Jons cool info



The evening began a little early for me. The Other One in the office bolted at 3 because his wife was having a baby. As a result, Boss Man’s heart grew 3 sizes and he let us all go home. I decided to take the opportunity to watch “Finding Neverland”, which I needed to return to the library. I had been putting it off because it’s hard to get excited about watching a movie in which you know someone is going to die of a horrible disease. But I found myself in a rare, weepy mood, so I put it in. And weep I did. You see? I’m not entirely made of stone. I may be annoyed by Nora Ephron movies, and derive glee from watching teenagers get hacked to death, but I can be moved by consumption, loves that can never be and, very occasionally, small children who have seen too much pain.
After dinner, I headed over to Faye’s for ANTM and Veronica Mars. I can take or leave ANTM in general, but it’s a lot of fun to watch with Faye. I was saddened by the outcome if only because now we can’t make anymore “Just One of The Guys” jokes. And how often do you get to do THAT in life? Veronica Mars was consistent with the good writing. I’m glad Faye finally turned me from the Dark Side of Wednesday night TV. I can only habitually watch SO MANY shows on which all the characters annoy the crap out of me. Not one to waste an evening off, I was determined to tie a few on. So after TV, Sherwood stopped by Faye’s apartment and we headed off into the gloriously foggy night. We hoped to find a seat at the Comet, but, since everyone had Wednesday off, the Comet was packed. Sherwood and I opted for the perpetual Plan B, which is the Canterbury. I think Plan B was better anyway because we wouldn’t have been able to have our conversation at The Comet. It was one of those nostalgia-filled conversations that make you feel all warm and fuzzy and also a little sad.


Dom and I woke late and got a late start. It’s hard to get up and go on your first day off in a long while. We stayed in our pajamas until noon and didn’t leave the house until 1. Armed with pies and bags of groceries, we sped off to West Seattle to catch the ferry to Vashon. As we rounded the corner, we realized that if we were to remain in the car, like most stubborn Seattleites, we would never get on the damned ferry. So we opted, instead, to park and haul everything onto the ferry as walk-ons. Even though we parked up a hill and the bags were heavy, it was definitely the optimal decision. Besides, in Dom’s car, I never would have met the Mighty-O Donut angel who was inexplicably wandering around the waiting area handing out free vegan donuts!

Dom’s dad, Phil, waited for us on the other side and drove us and our haul to his house, where I was immediately put to work in the kitchen. It turns out that it doesn’t take very long to cook a Thanksgiving meal if you aren’t roasting a turkey. Veat “poultry” breasts can be ready in half an hour, even with a marinade involved. An hour and a half later, we were sitting down to dinner with Phil and Phil’s employee, Jerry. Everyone seemed to enjoy their meal, even though I was the only vegetarian present. After dinner, we watched a few “Greg the Bunny” episodes on IFC, and the boys played with the HAM radio. I played with Catalina, the world’s smallest adult cat. And of course, there was PIE!
After pie, I either needed a nap, or to just go to bed outright. It was after 8, I think, when we started back to Seattle. Holiday time is hard to judge. Anyway, I slept well that night.


I cooked a little breakfast for me and Dom and we were utterly useless for a few hours. Around 3, Dom left for the Gadzook office, and I got ready for whatever the evening might bring. The evening, at first, brought Sherwood and his lap top. He offered to allow me to peruse his i-tunes for albums I’d like to burn. I’m sure he regretted it immediately, because he was hungry and ended up burning about 12 CD’s before we left for dinner. Sherwood was craving Won Ton soup; so of course, we went to the Wok and Grill. We were trying to decide what to do after that. Brugos wanted karaoke (and, of course, I can’t turn that down), but he wanted to go to the Mandarin Gate. Faye, I believe, said she would rather eat her own face than go there again. I got a hold of a Stranger and we discovered, to our delight, that Angel was spinning the karaoke at the Wild Rose. Faye, Borgia and Brugos met me and Sherwood at the Rose 30 minutes later. Sherwood sang “Bullet with Butterfly Wings”. Brugos sang “Still Loving You” by the Scorpions, and I sang “Angels” by Robbie Williams. After our round, we were ready to move to greener pastures, meaning we would go to Faye’s place and play drinking games. After a few failed attempts at “the word association game” and “the movie actors game”, we tried to play Kings. Borgia could see Sherwood’s hand and kept giving him advice and no one, it seemed, could concentrate. So before long, Borgia passed out in Faye’s bed, and Brugos and I watched Faye and Sherwood play Katamari Damacy. What I learned: Drinking games are only good as a means to an end, not as a perpetuator of drunkenness. Still, we managed to keep the party going until FOUR in the morning. No WONDER we all felt like the fuzzy end of the lollipop the next day.


There was nothing for it but a big, greasy breakfast at the Canterbury, as served by the World’s Worst Waitress. Dom, Borgia, Faye, Sherwood and I were in attendance. After breakfast, Borgia left us to go watch hockey. Faye, Sherwood and I huddled together in the living room and giggled at the “Contractual Obligation Album” by Van Morrison. Sherwood went home for about an hour and a half, and Faye and I ventured out into the world for reinforcements. I was in the mood to watch young people get slaughtered. We got two movies from On-15th and then to went to Rainbow Grocery for soy jerky and not at ALL to ogle the new hottie pie that works there. When we got back, we ordered pizza and dessert to be delivered from Palermo, a mere two blocks away. THAT’S what the previous night’s antics had turned us into.
We made a bad call on the slasher movie. We rented the utterly intolerable “R.S.V.P.”. Even when scripts are uninspired, I don’t usually notice bad camera work on a studio picture, but it was really evident here. The plot was non-existent, when it wasn’t being pilfered directly from another movie. Even the presence of Glen Quinn didn’t help. He’d been obviously having a hard time deciding whether his character was Irish or American. And, since it turned out to be his last film, I think we can safely blame his involvement in that cinematic disaster for his drug overdose. Sherwood and I decided to light up. Faye mercifully began fast-forwarding through the movie. Sherwood, couldn’t handle it anymore and went home to listen to music. It’s too bad too, because next we put in Martin and Orloff, which Sherwood would have loved. It has a quieter humor than the “Upright Citizens Brigade” TV show, but it’s still just as bizarre. Faye correctly likened it to the “Brain Candy” of UCB. I can’t remember when we watched the small dog category of the Purina Dog Show, but that happened too. Damn, those little dogs crack me up. Especially the ones that are so furry, they look to be gliding across the arena without legs. Some SNL reruns also happened. Faye astutely observed that even though there are some very funny people involved, the current cast would be utterly lost without Amy Poehler.


I was in a rare, productive mood, so I took care of some internet shopping, some tidying, some mending and some digitizing of VHS tapes. I also went to yoga! In my ongoing attempt to see the classic films that I should have watched years ago, I watched “Dog Day Afternoon” while I mended. There’s PROOF for you that Pacino has gotten very very lazy. I watch his subtle nuances in “Dog Day Afternoon” and I can’t help but be moved. Contrariwise, I watch him scream his head off in “The Devil’s Advocate” or “Any Given Sunday” (or even, if you ask me, “Scent of a Woman”) and I can’t help but feel that his ongoing critical acclaim is just force of habit.

Next Weekend: Aeon Flux, anyone?