Congratulations Ben Affleck. Unless some monumental, life-changing piece of cinema comes out between now and the end of the year, you just won yourself a Best Directing Oscar. Ben Affleck’s “The Town” is the best thing I’ve seen all year. It is so good that while watching it, I kept thinking to myself “Goddamn. Ben Affleck is going to win an Oscar for this."
Last year I picked Kathryn Bigelow’s "Hurt Locker" as the film to beat. I was right. My pick this year to win a few Oscar statuettes is “The Town”. This movie is what “The Departed” should have been without all the over-the-top use of the F-word and all the main characters ending up dead. The critic at the NY Times said that "The Town" is a minor entry into the annals of Boston crime drama. Minor? You hack. There's nothing minor about this film. What in the blue hell were you watching?!
I know that people have been attacking Ben Affleck’s acting chops due to a few stinkers like "Daredevil" and "Gigli". I never saw "Gigli" but I can honestly say that "Daredevil" suffered from a poor script. Bottomline. Ben can act. Just put "Hollywoodland" in your DVD player and find out. He carried that film in my opinion since Adrien Brody was a dishrag of a leading man. I also respect any man that can pick himself up from a trainwreck relationship with J-Lo and get his career back on track.
He and the rest of the cast of "The Town" are superb and Affleck’s direction is flawless. Jeremy Renner, also of "Hurt Locker"-fame, is a shoe in for an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor. Oh and I forgot to mention that the climax of the film involves Fenway Park getting robbed! In my wildest dreams...
Go Ben. Get your Oscar.
So I’d seen a piece on CBS Sunday
Morning News a few months ago about this indy film
called “Birdemic”. Apparently it was so bad that it
was gaining a cult following. The director, James
Nguyen, completed the film on a shoe string budget,
submitted it to Sundance and got rejected. That
didn’t stop him from going to Sundance anyway and
promoting his film. Lucky for him the film
attracted some attention from distributors and is
now being shown around the country at midnight
screenings. I went last Saturday and saw it at the
When it comes to describing how bad this film is; words fail. It violates every rule of cinema known to man. I thought I would be able to sit through this thing and get a good laugh. Instead I was just flat out insulted that someone out there is capable of making a film this horrific, have the audacity to send it to Sundance, and then haplessly get distribution because he is so talentless.
Bad CGI and miserable acting aside, the worst part about Birdemic were the soliloquies that random actors break out in. They go on and on about global warning and protecting the environment while Nguyen chooses to hold the same shot the entire time. No close-ups, no cutaways. It makes for an incredibly boring scene. Furthermore, nothing in this film is motivated. Not the characters, not the plot, nothing.
One “girlfriend” in the film, as there are several, disappears for several road trip scenes and then randomly reappears. I guess she had a wedding to go to one weekend and missed that segment of the shoot. Continuity is not a term that Nguyen is familiar with. He might be if he’d bothered to visit his local library and check out one book on basic filmmaking. He spent $10,000 to make this? The film looks like $100.
As much as I hate this movie, I still recommend that all students of film and wanna-be directors, see this pile of hell. It is a frame by frame example of what not to do. You want to see bad lighting (no lighting at all), bad sound, a director who violates “the line”, terrible editing, and a plot that meanders to the other side of West Hell and then back --- then sit through Birdemic. There is not a single, redeemable thing about this movie except for the fact that it will educate the indy community on what none of us should ever do or be. It also stands to boost confidence. I don’t care who you are or what equipment you have access to – Trust me; your film will surpass Birdemic.
Oh my god. Just saw on the Birdemic website that this idiot is actually working on a sequel in 3D no less. What a tremendously pile of hell it will no doubt be. That is, if in fact, it actually gets completed. Something tells me that Nguyen pays even less attention to budget than he does to screenwriting, continuity, camera angles, you know...all that director stuff. Please let this whole thing be a masterful rouse.
A few years back, Joe Williams was kind enough to be in my little drive-ins documentary.
The screening is 5pm on July 22nd, Tivoli Theater. I've finally updated my website for Inauguration Road as well. Visit www.inaugurationroad.com.
I finally got my documentary completed last week just in time to submit to the St. Louis Filmmakers' Showcase. The title is Inauguration Road: St. Louis Kids and the Obama Inauguration. As luck would have it, it got accepted into the showcase and will screen on Thursday, July 22nd @ 5PM at the Tivoli Theater. Tickets go on sale July 1st, I think. Get tickets early because we are in the smaller theater this year. My film is only 48 minutes long and will screen with some other short films. Why did I just say only?! I slaved away to get 48 minutes done.
