Category Archives: TV

MCC and the Goldeneye

So the other day, I was watching The Princess Bridea fantastic movie, btw–and thinking about a friend of mine. This is a friend I’ve mentioned before: Red. She’s since passed on, and you’d think that watching a movie that we watched together (more than once) would make me maudlin, but it didn’t.

Instead, it got me thinking of the last movie we saw together in the theater: Goldeneye (I just totally dated myself).

In any case, we were in college, and I was enrolled in a course called “Environmental Literature: The Importance of Place” or something uppity like that. I was an English Lit major (eventually, I took enough Linguistics courses to major in that, too), so of course I took classes that sounded pretentious. Thing was, I loved this class (I loved skipping it, too, but that’s a story for another day). I still enjoy reading Rick Bass, Terry Tempest Williams, and others. The landscapes they portray are quite lovely, and I’m a girl who likes setting, so when I see that Rick Bass has written an article for one magazine or another, I’ll always buy it.

And then we got to the section of the course where we talked about “erotic landscapes.” I remember reading our text and going, “Oh, my.” If you’re feeling “fingered by the desert,” or some nonsense like that,  then, uh, great? I didn’t know dirt and sagebrush could do that. I’ve lived in the desert for most of my life, and I can tell you one thing: the desert doesn’t do jack for me, but if it did, I wouldn’t stick around to enjoy it. I’m pretty certain it’s the sign of the zombiepocalypse.

I digress.

So, anyway, I wasn’t entirely mature enough to take “erotic landscapes” seriously (Truth be told, I’m still not, because I still laugh until my sides ache at some of that imagery), but I was mature enough to apply it everywhere I went. Including at the movie theater.

Imagine, if you will, this scenario: an inappropriate female, whose mind is somewhat dirty, who is currently studying “erotic landscapes,” and who goes to see, of all things, a Bond movie.

Freud had nothing on me that day.

Everything had sexual connotations. Even the popcorn had some sexual connotation. And there I am, with my very proper friend (she couldn’t have been that proper, because she liked hanging out with me, but that’s beside the point), and during the movie, I’m howling.

I thought that movie was the funniest thing I’d ever seen in my life. But I didn’t keep it to myself and giggle quietly. Nope. In my obnoxiousness, I had to share it with her.

The beaches: “Oh, look at his waves, lapping her silken shores.”

The guns: “Look at him stroking his big gun. She wants to stroke his gun until it fires.”

Airplanes: “I bet he wants to put his plane inside her hangar. Over and over and over.”

And when the missile silo opened up, and the missile rose up out of the water, I was laughing so hard I could barely choke out something vaguely coherent. Something about her “hot, wet chalice” and his “rising missile.”

Luckily, the theater was relatively empty, so I don’t think I disturbed too many people. Mostly just my friend, I suppose.

It’s so terribly immature, and yet, to this day, I can’t watch Goldeneye and not laugh, even though, once, I managed to keep my comments to myself (I was with my grandmother. Even I have a line I won’t cross. Doesn’t mean I didn’t giggle during the movie.). I get that the movie isn’t supposed to be as funny as I think it is, but still. It’s Hi-larious.

Maybe it’s held on to its “funny factor” because of who I was with that day. We never saw another movie in the theaters together–I went to Europe and she went to school out-of-state, and once she came back, she was too tired to go out to see a movie with me–and so this movie has a special place in my heart. Of all the people in the world, Red was the one who most appreciated my sense of humor (besides Hubs. That man gets me). Oh, she tried to downplay it, and sometimes she would act like she disapproved (while she was laughing, of course, which just made me try harder to be worse), but once she got sick, whenever I would go over there, she seemed to make sure that whatever movie we watched would allow my inappropriate flag to fly. (That was a horrible sentence. My apologies. And yet, I think I’ll leave it. The benefits of having a blog–there’s no editor to tell you no!) But I can tell you all this: we watched movies where I could make her laugh by saying something outrageous and suggestive. I’m pretty sure we watched Goldeneye more than once.

