Why does history repeat itself? Because we weren't paying attention the first time.
It is hard being a parent and being forced to watch certain kids movies dozens of times in a row. I think we've seen Nemo 50 times, and we watch Cinderella almost daily for the past month. I am forced to purchase or rent new movies just to keep my sanity. Why do kids need to watch everything so often? Don't they get bored?
Well, I'm home from work and I treated myself to "300" because I hadn't seen it yet. I don't even know if its a good movie, but it is a movie that I enjoyed watching, so I watched it almost every day last week. My own little Spartan does nothing but nurse all day and my personal body issues are in awe of the beautiful abs these men were sporting.
Six times isn't so bad really. I watched Zoolander every night during my first pregnancy. Every night for 9 months. It was funny and I helped me not want to throw up all night as I was prone to do. There must be something soothing about the repetition. Like the waves of the ocean.
Is this madness? No, its Sparta.
I sort of missed the Oscar buzz this year and then I missed the show. Here are few reasons why.
First, why do the Oscars buzz? Why don’t they crackle? Why don’t they hum? I don’t like bees, so when buzzing happens I tend to avoid it.
Second,
Matt Damon. Was he even nominated? Matt Damon should be nominated every year and win. He is my new Vin Diesel.
Third, TV is so dumb, I should have give up TV for Lent, but I’ve already given up TV except for
LOST which burned be so badly last week I have the DHARMA scar to prove it. Just hold me, Jack. Let’s touch fingers through the bear cage. That is romance, folks. I should know I belong to RWA.
Fourth, no good movies have ever been nominated for an Oscar.
Kramer vs. Kramer , Philadelphia, Titanic. These are not happy movies. Dear the Motion Picture Academy and the Foreign Press: Have you ever heard of Zoolander,
Terminator (or Terminator 2), and Elf? These are quality cinematic productions. I haven’t seen Dreamgirls, but do you remember Chris Tucker’s performance in Friday. Smokey wants a golden statue.
Five, all of my fingers on my right hand.
Six, Forrest Whitaker. His kids have silly names, but ever since
“The Hand that Rocks the Cradle,” that dude has seriously creeped me out. After Matt Damon and Chris Tucker, he is most deserving of the Oscar buzz (crackle, hum, snap, pop, or whatever).
Seven, do you care what the actors are wearing? Or not wearing? A diamond bracelet that costs three times the price of my house? This is Oscar fizzle.
Did no one listen to Leo and that movie Blood Diamond? Oh, wait. It’s cool for little African kids to have their hands chopped off so Eva Longoria can gain a few pounds wearing her 100 carat tennis bracelet.
Eight Headed Hydra. Good place to hear me vent.
As much as you hope that this is a 21st Century post Civil Rights rant, it is not. I need to stop multitasking. People who multitask do bad work. Put down your Bluetooth. Burn your bras. Revolt. Revolution. You name is not 7 of 9, it 758,961 of 2 billion. That name does not look good in monogram. You don't have to give it up entirely. Just once in awhile. Take out the Bluetooth. Resistance is not futile. Don't you remember the episode, "I, Borg?" If Jean-Luc can do it so can you. Take out the Bluetooth. Unplug from the matrix, Neo and welcome to the real world.
Did anyone else enjoy the most fabulous lightning display last night? It woke the monsters, so we opened up the blinds of the bay window in their room, and the four of us (five with the cat) watched the very loud intense storm for about 40 minutes. You can't find anything that good on TV. Oh, wait. Yes you can. K-Fed and Snakes on a Plane.
Oh dear, I have missed you all so. The real world is not nearly as fun as life with my cyber minions. Don’t take offense. Minion, like sweetie pie, is a term of endearment. So here are the reasons I’ve been MIA for the last month.
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Broke up with my boyfriends Zidane, McConaughey, and Diesel. Have been in depressed stupor ever since.
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Two separate trips to New York. First trip was Fishkill (No, they do not kill fish. Kill means creek. PETA already tried to complain about this.). Went to kick-ass Italian-Japanese faux wedding. No chicken dance or the electric slide. Just bumping and grinding and catching up with the original 8 Headed Hydra.
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In between, went to summer camp. Also known as Romance Writers of America’s National Conference. Really, should women be allowed to be this happy? Much like the army, it is the toughest job I will ever love. If you haven’t heard that this is one of the best professional organizations for writers, then please crawl out from under your rock and see the light of day.
