The Human Furnace

Mike makes fun of me for taking "forever" to get ready for bed. But I have a lot to do! As my mother always said (and as her mother always said), "You have to suffer to be beautiful." Now I don't know about 'beautiful,' and that phrase was mostly reserved for when I was screaming bloody murder as she was roughly combing out my hair after a bath, but I believe that we should take a little time each day to take care of ourselves.

I have to: floss, brush my teeth, remove my eye makeup, wash my face, apply anti-adult pimple cream (seriously, what the hell? I'm almost thirty!), apply eye cream, night cream, and the motherfucking seemingly never-ending ringworm cream.

So when I finally crawl into bed, he's long been asleep.

(Note: It really only takes me about ten minutes to complete my nighttime routine. It's not my fault that the man can fall asleep before his head hits the pillow. I should be happy that he brushes his teeth, but there's no way he's going to wash his face at night, no matter how many different cleansers his mom buys him. Sorry, Mary!)

The other night, I was absolutely freezing. Mike was asleep, snoring softly, with a mountain of blankets pulled up to his eyes. I have no idea how he doesn't simultaneously suffocate and overheat, but he seems to be fine, so I let him be.

Unless... Well, unless my feet are freezing.

See, I think that I have poor circulation in my feet. They're quite small, I have low blood pressure, and they're far away from my heart. It takes a while to get warmth down in my toes, and sometimes it seems like my body doesn't want to exert the effort.

It doesn't help that the air vent in the bathroom blows directly on my feet as I'm washing my face and brushing my teeth and whatnot.

So when I carefully and quietly creep into bed, I know that I have a human furnace laying next to me. I ever so slowly place an ice-cold foot against his leg, holding my breath as I anticipate movement. When nothing happens, and he continues on in dreamland, the other foot finds a spot. I usually keep my feet pressed against his calves for a good five minutes until I can feel the warmth returning.

But that's when something strange happens.

Remember playing in the snow for what seemed like hours, and even though you were wearing mittens or gloves, your hands still managed to get damp and cold? My mom would have us run cool water over our fingers - and it felt so warm! Our hands would be tingly and almost numb, but that cool water would make everything okay.

Well, that's the same sensation that I would feel when I would reluctantly remove my feet from my oblivious boyfriend's legs - but in reverse. Maybe my feet were overheated, and they were just trying to return to normal temperatures.

Maybe I just need to wear socks more often.

Psst... Do You Like Awesomely Fun T-shirts?

Threadless is having a 24-hour sale this Friday (the 27th), and all shirts will be half off! That's only NINE DOLLARS PER SHIRT.

This one is for my mom, the science teacher:

These next two for me:

And this one for my niece:

That one is probably my favorite, but there are no more in my size. Ah well...

Oh. My. God.

I don't know why I had never thought to go to this website before, as it's the one listed on the bumper sticker of Mike's horrid neighbors. But I did. And now I am appalled.

Just... look.

Sure! When I imagine the person I want performing my wedding ceremony, I think of the neighborhood bastard asshole. The one who swears at his wife and children like his life DEPENDS ON IT.

Apparently, We're Turning Into RUSSIA

What the hell? First, we find out that recommendations are in place to severely limit access to mammograms to women under fifty, and now they want us to agree to a pelvic exam every two to three years instead of every twelve months?

(Nice picture on that article, by the way. THANKS, CNN.)

I don't know much about the health care industry (as evidenced here), but I cannot see how this is a good idea. Early detection has been drilled into our heads as being the best way to beat so many types of cancers. I don't like that these "recommendations" could lead to non-coverage of procedures by insurance companies.

This just seems really dangerous for women, doesn't it? It seems ominous. Dark clouds in the sky, and whatnot. Electrical storms! Cattle mutilations! No, wait... I think I've been watching too much Supernatural with Mike...

