Wedding Thriller

I thought my sister and her husband offered up pretty good entertainment when they acted out "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" at their wedding reception. But they got nuttin' on this group. According to Tracey, this wedding party practiced Michael Jackson's "Thriller" for a month before the wedding. It is hysterically great!

The groom is definitely more into it than anyone else, but the fact he got everyone to rehearse to this level is damned impressive!

Cakey!

Our dear Cakeyvoice, famed creatrix of knitted Dawn of the Dead and knitted Shaun of the Dead, has outdone herself. She's knitted Kraftwerk!

I am speechless with awe.

Classic Re-Post

After witnessing a 300+ pound female student with her gargantuan haunches jammed into the top of a helpless booktruck this morning, I felt it was time to re-post this classic from TBF's past . . .

* * * * *
Drunken Booktruck

In the life of a librarian a certain amount of pushing booktrucks is bound to happen. You have to load the booktruck before you push it. And damned often you have to unload it too. But in between there is the pushing - which is normally pretty simple. But, every now and then you'll get a drunken booktruck.

The drunken booktruck will not roll straight. No matter how carefully you steer, it will insist on veering left or right, banging into shelves, the back of a chair where someone is reading or randomly rumbling over the dog who is resting while its owner reads email.

Yeah - the drunken booktruck is trouble. And you may be wondering, by now, what causes this trouble. What forces make a booktruck stray from the narrow path? What warps the booktruck, so that it may never run true again?

Ass. Teenage ass, to be precise. Super-sized, Taco Bell fed, extra-large-fry gobbling teenage ass bent the booktruck so it will never roll straight again. Every summer the library hires local teenagers to move books, run courier and do other menial tasks the professionals make up for them to do. And every summer the biggest-butted teenager in the bunch will, at some point, plop her gigantic hindquarters on a booktruck and bend it all to hell. It happens every summer!

What - I must ask the universe - What is so compelling about the smooth flat top of the booktruck that it draws the humungus teenage buttcheeks to it? Does it call to them? Does it lure them with a song audible only to an elephantine girl's bottom? Why, booktruck? Why?

Why must you tease Brunhilda's booty by hovering mere inches from her tremendous rump? Why must you beckon her to hoist her massive can onto your spindly support? Perhaps you enjoy groaning beneath her truck bench cushions . . .

Sadly, the booktruck will neither confirm nor deny. And I am left with a sorryass booktruck and one course of action. I must post rules for summer library workers:

1. No sitting on booktrucks
2. No smoking in the building
3. No sitting on booktrucks
4. No wandering across campus after you clock in
5. No sitting on booktrucks
6. Keep your ass off the booktruck!

I ♥ Spencer Tunick

Photographer Spencer Tunick got 18,000 Mexicans naked to pose for his camera - at once!

See some more of his amazing work here and here.

Pointless Remakes in the Hopper!

I'm sure you've all heard by now that the Sci-Fi channel is set to underwhelm everyone over 30 by remaking two classic, fin-de siecle horror films. First, they've somehow snookered Ridley Scott into taking on a made-for-tv version of the Andromeda Stain. Second, they want to give the made-for-tv treatment to John Carpenter's The Thing.

Two bad ideas that taste bad together!

Reason #1 this idea sucks - The single most horrifying thing in the original Andromeda Stain is the very real, snuff-quality footage of a Capuchin monkey being gassed to death. Even when I see it now I don't wholly expect this sickening moment. It hits like a sledgehammer. And no amount of digital graphics in this world is going to ever carry the weight of that scene.

Reason #2 this idea sucks - In The Thing, Kurt Russell is The Man. He will always be The Man. And noooobody beats him. NO-body!!!!

Reason #3 this idea sucks - Goes back to reason #1. The monsters in The Thing are carefully constructed works of art. There is no CGI in this movie. The guy who did the models, Rob Bottin, is a genius. They are everything TBF lives for: fantastic, gruesome and shameless. He plumbed the depths of human dread to come up with these gross-out on top of gross-out monsters. The Thing is one of John Carpenter's best films ever. There is simply nowhere to go but down, with a remake.

