Sunday, April 29, 2007
pix -- WILL THIS WORK?
[IMG]http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w127/ashcan-rantings/0077073-R1-041-19.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w127/ashcan-rantings/0077073-R1-015-6.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w127/ashcan-rantings/0077073-R1-015-6.jpg[/IMG]
Where did you come from?
During my frequent long walks, I have a lot of time to think deep thoughts. Here is Friday's:
I was walking along thinking, I can walk till I drop dead, and I will still have a butt. It's not as big as it once was, but I feel like it's disproportionate. And I got to thinking, where the hell did this come from? I can't think of a single person I'm related to by blood with a butt. Well, no, I had a male cousin who got a little chubby for a while, and I think for a guy he sort of had a butt. Not really, but for a guy... Maybe it's because I don't have as many female blood relatives? My parents and grandparents have NO butts. My one blood aunt has struggled with her weight, but as far as I remember, like my grandma (her mother), she tends to gain weight around the middle and have a flat butt. (I've never spent so much time, or any time that I remember, trying to visualize my family memebers' butts...) I do have overweight relatives, just no one with butt issues.
In fact, that goes a step further. The two main body types/weight gain areas are the apple shape (large around the stomach) and the pear shape (larger below the wast). I guess I'm the latter (although I just get big all over -- but despite my exercise being mostly leg-focused, my top half slimmed down the easiest). No one I'm related to has this body type. I find that weird.
Maybe on my next walk I'll figure out where my butt came from. Better yet, maybe I'll figure out where it's going and how to make it leave.
I was walking along thinking, I can walk till I drop dead, and I will still have a butt. It's not as big as it once was, but I feel like it's disproportionate. And I got to thinking, where the hell did this come from? I can't think of a single person I'm related to by blood with a butt. Well, no, I had a male cousin who got a little chubby for a while, and I think for a guy he sort of had a butt. Not really, but for a guy... Maybe it's because I don't have as many female blood relatives? My parents and grandparents have NO butts. My one blood aunt has struggled with her weight, but as far as I remember, like my grandma (her mother), she tends to gain weight around the middle and have a flat butt. (I've never spent so much time, or any time that I remember, trying to visualize my family memebers' butts...) I do have overweight relatives, just no one with butt issues.
In fact, that goes a step further. The two main body types/weight gain areas are the apple shape (large around the stomach) and the pear shape (larger below the wast). I guess I'm the latter (although I just get big all over -- but despite my exercise being mostly leg-focused, my top half slimmed down the easiest). No one I'm related to has this body type. I find that weird.
Maybe on my next walk I'll figure out where my butt came from. Better yet, maybe I'll figure out where it's going and how to make it leave.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Why I Don't Go to Movies in Theaters Very Often
There are two main types of theatergoing movie viewers.
The first I'll call the Blockbusters. They're impressed with anything big (explosions, music, sinking boats) and famous people. That in iteslf doesn't bother me -- I can dig Hollywood movies. They're also the types who talk and make all manner of noises, especially during quiet scenes. Unfortunately, I've had close friends and family members of this persuasion, but damn, it drives me crazy. They ask what just happened, GASP in shock every time anything remotely unexpected happens (one friend didn't realize until someone glared at her that she spent most of a suspenseful movie whisper-yelling "fuck! Fuck!" in terror). Or much worse, they do these things when they merely ASSUME something bad is about to happen. When it doesn't, thanks, Blockbuster, you've just made whatever did happen an anticlimax. Even if I want to ignore you, the throaty, panicked, inhaled "gughghgh!" sound you make automatically puts me on guard. They tend to eat more loudly than the average German Shepherd (sometimes they "drink" their popcorn by upending the container and shaking it down the gullet, producing a lovely "SHT SHT SHT" sound -- until, finally engorged, they throw the container on the floor to bounce/roll down 12 rows. If your hands are too dirty to eat out of, WASH THEM. Ew.)
The second category, actually far worse, is what I will call the Artsy-Fartsies. These can be primarily identified by their hearty, knowing, often indulgent laughs. The worst of these, when watching an arthouse-type film, will laugh at ANYTHING. The more obscure the film (in subject, style or fame), the more they laugh. At everything. If there's a closeup of someone's face, they laugh. If there's a fast cut between two scenes, they laugh. If anything remotely unexpected happens, they laugh. If someone collapses, they laugh -- until they figure out the character just dropped dead of a previously undetected, particularly deadly form of cancer, and the rest of the characters are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. Then they sometimes stop laughing. Unless something funny happens.
Yesterday I saw an unusual film at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival (or, as I think they call it now, the International Minneapolis-St. Paul Film Festival -- I guess MSPIFF was harder to remember than IMSPFF). It was sort of science fictiony, but not necessarily sci-fi (the world it was set in was somewhat different from our own, but there only a few details that were really not possible in our current reality. Whatever, I'm no sci-fi expert). I wasn't expecting it to be a comedy, and after watching it last night and listening to people belly-laugh the entire way through it, I have NO IDEA if it was a disturbing view of a shallow, dead society not so very unlike our own, or a screwball comedy about a man stuck in a crazy-goofy town full of nutty folks. I think if I had watched it by myself I would have found it quirky, outright humorous at times, but overall more puzzling, thought-provoking and just odd. Maybe one or two laugh-out-loud moments.
At one point the main character is following a mysterious man home. Of course, the audience was in fits of uproars because the man he was following was wearing wingtip shoes, and that's all we ever see close up. He goes into a building, and our hero stands outside, staring at the blank facade (ha, look at the closeup of his face!). Suddenly, a light in the basement level flares on. AND THEY LAUGHED. Oh my, the quirky cleverness of it all!
