Monday, November 17, 2008

The Screenplay Would Never Sell

So imagine a new play or movie-or even a Greek myth- based upon this comedy of errors:

The story is of two heroes, Fortuno and Marino. Although not a perfect pairing, our heroes enjoy a challenging and unusual bond. Eventually internal conflict and the desire to travel to new lands prompts Marino to decide to change the connection. Marino writes to Fortuno and requests a meeting, suggesting details forthcoming in a letter. Fortuno is anxious but agrees to await the letter. Fortuno waits. And waits. And waits some more. Fortuno becomes angry that the mystery is never explained and that no letter arrives. Having no way to reach Marino other than by also sending a letter, Fortuno decides to write Marino, expressing frustration and sadness and ultimately ending their connection. After Fortuno sends this heartfelt missive, Marino never responds. Fortuno misses Marino very much but can only assume a callus and unfeeling former friend. Many misunderstandings, hard feelings, assumptions of insanity and hijinx ensue. The twist, revealed much later is that Marino had actually sent a very long and detailed letter to Fortuno that was never received. Marino of course assumed Fortuno had gotten the letter and was completely confused by what appeared to be an angry and nonsensical response.

Nah, that would never sell. Too implausible and silly for the modern world.

Just in case things like that do happen, I will in the future refrain from describing the character of Marino as 'jerkface'.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

See...


Even lolcats love Rachel...

Monday, November 10, 2008

Post Election Musings

Wow. It's been a long time coming, that's for sure.

Rachel Maddow (yeah, haven't mentioned her in a few posts so of course I will now) said before the election: If, when seeing all the postive news, polls and signs showing Obama will most likely win the election, you are still terrified something will happen to snatch this away, you are a Democrat.

Guilty as charged. I was fearful until the very moment California and the rest of the states that put him over the top were called for Obama. My friends chide me for my lack of faith but I tell them I've had 8 years of rotten luck so forgive my lack of positive outlook.

Now that what I see as the nearly-impossible has happened, I think I'm still a bit dumbstruck. I believe it without totally letting my head wrap around the concept. The main feeling I have is peace. A sense of quiet and lightness and calm. I'm not quite sure what to do with all the energy I have spent the last few years shaking my fist and fuming at the way things were going. I obviously need a new hobby. I would feel disloyal to what this new era means if I were only to return to my role of playful gadabout so I do hope to find meaningful volunteer opportunities soon. Suggestions are welcome.

In the meantime, let's dance.

Tuesday, November 04, 2008

Holy Hateful, Batman!

Monday, November 03, 2008

"Packing" for Denver

OK so this will be one of those rather revealing posts but since I can very easily see the hilarity in it I'm going to share it with you. (Whoever 'you' may be.)

I went on a mojo-restoring trip to Denver this weekend to see an old hookup. As I was preparing to pack I polled a few friends on what I should do about the sensitive subject of the uh... 'personal items' I was taking with me on the flight.

My friend C said, "Hell, take them in a carry-on bag and if you get searched, look them straight in the eye without a hint of embarrassment as if to say, 'yeah- those are my dicks. What of it?"

My frisky Denver recipient of the visit said, "Dude- just check your bag."

My roomie said, "Hmm, I wouldn't want to take the chance. Best to check it."

I ended up thinking that would indeed be the best option. Not that checked bags don't get searched, but at least I wouldn't be standing there when it happened.

I checked the bag on the way to Denver with no incidents but it cost an extra 15 bucks. Phooey.

So, on the way back I decided to try for carry-on with my bag.*

*Oh, for those who wonder- yes, awesome time in Denver. Mojo restored big time. :)

Anyway, so the airport in Denver is really crowded and I hate going through security anyway. I feel like there must be a big visible thought-bubble floating over my head saying 'this woman has something to hide'. I'm fumbling with the backpack with my laptop computer, my coat (which has become way too warm to wear inside but I'm stuck with it on) and the dreaded bag with the 'stuff'. Then, about 10 yards from the security conveyor I see this sign saying all your liquids have to be in a clear plastic bag carried separately from your luggage. (Why Austin didn't insist on this I'll never know) I take one of the ziplocks and then kneel on the floor trying to pull out all the travel toiletries from my bag. Dammit! Why did I take the cute little shampoo and conditioner from the hotel? So here I am, rifling through my bags on the airport floor, people stepping over me and of course at this point, I'm sweating like a whore in church. I finally seem to locate all my travel stuff, throw it into the bag and then negotiate the strip-down, taking off my shoes and belt and coat (thank goodness) in addition to pulling out my laptop and lastly, putting the 'dangerous' carry-on onto the conveyor. I walk through the metal detector without setting off any bells or whistles, start grabbing for my things and then I hear the horrible declaration from Homeland Security:

"Bag check. Bag check."

My bag.

Of course MY bag.

I stand rooted to the spot, barefoot, pants sliding down my butt, heart thudding, looking for all the world like a dykey, disheveled very-nervous terrorist.

I watch the security guy grab my bag. Then toss it aside. Then pluck from the conveyor my plastic baggie of 'liquids'. He unzips it, pulls out my full-sized, incredibly threatening...

tube of Colgate.

"I'm sorry Ma'am. This is over 3.5 ounces. We can't let you go through with this."

In stunned disbelief I mumble, "O.K, you can keep it."

They shove everything else toward me and I hurriedly reassemble my belongings and sprint for my airline gate, silently thanking my sex-positive guardian angels and being very glad I still have a few xanex in my pocket for the flight.