Check out my new blog, with fresh content today about Fox’s “More To Love” fat dating show.
As some of you have already noticed (and commented, yay thanks!), I have moved to my own domain! This, of course, has me cracking jokes to myself about being the master of my domain way too often for it to be amusing to anyone but me.
But anywho, check me out: http://www.bookishpenguin.com
My friend John is working on a custom header for me and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with. I made a joke about having a seasonal header and he didn’t even laugh! He was like, “Well, sure, we could do that!” Uhh, wow, how nice! But for now I think I’m going to start with an all-purpose header.
So why do this? Well, I’ve been having this nagging fear that someone was going to snatch the domain up and I’d have to come up with a new moniker (and this one was already hard enough to come up with and I’ve grown super, super attached to it). Also, writing this blog for the past half year has REALLY gotten the writer in me back up and running. I had a gut feeling (literally, in my gut) that I missed writing… I just didn’t let myself realize HOW much because I was 1 – probably lazy and 2 – probably worried about sucking or failing.
Well, sucking, failing, and laziness be damned. I don’t know what will become of my little blog – if it’ll ever be more than a catch-all for my own interests, opinions, and obsessions, but I do love it. I really do.
So pleeeease, please, please, please follow me on over there, okay? Bookmark the site or add it to your Google Reader (have I mentioned how much I loooooove Google Reader???).
Oh, and for those who asked if it was hard to move over. Nope, not at all. I am far from a techie whiz (that’s the hubby) and I did this all by myself (yay, big girl, clap hands). I’m using SquareSpace for the platform and GoDaddy for the domain. I even imported all my WordPress entries (they’re under the “The Wayback Machine” link on the new site).
So please check me out: http://www.bookishpenguin.com. (Once John creates my banner and a matching button, I’m totally going to put up a link button, yay.)
This week I have had the responsibility of attending both a wedding and a wake, big events in the life cycle (right up there with birth). At both of these events, as much as I tried to just be in the moment, I couldn’t help but ponder people’s sartorial choices.
Really? White? At a wedding?
Really? White? At a wake?
I know we live in a time where people wear jeans to the opera. I’ve worn jeans to Broadways shows. College students wear pajamas to class. Starlets go without underwear. People buy expensive or fancy or just nice-looking sandals, and then let their crusty, unkempt toes hang out for all to see.
I’m not a body-hair lunatic. If you’re a woman and you’re rocking a moustache and you don’t care about it, that’s fine – you go on with your bad Frida Kahlo self. But I think you should be required to make a bit of an effort with the hair on top of your head if you are attending a wedding. At a funeral or wake, you are grieving and I do not expect you to put extraordinary effort into your hair, although I do expect you to be in dark and respectful clothing.
Witnessed this week:
- a guest wearing a white dress at a wedding (not partially white, not a pattern with white in it – a fully white sundress, seriously)
- boobs out for all the world to see – I understand you’re young and beautiful and single and at a wedding, but it was very, very difficult for me to carry on a conversation with my husband because I (*I* – not him!) couldn’t help but stare at your boobs; they’re a beautiful work of nature, to be sure, but could you at least sit up straight?
- a casual Friday work outfit at a wedding where most people were in cocktail attire
- a flouncy miniskirt with no leggings, at a funeral
- leggings but no skirt, same funeral
- v-neck shirts at the funeral that would have only just been appropriate for the wedding
I could go on, but that’s a fair enough sampling. I’m not an etiquette lunatic (although, full disclosure: I do own the 900 page Emily Post etiquette book), but I am a big fan and proponent of decorum. There are certain times in life when certain sartorial choices are necessary; weddings and funerals are two big ones.
Yes, we are undergoing the great casualization of America and I love my jeans and sneakers as much as the next person, but the situation must warrant the pairing. Be respectful of the situation. If you have kids, let them know that the skirt is too short for a wake or that they really should button one more button on their shirt. If your dress really needs you to put on some Spanx, then put them on.
It’s a bit overwhelming to contemplate a marriage and a death in the span of a few days and I apologize for concentrating on this part of it for now, but I do think it’s important. This way, when you get there, you and the other guests can simply focus on the event at hand and celebrate life and love.
I started out yesterday not quite as bummed as I was Monday night, but still below the water line, so to speak. The day progressed adequately and soon day became night. I left work, hurried through Trader Joe’s to pick up a few fresh items for dinner, rushed home, made a salsa and put it in the fridge so it could chill and the flavors could meld, went to the laundromat, washed and dried the clothes the hubby and I need to attend our friend’s brother’s wake tonight, and dashed back home to make dinner (Tex-mex Chicken with Chiles and Cheese). Fifteen minutes before the hubby is due home, I get a text message:
“Somebody sideswiped my car while I was inside work, scratching the entire driver’s side and ripping off my mirror.”
