I'm an oil man.

Dude. We had to stop There Will Be Blood for the night because it was way too intense to view it in one sitting.

Either the Blu-Ray is making everything giant and imposing

or I'm becoming a movie wuss.

Or both.

McCan't

I'm not an expert, but after 3 years of being taught that everything is marketing and 2 years of working in the retail marketing sh*t, I know a little bit. Not much -- but I know enough to realize that John McCain needs to dump his PR staff and marketing team.

You'd think with all of the fallout over the Paris/Britney ad that he'd re-think the plan. That didn't work, no matter how many pundits attempted to defend it. Racial, personal, really unrealistic -- failure. But while I was in Vegas I saw one where he said he'd save us from the energy crisis by drilling in protected areas of Washington and Oregon -- like we've been keeping America back by our need to save wildlife. How could we be so selfish? Here, drive your giant car! Screw those animals and birds. I don't know what the hell we were thinking.

His latest is about how during the past 4 years things have gotten worse. No surprises there. It's going to be a tactic that everyone will use this election: Gas prices up and everyone is broke, and you can blame the leader. It's okay, he's expecting it and after 8 years who cares what people think now? But McCain will turn everything around with his experience in economics. To back up this claim, the announcer proudly tells us how McCain had "taken on Big Tobacco." I asked my mom about this, because I thought it was just me -- and she thought it was just her --- and we both agreed that statement A really doesn't connect to statement B. So taking on tobacco companies that make money regardless of every new regulation that comes about, will somehow save us from the gas crisis? What made this even worse, was that it followed on the heels of an Obama ad.

Obama's ad said things were bad, but "here's the plan: boom tax breaks on middle class, boom remove tax breaks on companies who send jobs out of the US, boom support education. Thank you." (Ticking off the plan is an old Clinton strategy, but it's a good one.) McCain's ad said things were bad, but "we have some vague ideas and McCain's such a great guy that he's going to turn it around. Okay? He took on Big Tobacco! See? He's there for you!" (The pal is an old Bush strategy and it's not so great unless you have a history of Bud drinkin'.)

John, I have nothing against you personally, but I won't vote for you, because I think you're campaign relies too heavily on reaction to your opponent (bad in boxing = bad in politics), and, honey, if you can't tell good advice from bad in your bid for the presidency, what will happen if you're actually in charge?

This Is (not) Spinal Tap

So the platelet count held at 45.

Good news: This means no bone marrow biopsy or messy spleen removal. I'm just one of those people with ITP -- and I have found 2 online support groups already. Go figure. The nutty thing is I don't really feel it, and the doctor says there's no problem as long as I stay away from brain surgery and extreme dental work. pfft like ... okay.

Bad news: According to the Platelet Disorder Support Association (who knew?), these things can reduce the ability to clot blood:
beer (especially dark beer --- GUINNESS! NOOOOOOOOOO)
blueberries
chocolate (dark)
garlic/onions
green tea
tomatoes

Basically, anything I like or have on a regular basis. I guess vanilla ice cream isn't so bad. You'd think wine would be okay, but alcohol is on the "can reduce plateletes" list. Life is too fecking unfair.

To celebrate the cousin/roommate and I rented Fight Night 3. Barrera knocked me out, but I went 8 rounds as El Terrible Morales, and, honestly, I let the Baby-Faced Assassin knock me out, so I could see what it was like. It was kind of cool. We toyed with the idea of renting Grand Theft Auto IV, but I'm not sure I'm up to pimpin' hos and cappin' asses yet.

Maybe tomorrow.

You tell 'em, Kimi

This is clearly one of the horsemen of the apocalypse -- Kimi Raikkonen did an interview. He must have had his vitamin B yesterday (that or Lauda's comments touched one of his few active nerves):

Raikkonen: Don't write me off

Eurosport - Wed, 20 Aug 15:33:00 2008

Ferrari's reigning champion Kimi Raikkonen has said he should not be written out of the World Championship battle just yet as Formula One heads into the final seven races of the season.

