Recent distractions: “A Mighty Wind” (3 out of 4 stars), “Laurel Canyon” (2.5 out of 4 stars), “Baran” (3.5 out of 4 stars). Also picked up Ariel Gore’s latest, “Atlas of the Human Heart”, over the weekend and finished that in short order. I’ll have to give that 4 out of 4 stars. We’re about the same age and much of her adolescence was eerily similar to mine…though I’m glad our experiences diverged where they did. She’s packed a lot of serious living in. Some of the experiences I envy, others I’m relieved I didn’t have to endure. Overall a fascinating read. On to music. Been listening to a lot of Röyksopp, some songs from Raveonettes, lots of Mirah, some My Bloody Valentine, some from The Postal Service and loads of Low, as usual. Haven’t made it to any shows recently (aside from a great free show a few weeks back at Eclipse Records, Signal to Trust and Deerhoof). But that will change tonight. Been hearing about this speed-metal library rock band called Bloodhag for some time now. I finally get to experience the onslaught myself. This evening at the Maplewood Public Library, of all places. I’ll report back tomorrow. At the beginning of my four-day weekend. Many more distractions ahead. And not just lame ones (like getting the car worked on, woo-freaking-hoo). May Day, X2, Free First Saturday and more.

For me life hasn’t become entirely routine…but rather it is comprised of routines. They come in handy when dealing with tragicomic three year-olds, especially on Monday mornings. After half a dozen increasingly urgent requests (swimming pool? cookies? Boppa’s house? play game? Grandma’s house? Children’s Museum? - heck, they aren’t even open on Mondays) he was eventually resigned to going to pre-school (and I was resigned to going to work), because that’s part of the routine. So we hopped in the car and headed out. The little man loves to point out the city skyline as we drive over the high bridge. And he gleefully points out every type of truck and bus we encounter along the way. What is it with boys and trucks? But we’re both a little frustrated by one point in our journey. I’ve lived in my house nearly four years now…and each spring a certain street has been completely blocked off and torn up. You’d think they could have gotten it right the first or second time, but now they’re on their fourth go. So we have to take a slight detour, and the little man breathes a sigh of relief once we get back on our path. Along the way we pass many billboards. I think he’s upset that Monsters, Inc. has been replaced. I’m generally relieved that the creepy pro-life billboards are gone…but one of them has been replaced by equally creepy and muy macho military recruitment signage. Something alone the lines of “pain is just weakness leaving the body”. Which could be altered to read “pain is just what your friends and family will feel when you return home in a body bag”. Across the street from that billboard is the latest from the milk moustache campaign. With no prompting the little man pointed up to it and declared “ew, yucky!” followed by “filfy”. Heh. Eventually I drop him off at his destination, we say our goodbyes, and I continue on with the second leg of my commute. But this is where my routine is going to have to soon change. For the last year I’ve been splurging. And trying to justify spending a certain amount each month…on a reserved parking spot, located in my office building. The amount is deducted from my paycheck, only part of it pre-tax. It really is convenient. Especially in the winter, in the enclosed ramp. No need to brave the elements to get to my car. Or to warm it up. Or brush snow off of it. Likewise in the summer…no long, sweaty walk to an oppressively hot car. But all that is about to change. The parking rates are going up. A lot. To $290.75/month. Not even I, with my somewhat mad mental gymnastics, can justify that. So instead I’m going to become a bus rider again. Which will be about $240/month less than the new parking rates. Certainly seems fair enough in the cost to convenience ratio. But it will take a little while to adjust to the new routine. All right, I’ll quite whining. For now.