Seriously? SERIOUSLY?! We were *this* close to being caught up on bills in a month or two, not having to juggle so much – and now we have to figure out how to cover $1000 in car repairs (hubby does not have comprehensive insurance coverage and the sideswiper did not leave a note, natch). Poor hubby was (is) heartbroken; he LOVES his car. In fact, I’m very lucky that he loves me more than he loves his car because that has to mean he loves me a whole lot because he reeeally looooves his car.
Thankfully, it’s still drive-able and we ordered a new mirror last night so he can replace that by the end of the week (the last thing we need now is a ticket for the mirror on top of the repair costs). But there’s other stuff that needs to be done – something about a quarter-panel being out of place and a speaker knocked out. I’m not good with automotive details; I just know we didn’t need something like this. It could have been worse, yes, but it just really didn’t need to happen at all. Hubby was parked on a well-lit, main street – not really sure how someone managed to hit him. Cell phone distraction? Drunk driver? Simple idiocy? I don’t know.
I have a Starbucks caramel macchiato as a treat this morning (with nonfat milk and Splenda, of course), but I really wish it was an Irish coffee. Too bad they frown on whiskey at work.
Don’t you hate when Monday walks up to you, smacks you around, steps on your lunch, and walks away laughing? Yeah, that was my Monday. I feel like the rain today (after a good span of beautiful sunny days) was brought on by me because I felt like rain when I went to bed last night.
1. My friend Nicole’s brother had a heart attack and died over the weekend. I don’t know his exact age, but it was around 40. I feel so sad for my friend and her family; this must be an unbearable shock. Beyond that, being nearly six years from 40, myself, this is terrifying.
2. I was passed over for an opportunity that I wanted very much. Can’t say much more other than to say that I am significantly bummed out.
3. Not doing a good job in my battle with the scale. Need to get a grip and just… friggin… focus.
4. Attended my first Catholic wedding over the weekend. Wow, talk about the land that women’s lib missed. The ceremony was full of statements about being overjoyed with all the children God grants you (no “if” statements, all very “you WILL procreate!”), about how the husband needs to “be patient with” the wife and how the wife needs “to be nice” to the husband (ohhhhhmg, my head almost exploded), about how the families will be concerned whether “he spoils her as she should be” and whether “she will cook like his mamma”. OH. MY. F’ING. GOD. I don’t live in a bubble; I know there are issues with the Catholic church but I never experienced it before. Holy jeez indeed.
5. Speaking of women’s lib, check out this really insane idea: basically, an Ohio bill is proposing that women get a note from a man before they get an abortion. You know, like getting a note for skipping gym class or missing school because you don’t feel well. If you don’t know who the father is, no abortion for you (sexually liberated women must just suck it up and deal). If it’s rape or incest, you have to prove it first. Sure, no problem – that’s always easy to do. Every bit of this makes me sick.
6. That said, I’m reaching a negativity limit. I can’t take all the complaining and soap-boxing and criticism I run into online every day. I’m sensitive to criticism and to argument and it’s getting really wearing to read this stuff every day. Is there a website where people talk about life with a hopeful and optimistic, but still funny and snarky tone?
7. On a lighter note, the hubby and I have been living in our apartment for five months now and we still have only hung up one picture (and that one only because it’s huge and it behooves us to have it hanging on the wall rather than in the hallway, on the floor). I want to do a little craft project and do a fabric cover for my corkboard and finally figure out what wedding photos I want to print and frame around the apartment. Just need money and time. Anyone got some to spare?
No, I don’t need to wear one of these. This is how I’m built and there’s nothing wrong with it. Who cares if this dress can cling to cellulite? Cellulite is natural. Yeah, that’s right – it should be celebrated! It means we are living an awesome, fun life. I don’t need this. Let’s just try on the dress without it.
WTF, dress? Why do you hate me? It’s not fair that I can live on vegetable soup for a week and still need to wear this contraption in order to look passable in this dress – a dress I bought in a plus-sized shop, for chrissakes.
Okay, Spanx – if you can get on without making me break a sweat, then it can’t be all that bad. You’re just smoothing out a few of the wobbly bits (to quote Bridget Jones) that I would otherwise have time to firm up at the gym if I wasn’t off, oh, earning a living and writing brilliant bits for my blog. Now, come on, just… ehhh… uuhhhrrr…. ooph.