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New novel is going well, and made some friends at RWA who are keeping me motivated.
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Second trip to New York via Manhattan and Hoboken. Hoboken is just a fun word to say, and I love New York. Who doesn’t? Despite the fact that I had to go there for work (Boo!), it turned out to be an interesting and productive trip. Also, got some yummy meals, but felt like I was in rejected scenes from Sex in the City. Who knew NYC was so homogenous? Was glad to get back to ATL and a little diversity.
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Went to Martinis and IMAX. Like I needed to be buzzing and watching a movie about Mount Everest at the same time…
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Rats are gone, but roof is leaking water into the monsters’ bedroom. Water into a bucket, are you listening? I am not happy.
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Cleaned the bathrooms. May not be a big deal to you, but I’ve got two monsters, a cat, a job that periodically requires travel, what’s-his-name, a novel in progress (now dubbed NIP), leaky roof, rabid raccoons that come and stare in our windows at night (not kidding about this), reading group which leads books I want to read, movies I want to see, food I want to eat… so you can see how cleaning the bathrooms falls a little low on my priority list.
Glad to be back, my cyber minions. I did miss you so. I also need to send my regards to some far away friends Angi (in Dallas), Brenda (in Albequerque), Jennifer (in Seoul), and Susie (in Amsterdam). And some friends who are near Michelle, Jeanette, Marilyn. Special nod to K. Hinton “Avid Reader.” Have you seen her reviews on Amazon.com? Very helpful.
I almost forgot to send my regards to what’s-his-name since we celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. Yup, five years of being legal. That insensitive so-and-so was supposed to get me a piece of wood. No, honey, not that kind. But besides his twisted sense of humor he is a cool dude.
My mom and sister were cleaning out the house this weekend and found an old chest of mine. As a child I was not very tidy. Clean, but not organized. I’m the same way as an adult. It was strange to see my meticulously preserved time capsule from 20 years ago. The contents included:
A newsletter from the 7th grade. I wrote that at age 27, I would marry a prominent lawyer from California. Okay, so I was minorly psychic. Although what’s-his-name is not really prominent…yet.
All of my stories going back to 1st grade. Horrible speller then, probably worse now.
My baby blanket. Beautiful white crochet.
Letters from my best friend Sonya. We met in the 2nd grade and lost touch after college. I’m going to be a stalker and google her.
As I look around my life I don’t know what I would put in a hope chest now. Wedding pictures, baby pictures? I guess as you get older you get less attached to things. Isn’t it a strange idea that you love something so much you put it in a trunk where you can’t see it? I hope the things I love now will always see the light of day.
Are you looking a good book or dvd or zesty seasonings? But don't know which ones to choose. My friend K. Hinton "avid reader" (Atlanta, GA) is Amazon Reviewer Rank: 157,104. Last week, she was 600,000! She has moved up 450,000 spots. Want to know why? She's a helpful and fair reviewer.
Here is our experiment:
1) Go to her reviews at http://www.amazon.com/gp/cdp/member-reviews/A22TZUXUKA11SQ/ref=cm_cr_auth/102-9642097-9173703?%5Fencoding=UTF8
2) If you think any are helpful say so by clicking the helpful button next to her review
3) I will report her ranking every few weeks, until she reaches the top 1,000. Who else would you turn to for information on batteries, romance novels, and zesty seasonings? You thought I was kidding about the seasonings? Nope! Check her out.
4) Want her opinion on another product or book? Email me or post a comment and I'll foward your suggestions to her. You don't have to agree with her comments. She didn't like the movie A History of Violence, but I did and see, we're still friends.
In case you haven’t noticed, I have some cool friends. They keep me up to date on everything that’s hot from K-Fed to Leif Garrett. They are also psychotic and constantly writing open letters to celebrities who won’t read their rantings. So like them, I will know try to communicate with otherworldy beings.
Dear Matthew McConaughey: Please stop stalking me. I hear you are in Atlanta. Again. Did you split up with your girlfriend because of me? No, don’t answer. Just take off your shirt. You are so dirty. You would do the shocker, won’t you? No, don’t answer that either.
