Ravings of a Textual Deviant

Someone with plenty of free time has created an electronic version of one of my favorite toys.

Ever since we bought our house, we’ve known that the stove and the fridge were going to have to be replaced eventually. I’m fairly certain that both are original to the house, which was built in 1976.

In this corner, the fridge: the gasketing is shot, the temperature control is iffy, and it’s started leaking.

In this corner, the stove: it has two temperatures…on and off. I’m fairly certain that the funny burning smell is just because I need to clean the oven.

I’ve been unable to predict which one was going to die first, so I didn’t want to replace one, because the other would go–Murphy’s Law being self-enforcing and all that.

When Ed came home last night, I had good news and bad news for him. The good news is that now we know which appliance has to be replaced first. The bad news is that we’ve found out the hard way. If fate is kind, we’ll have our new fridge on Sunday. If fate is even kinder, the floor under the fridge won’t be too badly damaged. And if Murphy is on vacation, the stove will last another six months. I’ve wanted to redo the kitchen since we moved in, but not like this.

Actual transcript of an IM conversation I had today (names changed to protect the confused).

Me: Hello?
S: hi
D: hello
M: hello
K: i’m here
M: only have 2 min before a metg
J: I have a 9:00
K: me, too
J: I can talk @ 9:30
Me: Should we schedule some time later?
M: i am free after 10
S: what’s the topic ?
Me: I’m booked from 10-1 and 2-3 today
S: who’s the chair?
Me: I have no idea what the topic is
J: TOPIC????
K: C - did you mean to call this?
K: i’m leaving.
M: [IM program] says C is offline
Me: Bye
S: on my window it says C’s meeting.
S: anyway. I am out too.

I had every intention of getting a nice, practical pair of workout shoes. No, really. And I did. But I also ended up with another pair of impractical shoes.

I’m feeling sartorially reckless these days. Anything could happen.

I was expecting Mean Girls to be a Heathers for the new millenium. I knew that it wouldn’t be when the opening credits informed me that it was based on the (nonfiction) book Queen Bees and Wannabes, which I read about six months ago. I immediately developed an unspeakable dread of being trapped watching a two-hour after-school special. It turned out to be something in between. Mean Girls chronicles the rise an fall of an A-list clique at a suburban, Midwestern high school (painfully familiar!) and comes off as a cross between an almost-mockumentary and a complex morality play. In addition to addressing covert (and occasionally overt) social agression, the film also touches on weight issues and the very uncomfortable topic of teen sexuality. During one scene, four sixteen-old-girls in skimpy costumes perform a provacative dance for a Christmas talent show. The main character’s father (played by Neil Flynn) conveys both titillation and guilt without a single word.

I found that turning a nonfiction work of sociology into a fictional story is absolutely fascinating. What makes it work is that screenwriter Tina Fey has done an excellent job of showing, rather than telling. Mean Girls does an even better job than Heathers of portraying social agression in girls, mostly because it’s eminently believable…at least until the last third or so of the movie. (Much suspension of disbelief is required to buy into the happy ending, and I couldn’t quite muster enough.) The main point of view character (Cady), played by Lindsey Lohan, has been home-schooled until the age of sixteen because her academician parents had been doing research in Africa for the last twelve years. Cinderella-like, she is plucked from social obscurity by the “plastics,” although she obviously prefers the company of punk artist Janis and “almost too gay to be functional” Damien. Janis, Damien and Cady plot to undermine the popularity of the plastics’ Queen Bee, Regina, by having Cady act as a double agent.

Lindsey Lohan does a great job of showing her conflicted feelings–she obviously enjoys the benefits of being popular, and at the same time really hates what she finds herself doing in order to be popular…at least at first. As the story progresses, she becomes more and more detached from her guilt and much better at rationalizing behavior she knows is wrong. Another noteworthy performance is Tim Meadows as the principal. Unlike most other teen movies, most of the adults are as complex as the teens; a notable exception being the Queen Bee’s mother, played by Amy Poehler. Another noteworthy aspect of the film is the casting; it’s the most diverse film I have ever seen come out of Hollywood…which is to say that it accurately reflects the population of a high school in the suburbs of a large city. Stereotypes are present in the film, but not exploited for comic effect, another notable rarity.

Overall, it’s a very interesting film, and I mean that in a good way. Don’t go in expecting a comedy, or a drama, or anything else easy to categorize…but do go. The vast majority of the time, I subscribe to the “if you’ve a message, use western union” school of thought. This time, I’m willing to make an exception.

When I was in graduate school, I worked part time for Indiana University’s athletics department as a member of the video crew. This involved spending many fall weekends at the football stadium, watching our team get pummeled by everyone in the Big Ten.

The traditional IU football cheer is “Wait ’til basketball season!”

My job on the crew was VTR Operator, which meant sitting on the seventh floor of the press box and pushing buttons at the beginnings and ends of plays. Our room was next to the room used by the IU coaches. As our job always involved having the window open, it wasn’t hard to hear what was going on next door.

On one particular beautiful fall day–perfect football weather, as John-the-Camera-Operator observed–we were watching our team lose, mostly because our quarterback was a complete moron. The coaches next door had their windows open, so we had no difficulty whatsoever hearing everything that was screamed into the phone down on the field.

About midway through the third quarter (when IU was behind by at least three touchdowns), the QB did something remarkably stupid, even for him. I stopped the tape, leaned out the window, and shouted that if he had half a brain, his ass would be lopsided. The next thing that John and I heard was one of the coaches yelling into the phone “Did you hear that? DID YOU HEAR THAT?? THE CAMERA GIRL SAYS YOU SUCK!!!!”