For more details and the full lineup of films, checkout the Cinema St. Louis website here.
I have been gluten free for one month. Some blood work came back that I have gluten intolerance tendencies so that was the "doctor's assistant's" diagnosis. Gluten-free (GF) has become my new way of life and at this point I just don’t see going back. Yes, it is more challenging to find gluten free options at restaurants. Yes, it is more time consuming to make my own gluten free bread. Yes, it is more expensive to buy gluten free pasta, bread, etc. But the positives, for me outweigh the negatives. My stomach pain has subsided. The scale is beginning to move in the right direction after weeks of struggling to budge it. I may be imagining it but even my vision seems to have improved. And I’m a lot less irritable. The new and improved “Gluten Free Lynelle” is slower to anger. Noticed I didn’t say slow, just slower.
Last weekend, I got Chris Rock’s
documentary, Good Hair, from Netflix. The film
covers the trials and tribulations black women are
willing to go through in order to meet the standard
of having “good hair”. The film includes interviews
with Hollywood actresses, visits with average folks
in beauty salons, and a segment about an Atlanta
I’ve had a head of black hair for 34 years now and I was shocked at what I was seeing and hearing. This hair fixation in the black community is utter madness.
Middle class women sit in an Atlanta hair salon and admit that they’ve paid $1000 and up for their weave. That’s just for the weave, not for the installation. These women are not wealthy, they were school teachers and day-care providers. They have no business spending that much money on someone else’s hair. Even Chris Rock winced at the idea. I guarantee that if I looked in these chicks bank accounts, they have little if no savings, no investments, nothing set aside for their kids college but yet they have a weave on their head. Pathetic.
And where is the human hair coming from to construct all these weaves?
India. In the religious houses, cleansing ceremonies are performed where women are shaved bald. In India, hair is seen as vanity. So the hair is swept up by the monks and shipped to the U.S. Unfortunately, the hair is also cut off unsuspecting women while they sleep and while its draped over the backs of movie theater chairs. If there’s one thing I learned from Slumdog Millionaire, it’s that India is a rough place. Besides, there’s money to be made off this and there’s a hot demand for this hair in the U.S. generated by the black community.
But Lynelle, what woman in her right mind would have the hair of another human being sewn into their skull?
Try…almost every black actress in Hollywood. Raven Symone, among other actresses, is featured in the documentary. I remember when she was a cute little girl on the Cosby Show back in the day. Well now she’s just a stuck up heifer in my view. I don’t care how many shows she does on the Disney channel. She sat up in the documentary and boasted about how she only wears Indian hair and how she wants to start her own line of hair extensions like Jessica Simpson – provided she can get her “hook up” to India. Un-freakin-believable. And this chick has won NAACP Image Awards?! We’ve got it all wrong. How about you try to drop a few pounds by putting your chubby ass on a treadmill instead of squeezing it into the salon chair for hours on end.
Oh, Lynelle..I think you’re exaggerating. No, watch the movie and you’ll see. It gets worse. Some of these “actresses” went so far as to say that they don’t allow men to touch their hair (even during sex), they don’t get in the water, they don’t do this and they don’t do that --- because of their fake hair. Actress, Nia Long, goes as far to say that you need to stay on top during sex because nobody touches my hair. These tricks have paid a lot of money for that hair, you see, and nothing is going to mess it up. Looks like all they do is sit around like statues.
But Lynelle, you’re giving the whole movie away! You’re right. I’ll stop with details. It’s just that this bullshit makes me hot!
I will admit. I am lucky. My hair has always been low maintenance. I only go to the salon every six weeks to get a relaxer to straighten the roots. I’m able to maintain it myself by re-adding the protein to my hair which the relaxer strips out. There are a lot better uses for the time and money spent in the beauty salon. Obesity is running rampant in the black community but our fat asses are sitting for 8 hours to get a weave instead of getting our bodies fit. The middleclass ladies in the film that were getting the $1000 and up weaves needed more than just a hairstyle. They needed better skin care, to lose weight, a clothing makeover, and a little charm school. Putting that $1000 weave on them is like putting lipstick on a pig.
Somebody has to be getting rich of this black hair care business!
