Ruminating Slav

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

So BK's been out of town a lot this month. Baxter was very excited to have him back this weekend.



What has the Slav been up to, you ask? Well! I hope you're sitting down. After I read Harry Potter #7 I was so sad and woeful about the series being over that I went back and read all seven books in a row. After that I was all excited about reading so I read all 13 Stephanie Plum mysteries. I figured this Janet Evanovich couldn't be all bad if she was publicly admitting to reading Buffy Season 8. Now I'm itching to sink my teeth into another thoughtless yet not completely crap mystery series. Suggestions?

Last night BK tried to take me out to eat for my birthday, but seeing as he hadn't actually made any reservations the waiter at Bijoux laughed at us when we strolled in and asked for a table. We ended up at Rouge, which served surprisingly good tapas. I also limited myself to two sangrias, which, as anyone who's ever been around me when I've consumed too much sangria can vouch for, is a very good thing. Then we saw Superbad, which was good fun. I enjoyed all 186 uses of the word "fuck."

This week marks my last week of employment before my shit-canning goes into effect. I guess that's a little bit of boo and yay combined. I've had a laid-off version of senioritis since I heard the news, so it'll be nice to not have to do work seasoned with resentment any more. But then, no more paycheck, however meager. This week we're also tagging along with BK on a business trip to NYC, which should be nice for a change of pace. It might even be cool enough to go outside, something we haven't experienced in the post-8 am hours for months here in Texas. Central Park, here we come!

Post-Oscar thoughts on cinema

Apple, consider yourself in my good graces again. I dropped my Macbook Pro off at a DHL facility last Wednesday and got it back yesterday morning, with everything fixed. Houston repair center service technician number 31514, I salute you. I am enjoying the hell out of my DSPL, 15.4", WXGA++, AG, CHIMEI, M1. Whatever the hell that is. (New screen, I'm assuming?)

Internets, let's discuss the cinema. Namely, could someone solve the mystery of why movies that are regarded as "good" have to be so fucking depressing 95% of the time? What's with the suffering? The over-the-top brutality? Is it not possible to make an engaging film that is in some way extraordinary and will make you think without the pain and torture? Granted, the last few movies I've seen were Pan's Labyrinth, The Departed, and Babel, so maybe I'm due for a break. Check out what one Mr. Thomas Dunham has to say in his amazon.com review of Babel:

What a depressing film. This film is basically about a highly unlikey series of unfortunate events occuring to a small group of people, with each event more depressing and unbelievable than the last. It's an emotional snuff film, offering only a voyeuristic trip into human misery. If you like to watch people suffer at the mercy of situations beyond their control, then then film is for you!

About midway through this film it began to strike me almost as a parady of itself; the never-ending chain of gut-wrenching, anguishing events were truly over-the-top. The same movie could have been made simply by filming little children as their pet-kittens are pryed from their hands, and then thrown out the window into oncoming traffic. Do we really need a film to tell us how random and cruel life can be, or have people forgotten?

Now, I will admit that since Baxter came along I have become an enormous weenie, but still. Doesn't life throw enough sadness our way that we don't need to sit through one man killing another man by beating his nose back into his head with a beer bottle? What does that teach us? Why is our choice so often either one of these cinematic reminders of man's capacity to be monsterous or You, Me, and Dupree?

A couple of things that do not suck

1. Little Miss Sunshine. One of the best movies I've seen in ages. If you haven't seen it, go. If you don't like it, I will personally refund you the price of the ticket. (I'll need a receipt.)

2. The price of the birthday HDTV just went down on amazon so I called them up and they refunded BK's credit card $229. Sweetness.

Nerdsville, U.S.A.

Completely solidifying the notion that I have become Joss Whedon's queen bitch, I currently have this sitting on top of my Netflix pile at home. I'm so ashamed that I can't even bring myself to type it. Is there anyone out there who's actually seen this? I'm looking at you, Tom Wanat.

Did you know Joss Whedon was actually born "Joe Whedon" and named himself Joss? Really! These are the sorts of fascinating tidbits you learn when the length of your baby's nap verges on concern-causing and you've pretty much finished the internet in an epic quest to put off working on That Damn Annual Report for work (I'm not a total failure! I've got 11 pages done so far!).

Also. Did you know that the strategery-filled board game Blokus is available to play online at the game's official web site? The Java applet doesn't appear to work in Safari or Firefox on Intel Macs, but oddly enough does in Flock, which is fun and pretty and you Firefox extention people can sneer down your noses at me for liking it and feel all superior, bully for you. Anyway, many thanks to C. and K. to introducing us to the Tetrisy fun of Blokus this past weekend. You'll be proud to hear I have picked up the physical version of the game in hopes of inciting a Blokus Revolu in Panama City this weekend.

