Turdsday

Thursday or as I like to say sometimes, Turdsday.

Today was my husband's birthday. Unfortunately, we're apart this year due to the fact that he has to work in another town to make decent pay.

The town where I live has shit for computer jobs and it's a little goodie-goodie town where everyone knows everyone and if you're not a part of the good-ol-boy network (or the Cult as I like to call it) then you're on your own. (Cue up the Children of the Corn music.)

But Jason will be here the last weekend in May and we'll party then.

Happy Birthday, Jason. XXX

Kids These Days

I watched the teeny-bopper supernatural horror flick "Covenant" last night or early this morning (whichever you prefer).

SIGH...

You know what I'm gonna say before I say it, don't you?

Super-pretty bad boys jumping off cliffs reminiscent of "The Lost Boys", fake chase scenes where the actors aren't trusted to drive on a real road, bad CGI, gay boy band reject actors (the actresses even joke about it) and a silly little plot all make for a very slick little pooper of someone's money. What do you expect from a film where the climax posits good pretty boy against bad pretty boy playing a witchcraft version of catch?

The only nice thing I'll say about this movie is that from a female feminist's perspective, I appreciate that this movie was about male witches rather than females.

...Okay, two things. The soundtrack's not bad, either.

Made Up

My clown phase. Artists go through phases. And I guess I'm in my clown phase. I've been buying makeup like crazy lately. Eye shadow pencils, sparkley shadow, eyeglide, lipglide, fancy lip moisturizers, mascara. Even a big fancy metal makeup case to hold it all. We're talking a couple hundred dollars worth of stuff. And I've never been one of those people that felt compelled to wear makeup if I was going out somewhere. If I had time and more to the point felt like applying it, I would wear it, but never one of those "I-can't-step-foot-out-the-door-because-I'm-not-wearing-any-makeup" people. Is it vanity? Age? Neurosis? Or a new obsession?

Be scared. Be very scared.

This Is The Zodiac Not Speaking

For the first time in the history of our relationship, my mother and I thought we would go to a movie together. The Zodiac would've appreciated our efforts. The breezy March night was virtually dripping with disappointment.

So Thursday night, off we go in search of the Zodiac. The first theatre unapologetically reported "technical difficulties" and further said that they would not be fixed because that night was the last night for Zodiac.

Undeterred, we ventured across town to yet another theatre only to find that Zodiac was not showing there.

Finally, we went to a third theatre, the newest in town, and got tickets to the 10:35 showing. The theatre employee had difficulty printing the ticket but finally produced two of them and I rejoiced, even though they said 7:30 on them.

So, happy and encouraged, my mom and I went to a nearby Fazolli's and dined where we enjoyed some pasta but no extra bread. You know they're supposed to walk around and offer it. Well, they didn't. (Don't get me started on my fast food horrors as of late.)

So after we finished eating, we went back to the theatre and got a drink, went to the bathroom, and sat around until the 7:30 feature ended.

Finally, the 7:30 crowd left and we went in. My mother and I were the only people in the theatre. We sat through some awful country music and read the coercively boring advertisments as they scrolled and repeated on the screen ad nauseum. Finally, around 10:50, a janitor comes in and starts cleaning. I send my mother out to inquire WTF is going on. She comes back with guess who? The little moron theatre employee who sold me the tickets and tells my mother and I that there is no 10:35 showing of Zodiac. Furthermore, there never was a 10:35 showing of Zodicac during the week. And, he blames the girl who took our tickets for selling us the incorrect tickets when in fact, he did. Our compensation? Two free tickets and free admission any Wednesday.

Poor mom. She was dieing to see Zodiac. What's worse is she never goes to the show/movies. And she didn't get to this time, either. And it doesn't look like we'll be going anytime soon. Other than "300" there's nothing coming in the remote future I'd pay a penny to see. So needless to say, since my husband and I have seen "300", my mom and step-father will get to see it for free.

But that leaves two free admissions to see something else. Choices, choices.

300

I think it's safe to say, someone named Persephone would be interested in Greek mythology. Even safer to say that they would appreicate well-made movies about Greek mythology. Okay, maybe even shitty ones, since the selection of Greek mythology movies is so scarce.

"300" would make any Greco-Roman proud.

Jason and I went to see it Friday night. We hadn't been to the movies at night in a long time because it's more expensive to go at night, but we splurged and ended up having a good time. And was this the movie on which to splurge or what?? Believe me, this film lives up to the hype unlike so many others. It's an absolute stunning visual experience. While violent and drizzled with a bit of nudity, the barbaric savagery of the setting deems it appropriate in its context. So much comes together in this magnificent piece of work (script, acting, cinematography, score) that I'm not at all surprised it's sweeping the box office. If you get a chance, go see this flick. This is one I'll be picking up for my permanent collection. It rocks.

New and Improved

My husband, aka SuperGeek, has published an updated version of my website. He's still tweeking it here and there and perfecting the imperfectable but I'm proud of it. Now if I could just do my part and get published.

P.S. Don't forget to say 'hi' to my babies, Roy and Ruby.

Nothing To Lose My Head Over

A headless statue of Hera was discovered in Dion Greece last year and will be formally presented tomorrow but can be viewed on the web as of an hour ago. I thought I'd mention it since I have an interest in Greek mythology and my pen name and alter-ego is that of Persephone. I also found the statue to have special significance due its decapitated state. It tells me that not getting a notice of acceptance from Amber Quill isn't the end of the world and (warning, pun approaching) is nothing to lose my head over. I'll just keep plugging away and one day when I least expect it or forget entirely that I had even submitted something, I'll get a nice little note in my in-box stating that someone loves me--truly loves me. Okay, so I don't really care if they love me, just as long as they love my stories. In true goddess fashion, I sat down and worked on another one of my stories in the Shamara series and spent the night brainstorming versus sobbing in my beer. Hera would be proud.