Absolutely and guess what? It isn’t the black community. Only a handful of black hair care product companies are owned by blacks. But yet we’re pumping billions into it every year. Sounds a lot like the illegal drug industry. The product is in every ghetto but the profits go elsewhere.
But how did you like the movie? Sorry, I got off on a tangent. It was really well done. Good editing, the story flowed well, and the biggest asset was Chris Rock. I appreciated his sense of humor and you could tell that he thinks none of this madness makes any sense. I’ve never been a big fan of his stand-up comedy but he came off in this documentary as an intelligent person going out on a limb to expose a silly obsession in the black community.
I give the film 4 out of 5 stars. Good Hair is available on DVD. I would actually like to see a sequel called “Good Nails”. That’s another waste of money and it doesn’t just affect the black community. It’s running rampant universally.
My latest cell phone bill is
elevated more than just a couple of bucks so I
decided to call up Verizon. I was going to rip them
a new butthole because clearly they've messed up my
bill. Can you hear me now?! Yeah, thought
Well turns out that the extra expenses were due to voracious texting. I wasn't on the unlimited plan but my text limit was 250 a month and I had been going over that the past few months. I explain to the Verizon customer service agent that this isn't entirely my fault...I have a lot of idiots texting me non-stop. He tries to upsell me on the next texting plan for $5 more a month. This would increase my texting allowance to 500 per month. I politely resist. If I could just get control of all those idiots that are sending me texts then I wouldn't have this problem. It's not me, it's them. Clearly, I'm not the one out of control. No, sir. The agent just goes "Uh, huh" and continues to provide rational logic on why I should upgrade. I give in. Resistance is futile.
On the bright side the rep was able to get me on a lower data feed plan which will save me money and bring my bill down lower than it was before. I guess Verizon isn't so bad after all... Lowering my bill so that I have room to upgrade my -- you guessed it --- texting plan in the near future.
For a while I was hooked on peanuts in the shells. It got so bad that I was stealing a handful here and there from the grocery store. My car would swerve all over the road as I attempted to crack the peanut shells while driving. But I've managed to get my peanut addiction under control. I'm now metering intake. My latest addiction is texting.
"It's for pre-teen little girls," I said. I'm not going to get into that. If I have something to say then I'll just pick up the phone and say it. I got a blackberry back in 2008 and told myself that I would just use it to email. I don't do texts. I kept myself on the most basic text plan. I would pay the $.10 or $.15 per text because I don't get that many texts and I sure as hell ain't sending any. Well, people kept sending me texts and the charges started to add up. I would respond here and there but nothing crazy. I decided to get on the unlimited texts package. Seemed practical enough and it's only $5 a month. Makes sense. People keep blowing up my phone with these text messages so might as well.
Fast forward to this week and I can barely get in and out of the Shell station without firing off a few text messages. I fire off a few before I go inside to the gym, I send my sister texts about a T.V. show that I'm watching, anytime there's a meet up with people, my ass is now texting.
I noticed the other day that my thumbs are moving faster now than ever. Some sort of muscle memory, they know where the letters are. It used to be just a handful of texts a day....now it's 20, 30 a day. Instead of cracking peanuts while driving, I'm trying to send a text while driving. Things have spiraled out of control so quickly. How did this happen? I don't want to call you, it's too time consuming. You'll get a text.
Our nation's healthcare system is
foremost on everyone's minds at this point and
everyone is in a flat-out panic about Obama's new
policy. But my recent health issues have really
opened my eyes to what the true problem is in
healthcare. It's not the insurance companies and
it's not the cost -- it's
competence. I can't find a competent doctor
to figure out what is wrong with me. At this point
I would pay $10,000 to get an accurate diagnosis
from a doctor. First it could be gallstones, then
it could be ulcers, or maybe its allergies...did
you knuckleheads go to medical school?! So I have
more tests coming up. Fine, whatever. The only
thing my nit-wit family practitioner knew was that
she wanted to put me on blood pressure medication.
That's the medical profession's solution to everything these days. Pull out the pad and write a prescription. Don't think too much and over-medicate your patient. Treat the symptom and not the problem. I explain to her that I'm not going on blood pressure medication at 34 and that my high blood pressure is a symptom of the other issues going on in my body. "Well, I'm sorry I don't have the answers you're looking for. I can refer you to a specialist," she says. Bitch, the answers I'm looking for should be the same ones you're looking for. Quit being so goddamned apathetic.