Oh! And the Zach Braff movie that comes out this fall, Last Kiss, looks pretty sweet:

Poop of the non-baby variety

So! Here's some things. Last night BK and I went on our first date since Baxter was born. I know, right? Shameful. Everything was hunky-dork* until we set off for the restaurant and realized that all of the exits off the highway were closed because the service road was a lake for miles on accounta the 40 days and 40 nights-style rain Dallas experienced this weekend. Because having a baby has mellowed me out considerably, according to BK anyway, I responded to this change in plans with a "meh," as opposed to my usual barrage of cursing, huffing, and moaning. I remembered reading something good many, many moons ago about a Cuban restaurant in Dallas, so I called my friend C. to telegoogle (thanks, C!) and we soon found ourselves at the Samba Room which surprised the hell outta me by being really frickin' good despite both barbacoa and sushi being on the menu (WTF?). Mojitos? Good! Ceviche? Good! Sea bass? Good! Blue crab California roll? Good! Really! Oh, and wee little key lime pie in a shot glass? Also good. We then went to see V for Vendetta which I was resigned to simply providing company for, but turned out to be also good! We rolled on in after midnight, so I guess that should do me another 6 months until the next time the in-laws come visitin'.

Speaking of the in-laws, I have never met people who poop more often in my life. My mother-in-law, in particular, poops three to five times a day. This results in many poop-themed anecdotes from the weekend, like that time I was in our bedroom and my mother-in-law didn't know it so she closed the bathroom door that leads to the hall but not the one that opens to the bedroom and proceeded to have violent diarrhea 10 feet away from me OR the time BK and I were in the nursery changing Baxter's diaper and were conversing very loudly about why does it smell like shit in here when his diaper wasn't poopy and is it coming from over here, no, is it coming from over there, no, oh it's coming from the bathroom and then cue long, uncomfortable silence. But seriously, people. Constant pooping.

My smiley little baby has been a McCrankster Supreme the past couple of weeks, which has the effect of slowly beating me down over the course of the day so that when precious, precious free time rolls around the last thing I want to do is try to assemble a coherent blog post and instead slump in the armchair watching multiple Buffy episodes back-to-back with a thin rivulet of drool trickling from the corner of my mouth. C. and K., Baxter thanks you for his Longhorn gear which he looks quite smashing in.

* This was some sort of freudian typo that made me softly cackle when I previewed so I left it.

Reel Moms 2005

I've been attending the Loews Reel Moms movie showings every week since Baxter has been three weeks old. Here's what I've seen:

• Prime: Meryl Streep a great actress and Uma Thurman's damn tall. That's about all I can say about this one. C
• Chicken Little: Lord knows I love me some Zach Braff but this one's a stinker. Haven't the animation folks learned that consistently funny sidekick characters are key? C-
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Awfully fast paced and the theater took the Reel Moms low volume thing a little bit too much too heart, so I'd like to see it again, but good overall. B
• Walk the Line: Awesome acting all around, and Joaquin Phoenix is amazingly hot. A-
• Rent: I didn't like the musical on stage, so it's not surprising I wasn't a big fan of the movie version either. C
• The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe: All the critics are right - the little girl who plays Lucy is fantastic. I was afraid it would be terrible, but I was pleasantly surprised. B+
• The Family Stone: Ungh, what the hell? SJP being uptight and not Carrie Bradshaw, Diane Keaton being ... Diane Keaton (the woman is not an actress -- she's the same person, wardrobe included, in every movie she's in). And what a sad excuse for a plotline. C-

I also saw Pride and Prejudice one weekend while BK watched the baby. My heart remains with the BBC version, but I liked it quite a bit -- B.

I'm missing Cheaper by the Dozen 2 next week since we'll be on our way back from Mississippi. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Before the hand grease slick-down

spiky hair
Originally uploaded by *Karo*.

Some updates from the House of Slav:

* Bax and I went to our first Reel Moms movie last week. Unfortunately last week's movie was Prime, and Prime sucked. This Tuesday we've got Chicken Little to look forward to. I have high hopes the Loews powers that be will throw us a bone soon and pick a decent movie. The new Harry Potter would be nice, or maybe Pride and Prejudice (although the thought of sitting through two hours of an IMPOSTER Darcy, i.e. not Colin Firth, breaks my heart just a little).

* Baxter has successfully entered into the world of bottles, hooray! Now that BK can take the occassional night feeding I see more than three uninterrupted hours of sleep in my future. Sweet.

* BK goes to goddamn WALES next week. Actually, I'm lying; he was supposed to go to Wales but the meeting has been moved to the much-easier-to-get-to London. I like to bitch and moan about WALES though because who the fuck goes to WALES besides the Prince of Wales, who, incidentally, was on 60 Minutes the other week and is a total ponce.

Anyhoo, BK will be gone Tuesday through Friday of next week so keep your fingers crossed for me internets, that I am able to manage this parenting gig on my own for the duration of the trip.

March to snoozeville

Dear America,

On your recommendation, I went to see the penguin movie tonight. And with the full knowledge that this will forever brand me as an anti-penguinite who probably likes to eat fried kitten sandwiches, can I just say, yawn? Oh, and also, boo.

