.
Shortly after I finished watching my recorded TV I decided to pop in the X3 DVD.
In a strange confluence of events, with the episode of Dateline still in the back of my mind, I remembered as I was watching a scene featuring Kitty Pryde that the actress portraying Kitty, Ellen Page, had appeared in an independent film in which she played a teen girl lured into a real-life meeting with a pedophile she had been chatting with over the Internet.
From what I’d seen about the movie, called Hard Candy, it was supposed to be extremely suspenseful and intense and have a rather unexpected twist.
With that in mind, I did a search for the movie and set it to download before I went to bed, and today I watched it.
Holy. Freaking. God.
“Suspenseful” and “intense” and “twist” don’t even begin to cover it.
I have to say that while I initially thought that Page wasn’t pretty enough to play Kitty (and I honestly still feel that way), I was impressed by her performance in X3, and warmed to her considerably.
However, I was completely blown away by her performance in Hard Candy. One of the best performances I’ve ever seen.
In addition to Page’s performance, the movie works because of how much it leaves up to the imagination, never really straying into any kind of lurid, obvious creepiness of the sort you often see in movies that try to say that something is bad while at the same time presenting visuals that will appeal to the people who enjoy engaging in this ostensibly “bad” behavior.
I’ve read mostly overwhelmingly positive reviews of this movie, with a peppering of overwhelmingly negative reviews, but I think most of the negative reviews are based on faulty assumptions and at least a couple of them are based on faulty wiring in their brains.
That being said, this is not a joyful, happy, life-affirming movie and it is not easy to watch. It doesn’t give you easy answers. It doesn’t tell you how you should feel. It’s ambiguous and it – and this is the part that makes it bothersome for some people – makes you think, leaving it up to you to make up your own mind.
I went into the movie having at least an idea of what to expect, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and while there were some plot holes and some moments that dragged and felt like padding, for the most part it literally had me on the edge of my seat, except when it had me squirming in my seat.
Still, I’m not really recommending this movie to anyone. I enjoyed it, but I don’t know that any of you would (except “Zalfiro,” who called me shortly after I started watching – it was good to talk to him, as it’s been a while – and to whom I do recommend this movie beause I know him well enough to think his reaction will be similar to mine).
And I don’t know that “enjoyed” is the right word either. Let’s just say I reacted to it very strongly and I was impressed by the performances.
Anyway, between talking to my mother, watching the movie, and talking to “Zalfiro,” that pretty much covers my day so far.
My work week was pretty long and boring as I was forced to work sans Scott, which always makes things boring. I have another weekend of that to look forward to.
When I was off, Scott had informed me that “Replacement Jon,” the person working OT to fill in for me, was nowhere near as entertaining as “Real Jon.” The same goes for “Replacement Scott.”
Thursday I found out that our desk is taking on what seems like a pretty big new job responsibility, so hopefully that’s a good sign for our continued future.
Brian and Kathleen were down to one vehicle, which Kathleen needed, on Thursday, so Brian had to catch a ride with me. During the day I realized that I’d forgotten to pick up a birthday card for my niece Jenni (she’ll be 9 on Tuesday), so after dropping him off I headed to Super Target to pick one up, along with a couple of other things.
On my way towards the express line I saw yet another of those extremely suprising Super Target Very Nice Asses, but once I got up closer I discovered that it was mostly a combination of distance and position that made it seem very nice, and that it was, actually, rather flat. That was disappointing, but I did still scrutinize the owner of the not-so nice ass because she had this pants-footwear-pose combination that I’ve tried, and failed, many times to reproduce in a drawing.
It’s a very difficult thing to describe, so I really can’t tell you what it’s like, and, as mentioned, I’m completely incapable of showing you.
Anyway, it’s an odd pose, and it seems like it be kind of uncomfortable, which is perhaps why I so seldom see it.

You Should Totally Try This Department:
During my vacation I stumbled across something on late-night TV called Midnight Money Madness.
It airs on TBS on Monday-Thursday sometime after, as the name implies, midnight, right after the day’s 7,000th consecutive episode of Everybody Loves Raymond.
In any case, it’s a live game show hosted by a cute British chick, which gives viewers the opportunity to win cash.
You can read the Wikipedia entry describing the show here.
To summarize, though, they have on-air puzzles which you can call in to try to solve and will win cash, of varying amounts, for doing so. Typically most puzzles are worth $200.
Alternatively, you can send a text message to a number and they will call you on your cell phone.
Admittedly it will cost you money to call in (99 cents per call), or to send the text message, and you’re not guaranteed to get through (apparently you have a one in ten chance of being a participant if you call in, which seems like pretty good odds to me), but the thing is, you can try to call in or text ten times a night, and the puzzles are really, really easy.
If you get through, you’re pretty much guaranteed to win the money…unless you’re a total retard.
Which is the other thing: most of the people who call in are total retards.
And when a given puzzle goes a sufficiently long time without being solved, they add money to it. And if it goes unsolved entirely they add the money to the base prize of the next game. So you could call in, solve some ridiculously easy puzzle that some redneck from Throatwaller, Arkansa, couldn’t solve, and win like $1,200 while the rest of the rednecks are busy trying to figure out how to mash them keys on that newfangled teller-fone machine.
And you can do it night after night. I’ve seen several people win on multiple nights.
Sure, it costs you money, but if you’re winning, what difference does it make? From what I’ve seen you’re bound to more than break even.
I mean, what if you spent $10 a night calling in, but averaged $300 a week in winnings?
I haven’t participated in it personally because, for a variety of reasons, I can’t, but many of you can, and, I think, should.
Beyond offering you the chance to win money, it’s actually pretty entertaining to watch. It’s weird and sort of manic and it obviously has an extremely low budget.
In a recent episode, Jerilee, the cute British chick, actually knocked the gameboard off its stand, forcing them to go to commercial. When they returned the crew was securing the board with electrical tape.
GSN has a similar show, I noticed, complete with cute British chick, but it didn’t seem as entertaining to me.
Anyway, check it out when you get a chance.

The evening is rapidly approaching and I suppose I should think about reheating some pizza and having a meal, so I guess I’ll bring this overly-long entry to a close.