So I'm just mad as hell.
Just realized that this blog is getting really negative...
If you read my previous blog, you know I had a few issues with American Airlines on my trip to Hawaii. No free meals, TV monitor not working, limited beverage service, etc. Well, it got even worse on the return trip. After a 6 hour flight from Honolulu, the flight attendants start handing out orange juice in packaged cups. It was an overnight flight so I'm thinking, "Cool. This will wake me up a little since it's 4 AM." Come to find out the freakin' orange juice is frozen solid! How the hell does that happen? The passengers made the most of it and chewed on orange juice chunks. One old man even asked for a spoon from the flight attendant which he never eventually received. The flight attendants never apologized for handing out frozen juice and obviously they didn't pick up on the fact that people were viciously slurping to salvage some juice from the package. Apparently all those heifers had "get-home-itis" since we were 20 minutes out from Dallas and it was a Dallas based crew.
So, on to my connection from Dallas to St. Louis. We're almost boarded and one of the flight attendants begins yelling about people putting their bags in the overhead bin above row seven. Nobody is supposed to do that except the people occupying row seven even though they weren't there yet. The chic has a conniption. She makes passengers remove their bags from that overhead. Then two seconds later she says leave them there until the row 7 people show up. It's their fault they're not here already. Geesh. None of us need all this commotion at 7 AM lady. I turn to the guy to my left and say, "American ain't what it used to be." He nods his head in agreement.
At least the bastards didn't lose my bag so I guess that's something.
Last night was the annual best picture showcase over at AMC Chesterfield. I only stayed for 3 of the films because I had to get up for the early flight to Hawaii. So I saw Avatar in 3D, Up in the Air, and Precious. More on my thoughts on these films later. Since Avatar was shown in 3D, we had to be in the digital projection theater for that screening and then move to another theater after the film. AMC management had promised an orderly transition from one theater to the other. Everyone would more or less have the same seats that they had earlier. Ha! Didn’t happen.
Well you may say, what’s the big deal about not getting the same seat? This annual Oscar showcase is serious business. People get there early to scope out a good seat that you will be rooted to the entire day. So the move didn’t go well. People didn’t follow the seating honor system partially due to inconsideracy of others and also because we moved to a smaller theater with fewer seats. Yikes! Poor planning, AMC Chesterfield management. The natives didn’t like this one bit and quickly got restless. Refunds were demanded. People stormed out. “Give us a bigger theater!”, a woman cried out. “I’m not going to sit in the front when I got here early!”, said one man. I thought folks might riot over this. In the midst of the commotion, my movie viewing partner, Sue told me that two people had gotten a refund and their seats were available higher up. Off I went to abscond them. These were far better than the two handicapped spots we wound up with post-move. Sucks for you people stuck up front but that was me last year. Five movies from the 3rd row. Like I said, this Oscar movie marathon is serious. You got to be gangsta’.
In between movies, I’m texting and calling American to find out what is going on with the tsunami. I was hearing the worst. Turns out everything was overhyped.
So this morning, I’m at the airport freakin’ early to get a 6AM flight. The idiocy is there in full force as well. There are tons of self-checkin counters open for American airlines yet without fail, a couple has to come right behind me and crowd my space. Seriously?! You MF’ers have the whole row to choose from.
Then I’m off to the security line. Everything was moving along fine until the brother right in front of me had no clue that you can’t have liquids in your bags. He had full size shaving cream, shampoo, etc. and held the line up for ten minutes. What rock have you been under bro?
So I’m in Dallas waiting for my connection to Honolulu. I plop myself by the charging station to recharge my laptop. This lady and her mom have to come right up next to me. There are tons of outlets for charging yet for some reason they want to be intimate. Good grief. What is this magnetism that total strangers have for me? Whatever it is, it’s pretty powerful. If only it worked on the people I wanted it to work on...e.g. Derek Jeter.
The flight is the usual nonsense. The TV screen in front of me is broken so I have to crane my neck to watch Michael Jackson’s “This is It”. The large and in charge heifers always wind up in the emergency rows with the extra leg room. If push came to shove, they wouldn’t even be able to fit through the emergency hatch. American doesn’t give you any food --at all--unless you want to pay for it. And some son of a gun is shuffling cards repeatedly. It drives me crazy and it happened on my previous flight to Hawaii. WTF?! See previous blog.