Former world champion Niki Lauda - who won two titles with the Scuderia and one with McLaren - had suggested that the Finn was not a contender for the 2008 crown, despite his second position in the drivers' standings.

Raikkonen indicated that he believes he is close enough to points leader Lewis Hamilton of McLaren to launch a title assault. He is only five points adrift but his form is suffering whereas the Briton is performing well.

Raikkonen's team-mate Felipe Massa lies third, three points behind the Finn.

"We haven't lost anything yet, but we need to get consistently better results," Raikkonen said. "I think the championship will be very tight, with Ferrari and McLaren very close together in terms of performance and three drivers in a position to win the title.

"I need to have at least one point more than my competitors after the last race of the season - this is the sole aim. The rest is [simply] details."

He acknowledged that he has to hit top form to pip Hamilton again in 2008.

"From now on every single race will be extremely important," he said. "Every single point will have great value. The less there are to be won, the more important they become.

"This season shows that you should never give up. There were some races where things didn't go well for us but, for one reason or another, I was able to collect precious points.

"My position after Hungary is better than before the race."

Raikonnen added that he was looking forward to racing at the new Valencia street circuit.

"We have to start well at Valencia, where it's more important than in other places to drive with continuity from Friday onwards," he said.

"I've only seen the new track from the position of an on-board camera, but it seems to be very fast for a street circuit.

"I always love to drive on new tracks and I am always very quick to get to know them, so I can't wait to race at Valencia.

"I just hope I'll have a trouble-free weekend to try to set the car up in the best way possible, especially for the qualifying lap.

"Qualifying will be extremely important, although I think that there are several possibilities on the track to overtake."

Crash.Net / Eurosport

I can't imagine being the one to have to transcribe the tape. "IjusthopeI'llhaveatrouble-freeweekendtotry tosetthecarup inthebestwaypossible especiallyforthequalifyinglap."

Synchronized Swimming is Seriously F**ked Up

If you had your choice, would you prefer to watch:

The French team performing to music from Schindler's List?
or
The swimmer from the Italian team who (I swear!) had a penis?

The horror ... the horror ... Why -- WHY -- is synchronized swimming an Olympic sport?

Man, it's cold

Come back, sun! All is forgiven!

Suddenly it's Autumn n' stuff. What the hell happened? Saturday it's 100 outside, Sunday it's thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening me. Now it's hovering somewhere around 60 outside. Crazy Oregon. My tomatoes are never going to ripen.

Oh, and someone called me "bitch" on the phone yesterday. He wanted to complain, not have his problem solved, apparently, and hung up with a final "BITCH" (or "BEITCH" as they say it in Alabama) -- which proves, yet again, that cowards abound. I'm going to call you a name and slam the phone down before you can respond. That'll show you! I was on fire at first, but the boss doused the flames ("Let it go") before I could do something stupid, like call the guy back, shout "ASSHOLE" and hang up.

Did you know that the longest part of a giant squid is his tentacles? And lantern fish engage in diurnal vertical migration. Good to know.

Man, it's hot

I've been afraid to look around the library to see what melted this year. I think we hit 99 outside yesterday, which means it was about 105 up here. Window fans sort of help, but not really. I mostly just stay out of the upstairs for as long as possible.

Events of the weekend -- I'm down to a count of 45 on the platelets again. Why? They don't know why. The doctor gives me this perplexed look like "Gee, that's kind of nutty. What do you think?" Like I'm the one who went to med-school. I'll say it again, House would have totally figured this out by now. Can't these doctors get the team assembled and start writing on the chalkboard? Anyway, I go back on Friday and if the platelets have gone down more I get stuck with this thing -->
Can't. Wait.

Lucky for me, it goes in through the back so I don't have to watch it, but, honestly, the idea of it is kind of creeping me out. But if it rules out leukemia, I guess I'm down with it. It's only if the platelets drop. If they hold at 45 then I'm told I might "just be one of those people with chronic ITP" -- which sounds friendly, like being one of those people who just likes dogs over cats.