Meant to mention this earlier…but it is still Adbusters annual TV turnoff week. We do pretty well with this in our household, as far as the little man is concerned anyhow. We generally stick to the Monday-Friday no TV/no video rule. We sometimes watch a little TV (the Jackie Chan Adventures) and/or a few videos on the weekend. But weeknights we have such a small window between returning home and his bedtime, that I try to make the best of our time together. After his bedtime is another matter entirely. Mommy watches BtVS and Angel, when the episodes are new. And Netflix provides other distractions. We have a rather ambitious 145 movies in our queue, and I’ve rated 613. But this last week I’ve been ignoring the Netflix we have checked out…and concentrating instead on six other DVDs, borrowed from one of the Daves we know. The DVDs contain all 26 episodes of the ultra-cool Cowboy Bebop series. J watched them in nearly one sitting, the day we got a hold of them. He watched nearly nine hours worth straight through…went to sleep…then woke up and watched the remaining hour or so. I’m pacing myself a bit more. I waited until Sunday night to start watching Session 1. And have now made my way through five of the six DVDs. I figure I’ll polish that off tonight, and be able to return them all to their owner tomorrow. So I guess this doesn’t really count as turning the TV off this week…but at least it’s not broadcast television. Right?

I’m going to hell in a handbasket. I’d like to think I’m aging well, but my body feels the need to prove me wrong on a regular basis. Never mind the general achiness, allergies and stretch marks, it’s the puking that gets me. Far too frequently I pick up some bug from the little man or his classmates that knocks me on my ass. Or has me praying to the porcelain god. Such was the case last night. All evening my gut was grumbling, but I managed to fall asleep at a reasonable hour. Only to be rudely awaken around 1am, and about every half hour after that. And let me tell you, Tofurky Jurky tastes awful coming back up.

Need something to do next weekend? Go see “Better Luck Tomorrow” - I’m planning to. A few words from director Justin Lin:
‘If you’ve ever complained about unoriginal cookie cutter movies or representation in the media, you have the power to change that. All you have to do is help spread the word and support projects like BLT Hollywood will listen if we are loud enough at the box office.’
And a few blurbs from various reviews:
‘About how incredibly stupid the smartest of kids can be, which is inherently watchable.’ –Laura Kelly, SOUTH FLORIDA SUN-SENTINEL
‘[A] piercing portrayal of American teenagers who are for the most part good-looking, smart, funny — and almost completely lacking in morals.’ –Richard Roeper, EBERT & ROEPER
‘Starts out like an Asian-American version of The Breakfast Club, but quickly turns more towards Boyz N The Hood…shows what can happen when rich kids at private school and smart kids at public school get bored.’ –Cherryl Dawson and Leigh Ann Palone, THEMOVIECHICKS.COM

It’s not *all* gloom and doom around here. It was mostly a good Good Friday. Having the day off was excellent. The little man and I made morning visits to the coffee shop and children’s museum. The double mocha at the former helped me gear up for the latter. Then we were on to spend the afternoon with an old friend. Lunch was followed by an afternoon of good conversation and bad cartoon consumption. Then back home, so I could have a little downtime before girls’ night out. Which began with dinner at the restaurant I’d eaten lunch at. And that was a-ok with me. Dinner and conversation were great. But then. My spidey-sense began to tingle when I asked where and when we were seeing a movie. I thought the what had been settled. But it seemed we had varying ideas regarding the selection. I’d thought we were seeing “View from the Top“, which would have been all right. Another idea was “Phone Booth“. I was leaning towards one of the Shaw Brothers’ chopsocky epics, or something in the International Film Fest, but there was only one other taker. So it was somehow decided we’d be venturing out to Southdale. A mall not unlike or far from that which “Mallrats” was filmed at. But I digress. As we departed the restaurant the movie choice was sort of left up in the air. To be determined at the theater. So we headed out in various vehicles. Upon arrival our group hit the arcade. Which was the most enjoyable part of the theater-going experience. But before I knew what had happened, a splinter group showed up and purchased tickets. For “What a Girl Wants“. And, not wanting to break up the group, the rest of us followed suit. If I’d had my car I would have driven home…after another game of Centipede. Instead I shelled out my $8 to behold the most vile bit of claptrap I’ve endured in years. Descriptions from various reviews:
“Clueless without a clue.”
“Never fails to live down to your expectations.”
“Teen movies don’t have to be pandering and idiotic, but you wouldn’t know that by watching this Girl, an aimless piece of fluff that trades in clichés and stock jokes that have for a long time now been signifiers of humor rather than the real thing.”
“An execrable and witless nonstarter that makes a potent case for hanging the Cinderella myth out to dry till the end of time.”
What’s more is how damaging these sorts of films are to their target audience: adolescent girls. Not only do their predictable plots ensure that girls need not think for themselves, they also instill in them unrealistic expectations that will only lead them to be disappointed with their current and future lives. In real life we can’t all be (or necessarily want to be) rescued by wealthy older men, fathers and sugar daddies alike. Our estranged parents are rarely going to get back together and live happily ever after. Not all of us are, or should be, rail-thin with a closet full of the trendiest (and tackiest) clothes. Ugh. Enough. With all that said, I haven’t given up hope entirely on American made movies. I’m willing to give it another go this afternoon. The little man has a visit with his Dad, so I’ll be off to see “A Mighty Wind“, the long-awaited latest offering from Christopher Guest and ensemble. There’s nowhere to go but up.