But I’m trying to keep myself calm. Turns out I have some health issues and my blood pressure is sky high. I could stroke out any minute.
Back to the movies. Yes, I am indeed all over the place. Let me tell you what Avatar really is. I realized it about 20 minutes into the movie. Yeah, the 3D is cool but after a short time I started to wonder whether the 3D was actually enhancing the story or just a bell and whistle. Even if it weren’t in 3D, James Cameron is pulling a fast one on everybody. Do you know what he has done? Do you know what Avatar truly is? I will tell you. It is “Dances with Wolves”. Plain and simple. Busted up soldier goes and lives with the natives, falls in love, and helps his “new family” take out whitey. Sound familiar? It should. Kevin Costner already did it. All Cameron has done is add special effects and everyone is hailing his genius. Please. Highest grosing movie of all time? Well that’s due to inflation, the increased ticket price of 3D, and the fact that the lemming masses will watch anything these days. That Best Directing Oscar better wind up in Kathryn Bigelow’s skinny little fingers or there will be hell to pay.
Up in the Air - Clooney and cast are pitch perfect. I got a kick out of seeing a few local St. Louis actors and locations around town on the big screen. They used Lambert for a lot of shots. The film was fine up until the last 20 minutes or so. I don’t want to give it away but basically we wind up right back where we started. See it and you’ll understand what I mean.
Precious - Monique steals the show but I got to be honest, I even liked Mariah Carey in this and I haven’t liked Mariah Carey since 1997 (the year she tried to steal Derek Jeter from me). The other lady, who plays Precious’s teacher, her name escapes me...was also excellent. The story is depressing. Precious hits a low, then another low, then another. You never really hit bottom. She turns things around for herself at the end but you’re left wondering, “What’s this girl’s life going to amount to?” Not really my type of movie but it was well done.
So of the 10 Oscar best picture nominees this year, I’ve seen 5. I’m still sticking with Kathryn Bigelow’s “The Hurt Locker” as the film/director of the year.
Wanting to read the book but being cheap, I took it out from the local library. I read it in 10-20 page increments while peddling on the stationary bike at the gym. For a non-reader like me, it was perfect. An engaging quick read that brought back so many memories of being a kid in New York.
Growing up in New York, you had your Mets households and you had your Yankees households. My family was a Yankees household. I spent far more time in the house that Ruth built as opposed to Shea. Which NY team you favored depended on a complicated mathematical algorithm --take the square root of your zip code, multiplied by the number of crazy people in your family and subtract both your parents' occupations to figure out your baseball alliance. Or, you could just root for the team that your dad likes.
In 1986, the Yankees were on the downslope of their dynasty and the Mets squared off against the evil Boston Red Sox in the World Series. My dad repeatedly said to me, "The Mets are bums." He never went into further detail as to why they were "bums" but I generally accepted his opinion. Except for the '86 world series where I found myself, along with the rest of NYC, rooting for these "bums". One "bum" in particular kind of caught my eye. He was tall, twenty-something, cute, lean and had the most beautiful swing my 11 year old eyes had ever seen. His name was Darryl Strawberry.
I like many other adolescent girls in NY had a crush on Darryl Strawberry. He was my first baseball crush -- before Jeter, before A-Rod, there was Darryl. I would never utter my inclinations to my dad for fear of being disowned and not wanting to hear his other classic phrase, "Boys are stupid. Stay away from them." Gee, thanks for imparting such wisdom. This will serve me well in life.
Anyway, I couldn't put this book down. I truly hope that Darryl has put all his personal demons behind him. They were apparently extensive --- alcohol abuse, drug abuse, beating a pregnant girlfriend, pulling a gun on his first wife, in and out of rehab, trying crack, a paternity suit and even a stint in prison. And boy, were those '86 Mets completely out of control. Just about everybody on the team was popping "speed", doing cocaine, cheating on their wives, and then there was the infamous plane ride from Houston during the playoffs. Darryl and some "unnamed pitcher" even had sex between innings. Holy cow! (say it like Phil Rizzuto for the full effect).
Another memorable part of the book is where Darryl talks about joining the Yankees in 1995 and sitting on the bench with this young kid named Derek Jeter. I guess, the manager at the time didn't care for either one of their abilities and perched them on the bench. Well, Darryl and Derek kept each other company on the pine. Darryl decided to impart a little bit of wisdom on the rookie. He told Derek to not be like him. To keep his nose clean. To watch his finances. You can play, you're good looking, and someday you'll own this town but don't do what I did. Wow, truer words were never spoken.