I couldn’t possibly resist a book with that title.

The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse, by Robert Rankin, is a detective novel set in Toy City. Nursery rhyme characters are being murdered by a serial killer. There’s more sex, drinking and violence than your average fairy tale (and I don’t mean the Disney-fied versions). If you hadn’t guessed already, it’s delightfully twisted. The mystery itself is fairly average, but the setting and characters are interesting enough to compensate.

(Dorothea, Alisa and I had a lovely stroll around the neighborhood last night, and got caught up on our anecdote exchange. Thought I’d share this one.)

The Fashion Mall, on the northeast side of Indianapolis, is the most upscale northside shopping in the city. My brother has been referring to it as the “Fascist Mall” since he was in high school, and I think you’ll find that the name is justified.

When Mom and I were shopping for my wedding dress, I ended up at the Fashion Mall’s bridal shop. The selection wasn’t great, but I finally managed to find something without any lace, sequins, beads, ruffles, flowers, feathers or fur on it. I went to try it on, and the saleswoman insisted that I had to try on the veil, too. She’d just run and get it for me.

“That’s OK,” I told her. “I’m not wearing one.”
“But you have to wear a veil.”
“I’m wearing flowers in my hair.”
“Look, if you don’t wear a veil, then nobody will know you’re the bride.”

I was utterly boggled at this logic. Mom was no hope whatsoever, quietly laughing in a corner or something.

Summoning up as much menace as possible (given that I was wearing a poorly-fitting sample wedding dress), I leaned toward the saleswoman and said “I don’t think that’ll be a problem because the big white dress is a pretty good clue, and we’re not inviting any idiots.”

Ernie is perpetuating the meme, and who am I to resist? Three songs that are stick-your-head-in-the-oven-bad:

“Red Red Wine”, by UB40, actually makes me want to stick someone else’s head in the oven, namely the entire band. And the songwriter. And every single DJ who plays it. Repetitive, repetitive, and did I mention repetitive? Doesn’t even meet the three-chord minimum. The worst of Caribbean music meets the worst of ’80s music.

“Cherokee” by Europe. A bunch of white guys making a paltry attempt at raising the social consciousness of an audience that a) may not have one, and b) has no idea what the band is talking about…accompanied by lite metal music.

“I Got My Mind Set on You” by George Harrison
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
This song’s just six words long
(Repeat until audience keels over, hemorrhaging from the ears)

Starring Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter), Emma Watson (Hermione Granger), Rupert Grint (Ron Weasley), Gary Oldman (Sirius Black), Alan Rickman (Severus Snape), David Themus (Professor Lupin), Emma Thompson (Professor Trelawney) Robbie Coltrane (Rubeus Hagrid) and so on. Directed by Alfonso Cuaron.

In case you’ve been under a rock since the mid-1990s, you already know that this is the movie based on the third Harry Potter book. And this time, it’s much more “based on” the book than a strict translation of the book to film. Fortunately, this is a good thing. All the major plot points are accomplished, and we’re going to have to get used to parts of the books being left out of the movies, or #4 and #5 will be mini-series length.

Many photons have already been spilled on the subject of how and why the movie’s darker than Sorcerer’s Stone or Chamber of Secrets, so I’ll skip that bit. Read the books; you’ll get it. Likewise with the series/franchise aging along with the characters. (Hello! Logic!) One topic I haven’t seen discussed nearly as much is the shift of emphasis on the adults in the cast. We see rather less of Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonnegal, and a good bit of this year’s Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin. I was very happy with David Themus’s performance as one of those teachers who obviously cares about the students personally, as well as professionally.

Another change that I heartily approve of is the change of directors. I suspect that many, many memos were sent out about doing things right. For example, Dorothea kindly pointed out to me, the Hogwarts grounds in Azkaban have much more visual interest than in its predecessors. A good bit of the story takes place outdoors, so there’s also more opportunity to show off the fabulous scenery. Rupert Grint, in particular, seems to have been better directed and isn’t perpetually wandering about with the same expression, having learned at least two more. The developing relationship between Ron, Hermione, and Harry is shown, rather than told, and done very well. Overall, the film’s presentation of magic is more mystical than the previous two films’ rather pedestrian take.

Unfortunately, a few things have also gone wrong. We have offensive fat jokes and offensive Rastafarian jokes very early on in the film. The story’s good enough that it stereotypes and juvenile humor only detract from it, and I wish that the writers and director would realize it and act accordingly. (I could go into a long digression about how fat has become cutural shorthand for greed and lack of self control (having been a symbol of prosperity from B. C. until very recently) but I’ll leave it people better qualified than I.) The Dementors look like bargain-basement nazgul, and the werewolf is scrawny enough to pass for weregreyhound. Another thing that bothered me were the transitions; mostly, they were trying too hard to be clever. The entire point of a transition is to lead you into the next scene without drawing attention to the underlying structure of the story. One or two really stunning transitions are enough; I don’t need to be dazzled by fascinating animation every single time. Finally, Emma Thompson’s Sybil Trelawney is eerily reminiscent of Jennifer Saunders’s Edina in Absolutely Fabulous, although whether it’s deliberate or not, I can’t tell. Personally, I find this a very entertaining prospect, but I am known to have an odd sense of humor…and as Azkaban is primarily marketed to a demographic quite different from AbFab’s, it’s a weird decision, if it is deliberate.