Too many examples to cite. First off, via this piece:
‘The sacking of Iraq’s museums is like a “lobotomy” of an entire culture, say art experts. And they warned the Pentagon repeatedly of this potential catastrophe months before the war.’
And Alternet has this disturbing article:
‘In the past month, three international peace activists have been wounded or killed by the Israeli Army. They were all affiliated with the International Solidarity Movement, a loose network of international activists who are trained in and dedicated to non-violent tactics to defend Palestinian civilians from Israeli aggression.’
And, sticking with the region, Robert Fisk’s take on the situation in Iraq. All of it alarming. Some of it especially disturbing. Like the notion that, instead of tracking down and bringing to justice many of the human rights abusers that were recently ousted, the American military may be, in fact, hiring them.
‘Were they monsters, these men? Yes. Are they sought by the Americans? No. Are they now working for the Americans? Yes, quite possibly - indeed some of them may well be in the long line of ex-security thugs who queue every morning outside the Palestine Hotel in the hope of being re-hired by the US Marines’ Civil Affairs Unit.’
My current mood: disgusted.

Speaking of indoor fun…when I got home from work last night I discovered that J had set up the little man’s play tent. And that the little man was giddily referring to it as his “city”. Thankfully he’s still small enough to comfortably crawl through the tube, and just barely stand up inside the tent. But before long I’m thinking he’ll be godzilla-sized, compared to his little tent city. Unless he develops more real estate. In the living room. But he’s already cornered most of the market there. And some day I’d like to have a sofa again. And even a coffee table. A girl can dream.

It’s been a long, crazy week. Globally and locally. The warm weather here has been waxing and waning. Last weekend was gorgeous. And Monday was like summer, without the nasty humidity and bugs. We had record-breaking heat of 89 degrees. Not that I experienced any of it. At work we’re given Good Friday off, which has always baffled me. But in order to have this one day off, I’ve had to pack a full forty+ hour week into four days. So I missed out on the Monday night summer fun, when J and the little man busted out the wading pool in the backyard. But there’s light at the end of the tunnel. It’s nearly the weekend now, a long, three day weekend…so naturally the temp is back down to 33, with snow on the way. Looks like we’ll be having more indoor fun.

Cue the B-52s. The band, not the plane. Saddam’s “love shack” has been found. And can I just say ew?
‘BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) — The doors of the town house opened to reveal a playboy’s fantasy straight from the 1960s: mirrored bedroom, lamps shaped like women, airbrushed paintings of a topless blonde woman and a mustached hero battling a crocodile.’
[...snip...]
‘The home’s 1960s look — parodied in the series of “Austin Powers” spy spoofs — inspired a round of imitations from soldiers slogging door to door.
“Yeah, baaabeee,” said Carter, doing his best imitation of actor Mike Myers’ character.
“Shagadelic,” another soldier shouted.
Indeed, the carpet was navy blue shag.’
Yowza. Thanks to Sean for sending that on. I think.