Other events -- we have a Playstation 3 because it plays Blu-Ray discs, and I'm not one of those people who normally notices a difference between this player and that and sound and what's detailed on the screen and blah blah blah, but, boy-o, you can count the pores on Bruce Willis' face in Die Hard. It's a trip. I can't wait to watch The Hunt for Red October. And playing the Beijing 2008 game is equally as exciting as watching it ... take that however you like. I can't wait to take the cousin/roommate on in Fight Night Round 3.

JIAYOU!

I like the Olympics, but it irritates me that you never get to see events like archery, which isn't sexy like beach volleyball. Or shooting. They never, ever show shooting. Maybe if the shooters wore underwear like the beach volleyball players they'd get on television, but since the shooters are usually from Muslim countries, that probably won't fly. And I haven't seen any equestrian events. Maybe they're not taking place yet or maybe it's because NBC is so in love with Michael Phelps that anything not featuring him is clearly a lesser sport and undeserving of coverage.

Go ahead, call me a communist, but I'm tired of hearing about Michael Phelps. We don't see the other medal ceremonies, why do we have to keep focusing in on his pinched lips and earnest tears every flippin' time he takes the podium? I agree that what he's doing is historical (if he can beat Spitz, which he hasn't yet, but probably will), but stopping men's gymnastics to "get into the head of Michael Phelps" ... dude ... e-feckin'-nuf.

By the way, hilarious that the American men's gymnastics team was hopping and whooping (JIAYOU!) about getting the bronze and the Japanese looked like they'd been pushed down a well on hearing they took silver. Let's face it, the Chinese were rating 16's on things that we'd get 15's on, but it's their country n' stuff, and they were pretty impressive on the floor exercises and the rings, so let them have it. But we should have hit perfect on that last pommel horse (oh yeah ... the pommel horse ... ... yeah ... I loves the pommel horse). That guy was on fire. But whatever. Bronze for the alternates is pretty impressive. Japan, silver is good. Get it? Goooooooooood.

What I learned on my summer vacation

"... mesopelagic fishes--that is, those in the region between 200 and 1,000 meters (-660 to 3,300 feet) below the sea surface--... have gas-filled swim bladders to help them remain neutrally buoyant. When these fishes are caught and brought rapidly to the sea surface, the consequent drop of hydrostatic pressure may cause, among other physiological stresses, expansion of the gas bladder, which will force internal organs out of their mouth and cause death."

This, and finding out that the eyes on a flatfish will move to one side of their head like a Picasso painting, are the coolest ocean fun facts ever.

Boy, what the hell with Isaac Hayes? Bernie Mac had pneumonia, so that wasn't going well already, but Isaac Hayes? What the hell happened? Weird, weird.

Don't Fear the Creeper

This karma cleansing is not working worth jack. Whaddya do when you've got something like this crawling down your sweaters in the closet?

That's right, you scream like a girl and stomp it into the ground. It's instinct. Primal, basic, elementary instinct.

Being modern, I searched the internet for answers to my problems (and for a photo to post) and found this little gem on eHow.com ("How To Do Just About Everything"). The Difficulty level is described as "Moderately Challenging":

Things You'll Need
Toy spider and/or pictures of spiders

Steps
Step One
Firstly you should know that you can't escape spiders and that they are everywhere, so there's no point stressing out about them. Think to yourself things like, how often do you hear of a spider killing someone? They are probably more scared of us than we are of them, look how big we are compared to them. They are unavoidable so you must overcome the fear of them.

Step Two
Do some research into spiders in your country. It's unlikely that there are dangerous spiders where you live as these are rare, but it's best that you know the facts. Should you have dangerous spiders near where you live, research what they look like, what you should do if you see one, etc. If you know what to do, should you see a risky spider, you wont be bitten if you are calm and follow the instructions. Should the spider get to you, there is always a cure for spiders at the hospital.

Step Three
Get some toy spiders and pictures of spiders and get someone that you know well and trust to look at these pictures with you. The more you do this, the more you'll get to know what they are actually like.