Anyway, I do know that when I was one of the many women paying out of pocket for my personal health insurance plan, I was frustrated and super annoyed to discover that very few plans offered coverage for women's health. I paid more in monthly fees and premiums just so that I could be slightly protected. And I still got charged lab fees, just for following a procedure that I knew was important to my overall health.

I was angry when I heard about the mammogram bullshit, but now I am really pissed off. Maybe early detection isn't the most effective anymore. I don't believe that, but if that's what the doctors think, then they are going to have to do a hell of a lot better to convince us that it's the best course of action.

It's Almost the Weekend, Bitches!

OMG, you guys, I've been busy. Busy with two jobs - one that is my dream job, and one that pays the rent. And for sweaters, from time to time.

I love sweaters.

But there is great importance! EMFACE is coming to visit this weekend! All the way from HOLLAND.

(Holland, Michigan. But still.)

I have not seen this hot bitch since her wedding back in August, which now, in my mind, makes her an old married woman.

Anyway, there is going to be good food, good beers, and good movies. And possibly a Farmer's Market.

Countdown - seventeen hours to go!

A Little Fun Fact for The Day

I've been completely annoyed with popular radio lately, and even the alternative rock station in the Detroit/Windsor area, 89X, has become rather boring and repetitive. So I've found myself turning into my father, and return to the classical station over and over again.

I like classical music for many reasons, but mostly because I grew up listening to it, so I identify the entire experience with my dad's interest in and love for classical. I'd arrive home from school and he would be blasting Bach, Mozart, Dvorak, Tchaikovsky, or a number of other knowns or unknowns from the classical world, and once you hear a tune more than a few times, it becomes memorable.

ANYWAY.

I was listening to the classical station the other day, and before the DJ played a version of Beethoven's Fifth, he explained that during World War II, the BBC and many American news bulletins played the first four notes of the symphony at the start of each broadcast. Why? The four notes, played as they are composed, dot-dot-dot-dash, are Morse Code for "V." As in "Victory."

Isn't that cool?

(I thought that it was kind of fitting on the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.)

The Proposal

I had heard good things about The Proposal, and I generally like Sandra Bullock (I admittedly love Miss Congeniality, and she's awesome as law student Ellen in A Time to Kill). And since I adore Ryan "The Abs" Reynolds, I suppose that it was just a matter of time before I saw the flick.

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

Friday night, Mike and I settled in with his parents for movie night. We expected light-hearted comedy. We got a pile of steaming poo.

Andrew Paxton (Reynolds) is an executive assistant to Editor-in-Chief Margaret Tate (Bullock) - a bit of a massive bitch. Andrew has been toiling away as her slave for the past three years holding on to hope that he'll eventually be promoted to editor.

The plot is established early: Margaret is a Canadian citizen about to be deported, and she blackmails Andrew into marriage. In a whirlwind of events, they are on a plane bound for Alaska that weekend to meet his family. It's ridiculous. There's a red herring in the form of Drew's ex-girlfriend, and that's about the only plot point that results in something other than a cliche.

I do NOT understand the reviews I've read here. This site usually spots the bullshit of Hollywood from miles away, and they liked this film. Does. Not. Compute. But who knows - I hated The Hangover, putting me at odds with most of America, so do what you will with this review.

Of course, there are some good things about The Proposal. The first would be excellent casting. Mary Steenburgen, Craig T. Nelson, and Betty White are excellent as Drew's parents and grandmother, respectively.

Okay, wait. I take it back. The casting is the only good thing about this film next to the abs of Reynolds. I'm glad that I didn't waste money to see this in the theater. Gah.

One of the two good things about The Proposal:

The Waning Days of Autumn

The last day of October is probably a fitting date to show you one of the reasons that I love my beautiful state. We actually got a nice bit of autumn this year, unlike previous years in which we had crisp mornings and sweater weather for about, oh, five days before the snow fell in buckets.

Day One: Car on Street
Leaf Level: Low

Day Two: Car on Street
Leaf Level: Insane

I jumped in those.
Really.
They were piled about a foot deep.

