Who's into Porn?

My taste in movies does not necessarily match that of my friends and family. I often seek out the lesser known, independent films. I give them a try. Sometimes they're great, and I am glad I discovered something worth watching. Other times I see a few not-so-good ones. Since my viewing preferences don't usually fit those of my brothers, I really should quit trying to pass on my eccentric movie tastes to them. I continue to recommend films to them anway, hoping they will see one and actually like it. So many great films are out there - I just want to share the good movies with people I love. Why can't they see that?

It started when I told my brother to watch Fargo. C'mon, it's a good flick. He hated it and told me so. I figured he would love Swingers. Again, he informed me it sucked. I recommended Memento to both of my siblings. They didn't like that either, but they never actually started at the beginning and watched it all the way through - kind of a problem with that movie. I made them both watch Frailty and The Salton Sea in my company. The smartass remarks went on for days. Now it's just a family joke that whatever I say is good probably isn't, especially if my brothers have never heard of it. So uncultured. So un pop-cultured. Poor souls.

So tonight I was telling my brother about Wonderland, which is based on a true story. I am so a sucker for that. For some reason I truly love stories that have truth in them, even if it is only a little bit. One of my recent book purchases describes the truth and myth behind 100 movies. So I brought up the movie, and my brother said he hadn't ever heard the title. He said, "It's probably like that other one - The Salton Sea." After reminding him that that was a very good film, I described Wonderland which is about four people bludgeoned to death in California in 1981, a case that involved John Holmes who was a famous porn star. I didn't know anything about this guy and his films before watching the movie.

My brother said, "Oh, like I haven't heard of that guy."

I replied, "Have you?"

Laughing, he said, "Yeah. Haven't you?"

I said, "No."

"Well, I guess you're not as into porn as I am," he said.

"I guess not."

Aside from the fact that my brother's trivial knowledge of porn stars is disgusting, I realize something else. I have solid evidence now. I have always wondered why my very own brother wouldn't enjoy the same types of movies as I. It's because he likes different movies, a totally different type of movies.

That's just gross.

I Need to File a Claim

The Happy Train crashed. I should be in the hospital with severe injuries considering the extent of the crash. Since it was all just a metaphor, I am not. Instead, I am sitting here eating peanut butter off of a spoon at 4:52 in the afternoon knowing full well I will be eating my evening meal soon. I call it supper even though some of you assholes out there call it dinner.

Even worse, I have almost made a conscious decision to just eat whatever the hell I want. I say almost because I then think of how I cute I actually looked when I was trying on the new school clothes I bought yesterday. Yes, teachers go school clothes shopping. Anyway, I do not want to gain five pounds before school starts. Ok. I guess I am back to eating better . . . for now.

So, damn life. Damn the depressing parts of it. Damn the little things that set me off and pissed me off. I am sorry, folks. The Happy Train travels no more. Find your own good time transportation. It's official. I am in no condition to offer people companionship or direction on the road of positivity.

Oops. I screwed up.

30

So what you're telling me then is that I'm old?

All right. Ok. I think I can wrap my mind around that.

Yep. Old. Thirty. I know it's true because that's what my profile says. I see it right there on the screen, in print.

30.

I don't care much because today is DAY 6 of my new positive me. I have to tell you, I am doing well with it. I am not just saying that to come off good or make myself feel better. Less complaining, no depressing thoughts, more looking at what's good in life. Happiness abounds in my house and in my mind. I am working to keep it that way too.

Hey now, c'mon, jump on the Happy Train with me. It will be fun. I have no idea where the hell it's going, but you can come along. I promise good times (I really have no way of promising anything, but it sounds nice and adds a whole new level to the sales pitch).

Does the Thermometer Go That High?

We bought a handy-dandy indoor/outdoor thermometer that provides us with the temperature in and out (duh), the humidity, the moon phases (why?) and a 10-24 hour forecast (shown with a little picture at the top). Man, this sucker is really cool. Reasons this is a necessary item in Phoenix:

1. You get to see the forecast without watching the irritating weather people (no offense, meteorologists of the world).
2. Blazing sun graphic (said forecast) reminds you what the next day will bring.
3. You just might see a negative humidity reading. What?
   -3%?
4. You see that the thermometer really does register 119.3.
5. Daily you can call yourself a dumb ass for moving here (or staying here).

So, you see, it's really a good purchase after all. Can I have my $45 back, please?

Yes, We're Packing

One of my bestest friends and I went out shootin' (as they say out there) at the shooting range. We went out for Thursday, Ladies' Night and had a kick-ass time.

I should say that my friend and I are similar but different. Wow, that sounds very stupid. Let me explain. She is more risk-taking than I. She doesn't care what other people think. I try to impress and hate to disappoint. She does what she wants and what makes her happy. I do what I want sometimes but usually try to make other people happy. We balance each other out very well because we meet in the middle. Also, we influence each other just enough to help one another see the other side.

Having said that, I should have expected we would have an interesting night, but I went in figuring we would go out, get our firearms, set up targets, perfect our stances, take aim and target shoot. After all, that's what I did when I went out for the orientation by myself. Instead, she loaded her magazine, held the gun with one hand, turned her head toward me (not the target) and fired off the 10 rounds as fast as possible. Under duress, I, too, fired away with lightning speed. Then I returned to my watchful, careful stance.

We were having a great time. She was firing like crazy while I was carefully aiming to hit the bullseye. She then said, "Ok. Now we're going to hold it like this (picture gangsta movie style) like we're shooting out of a car window."

"No way," I said. I was worried they were going to kick our asses out of there. Afterall, we were using their guns and had promised to take firearm safety seriously as we were ushered into the Annie Oakley Sure Shots.

"Hold it with your left hand and shoot like we're criminals stealing a car," she demanded.