Come to find out Darryl is residing just around the way in St. Charles, Missouri with his third wife. He has a foundation for autism and seems to have turned his life around for the better. He mentors young baseball players, kids, prisoners, anyone who will listen about what he's learned from his life's journey. I'm truly happy for him and hope he stays the course. I've always felt that the true measure of a man is not the falling but how he picks himself up afterwards.
I haven't watched Donald Trump's "Apprentice" TV show in years but I'm going to be glued this season since Darryl Strawberry is one of the contestants. I hope he wins the whole thing.
Me and a few friends meet at a restaurant called Mango downtown. This was my 2nd time there and the food is excellent. 1101 Lucas Ave is the address. Nicole and I split a pitcher of sangria. I persuade her to add depth to the sangria. Depth = Pétron
The sangria pitcher is empty and we head next door to the Flamingo bowl. We all look really cute in our bowling shoes. The bowling alley is pretty hip with a full bar.
A couple of lesbians show up and bowl in the lane right next to us. How do I know they were lesbians? Because no straight woman in her right mind would mount a blackberry on her hip. Who does that?! It's only going to make you look wider. But they're throwing the ball pretty hard. I tell all the chicks in our group to "bring the heat". I then proceed to roll a couple of gutter balls. I complain about the unpredictability of bowling.
The lesbians are done with their game already. My, aren't they efficient. One of them bowled a 179.
Our game is finally over. I managed to break a hundred. Cristina had the highest score of our group. I accuse her of bowling like a lesbian.
I leave the group to go use the restroom. The handicap stall, my stall of choice, refuses to close so I'm forced to use a smaller environment. I then hit the ATM in the back of the alley. By the time I come back from my little jaunt, a rumor is circulating in our group that since I was gone for so long, I must have been doing #2 in the bathroom. WTF?! I quickly squash this nasty rumor citing my handicap stall delay and trip to the ATM. Besides, I'm not the type of chick that needs to poop in bowling alleys.
We enter another bar so that Nicole can finally shoot a game of pool. The bouncer tells us that all the pool tables are closed at midnight. I'm done drinking and start to sip on water. Last time I was in this bar, I overheard some asshole make a racial slur about our first lady.
Cristina attempts to work her way into a shuffleboard game with some guys but they are "straight fags" and blow her off. WTF?! Note: A straight fag is a man who would rather high five and make a fool of himself with his boys instead of actually talking to a female. They also have a tendency to lament about how they can never meet girls but when the opportunity presents itself, they don't man up.
I'm complaining about the unacceptable bathroom situation at this bar now. Are you noticing a trend here? Basically the stalls are only tall enough for Smurfette and I felt a little exposed. I then tell everyone that my cat, Honey, is my soulmate. Normally when I say this I get some sort of incredulous reaction from people but everyone here is so drunk they just sort of nod their heads like "Yeah."
Cristina leaves to walk her dog and then comes by a few minutes later. Everyone scatters outside to meet her "rent a dog" for the weekend which is part pit-bull. I stay behind to guard the coats and the expensive cell phones that these knuckleheads have just left laying on the table.
Nicole and I are finally in the car headed home. One minute she's talking, the next minute she's passed out. What amazes me is that she's able to sit completely upright the whole time. It's quite the marvel.
We roll through the White Castle drive through as we'd agreed upon about an hour ago. Nicole is in and out. I tell her, "Nicole, we're here. What do you want?" She says, "Chicken Burrito!" I respond, "From White Castle?!" WTF?! What she meant to say was she wanted 6 white castle burgers.
There was a production delay at White Castle so we waited quite a while for the burgers. They gave us a couple extra ones for the wait.
I drop off Nicole at her house and head home. I eat 4 white castle cheeseburgers in the time it takes me to reach my door. Even after those burgers, I don't feel like doing #2. Was that too much information? Have I crossed the line here?
And seriously, "Glee" won best comedy series?! Over "The Office" and over "30 Rock"? "Glee" may be hot now but I look at it the same way I look at other shows like "Ugly Betty", "Lost" and "Heroes". The fan base is short-lived and the writing team is unable to sustain the gimmick more than a season or two.
I would throw the banana peel out of the window as a test but it's too damn cold for me to even consider rolling the window down.
