2001-01-05 - 10:25pm

Who's Who Cheat Sheet Who I Read

On the internal soundtrack: "Somebody To Love" (?), Jefferson Starship/Airplane, whatever they are.

I'm still sick. I felt almost better yesterday, then slept poorly last night and have been a whining mess with a faucet for a nose today. I'm so cranky. I hate, hate, hate, hate colds. My nose hurts.

If you're reading this and you're not sick, thank your lucky stars and wash your hands a lot.

Poindexter doesn't seem to have caught it despite constant smooching over the weekend (when I was incubating, I imagine) and continuing to smooch this week. He's crazy. When he's sick I won't let him touch anything, least of all me (upside is that he's waited on hand and foot).

I had to go to the office this morning for a meeting, and of course discovered, as I almost always do, that my presence was superfluous. Why do I ever go to meetings?

So, of course, TODAY we get snow, when we have to drive to NJ for Pop-Pop's birthday and I'm too sick to give a shit anyway. Poindexter keeps suggesting that we go play in the snow, just to make me crazy.

So I have this weird quirk (yes, one of many, shut up) where I'm not interested in reading books or watching TV/movies that have no women in them. Purely trophy women and side characters don't count. There are a few exceptions (the Godfather movies, for one, or "Force 10 From Navarone", which was surprisingly funny), but generally I really can't stand them. A Scully-less episode of the X-Files, for example, is not worth watching to me, and I could barely get through that Keyser Soze movie despite having a little thing for Gabriel Byrne and great admiration for Kevin Spacey.

It could be a function of subject matter, I suppose. Movies with nothing but guys (straight guys, I should amend; I'd probably enjoy a movie full of gay men) in them tend to be about what happens to men when testosterone gets the upper hand. Mainly, lots of violence or lots of flinty-eyed staring at other men while flaring nostrils, for example.

Speaking of flaring nostrils. Poindexter and I watched "The Outlaw Josey Wales" this weekend. I bought him the movie a few years ago as a joke of sorts and I suggested we make it our New Year's Day tradition.

About half an hour into the movie I was sorely regretting this decision, because the movie is nothing but a series of pissing contests. Clint stares down some guys, there is some shooting, Clint wins. Insert pretty scenery as he rides his horse around. Repeat.

All the westerns seem to be like this. I managed to get through "For A Few Dollars More" but gave up on "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly", which seems to consist of men staring at each other for three hours, interspersed with gunfire. I just couldn't take it. I think two and a quarter westerns is enough for me to gain an (snort) appreciation for the genre.

But I digress. Back to Josey Wales. There are a few women in the movie, but one of them speaks Navajo the whole time, another is just plain dippy, and the best ones (who are both gray-haired grandmothers) don't get enough screen time. Lone Watie and the "pert as a ruttin' buck" kid make the movie more tolerable with their comic relief.

Since it's our new tradition, though, I have my favorite parts in the movie. The Missouri boat ride. Lone Watie and the Gramma making remarks about redskins/palefaces and "No offense intended"/"None taken". Clint spitting on dead people and the dog. My absolute favorite moment, though, is when the Sondra Locke character makes some dopey-ass remark about the clouds being thoughts crossing a sky-blue mind. Clint does a double-take, without actually changing expression or losing his squint, that struck me as so funny I made Poindexter rewind so I could see it again.

previous index next