Clash of the Titans

Trailer for the remake. I can't help but say "oooh" then laugh at the cheesy Hollywood "TITANS. WILL. CLASH" words flying at you. I love me some Greek mythology, though.

Things You Never Knew About Hitler and Other Stories.

I often hear the kids share their knowledge of Hitler's Jewish lineage, but this year I heard a new one in a quiet conversation between two students:

Student A: Did you know... Hitler was gay?

Student B: Yep.

What made that funny for me was the tone of the second student, as though that was common knowledge and the first guy was a moron for even uttering it. I think I'll add my own rumor to spice things up and tell them all he was, in fact, a chihuahua and the father of Scientology too.

Also, in discussing the first president of Hawaii following the fall of their monarchy, the history teacher tried to tap into their existing background knowledge they never they knew they had about president Dole.

History teacher: You know the fruit with the stickers that say "Dole"..?

Student: Oh wow... So Dole's the sticker company?

History teacher: Er no. They sell fruit.

Based on some of my less favorable experiences with doctors who succeed in missing the obvious, I think he's got a fine future ahead of him in the field of medicine.

Psyched for Psychoville!

Yes, OH YES! A second series/season AND a TV special have been green-lit by the BBC for one of my favorite TV shows, Psychoville. It's enough to make me want to grab a washed up, one-handed, bitter children's entertainer and kiss his painted, nicotine-stained lips! Is it a newfound interest in clown porn or is it just Reece Shearsmith? I'll do some research and get back to you on that one.

Oh I can't wait to see how many hits my blog will get from poor buggers doing Google searches for "clown porn"...

Four Letter Word

I will forever regret the fact that I will most likely never get to sit and enjoy a pint and hours and hours of conversation with Billy Connolly. He is so genuine. The above sequence begins with a song he wrote entitled "Four Letter Word". I posted this in response to BothEyesShut's post on swearie words. He tells so many charming little anecdotes from his life growing up in Scotland. Be prepared, he's Glaswegian, so he makes more sense if you knock back a few pints first.

LBD

How many ways can you wear a little black dress? Sheena Matheiken is shooting for 365 as part of a combined statement in fashion, sustainability, and fun in the name of charity. Check out her page at The Uniform Project. Some accessories are donated but her goal is to get donations to fund the education of poverty stricken children in India. It also reminds me that there's absolutely no point to my having a wardrobe full of stuff I hardly ever wear yet insist in holding on to for year and years and years.

Dear God, Sorry to Disturb you, But...

I finally made use of the massage gift card my husband got me for my last birthday and ended up having quite the philosophical discussion. While I normally prefer to remain absolutely silent and have whoever’s handling me do the same, we ended up chatting almost the entire time. He was the first male massage therapist I’d ever been to, but fully expected him to be gay, giving me nothing to worry about. Indeed, he was, so I didn’t have to tense up at the thought of his accidentally brushing my boob or other lady bits. We discussed politics, intolerance of homosexuals, cultural differences, great wines, and atheism.

I was so tempted to ask why most homosexuals vote for Democrats over Libertarians who actually have the balls to back gay marriage, but I didn’t. They probably don’t vote for them for the same reason I don’t, at least in the presidential race. I’m too chicken to back what I perceive to be the losing horse, so I just resort to the lesser of two evils.

While he felt claustrophobic being forced to be in the closet in certain circles, he had it two-fold in the fact that he felt unable to be open about his atheism too. I felt strange actually recognizing that I felt in the closet too.

Back home, it was unheard of for anyone to be a “non-believer”. As a wee one, my “friends” would rat me out to our Islam teacher like the little SS informant wannabes that they were. I had to lie to keep from being told I was going to hell, my family was going to hell, and my best friend who was Christian, and my little dog too. I decided that if there was a hell, I’d rather go there with people who I loved and who loved me and loved life and a freaking sense of humor than be trapped for all eternity with a bunch of hypocritical “holier-than-thou” wieners who felt it more important to follow ancient dogma and spread fear, mistrust, and bitterness under the guise of keeping the best interests of other’s immortal souls at heart when they really just love any excuse to exclude people, judge people, and look down at them. At least if they practiced religion in a loving, productive way I wouldn’t have developed such distaste for organized religions. I recognize that not all believers act the way they did, but my early experiences with religion were all pretty much like that. Witch hunt after witch hunt. Who can we accuse next? To those who practice a religion with love, charity, and joy, thank you. To those who are troubled by my lack of faith but who don't believe I should die a horrible death, thank you.