Step Four
Lastly, you must face your fear. I'm not asking you to touch a spider but when you do see one (assuming it is not a harmful spider) look at it. Each time you see one, gradually get closer to it. It really will work.

Firstly, this reminds me of when I was 11 and thought that I could write a self-help column in the newspaper. "I know why you're a bully. It's because you have insecurities about Algebra II. Just solve for x and you won't have a need to punch people anymore."

Lastly, she's right, how often do you hear of a spider killing someone? They can't buy ammo at Walmart and or carry chainsaws. It's just silly to fear them.

But they still don't belong in my closet trying on sweaters.

Tag This

She stood on the scales. Her Christmas present from Denise. What sort of a fuckin' present is that?
--I got it for the colour, said Denise.

David Sedaris is out of the room, so the closest book was the (as yet unread) Paula Spencer by Roddy Doyle. I'm still waiting for him to finish that A Star Called Henry trilogy. Come awn, ye daft wee...

And welcome back Reverend Dick! Ye daft wee...

---
Pick up your nearest book and go to page 123. Find the fifth sentence, and post on your blog the next three sentences. Acknowledge who tagged you, and then tag five more people.

I tag :
Archival Clothing (la lars)
Hot Air (the haskes)
And three non-bloggers who usually have good books close at hand:
DWilton
Mr. Bascomb
Wuh
(non-blogs can post in comments or email me and I'll post it in the Big Show ... either way works. It's a free-flowin' organic summer project, man.)

--

Side note: Week 2 and no one's interested in buying the duplex. Not only that, but we're so unpopular and unnoticeable that we can't even get the abandoned Volkswagon towed from the street in front of the house. That's going on week 7. I thought it might belong to the hillbillies across the street, but they park on the lawn. For those coming into town for the fair next week our neighbors will sell you a spot on their lawn for $5, but you have to clear out by midnight, because that's when they like to ride their ATVs around in the backyard.

Modern Parenting

Israeli parents forget daughter at airport

JERUSALEM - Israeli airport police say a couple going on a European vacation remembered to bring their duty-free shopping and their 18 suitcases, but forgot their 3-year-old daughter at the airport.

The couple and their five children were late for a flight to Paris Sunday and made a mad dash to the gate. In the confusion, their daughter got lost. A policeman found her wandering around the terminal, crying for her mother.

---

Oddly enough this happened on my flight home. We were taxiing to the runway in Seattle and this man behind me shouted "WAIT A MINUTE!" The stewardess was on the way to being strapped in and turned, but kept walking: "Sir, I don't know what you're looking for." "MY DAUGHTER! DID SHE GET ON THIS FLIGHT! SHE'S ONLY SEVEN!"

Mortified, his daughter looked back from the front row and waved.

You know, I don't know a lot about raising kids, but maybe this is something to think about before you hit the tarmac.

I'm Always Write

I was doing my rounds of blogs today and checking in on this guy I know, his name's Mike (but, really, Michael) and the new writer's blog he's put up with another UofO MFA writer:

notacafeinparis.edublogs.org

So I went there and I read their entries and it made me think a lot about writing and how I'm not really doing it anymore apart from the odd paper for school and the crazy journalism bit, and I thought about how much writing I used to do and I want to believe that my gig is fiction, but I'm beginning to think that I'm not really good at it compared to the academic writing -- and that's all Copperman's fault, by the way, for encouraging my non-fiction in Writing 121. Because of him I can work through an argument, and maybe that's got to be good enough from now on. I don't think the fiction I write is bad, but it not as good as I'd want it to be ... I don't know ... There's a lot of crap out there. A lot of crap. So why can't I throw my crap into the ring as well?

Probably because I'd be ashamed to do so. It was that library sale that did it -- Mom and I in Lake Arrowhead standing in the heat and watching women paw through those multi-colored Danielle Steele paperbacks trying to remember which ones they'd read and which ones they hadn't. That's the fear, friends. That's what gives me chills. "Is this the one about blah blah blah?" "No, I think that's the yellow one. That one's about blah." "No, no -- blah is in the green one."