*looking in mirror* This sucks. I may not succumb to many movie-driven fantasies, but who doesn’t want to be the woman in the hot cocktail dress with the stunningly sexy bra and panty set underneath? I cannot envision a movie-worthy ending to my evening knowing that when I take off my dress, this is the vision. Unless you are a part of what is probably a fairly small cling-wrap kink community, I’m not sure many men envision literally peeling and rolling their mate’s undergarments off of them after a long evening. My life is not a movie. My cocktail conversation doesn’t sparkle, I don’t have the dance moves, and my unmentionables are undiscoverable.
Well, I do like to look nice – and not looking like a lumpy old sofa covered by a fancy slipcover helps. And I look better than that size 10 trying to manage being squeezed into that size 6 dress. And this spandex tube keeps me from having any room for dessert, which helps me on the road to needing a smaller spandex tube in the future. And at least I didn’t need someone’s help putting this on – no one needed to pull corset strings while I exhaled the very last breath of life I have within. I can put this on all by myself (yay, clap hands) and can remove it in the privacy of my own bedroom or bathroom. Then I can pretend it wasn’t on at all – and that I had on this cute little set all night, and that my conversation sparkled, and that I didn’t drink a day’s worth of calories in cocktails. It was a great night.
Note: I believe this post to be spoiler-free. Yes, it hints at things, but nothing is stated outright and, if anything, it might just make you curious enough to go read the books (if you haven’t already).
I have a hard time reading reviews of things I’m as personally, emotionally, mentally, and academically invested in as the Harry Potter series. I read a bunch this morning that all basically bemoaned that the movie isn’t an exact replication of the book. Well, duh. You cannot expect a book as complicated and detailed as HBP to translate literally into a movie; it’s just not possible based on our current movie constructs (i.e. people need constant entertainment and don’t want to sit there for five hours).
I totally LOVED the movie. I think the screenwriter and director did an amazing job of translating the story to film. Yes, they added things and subtracted things. I knew ahead of time what most of the additions and subtractions were and, I’ll admit, I had my concerns. However, all of those concerns were completely assuaged by how well-crafted the film is.
The young cast really stepped up their acting this time around, especially Tom Felton (Draco Malfoy). Most of his role is actually unspoken, as is a lot of the film, and he does a fine job (not Oscar worthy or anything, but it shows he’s an actor with some promise if he can reign in a bit of the over-acting). I think the film Slughorn was even better than the book Slughorn – really, really terrific acting on the part of Jim Broadbent.
I do wish they had done more with Tonks and Lupin, especially regarding the Fenrir Greyback storyline. I also dislike that they left out the entire Gaunt storyline. I feel like the “movie only” people are missing out on a key backstory, not knowing more about Voldemort’s parentage (or maybe I just think that since it was one of the key ideas in my thesis).
The scene I was most interested in seeing was the cave scene because I think it’s one of the most (if not the most) disturbing scene in all of the books. They didn’t fully do it justice, but I’d say they did a B+ level job with it.
Because I know the ending (and won’t fully spoil it here), I will say that I did not expect to be upset at it. However, when Dumbledore and Harry are standing in the tower and Dumbledore says to Harry, “Trust me. Trust me.” right before Harry goes below, I started crying. (Note: wear waterproof mascara to Deathly Hallows Part II.)
The following scenes were okay – a bit teary, but not much… until Fawkes’ song. I had forgotten about that part (since I didn’t get to finish re-reading the book this week) and it hit me hard… and then the lights came up and the eight-year-old boy next to me looked at me like, “Seriously? Can you let me out of this row now?”
I feel that the added scenes do an amazingly generous job of summing up all of the text from the missing scenes and I don’t have any quibble with them – at least not today; I can’t say this won’t change as the film sinks in more and I see it again at the IMAX theater in two weeks… but for now, I am so very, totally content with this film.
One note of warning, however: do NOT – DO NOT – offer to walk your dog when you get home after 11pm if you are ordinarily scared walking your dog late at night and have just seen this film. The man in all black and with a beard at the gas station, who appears to have apparated there because you swear (swear!) he wasn’t there just a second ago, has to be a Death Eater. And that guy standing on the corner, waiting for the bus? Totally suspicious. And that guy that looks like your brother-in-law, riding up on his motorcycle – that’s some fancy Polyjuice Potion work there. Oh no, wait, he just needs his TomTom mount. Well, nevermind, that other guy – totally a Death Eater.