The Focus is scared and cannot see properly.
I used my snow and ice scraper to clean off the car.

And, lo! Before I knew it, it was Halloween! I journeyed to my parents' house to see my nieces dressed up for the day of sugar and ghosties.

Steven was a little exhausted after the trick-or-treating.

Kari and her babies: a witch and a 50s girl.
The 50s girl had some chocolate.
Okay, more than some.
When I arrived, she was spinning in circles.

Oh, and here's my brilliant pumpkin
of geometrically pleasing shapes:

Happy Halloween!

It's About Time

You know what's nice about having a great job that you love? Actually wanting to do the work.

It's been quite some time that I've been actively engrossed in my work. There were always distractions, always something better to do. And when you're temping, it doesn't matter how much you like the people for whom you're working, because it's still temporary and it's not what you want to do nor are remotely interested in doing.

I'm not saying that I believe this feeling will go on forever. I realize that there are bad days ahead, annoying assignments, obnoxious situations, and frustrating deadlines. But I don't care.

I don't care because I feel that I am finally doing something right. I have the job I have been waiting for since I finished graduate school way back in 2004.

It's a good feeling.

The Night of the Chick Flicks

I spent the other night watching two chick flicks: Elizabethtown and Definitely, Maybe. Both were cute, and both were better than I expected.

I can't watch these with Mike, you see, because I made a promise to never make him watch formulaic chick flicks, and I am an awesome girlfriend, you see. Besides, he had his own night planned, and I was looking forward to popcorn and my comfy couch. I'm rarely at my own place anymore as it is.

I started with Elizabethtown, because of the two, I expected it to be the weaker. It was, but still mostly enjoyable. Drew (Orlando Bloom), a recently fired shoe company exec who is single-handedly responsible for a billion plus loss for his company because of a horribly designed shoe. On top of his severe depression, he faces a trip to Louisville to deal with his father's funeral arrangements, as he has passed away while on vacation to his hometown.

While on a plane upon which he is the only passenger, he meets Claire (Kirsten Dunst) a flight attendant who was forced to fly the red-eye. Most of the movie spans their early get-to-know-you routine and examines Drew's relationship with his father's family - a family he never really knew because of some kind of disagreement between them and Drew's mother. I don't remember it being that important, but maybe I was focusing on Claire's adorable wardrobe and waiting for their inevitable first kiss.

I actually appreciated the plot because it was fairly simple and pretty believable. Drew and Claire's relationship begins to bloom over a long telephone conversation and while we learn cute little stories about each of them, we also start to see why they were meant to be together. She's optimistic and upbeat, and he needs a little saving. Cliche, perhaps, but sweetly choreographed and very much appreciated. Oh, and Susan Sarandon's bit part as Drew's mother is pretty funny.

Elizabethtown won't (and didn't) win any awards, but it's a nice little distraction of a movie.

Definitely, Maybe, another romantic comedy, was also a bit formulaic, but a really pleasant surprise. I love Ryan Reynolds, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I know that people see him and only see Van Wilder, but I can recognize that there is something else there. He has rare comedic timing, great delivery, and .02% body fat. He's nice to look at.

Will Hayes (Reynolds) is at the tail end of his divorce, and however amicable it may be, he's upset. Luckily, his daughter, Maya (Abigail Breslin, on an acting high since her brilliant turn in Little Miss Sunshine) is extremely understanding and accepting of the developments and only wants her dad to be happy. Precocious and intelligent (aren't they always?), she begs her dad to weave her the tale of how he met her mother. Not far into the tale, it's clear that her mother could have been one of three women: Emily (Elizabeth Banks), Summer (Rachel Weisz), or April (Isla Fisher).

Cleverly executed, Definitely, Maybe is sweetly written and worth a watch on girls' night. The writing makes it a little tricky to discover who "mom" is, but that's not what the viewer is concerned with: we want to know who Will eventaully ends up with.