All this said here in the private blog because I'm too embarrassed to post it on the writer's blog among people.

In the meantime, feckin' A, that new David Sedaris book is fantastic. I don't care how many times he talks about owning a fake nylon bottom, it gets me every time.

The Poorer but Wiser Girl

Vacation is over, time to start vacation.

Yesterday I only worked 8 hours. I kind of liked it. I was able to spend the rest of the day catching up on everything. I've finally mailed the graduation card to my god-daughter (okay, yes, it's been sitting on my desk for the last 2 months, staring at me, daring me to put in a gift card and mail it off, and I just never scraped it together in between the action films, oceanography and blood thing, okay? OKAY? Yeah, I've been on my own back about it, sure) -- and I'm mailing out bills today with the few pennies I still have in my checking account.

Dude, if it wasn't for President Bush giving me the gambling incentive check I don't know what I would have done in Vegas -- although we did have two really, really wonderful days poolside. Usually we turn bright pink on the first day and can't go out again, but this year we were able to double our pool time and that was sweet. The kids want me to come down at Christmas and go with them to Pala. And I'd like to, sure. I like hanging out with the girls, but something tells me the funds will be missing and I'll be one of those sad sacks putting the retirement fund into the Lucky Lemmings machine, crying every time it comes up with "consolation 2" on the bonus spins.

On the plus side, I finished a book (!) while traveling -- Sarah Waters' The Night Watch -- and started Barbara Ehrenreich's Bait and Switch -- a nice little story about getting into the corporate world and how a degree and experience won't keep you employed in the corporations. I thought it would be a good balance to starting my last year of college.

But first ... I'm going to watch the Criterion High and Low. Sheryl, you are way too good to me. It tingled in my hands when I opened it.

Oh. See?

Every time I come down to California I think it'll be with just that five minutes of stranger-ness and then the 37 years of living here will come back and everything will be comfortable again. And then five minutes turns into ten ... twenty ... three days ...

I feel like such a hick. I have to close my eyes while my parents drive because it scares the bejesus out of me. I can't even watch my mom maneuver a cart through Walmart because I'm afraid she's going to hit someone. And that's the funny part -- she doesn't hit anyone. She can go in and out of car and cart traffic without even looking and no one gets hurt, except for me, who gets worked up and worried every time she skirts around someone's backside.

My turn comes today when we get on the freeway (mom won't drive on the freeway). I usually only have to drive the second leg into Vegas, which is flat desert two lanes and only a little shifting when we get into town. This time we're meeting my aunts in Manhattan Beach and I said I'd get us there. I don't know why I said it, although I suspect it was while I still thought it would only be five minutes before I got used to things ... that was two days ago.

Side: Mom and I watched The Seven Samurai last night ("Is Kikidoodoo going to die? He is, isn't he?" "It's Kikuchiyo and I'm not going to tell you.") and she liked it. So, I convinced her to Netflix Om Shanti Om ... yeah, I may have overstepped it... But it's a musical. I figure if she can sit through Seven Brides for Seven Brothers more than once then she can handle Bollywood. Cahh ... she loves Carousel, for heaven's sake.

Up to 171 platelets from 39 -- WHOO HOO.

gimme drugs gimme drugs gimme drugs -- but now I can take them in smaller doses.

Now I really am going to work on that paper. Honest.

These are not the 'roids you're looking for

So I haven't bulked up really. Well, no more than usual with the ol' PMS and heat and all. Belly went up. Belly went down. My thighs are kind of huge, but that's because I'm back on the La Tour again -- although, dude! Some cotton-top in a Cadillac nearly crashed me down yesterday as she tried to run me into the car that was making a right turn behind me. She was turning left against us both and even honked her horn like what right did we have to cross the street in front of her car! Like the green light was just for her or something. It was surreal. All I could think was, if she hits me I'll die. If she hits me I'll die. I'll bleed to death and die. Which is yet another reason to hate doctors. I get that hypochondria, just like my dad, and I start imagining that my hair color is causing me cancer and junk.

