Gittin kinda feminist n stuff

You know, that "No Country for Old Men" is super fantastic. Sure, like "The Departed" women play minor roles, but not entirely, because if you took Carla Jean out of it, there would be a hole in the film. Not so much with "The Departed".

And Javier Bardem, even with the bad hair, is intensely smoking hot.

Oh, and no cell phones. I think that was the best part.

Goin' round the outside, round the outside, round the outside

Yeah, it's the end of the term. What of it? Maybe I've been working on a feature story. Maybe I'm the judge in a libel case for the law class. Maybe I keep getting B's in the ethics class taught by the guy with no ethics. And maybe I'm passing Human Physiology because we get to use our notes on the exams, but I don't really know the name of the things around the nerves ... mylar? phhft I don't know, man. Maybe this time of year when you're not supposed to have homework because you're supposed to be studying is the time of year when everything in the frickin' term is due, man.

That and we now have a ginormous television, which, like all shiny new things, is distracting. I know. It's television. It'll be around for a while. The movies that we're watching we can watch any time (except "No Country For Old Men" which has to eventually be returned to Netflix and is turning into a 3-4 day film festival). But no no, you've got to watch it now. You've got to see the color on it now. It'll never look this good again. Never.

Yeah, well ... 3 more weeks and we're all done, that's all I'm sayin'. Then I'll watch television ... until summer school starts.

Gnarly

We got to look at cadavers in the anatomy lab today. It was the BOMB. Table 1 was a woman with a HUGE green liver (she died of colon cancer). Table 2 was "Roscoe" who had many, many tattoos of the prison kind ... PSI, what's that mean? Other than pound per square inch. Whatever. I got to make his tendons move on his leg and that is all that matters.

We had one person leave the room, but no fainters or upchuckers. The movies lie.

Hangin' With D. Wilton

Spent last night in Portland hanging out wid my boyee D.W. It's always a pleasure, and I'm not saying that because I know he reads this here blog. He's a choice friend, no doubt about it. We drank a few and then bought books. It was just like the good old days in San Francisco. Tank up and wake up the next morning with a stack of Mickey Spillane dime novels and a beat up leather-bound copy of George Meredith's poetry. Last night's purchases include books by movie stars, books about Bollywood stars and a book written by the wife of an ex-boyfriend. Well-rounded all around.

D.W.'s hotel selection was the Ace, which was a sweet little hip joint, right close to Powell's and the Roxy. The room was affordable and at 3 a.m. we found out why. All of the recycling bins were located directly under the window. I swear, the kid was throwing the bottles in one at a time. Oh yeah, and with the hip rooms come the hip guests. Watch out when the bars close because your door looks just like the door to the bathroom. "HEY! HEY! IS THIS THE BATHROOM!" "Shhh, no man." "COOL!"

The other issue was one of modesty. The shower was a glass-encased booth, like the old Money Volcano on The Diamond Head game show. It was a nice shower, but it was also right next to the bed. D.W.'s drunk solution was that he would go for donuts while I got cleaned up in the morning. The hungover reality was that this was not such a good idea really. No one was going for donuts at 5 a.m. So I was sticky and a little waxy all day at work.

Yes, drove the 2 hours back to Eugene and got to work at 8:05 -- ka chow! -- and stayed there all day, even after I started to fall asleep at my desk at the hangover witching hour of 2:00. I couldn't tell you what I did all day, apart from get paid for being there.

All and all, fantastic trip. Dude, Portland people go out on school nights. It's crazy. There were 3 clubs packin' up last night. D.W. caught The Dirtbombs on Wednesday. I missed out. Jealous much? Maybe. They're a sweet band. I'm completely sold on their sound.

By the way, it's frickin' HOT, just so's you know. 10:00 at night and it's 79 outside. Dude. We don't even get that during the day. It's like a hair dryer. Jaysis, didn't it just snow??? We've completely skipped over spring and jumped right into summer. All hail summer.

