Things I Hate #542...
Okay. Just a random thing that drives me crazy - people on TV interviews who ask their own questions and then answer them. For example, on Good Morning America - or The Early Show - can't remember, Diane Sawyer, I think it was, interviewed a lady from the Opus Dei. This is that radical Catholic group that is so negatively shown in the Da Vinci Code. The lady was doing her best to try to show her organization in a good light. And at one point they were discussing the the Opus Dei belief in self mortification, namely the Cilice [a spiked chain worn around the upper thigh for two hours each day.] And the Lady says "Does Opus Dei participate in self mortification? Yes. Did we invent it? No."
This drives me crazy. She could have easily said "Opus Dei may participate in self mortification, but we didn't invent it. Catholics have been doing it for centuries." Why do people being interviewed think they aren't allowed to make a statement? If you have something to say, just say it! You don't have to phrase it in the form of a question - this isn't Jeopardy, for christ's sake.
Just now while I was feeding Jackson lunch and listening to E! THS on Carmen Electra in the background another example popped up. A Baywatch producer being interviewed said "Was she bigger than Baywatch? No. Did she think she was bigger than Baywatch? Probably." Grrrr...drives me crazy!
This ranks right up there in the drives me crazy scale with people who tick things off on their fingers when trying to make a point. Does is make me want to pull my hair out? Yes. Is there anything I can do about it? No.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Memoirs of a fabulous book...
After finishing the book Memoirs of a Geisha this evening, I was eager to watch the movie. I've had it for a few days from Netflix, waiting for me to finish up the novel. Tonight, I popped it in.
Sigh. What an empty portrayal of a great book. Once again it is proved to me beyond a doubt that good descriptive writing will beat montage movie-making every time. This was one of those full-to-bursting books that would have made a fabulous mini-series, like Lonesome Dove. There was simply too much information to put into a cinematic release. They tried to shove in as much as they could in 2 hours, but only managed to make the story jumbled and rushed. They gave you no time to come to care about the characters - no one is fleshed out in any meaningful way. The whole story seems impersonal somehow. Not at all as passionate and real as the characters in the book are written.
Oh well. I do this to myself every time. This was not even close to the worst I have seen - remind me some time to tell you the story of the wretchedly vomitous movie called "Simon Birch."
After finishing the book Memoirs of a Geisha this evening, I was eager to watch the movie. I've had it for a few days from Netflix, waiting for me to finish up the novel. Tonight, I popped it in.
Sigh. What an empty portrayal of a great book. Once again it is proved to me beyond a doubt that good descriptive writing will beat montage movie-making every time. This was one of those full-to-bursting books that would have made a fabulous mini-series, like Lonesome Dove. There was simply too much information to put into a cinematic release. They tried to shove in as much as they could in 2 hours, but only managed to make the story jumbled and rushed. They gave you no time to come to care about the characters - no one is fleshed out in any meaningful way. The whole story seems impersonal somehow. Not at all as passionate and real as the characters in the book are written.
Oh well. I do this to myself every time. This was not even close to the worst I have seen - remind me some time to tell you the story of the wretchedly vomitous movie called "Simon Birch."
Monday, April 03, 2006
A Toe Triad...
I experienced an odd triad at work today. I'll call it the Toe Triad. I was carrying Jackson's toys down from upstairs when I dropped a Winnie the Pooh honey pot on my sandal-clad left foot. It was quite painful, though I didn't show it. I just hopped around a bit and chanted in my head, "It's not as bad as childbirth, it's not as bad as childbirth.." (A little mantra that reminds me how tough I am and that no amount of pain can touch me.) About fifteen minutes later, I stubbed my right big toe on the desk as I sat down to work. It was one of those serious under-the-nail type of stubs that would bring tears to your eyes - your eyes, but not mine. I was silent once more because I didn't want to curse in front of baby Jackson. But, I swear it wasn't ten minutes later that the afternoon volunteer stepped right on my left big toe as I stood next to him to answer a question. Not wanting to make him feel bad I just smiled and said "Oh, no you didn't hurt me at all..." When what I really though was "WTF? Is April 3 Anti-Marsha's Feet Day?"
I felt pretty secure I'd have no further toe-harming incidents, seeing as the triad was complete. But I was extra careful the rest of the afternoon, just in case. When when I got home, the Schwann's guy was in the neighboorhood giving out free ice cream samples. Guess what he gave me, as I stood carefully out of toe-crunching range? Three - count them, three- ice cream bars. That is my idea of a triad...
I experienced an odd triad at work today. I'll call it the Toe Triad. I was carrying Jackson's toys down from upstairs when I dropped a Winnie the Pooh honey pot on my sandal-clad left foot. It was quite painful, though I didn't show it. I just hopped around a bit and chanted in my head, "It's not as bad as childbirth, it's not as bad as childbirth.." (A little mantra that reminds me how tough I am and that no amount of pain can touch me.) About fifteen minutes later, I stubbed my right big toe on the desk as I sat down to work. It was one of those serious under-the-nail type of stubs that would bring tears to your eyes - your eyes, but not mine. I was silent once more because I didn't want to curse in front of baby Jackson. But, I swear it wasn't ten minutes later that the afternoon volunteer stepped right on my left big toe as I stood next to him to answer a question. Not wanting to make him feel bad I just smiled and said "Oh, no you didn't hurt me at all..." When what I really though was "WTF? Is April 3 Anti-Marsha's Feet Day?"
I felt pretty secure I'd have no further toe-harming incidents, seeing as the triad was complete. But I was extra careful the rest of the afternoon, just in case. When when I got home, the Schwann's guy was in the neighboorhood giving out free ice cream samples. Guess what he gave me, as I stood carefully out of toe-crunching range? Three - count them, three- ice cream bars. That is my idea of a triad...
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