Dear Matthew Fox: I know there have been two seasons of “Lost,” but I can’t stop calling you Charlie. We are not confusing you with Dominic Monaghan. He’s still being called the “hobbit.” If you see me in Atlanta and I call you Charlie, don’t blank me like you’ve forgotten about Julia, Bailey, Owen, and the one with the squeaky voice, okay?
Dear Atlanta: Can you believe you have two hot Matthews in residence right now? I’m so happy I don’t even care what the heck is going to happen on “Lost.”
Dear Lost: Why don’t the “Others” care about the button? Oh, wait forget it. 2 Matthews + 1 Atlanta = Nicki happiness.
Dear Deadwood: Thank you for being my “Lost” when I have no “Lost.”
Dear Keenan Ivory Waynans: There is a reason why I don’t watch TV. I just saw my first (and my last) episode of your show “My Wife and Kids.” Give me back 22 minutes of my life and the $1.87 in electricity, air, and water you stole from me. “In Living Color” was a genius-uplifting show. I miss the Fly Girls. In the episode, your tv wife starts a restaurant, followed by bad clichés about Black people eating soul food and the crazy Asians trying to put them out of business. The offensive portrayal of all ethnic groups should be reported to the ACLU. The acting hurt my eyes. I have written the True Hollywood Story about the bad child actors on your show. The “Others” will not take them, they are BAD.
Dear Jane Fonda: Do you know the two Matthews? You do know everyone in Atlanta. Please introduce me while they are in town. Especially the one without his shirt on.
Dear Britney: He’s sperm IS radioactive.
Dear Kate: Just tell him Katie came back and you have to go with her.
Dear Angelina: You are the female Matthew McConaughey, except he never wore a vial of Billy Bob’s blood around his neck, now did he? Oh, he did. Ooops. Then you are the same.
Dear Friends: A poll: K-Fed vs. Leif Garrett? Would would win? If you have to ask who K-Fed and Leif Garrett are, then you are either too old or too young. Or too smart.
Today is the day for the little monsters to tell me how wonderful I am. Instead of telling me this with money or a real day off, they tell me this will pancakes. I’ll admit they are my all time favorite pancakes, and I put in a request for these pancakes early in the week. My question this week: Why is it that when monsters care enough to send the very best, they send brunch? Well, I like pancakes and the monsters are in good standing.
I hope all the little monsters in the world were good to their moms today. Did you know that Mother’s Day in Syria is in March? I digress. My mom got zilch, because I am the bad daughter. Between roof rats (see Dear Lewis, “Critters, Vermin, and Other Scary Things”) and ear tubes I am drained. I feel like the marrow has been sucked from my bones. Periodically, I make it to work, and even less periodically I see “What’s-his-name.” So, because today is my day (technically, I have two monsters, so I should get two of these days) here is my rant:
- Sweet dreams are made of these. Sleep: I need it desperately. I swear I am starting to look forward to a business trip this week, because it may be the first time in three and a half years that I get a full night sleep (this means more than 5 continuous hours of rest)
- New Kid on the writer’s block. Blank pages: Not for lack of ideas, but for lack of time to create them. I will try one hour before work and one hour at lunch to catch up.
- You raise me up. $5 Away for my Relay for Life Goal. $5 measly dollars. People, help me out! We’re fighting cancer here. Surprisingly, RLF fundraising is my only rant about work. But check in with me again in fall and see what I have to say before the big cytopathology conference.
- Where have all the screaming cowboys gone? I miss the Primal Scream from college. Did anyone else do this during finals? My neighborhood association may take issue with me standing on the corner at midnight shouting obscenities and screaming like a banshee.
Okay, if you know me, then you know that I have grown tired of my pity party. I will inject some positive parting words.
- I had a huge epiphany about why a certain character tries to kill a certain other character in my current work in progress (WIP for those in the know). Sometimes creating bad people can be fun and happy.
- Littler monster is getting tubes put in her ears in the morning. Hopefully, this is her last ear infection. After 8 ear infections who's counting!
- Bigger monster hugged and told me “Thank you Mother’s Day.” Should’ve been “Happy…” but do two years olds make Freudian slips? You’re welcome.
- Pancakes. Outside of the life altering French toast at Chez le Chef in New York City (on Lexington), the pancakes at Thumbs Up Diner in Atlanta (on Edgewood) can make any mother of monsters happy.