Look, it's not that I can't appreciate the trials and tribulations that evolution has set in place for the survival of the emperor penguin species. I can marvel at their struggle with the best of them. It's just that I don't need Morgan Freeman shoving it down my throat in a gooey anthropomorphized paste of "love," "joyfulness" and "desperation" set to crescendoing mood music. THEY'RE BIRDS, people. They don't fall in love, they don't get sad when their babies freeze to death. They're just doing what nature has programmed them to do for thousands of years. And while I think I would have enjoyed a 30-minute National Geographic special on them immensely, I found 80 minutes of tender beak rubbing a little on the lengthy side, not to mention somewhat insulting.

In all fairness, America, allow me to say that when it comes to the comic genius of Vince Vaughan in The Wedding Crashers, though, I am fully on board with you on that one.

Sincerely,
Karo

The post in which I am no fun and ruin Star Wars for everyone

Holy Heat Index, Batman! It's been 98 degrees in the shade round these parts for the past few days, and I'm not 100% sure that I remembered to put on deodorant this morning.

BK dragged me to Star Wars Saturday night. Yawn. And it's not like I'm one of those women who are unable to appreciate movies that do not star Will Smith or J. Lo in a romantic comedy lead (although those are fine too). But honestly, George Lucas. You need some help dude. Every one of the love scenes between Padme and Anakin was sheer torture. Death by boredom/the world's worst dialogue. While I'm at it, here's a short list of Shit that Did Not Make Sense (spoiler alert):

• Padme is dying and the robot doctor must operate to save the babies. Yet then she grunts them out the regular way under the lower-body birthin' hood (note to self: find out if this is available at Presby).
  
  
• The Emperor zaps Windu and Anakin moans, "What have I done?" And then he turns around and pledges his loyalty to the Dark Side. Um. Ok.
  
  
• They wipe C-3PO's memory but not R2D2's. Why doesn't R2D2 spill the beans about mom and pops in episode IV? And while I'm at it, how COINCIDENTAL that those very droids end up in the possession of their former owner's son. Because there's only a gadzillion planets in the Empire.
  
  
• Hey! We need to hide these babies somewhere where the Dark Side forces will never find them! Oh, I know! Let's give one to Organa, one of leaders of the resistance, and let's send the other to relatives. THEY'LL NEVER THINK TO LOOK THERE.
  
  
• What was the point of Yoda's big speech about Qui-Gon Jinn learning to be immortal and teaching Obi-Wan to talk to him? Is that just an elaborate explanation for how Luke is able to commune with Obi-Wan down the line?
  
  
• If General Grievous (scary as hell btw; hey, parents of Dallas, WHY ARE YOU TAKING YOUR 4-YEAR-OLDS TO THIS MOVIE) was truly trained in the ways of the Jedi and he's got fours arms with a lightsaber in each, I don't think it'd be quite so easy for Obi-Wan to hack him to bits.
  
  
• Why is breathing/surviving no problemo on a planet of molten frickin lava?
  
  
• It takes over 20 years to build the first Death Star (you can see the frame at the end of Episode III) but they slap the next one together in a matter of months?
  
  
• If Yoda is hundreds of years old as we are lead to believe during his Swamp Confessions, then how does he not know that Chancellor Palpatine is a Bad Guy trained by Darth Badass Who Cheated Death?
  
  
• And finally, HELLO. THE DUDE WAS EN FUEGO. Completely roasty-toasty with no arms and no legs! And I'm supposed to believe that he somehow put himself out and dragged himself to safety with his robo-arm and waited for the Emperor to save his ass? Not. Buying. It.

I'm two-toed, how about you?

Such a weekend of sloth you never did see as what went on in the Slav household for the past couple of days. We made it out of the house Friday night and saw In Good Company at the Studio Movie Grill. Nothing says good times like a middlin' movie accompanied by cheese fries and Shiner. Mmmm-mmm!

Saturday night we went to the Improv and saw a very spastic gentleman named Pablo Francisco. Please enjoy the following quote from the Improv web site:

Pablo brings forth strikingly authentic off-the-wall sound effects and brilliant impressions. He takes the stage with the confidence to improvise and has a talent that is undeniable.

Fuck yeah!

I also managed to churn through about 6 Alias episodes (almost done with season one!), and we watched The Forgotten (which gets an official Slav rating of "meh").

Sunday started off on a high note, featuring some dee-lighful waffles made by yours truly. We decided to go with the Joy of Cooking recipe this time around, as opposed to the Fannie Farmer version BK has been sticking with since we got the waffle iron (we rock the Hamilton Beach Flip 'n Fluff). Eggs were separated! Whites were beaten into stiff peaks!

The day pretty much went downhill from there. I plopped my ass down and watched the extended version of Return of the King, while BK escaped from the booming surround-sound Nazgul screeches and read comic books in the study. Soon the weekend was over, and all that was left was peering at Buster's last-walk-of-the-day poo to make sure that his intestines weren't being shredded to bits by the sharp, hard pieces of plastic that he gnawed off a contraband spatula Friday afternoon.

Wheeee!