I can guarantee you, we weren’t watching Beaches or Old Yeller.

Here’s my list of special movies:

1. Goldeneye

2. The Princess Bride

3. Two Days in the Valley (first movie I saw with Hubs. Lots of violence–Hubs’ version of a romance. That and Terminator.)

4. The Incredibles (when I first saw this movie, and Jack-Jack turned into a flaming demon, I thought, “Whoever wrote this had a kid with colic,” because Lord, that reminds me of Monk when she had it. Every time we watch that scene, Hubs and I will exchange The Look and start to laugh).

5. And, go ahead and judge: Zorro the Gay Blade. It’s what Red and I watched when we weren’t watching Goldeneye. Also, I have a thing for George Hamilton’s tan. Not George Hamilton. His tan.

What about you? What movies are special to you, and why?

Leave a comment, and, uh, I’ll wish a pony upon you. That would work, right?



Sunshine Award

ImageSo, I left for a few days, where I had only limited internet and cell service (OMG, it was like living in the Dark Ages… Or 1997) and when I return, I come home to the Sunshine Award. I was nominated by the super talented Roberta Gordon of Gemini Witching. I actually haven’t played this kind of game before, but I’m willing to give it a try, because, well, I’m game for just about anything (just once… after that, all bets are off). But this game seemed like a good idea (granted, the last time I said that, the hubs and I wound up with a second child. Totally kidding. Sort of), so I thought, Why not?

Honestly, it’s so nice to be recognized by people you hold in esteem. I’ve run across many talented bloggers out here in the blog-o-sphere. But me? I’m just a quirky girl who occasionally writes a quirky blog that (hopefully) will make at least one person laugh. So thank you so much Roberta for nominating me. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Here are the rules for the game:

1. Include the award logos in your post or in your blog

2. Answer 10 questions about yourself (any 10? Because, left to my own devices, I would ask–and answer–many dangerous questions about myself. It’s the consequence of having a poorly developed sense of shame. And yes, I did make up my own questions.)

3. Nominate 10-12 other fabulous bloggers

4. Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blog, letting them know they are nominated.

5. Share the love and link the person who nominated you.

So, to start, I guess we’ll start with the safe questions… Yeah, these are the ones I copied from other Sunshine Award winners. My own questions about myself would be… well, you’ll see.

What is your favorite color? Delft blue. I don’t know if that’s an actual color, but it’s the blue color all over the china I found in Delft, Netherlands. Wow, and that made me sound like a pretentious snob. In any case, it’s a color between electric blue and indigo. A little deeper than cornflower, less purple than periwinkle. So yeah, I think I just made that up. (And just the question of “What’s your favorite color” somehow turned into a dissertation on my snobbery and the parsing of the color blue. I might have issues).

What’s Your Favorite Animal? In general it’s the honey badger. In real life, it’s my dog.

Do you have a nickname, and what is it? The hubs calls me the grenade, because, um, I’m the one you toss in to eliminate the possibility of a drunken hook up. On top of being obnoxious and probably the only one wearing sensible shoes (Get your mind out of the gutter), I’m also married, and, sadly, sober. Party with me, and, sure, I’ll regret the things I said the next day, but I have to remember them. You, on the other hand, will have forgotten that you barfed on my sensible shoes (hence the reason I wear them). Don’t worry, I’ll remind you. This is why I don’t get out often.

What’s your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Coffee. I’m not sure I can survive without it.

Favorite day of the week? Saturday. Hands down.

Do you have a plan for the zombiepocalypse? Sure. Doesn’t everybody?

What is it? Run around screaming until I meet the inevitable end. And no, you can’t have my stuff.

Do you prefer Twitter or Facebook? I used to say Facebook because you can post longer stuff. But I’ve found that the more words I have to work with, the sillier I am. I’ve also discovered I can be really obnoxious with just 140 characters. Who knew?