- Good writing news from my friend Elaine Sims. Her first book “Unearthing Passions” is out and it has a great cover.
See, no more ranting. I am I’m happy again. I hope you are, too. And I would like to say thank you to my mom. She is responsible for everything good that I have accomplished. She is also responsible for giving me a complex about the good things I have accomplished that she didn't approve of. She is reading this right now and chastising me, but "Hey, mom, I love you. Spa Sydell when you get back in town, okay?" Okay!
I need help. The April writing challenge is now over, and I can spend a little more time writing foolishness. I haven’t tallied my pages since the second week, but I know I made good progress during the month. I did a little title brainstorming with LJ today, and I think he came up with a good title for his book. I don’t want Opal Mehta to get her hands on the title, so mums the word.
My writing project is a modern gothic. I don’t usually write such serious or macabre things, and I'm averse to high melodrama. But here I am mulling the titles: “All Beautiful Things” or “Sad Destinies.” I have borrowed and will now credit the book “Wide Sargasso Sea” by Jean Rhys. The line: “Have all beautiful things sad destinies?” Oh, I think not. Look at me, I’m happy and pretty. But for the purposes of my story, yes! Scarred! Betrayed! Can she ever find love again?!? Maybe I should stick with the romantic comedies. Even I can’t take my seriousness seriously.
The street cred award of the week goes to What’s-His-Name. He has been traveling extensively the last two weeks. This makes me a work widow. I feel bad when he doesn’t get to see the monsters before they go to bed. Tonight at dinner (8:30pm and the monsters were already sleeping) he reenacts his day and makes me laugh. Not many people do good impersonations of themselves. I now forgive him for the wet-willy he gave me last week. I will say that my co-worker Monika does a mean impersonation of just about everyone, particularly Simon Cowell, Helen B, and all Germans. She’s German, so no offense taken. I cringe to think of how mock-able I am. Monika, will you tell me one day?
I should mention that I have a part-time roommate Monday through Thursday. My sister, RacMC, is moving to Atlanta. Marhj1B and I are thrilled. Less concentrated mayhem at Christmas and more mayhem spread throughout the year. Hooray!
I case you are wondering we did not have code names growing up. It’s a thirtysomething, birth order, internet thing. I’m NickLB. Growing up, my nickname was just, "The cute perfect one." How true.
It is a dark and stormy morning, but the thunder doesn't bother the monsters or cat. One of each is nearby, finishing the night's rest. I am, of course, awake. I have written 15 pages this week. About 3 a day. Not bad considering one of the monsters has had an ear infection and spent most of the week unhappy. All is improving.
Besides the April writing challenge, my toughest assignments this week were getting this website rolling and not googling Lost. Thanks to my co-worker Jessica, I am learning about blogs. And thanks to my co-worker Kym, I know that I am a "fruit-fly." It is great working with the younger, hip girls, who don't make me always feel like a mommy.
On the fruit-fly note, Steve and I had a nice dinner at Feast in Decatur this week. If I was from Boston, I would tell you that we had a wicked cool server. But I'm from the South and will say she was lovely. Her recommendation for the Elk Cove 2004 Pinot Noir was right on. Must make a trip to Willamatte Valley, Oregon one day. This wine is now my friend. Oh, and not to be confused with the Jessica I work with, our server was also named Jessica. I'm giving her a shout out here and on my site. I wasn't going to add Feast to my hip Atlanta restaurants, but Jessica has given the place some street cred.
Almost forgot, on Thursday, I saw Jelly's Last Jam at the Alliance Theater. My last jam was orange marmalade.
This is no joke. Maddie is at the window. The bees and mosquitos hover and dive over the shrubs. I need to mention to Lewis where she got her name. When you run out of mythological and literary names, you can always turn to a baseball roster.
Maddie’s tails thumps loudly on the dinning room chair. I have placed the chair at the window so she can enjoy the view. There is something about the wagging of a cat’s tail, the clicking of fingers across a keyboard as you type your first blog ever. I still like the term diary, but what do I know? Isn’t all the same thing? Editorial, letter, diary, blog, whatever.
Oh, I the GRW April writing challenge starts today. I have 5 pages of real stuff to write. So I can’t digress anymore. No kidding.