When I moved to America, I foolishly thought that separation of church and state actually existed and I’d be free to follow my own lack of religion to my heart’s content. I was proven wrong when I tried to buy white wine for a recipe one Sunday morning. I felt like asking if I really had to be held to someone else’s religious beliefs, but I could tell it wasn’t the cashier’s fault and that she was powerless to help me out. I happened to go to a private college for my undergrad, so it was a small Catholic establishment. I’m in their house, so I have no problem having Jesus peer mournfully down at me from every office and classroom, but I could see the perception they had of the rest of the world and it was limited to say the least.

I soon learned it wasn’t altogether acceptable to mention one’s lack of religion or belief in a God in my little corner of the United States. I couldn’t even get away with honestly admitting that I’d be willing to believe in a God if there was unquestionable proof because that wasn’t good enough and it would inevitably lead into the whole “faith is built on not having proof” thing and which drives me nuts.

I don’t try to convert people to my beliefs, and I appreciate it when they afford me the same respect, but what they always struggle to keep to themselves is the complete inability to grasp how I might have any understanding of what is “right” or “wrong”. That I could have an internal moral compass as opposed to needing someone or something else to function as an external one seems to completely confuse many of them.

So this is my coming out of the closet: I don’t believe in religious dogma. I don’t believe in the existence of a God or gods. I don’t believe in the devil. I don’t believe in an afterlife. I believe people are imperfect and it’s a great goal to strive for perfection, but my vision of perfection and yours might be very different. I’m okay with that as long as no one gets hurt. If your vision of perfection involves harming others in the name of your religion, that’s not a difference of opinion, you’re just an asshole.

Thank you.

A Perfect Day

This just totally chilled out my squirmy six month old... And then is ended... Drat.

Tim Burton's Superman

I love Tim Burton. However, there are times when I recognize that he may quite possibly be on some sort of MAJOR hallucinogenics. What, in the name of Krypton, was he thinking when he came up with this concept for Superman? Granted, the movie that did come out was pretty mediocre at best, but Nicholas Cage? I like him too, despite that horrendous inability to accept his natural hair loss, but... In THAT costume? Holy Kal-El. Seeing Mr. Cage's expression in this video convinced me that they must have been sharing the same bong/crack pipe/whatever.

Sorry, I know this is old, but this is the first time I ever saw this. And I wish I never had.

I love Tim Burton and Nic Cage, I really do... But a comic-book nerd has her limits.

Little Woman.

My older daughter is three and a half years old, but I'm already getting a taste of the teenager she may grow up to be. She's got a little friend at daycare named Denny. One evening we were eating dinner at the dinner table and she shared:

Mini-me: We call Denny a diaper, because he's small.

TeacherLady: Oh that's not nice. Poor Denny.

Denny is the kid who is always standing inches from us when I come to pick her up from daycare each day. If he's not in love with my daughter, he's at least in awe of her. And he is small. I encourage her to say bye to him as we leave, and she always does... He just stands there, staring after her. Denny the Diaper.

I do love how their insults are limited to their current vocabulary. Toddler Tourettes would consist of "poo, pee, potty, bum, fart". I should know, because my daughter occasionally has such outbursts followed by squeals of laughter.

Speaking of which, I'm mildly concerned about her tendency to randomly flash us. She sometimes likes to wear costumes about the house, and one day she was dressed quite charmingly in her Snow White outfit. In fact, she had put it on in honor of the Disney show we were about to go see and we thought she looked delightful. I then heard her distinctive squealing laugh, saw my husband roll his eyes smiling and turned to see her tiny bottom waving back and forth at me from underneath her poofy yellow skirt.

Mini-me: Look at my BUM! (she says/sings the word "bum" in as though it's made up of three syllables. It's very cute.)

I did what any self-respecting parent would do. I whipped out the digital video camera. Oh she'll pay for this, all right, but many years from now when I insist on showing this at any family gathering we host at our place.