I don't often speak of it but I got my undergraduate degree from the US Air Force Academy. We had a ramp that led from the cadet area down towards the parade field. Above the ramp were the words "Bring Me Men..." based upon a poem by Samuel Foss. The rest of the poem goes something like this--
Bring me men to match my mountains,
Bring me men to match my plains;
Men with empires in their purpose
And new eras in their brains.
The poem goes on more extensively and includes these lines:
Bring me men to match my mountains,
Bring me men to match my plains;
Men to chart a starry empire,
Men to make celestial claims.
Bring me men to match my prairies,
Men to match my inland seas;
Men to sail beyond my oceans,
Reaching for the galaxies.
These are men to build a nation,
Join the mountains to the sky;
Men of faith and inspiration,
Bring me men, bring me men, bring me men!
Bring me men to match my forests,
Bring me men to match my shore;
Men to guard the mighty ramparts,
Men to stand at freedom's door.
Bring me men to match my mountains,
Men to match their majesty;
Men to climb beyond their summits,
Searching for their destiny.
Not one time in my 4 years at the academy did those three little words bother me. I never once saw it as an attack on female cadets and future female officers. I was more bothered by all the other crap that goes on at that place and knew deep down that those three words were about leadership and fortitude. Due to a knee jerk reaction by "leadership" following sexual discrimination issues at the academy, the words "Bring Me Men" were removed from the ramp in 2003. I have no idea what's up there now, if anything. I make it a point not to visit that place.
So where am I going with this trip down memory lane? What's the point of this pontification? Hold your horses. I'm getting to it.
Two thousand nine was not a good year for me in terms of dealing with members of the opposite sex. There was way too much odd and puzzling behavior. A ridiculous amount actually. So I've got my own, non-rhyming version of "Bring Me Men".
BRING ME MEN --- Lynelle's version
Bring me men with social skills who don't constantly bring conversation to a halt with their awkward commentary.
Bring me men who hit the gym to actually sculpt their own bodies instead of standing on the sidelines critiquing the physique of every female that passes by.
Bring me men who solidly grasp the concept of "just friends" and do not still act like they can change my mind. Dude, you can't.
Bring me men who know how to be a man without being misogynistic. That means ordering the drinks at the bar, opening a door or two, walking me to my car, and maybe even... picking up the tab. It's the little things.
Bring me men who can make a damned decision, right or wrong, and stand by it.
Bring me men who are not constantly heads down texting and playing with their phones. Is that device more interesting than me?
Bring me men who are not needy and constantly need attention. I'm too busy for it.
Bring me men who won't have me on the side of the road at 12:30 AM so that he can play MacGyver trying to save the day because some idiot wraps his car around a pole. OK...that one is pretty specific.
Bring me men who can interpret my body language that is clearly saying, "I am not interested in you romantically".
Bring me men who are dependable: who call when they say they're going to call, who says he's going to do something and then truly does it.
Bring me men who won't say that he "lost my phone number" as an excuse for not calling. Maybe that excuse worked in 1980 but not in the post-cell phone era.
Bring me men who won't pester me about what I'm doing, decide to tag along to my already planned activities, and then attempt to change the restaurant, the movie, or other parts of the itinerary to suit his needs.
Bring me men who are aware of current events, pop culture, retains information, and doesn't have his head in the sand because all he does is work.
Bring me men who don't lie.
Bring me men who love animals.
Bring me men who act their age.
Bring me men that can sense the evening has gone poorly and consequently won't turn around at the end of the night and ask me if I want to come inside. No, I do not.
Bring me men who actually pick up the phone to speak instead of texting, emailing, or badgering me in some other electronic fashion.
Bring me men who are not so goddamned sensitive.
Bring me men who have a healthy respect for time; both mine and other peoples.
Bring me men who have opinions, thoughts, and dreams and are not just following the other lemmings jumping off the cliff.
Bring me men who are not personality vampires latching on to my interests because they have none of their own.
Bring me men who will not corner me in to spending time with them.
Bring me men who will fully appreciate that I am college educated, successful, independent, financially secure, physically fit, stylish 34 year old and overall one hell of a catch. If you think there's better out there, then by all means look.
Bring me men who've got their shit together.
Bring me men who act like men instead of these feminized, indecisive, emotionally needy, draining, socially inept assholes that keep bothering me.
Am I asking too much?