If she hit me I wouldn't die, but I'd be mighty feckin' pissed.

Anyway, tomorrow I go in and they poke another needle in my arm so they can tell me if I need to keep poppin' pills. Honestly though, I don't have heartburn and the euphoria only lasted about a day, so I'm not sure these things are real anyway. Where's the Hulk body and the need to clean and bake? I just don't have it.

Next week is Vegas. If I don't get this John Woo paper finished by Saturday, I'll have to save blogging until I'm back. I'm sure you'll manage.

Buggin and Bullets

I think I'm going to have to rethink this whole karma cleansing thing. The steroids kicked in yesterday and I started cleaning my room only to find that some spider gave birth somewhere and those little white bastards are into everything.

One just crawled across this monitor. Just now. They're mocking me even.

It's also summer finally in Oregon, which means that it's stopped snowing and I'm glad for the heat, sure, because we had 8 months of winter this year, but wee moths keep squeaking in through the blades of the window fan. Is the greater good served by letting them live or by protecting my woolens?

So far I've been pretty lenient. Just now I brushed the spider from the monitor, but did not intentionally squish or kill it ... although it may not have survived the brushing, but my aim was true. I think I should be given a little something for the effort. That's all I'm sayin'.

This is the last week of the action film class and I'm really going to miss it. Sure, there was a lot of reading and paper writing, trying to bring philosophy to The Transporter and junk like that (my final paper is on how Hard Target reflects the global economy.), but last week we watched Hot Fuzz under the guise of studying genre and that was really great. "Pack it in, Frank, you silly bastard!" Today we're watching Lady Terminator. It looks kind of naughty on YouTube. I can't even post the trailer. You'd never catch them showing this in a community college class. Viva academia.

Cancer Ward

Friends, there's a reason I don't go to doctors --- By the way, how tired am I of the question "Who's your primary physician?" I'm plenty tired, let me tell you. What is this obsession with having a primary doctor? -- I don't like getting weighed and measured. I don't like reading Sunset magazine in the waiting room or trying to start work on a paper and get called and have to scrape my reference crap together because some nurse is impatient to get me into the room where she will weigh and measure me. I think my fear of needles has been well-documented.

Mostly I don't like illness. I know -- I know -- people get sick. It happens. But it worries me to see it and have no helpful thing to say. ("Gee, that oxygen tank sure looks heavy...") It makes me uncomfortable. The people at this cancer place all had cancer (yes way) and had faces in various shades of gray and pale with bits of pink. They all seem so dependent on the doctors and the medications and that kind of stuff just makes me edgy and fearful.

So I don't go to the doctors. I didn't want to go to this one, but when the guy in the emergency room says it's important what can you do?

Upshot is, there's no idea why I have this ITP thing. I don't have any cancer symptoms, everything was poked and listened to, so it's been put down as an auto-immune issue. I guess that's supposed to be better, but it means I have to take steroids. Prednisone.

"You'll bulk up," the doctor tells me. "You may have heartburn," he says. "But you'll have euphoria." Oh well, that's something to look forward to. "And then you may come down from that pretty hard." Oh. Great.

Not quite Barry Bonds, but more like a momentarily happy whale, I guess. As long as I don't grow a mustache or have hair coming out of my ears, I guess it's okay.

Oh! And I have a toilet again. Things are looking up!

Call it fate ... call it ... karma.

Yes sir, that's my bathroom. No sir, don't mean maybe. Contractor: "We just need to pull out a few tiles in the shower to see what's back there." Yeah, the shower is where the toilet is sitting. And they left the toilet brush hanging, but took out the toilet .... what the? The horror. THE HORROR.

When the ... I mean, honestly, is this year ever going to end? It's like Hurricane Hell around here. The cat dies, I have to take Economics, the house is getting sold, I have to sit in a waiting room with a toofless old woman picking fights with people, and now I ain't got none toilet. Friends, don't step on that spider. Don't kill those garden snails. Keep your karmas clean and fresh.

That is all.