Of course, there are other small groups. The Snorers. The Latecomers. The Walkouts (really sensitive hippie Artsy-Fartsies who didn't actually read the description of the film that called it things like "disturbing," "violent," or even "sexual"). The Fidgeters, who shake entire rows of seats with their constant heavings.
And then there's me. I sit still (within reason; legs do fall asleep), quietly enjoying what's on the screen before me. I arrive on time and use the bathroom before the show starts. If I'm too tired to sit through a movie, I stay home. I eat before I come to the theater, or specifically pick foods that don't make too much noise. If I miss something, I silently chide myself to pay attention and assume I'll figure out what happened. If something startles me, I keep it to myself. If something is funny, I'll chuckle, but I don't feel the need to project my appreciation to those sitting 20 rows in front of me. I turn my phone off before I walk into the building, to make sure I don't forget.
Damn it, I'm not a perfect person. But I'm damn near a perfect moviegoer. (My main faults are height and poofiness of hair. I cannot help this, but I can understand the frustration you people behind me must feel. Which is why I go to all possible lengths to avoid sitting in front of anyone.) There is nothing that pisses me off more than paying $7-$9 to see a movie on the big screen and have to listen to other people's tiny dramas the entire time. SHUT THE HELL UP!
Thank you.
The first I'll call the Blockbusters. They're impressed with anything big (explosions, music, sinking boats) and famous people. That in iteslf doesn't bother me -- I can dig Hollywood movies. They're also the types who talk and make all manner of noises, especially during quiet scenes. Unfortunately, I've had close friends and family members of this persuasion, but damn, it drives me crazy. They ask what just happened, GASP in shock every time anything remotely unexpected happens (one friend didn't realize until someone glared at her that she spent most of a suspenseful movie whisper-yelling "fuck! Fuck!" in terror). Or much worse, they do these things when they merely ASSUME something bad is about to happen. When it doesn't, thanks, Blockbuster, you've just made whatever did happen an anticlimax. Even if I want to ignore you, the throaty, panicked, inhaled "gughghgh!" sound you make automatically puts me on guard. They tend to eat more loudly than the average German Shepherd (sometimes they "drink" their popcorn by upending the container and shaking it down the gullet, producing a lovely "SHT SHT SHT" sound -- until, finally engorged, they throw the container on the floor to bounce/roll down 12 rows. If your hands are too dirty to eat out of, WASH THEM. Ew.)
The second category, actually far worse, is what I will call the Artsy-Fartsies. These can be primarily identified by their hearty, knowing, often indulgent laughs. The worst of these, when watching an arthouse-type film, will laugh at ANYTHING. The more obscure the film (in subject, style or fame), the more they laugh. At everything. If there's a closeup of someone's face, they laugh. If there's a fast cut between two scenes, they laugh. If anything remotely unexpected happens, they laugh. If someone collapses, they laugh -- until they figure out the character just dropped dead of a previously undetected, particularly deadly form of cancer, and the rest of the characters are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. Then they sometimes stop laughing. Unless something funny happens.
Yesterday I saw an unusual film at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival (or, as I think they call it now, the International Minneapolis-St. Paul Film Festival -- I guess MSPIFF was harder to remember than IMSPFF). It was sort of science fictiony, but not necessarily sci-fi (the world it was set in was somewhat different from our own, but there only a few details that were really not possible in our current reality. Whatever, I'm no sci-fi expert). I wasn't expecting it to be a comedy, and after watching it last night and listening to people belly-laugh the entire way through it, I have NO IDEA if it was a disturbing view of a shallow, dead society not so very unlike our own, or a screwball comedy about a man stuck in a crazy-goofy town full of nutty folks. I think if I had watched it by myself I would have found it quirky, outright humorous at times, but overall more puzzling, thought-provoking and just odd. Maybe one or two laugh-out-loud moments.
At one point the main character is following a mysterious man home. Of course, the audience was in fits of uproars because the man he was following was wearing wingtip shoes, and that's all we ever see close up. He goes into a building, and our hero stands outside, staring at the blank facade (ha, look at the closeup of his face!). Suddenly, a light in the basement level flares on. AND THEY LAUGHED. Oh my, the quirky cleverness of it all!
Of course, there are other small groups. The Snorers. The Latecomers. The Walkouts (really sensitive hippie Artsy-Fartsies who didn't actually read the description of the film that called it things like "disturbing," "violent," or even "sexual"). The Fidgeters, who shake entire rows of seats with their constant heavings.
And then there's me. I sit still (within reason; legs do fall asleep), quietly enjoying what's on the screen before me. I arrive on time and use the bathroom before the show starts. If I'm too tired to sit through a movie, I stay home. I eat before I come to the theater, or specifically pick foods that don't make too much noise. If I miss something, I silently chide myself to pay attention and assume I'll figure out what happened. If something startles me, I keep it to myself. If something is funny, I'll chuckle, but I don't feel the need to project my appreciation to those sitting 20 rows in front of me. I turn my phone off before I walk into the building, to make sure I don't forget.
Damn it, I'm not a perfect person. But I'm damn near a perfect moviegoer. (My main faults are height and poofiness of hair. I cannot help this, but I can understand the frustration you people behind me must feel. Which is why I go to all possible lengths to avoid sitting in front of anyone.) There is nothing that pisses me off more than paying $7-$9 to see a movie on the big screen and have to listen to other people's tiny dramas the entire time. SHUT THE HELL UP!
Thank you.
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