Peer pressure is alive and well - even at age 29 (almost 30, damn it). I finally agreed to hold the gun with my left hand and shoot (but I refused to hold it sideways). It made me nervous though. Hey, I don't do anything with my left hand, let alone shoot a gun.

Our night at the range proceeded from there to Grand Theft Auto and then a little later, Grand Theft Auto: Spanish Version.

I admit, it was fun as hell. We were laughing our asses off. We were at a shooting range in 110 degree heat with safety glasses and ear protection pretending we were gangstas firing our 9s. Pretty damn funny. That's what she's good for - making me relax and forget what other people think. I need that. I need that a lot.

It Builds Up

All right, I am just going to say it - I hate cleaning the shower. I have always disliked it because it is a job that lacks enjoyment. The task is difficult. I realize I make it more difficult because I allow too much time to pass in between cleanings. Even so, it sucks.

I never really can get all the soap scum off the fiberblass walls and floor. Isn't that material supposed to be easier to maintain versus other products? Well, it's not. I rinse. I squeege. I have tried the clean shower after spray. The ineffectiveness of that is not worth the cost and effort. I have purchased soaps that produce less scum - yes, they make them. I have waxed the walls. I have done all I can to try to make the job of keeping it clean an easy one. However, I have failed. It's not easy. In fact, it's impossible.

The soap builds up and the interior gets a little dull and dingy. I can't prevent it. As I cleaned it today, I really wondered why I bother. I couldn't get it sparkling. It will just get crappy again. Showering in it with soap makes it so. Some really smart chemist or cleaning agent engineer needs to invent a body soap that also works as a shower cleaner - not too weak, not too harsh. I am sure they can do it. I have bought all the other crap. I will gladly buy that.

Until the magic cleaner comes on the market, I think I will just continue to let it build up and shower in the scum. After all, it is soap. It can't be that bad.

An Open Letter to the Makers of Sensodyne

Your extra-whitening version of the wonderful Sensodyne is a magnificent product. I am writing this just so you know how much your company, GlaxoSmithKline, has helped me make it through a difficult time in my life.

My mouth has caused me pain for nearly one month now. I have returned to the dentist twice and finally feel I am on the road to recovery. This is certainly due to the drilling away of the irritatant filling but also, more importantly, to the wonders of your toothpaste for those of us who suffer through the sensitivity. Hot, cold, sweets - no matter - Sensodyne tackles them. Of course, it doesn't work immediately. But in time, I have noticed a splendid difference. If a drop of a cold beverage or, heaven forbid, ice cream lands upon my tooth, I can now handle the temporary pain. I quickly remove the culprit and my mouth returns to its semi-normal state.

The extra whitening aspect will surely make my pearly whites more presentable. Again, it's not immediate. I must wait for the results. I didn't think I necessarily needed the "extra whitening" but I could not find the "whitening" product, so I will make do.

Surely a large number of people also take advantage of the benefits of your toothpaste. I am sure none will mind if I thank you on their behalf and mine. Thank you, makers of Sensodyne. You make my life worth living. For that I am grateful.

Date with Death - Stood Up -

My maker and I just slightly missed out on the opportunity to share an afternoon cup of coffee.

That’s right, I could have died today. The death car, as I like to call it, came speeding and sliding around a blind corner north of my neighborhood. I was heading north, on my way to the evil Wal-Mart, when I thought I was going to die. The 1997-99 Pontiac Grand Am was red in color, quite fitting considering my blood could have blanketed the asphalt. Oh the symbolism. The two bastard teenage boys nearly ran off the road, regained control then sped past me as I desperately hugged the shoulder, slowing down to about 10.

Obviously I lived. They missed me by about 100 feet. This turned out to be one of those “what if” situations. What if I had been driving the normal 10 over the speed limit? For some reason I consciously adhered to the 25 mph residential speed limit. What if I had left the house 30 seconds earlier? I could be dead.

This was serious. The reason I know this is because I actually worried first about my life and not the damage the car may have sustained. That’s a tell-tale sign for me.

Gals with Guns

For a little recreation last night, I took part in Ladies' Night. No, it wasn't at a local watering hole. Rather, a group of us got together out at the shooting range.

No, I am not kidding. Each Thursday is Ladies' Night, specifically for Annie Oakley Sure Shots at the shooting range north of Phoenix. I attended a one hour introduction to firearm safety with about nine other women. Then we hit the range where they gave us 50 rounds of .22 ammo and our pick of revolvers, semi-automatics or rifles. I chose the semi-automatic Ruger. I did pretty well. I hadn't shot a gun since I went out shooting in the woods with my brother in Georgia. Of course, I don't think the targets were more than 10 yards away, so I should have done all right.

Now that I am a member of the Sure Shots (a firearm program for women, by women), I can shoot free Thursday nights from 7-9. I can use their guns, but I am thinking about getting my own piece. I have to do some shopping around though.

The interesting group of volunteer women out there who help make the program possible range from older, mature women who looked fairly normal to one woman who possibly had received a gunshot wound to the head in 1986 which left her stuck with feathered hair, thick green eyeliner, tight jeans, sequined top and a lacy scarf tied around her waist. Odd group, those gals. Helpful though - I have to give them that. Debbie, from the 80s, even let her newbies shoot her "baby Eagle." I have no idea what it is, but it's loud.

The coaches gave us information on upcoming special sessions at the range. They offer a pistol class and a rifle class and some other programs. I laughed when one woman mentioned the machine gun class. She didn't crack a smile. I swear as she was listing the types she said something about an "Israeli made" machine gun. Why? Why would we need this? I have no idea, but it's likely a rare experience. I may look into it.

Guess I will report back after next Thursday. I do plan to go back. Guns are fun.