First Mahfouz. Then Glenn Ford. Who's next? Widmark??

Theory of the Week

Now that John Karr is cleared of murdering JonBenet Ramsey, the obvious question came up at work about why he would confess to something like that if he didn't do it.

Theory 1: He's mental. Most of us agreed with this one.
Theory 2: He wanted to be an answer on a card in the Trivial Pursuit 2000's (or 15th) Edition. This was my theory and no one really agreed with me ... and yet they all thought it was plausible.
Theory 3: He needed a free flight out of Thailand. Sure, the drugs, sex and drink are cheap and plentiful there, but it's over a grand to hop a plane back.

We all agreed with Theory 3.

And it is wonderful in our sight

The week is over. Long live the week.

Here's a weird one: I'm actually looking forward to going into work today. Sure, last week there was a lot of overtime -- enough to pay for my books this term, if I calculated right ... and I'm bad at math -- but I finally have a new p.c. to work with and overtime's not too bad. No more working with Windows 98 and a memory that needed to have cookies and internet files cleared on a daily basis. We're into XP with Office 2003. It's like a rocket on fire compared to the old system. I can actually get stuff done efficiently. It was always a little embarrassing to explain delays to people on the phone. "Yes, we're the Internet Department ... Ironic? Yes. You're right, sir/madam."

But last week went right by with no real memorable moments apart from the lovely dinner on Friday with an Italian table wine that led to some problems on Saturday, and then, of course, Kimi out of the race AGAIN yesterday in the Turkish Grand Prix. McLaren, why you break my heart? Oh, and Manchester City beat Arsenal ... I really don't know how I feel about that. Good. Then bad. Then good again, but then bad. So I try not to think about it at all.

perche e pazzo ... wha?

To prepare for my second year of Italian and another go-around with the instructor who screwed me over last spring, I'm spending this last summer month reading Jeffrey Deaver's "La Sedia Vuota" as a dual-text with its English-language original, "The Empty Chair." So far I get most of what's going on and it's really helpful in verb conjugation. Mein Gott, but they sure use fare a lot in Italy. Fare, stare and essere ... mamma. What's kind of nutty are the parts in the Italian version that are not in the English one. There are whole paragraphs (3, count-em, 3 so far) that don't have an English equivalent. I could see it going the other way and having parts that were edited out. That's assuming that Jeffrey Deaver wrote it in English first and then it was translated into Italian and not the other way around. Hell, maybe I'm wrong. I don't know. Or maybe these sections were in the hardcover and didn't make it into the paperback. Non lo so. E un mistero.

The best part is coming across an idiosyncrasy that didn't translate well. Oh sure, the translator is great with changing miles to kilometers (although 500 miles = 800 kilometers? That seems weird, but it's math, so how would I know), but cultural references seem to be too obscure for them to track down and translate properly:

English: ... flashing vividly back on the most gruesome scenes from the ... novels she read late at night with her companion, a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

Italian: ... the vivid imagination ... from the novels she had read with her companion, drinking a bottle of Ben & Jerry's.

A pint's a pint, I guess. And it's nice that the Italian version has her drinking with a companion rather than have the pint as the companion. There's a nice correction for you, Deaver. He's so mean to overweight single women.

Damn that fecking kid next door is screaming again ... he's got issues and I've got issues with his issues.

domo arigato

This is what we heard while walking back from the market tonight:

Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life
From the long arm of the law

followed by screams and cheers.

Feckin' A, Styx is playin' the county fair.

Fair's Fair

Cousin/Roommate and I went to the Lane County Fair tonight. I had big plans to eat funnel cake, corn dogs and Hawaiian ice, but instead had a plate of passable pad thai and a cherry Pepsi -- the latter after being overtaken by nausea on the Tilt-O-Whirl.

Unfortunately this means I was a complete wuss and reneged on my agreement to ride The Zipper. Yeah ... yeah ... Get off my back. It was too much. So what. The tilt of the whirl really gets to you when you're riding on a belly full of pad thai. Anyway, I figure I can save The Zipper for next year. It's fitting to finally ride The Zipper when you're over 40.

While on the subject of age, I'd like to say that although I'd prefer to be like my grandfather who would ride anything at any amusement park at any age, regardless of health limitations ("they don't have to know about my heart"), I find that I'm turning into my grandmother, who used to drag us around the floral exhibitions and quilt displays when we were kids (Mein Gott! I still remember sitting in a stuffy exhibition hall watching a fountain show called Magic Water --- just fountains with colored lights ... dude ...). I love the textiles and the baked goods under netting. Today was opening day, so the cakes still looked pretty fresh. They're even better about 4 days into the fair. I know the chocolate meringue is not going to make it all the way to the end.

It kind of ruined it when I noticed that the cakes, cookies, muffins and breads were almost all made by the same kid. I always thought that the fair was the Grail quest of some obscure 4-H Club in Veneta, but instead it's completely eclipsed some single over-achiever named Ashley. Her sister Stacey had a few competing breads, but they didn't have the ribbons like Ashley's entries. Kind of like the Schumacher brothers in Formula 1: Michael is always getting first prize; Ralph has to settle with runner-up, no matter how well-formed his pound cake is. Galling.

I've found my match!

In my monthly trip through Yahoo personals I found Eric.

He's only 36 (or so he claims), but he doesn't appear to be a Christian gun-nut or follower of the Renaissance Pleasure Faire like the 400+ Oregon guys out there. But, more than that, it's the picture of Glenn Ford on the profile. I think it's from The Big Heat. How perfect is that?

Too bad he's looking for 21-37. Ah well...

Go back, go back, go back, go back...

I was thinking back today (and yesterday and the day before) about my first car: a 1964 beige Ford Falcon Station Wagon. Myyyyyyyyyy she was yar. 2 doors, with a crank-down back window ... oh man. You don't truly appreciate something until it's gone. I loved Christine. She was the best car ever, even with the rust holes and having to put the tarp on the roof when it rained. I wish I had her back, even in Oregon.

This website not only has a picture of a car just like Christine:













-- it also has a photo of the car I took my driver's test in (not the same car, but an amazing likeness):















The website describes it as "The WORST car ever made." I prefer to see it this way: if you can pass the California driving test in a 1979 Chevette, then you can drive anything anywhere.

Sic

The narcolepsy has evolved into a crap cold that is now evolving into some sort of nutty bronchitis, just like I used to get as a kid. It was better when I was younger, because I could stay home from school and have soup, not to mention getting the television moved into my room. Now, it blows. I have soup and maybe I'll come home early from work, but the television is too big for my room and it's freakin' summer, man! The weather is actually at a decent temperature and the sun is out and I want to ride my bike. Why why why? So I can have a childhood illness and whine like a baby, but it doesn't appear to be getting me anywhere.

There also used to be these little rubber dinosaurs that the doctor would hand out. I'd go to a doctor if I thought they still had them (and if there was an off-chance of getting in to see one today. Fat feckin' chance o' that ... stupit preferred provider bullshit, man).

Although ... it is Gregory Peck day on Turner Classic Movies, so maybe I'll stay home ... ach! but they're showing "How the West Was Won" and "The Big Country". Boring. Monday is Burt Lancaster. Eeuw.