What’s your favorite TV show? Castle, because I think Joey Buchanan–I mean, Captain Mal–I mean, Nathan Fillion is awesome. I still don’t know why he won’t follow back on the Twitter. I’m cool, right? Just because I would drool all over the Nater-tot if I met him doesn’t mean I’m not totally suave. Because I am. Totally. 

What’s your favorite book? I’m not going to be interesting with this one. My favorite book is Jane Eyre. I don’t know why I love this book so much, I just do. So, yeah, on my book shelf, I have all the classics, and Shakey-baby, and some philosophy (I own an astounding amount of Henry James. I’m not sure why)… and then some trashy romances. My bookshelf looks something like this: pretentious cover, pretentious cover, twenty covers with shirtless dudes, pretentious cover, 10 books that don’t have covers anymore because the spines are broken, random German book, pretentious cover. Next to the bookshelf is a stack of books maybe twenty high that, if they have covers still, have women in various states of undress being fondled/ogled/groped by shirtless or semi-shirtless dudes. These covers may or may not have once featured Fabio.

I think I may have taken my answers too far. My apologies. I’m both chatty and obnoxious. It’s a dangerous combination, I know.

So here are my nominees:

Brooke Moss: A fabulously funny writer, and one of the best CPs a girl could ask for.

Attorney At Large: Because she’s super funny, and an amazing woman overall. And she won’t tell you any b.s., either.

Ann Montclair: Witty and entertaining, her book made me both smile and squirm

Callie Hutton: She writes heartwarming books that just ooze romance. I love that.

Casey Wyatt: An awesome paranormal writer, her books are full of humor and are just… fun. One of the best ways to spend a Sunday, in fact. Also, her blog makes me smile.

Jamie Brazil: A really cool contemporary writer.

Jolyn Palliata: Okay, dude, I am totally in love with one of her heroes. Rhys. So, yeah, I had to nominate her, because, well, she wrote my new book boyfriend.

Christine Warner: Because she’s fantastic. Some Like it in Handcuffs … the title alone cracked me up.

Louisa Bacio: Because man, that girl knows how to make you squirm.

Have a great day, and happy Sunshine Award!

I have, perhaps, the most insane crush. (No, not the one I have on Nathan Fillion. Everyone gets that one). No, this crush is on a physicist.

The object of my fangirlishness (pretty certain that’s not a word, but it’s my blog) is Michio Kaku, a physicist who is on the Science Channel all the time.

See, I like smart men. In my younger years, I refused to date a man who wasn’t smarter than me in at least one thing (except the one, but we’re not talking about him, mmkay?). Since I’m no slouch in the subjects I’m good at, that pretty much meant any man I dated had to be good at math, because I am not, unless it’s stats.

So yeah, I dated math geeks. I married one, too.

In any case, I’ve got a thing for Michio Kaku because, well, I think he’s smart (I’m sure he’d scoff at that and say, “Smart? Of course I’m smart! I’m a freaking physicist, yo.”). I get flustered when he starts talking about gravity. He starts talking in numbers and I feel… I feel… twitterpated.

I think I understand what it feels like to be a bimbo.

My mind goes blank. I stare in awe. I know every word coming out of his mouth must be in English, because, well, we’re watching American TV. Still, I can honestly say, half the time I don’t have a clue what he’s saying. My mind sees the numbers he’s talking about, and it stutters. My one, lonely synapse fires randomly, all bewildered and confused.

And I love it.

So yeah, I watch the shows he’s in, and every time Kaku comes on, I tell the husband, “I love this guy. I understand a good half of what he’s saying.” it’s fascinating, and I feel dumb, because I know he’s explaining physics in lay terms, and I still don’t get it. It’s like this little hero worship thing–he’s so excited about a subject I just don’t understand. I wonder if anyone looks at me while I’m all lit up about the latest treatments for apraxia or cluttering, and thinks I’m cute.

Somehow, I doubt it.