Overheard Student Spring Edition

Now that we're all allowed outside again:

"No, no, NO! Geology is the study of states and countries n' stuff. Geography's the study of the Earf."

p.s.

Just now outside some guy was yelling outside in the street, so being a Gladys Kravitz, I peeked out the window to see what the fuss was about. This kid was walking up the street and explaining to a tattooed guy (who, I guess, lives across the street from us, but I've never seen him before) that someone had just stolen his truck. I think he said his girlfriend took it. Anyway, here's what he was saying as he hitched himself around the corner (apparently to chase the truck on foot):

"My truck's my life, dog."

Oh yeah, he's white, wearing big basketball shoes and long shorts, his baseball cap sideways.

dude. maybe some of us would speak hip-hop ... feckin' Eugene, dog. word.

DIVERSITY TRAINING: How To Talk To Black People

As if we'd talk hip-hop to anyone. Dude. Fact-checking is for swabs.

I'm my own ayn rand

As part of listening to "On the Media" for Reporting class, I sat through an amusing (although not really media-related) discussion of Ayn Rand and her philosophy. She's one of those authors who people get really worked up about. Tolkein is another one. Their fans are completely obsessed, and if you question it or think it's weird that they dress like hobbits (complete with large hairy feet), well, you're the freak. I only just learned (through Human Physiology class of all things) that the "all who wander are not lost" bumper stickers around here were not Grateful Dead-related but tied into some bit of poetry from Lord of the Rings.

I was falling into the Lord of the Rings obsession while I was in junior high. Friends, I was completely sucked in. I even have a board game based on the Ralph Bakshi animated movie (maybe I'll eBay it ... I'm sure the pieces will be in immaculate condition). I found solace in that whole fantasy world where no one called me "scum" or laughed at the fact that my Dittos weren't saddle-stitch or sailor-bib. If it wasn't for discovering boys I'd probably still be there.

And when I say "discovering boys" I mean specifically the Three Muskateers. Friends, if you have not read past the first book or if you skipped ahead to The Man in the Iron Mask, you're missing out. d'Artagnan is so bitter -- if you ever feel like you're not respected in your job and you want to quit, read Twenty Years After. Talk about bad jobs. You know, you save the royal family time and time again and they still can't remember your flippin' name.

Maybe I'm still a little obsessed with d'Artagnan.

I can't understand how I missed out on Rand.

The other outcome of listening to that radio show was the questioning of why the hell the cousin/roommate and I bother feeding the cat or mowing the lawn. The lawn can mow itself and the cat, well, if she can't open her own Friskies can it's not my business.

I'm sorry, which state is the most important? Which one?

If you answered Oregon - YOU'D BE RIGHT!

From The Oregonian:

Clinton and Obama heading for Oregon this week
Both campaigns see the state's primary as a vital date

However one parses the numbers, Oregon is clearly in the thick of what has been one of the closest, longest primary elections in decades.

Chant it with me:
My vote counts!
My vote counts!
My vote counts!

(well, kind of ... I know it's the superdelegates that count, but it's good to know that we have a reason to read through the pamphlet this time.)

foo fah rah

I'm a'pposed to be writing up my midterm essays for Ethics and Reporting, but I can't focus. Break. Must. Take. Break. (Break? What is break?)(sorry, lame Star Trek reference there)

Although the past couple of days have been a pretty continuous break really. Thursday I watched television, last night we went to the mall to find a coffee grinder/maker -- by the way, going to the Gateway Mall in Springfield is like walking through a Fellini film drawn by R. Crumb -- and then today was spent checking out pet stuff for my feature story and buying a coffee grinder/maker. In sum: I haven't done jack.

Last night, if I remember correctly, I went to bed at 8. Fahhhhhhhhhhh old.

Okay, you're right. I've got to scrape it into a pile. By the way, I just want everyone to know that this blog is made possible by the generous work of the cousin/roommate who fixed our Belkin router issue this morning. Long live the king.