BUT - - Reason #1 this idea might not suck - Andromeda Stain has a wimpy ending. It builds tremendous tension and then fizzles. If anybody can put the hammer back into the last 20 minutes of this film, it should be Ridley Scott. I'd like to see him pull it off. It's a great story with a craptastic ending. I just hope he's been hired to beat the crap out of the end of the original script.

P. S. - It's still a bad idea to remake The Thing. Never fuck with perfection.

The Well-Hung Ford

Well, folks I was just hammering down the road yesterday when I noticed that the truck in front of me was The Ford with Something Extra. It took a minute of squinting and calculating to figure out exactly what I was looking at. When I finally comprehended the sight before me, I laughed out loud and scrambled, one handed, to get my camera . . .



Jean Genet had a word for the "artificial package." Wish I could remember it right now. But no matter. What we need is a word for giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls hanging off the back of a Ford. Obviously it's "overcompensating." But we need a noun.

Perhaps, "Autoscrote." Maybe "Pickup package." "Hemi-heft?"

Please! What should we call this thing?

(Naturally I'm hoping Google will pick me up for "Jean Genet giant, rubber, veiny, bull-balls.")

Update: Leslie found a link to the site that sells "Bulls Balls and Big Boy Nuts." The site has a page of photos of their product hanging from everything between a tractor and a Segway. You have to see it to believe it.

Here's a real "testes-monial" from the site:

As much as I like my new balls I must return them if possible. I thought this was the coolest thing I had seen in a while. However, my wife is less than pleased. Matter of fact, she is extremely pissed that I "spent our money on something as disgusting as that".

She refused to ride in my truck if the scrotum was attached. Therefore I had to neuter my ride. I had it on for about 2 hours and only drove about 12 miles or so to show it to a couple of buddies. It is in pristine condition and only requires to be repackaged in its original plastic bag for resale.

I now weep wet tears for the man who had to return his balls to the factory, due to a shrewish, ball-hatin' wife. But I wouldn't ride in his truck either . . . unless he let me spit chewing tobaccy out the window and drove me 7-11 so people could see my slave bracelet!

Divine Secrets of the Yaya Razor

A few days ago I claimed that I was preparing a post about shaving my legs. I confess, it was an idle threat. I had no plans to write about such a tedious topic. But, when I got home from work that very day, lo & BEEhold, I had a brand new Gillette Venus Breeze Razor Plus Shave Gel Bars in my mailbox.

Somehow, all the advertising that's been launched in the name of this thing has by-passed my awareness in every way. I knew nothing about it, but I ripped it open like Christmas morning and set it on the bathtub ready to roll. I noticed then that it's a weird-looking razor. It has two fat, pink bumpers on either side of the cutting strips.

Once I got into the tub and started using it, I realized that the bumpers are akin to crystallized KY Jelly. As soon as they come in contact with water, they begin to drool. You can drip it in water, then lift it up and watch a clear, unscented, slime filament down into the tub from the pink bumpers. It's more than a little disconcerting, to be honest.

I soaped my legs and shaved as usual, but I didn't particularly enjoy the mucousy goodness of its super-slick shave. It felt like I was shaving with a piece of over-cooked okra. And I noticed the next day that it wasn't a particularly close shave either. My legs already felt hot, hairy and itchy. Ugh!

The experience made me try to imagine who would benefit most from a shave with mollusc saliva. I thought maybe a 12 year-old girl who was just learning how to shave her legs would do well to use this razor. The buttery bumpers make it almost impossible to cut yourself with it. But I couldn't dream of who else would make good use of shaving with slug-ooze.

Until this morning that is . . . Showering this A.M. I happened to glance down & noticed that the "south lawn" needed a trim. This particular mow usually needs some time and attention to accomplish. It needs a steady and relaxed hand. And you have to choose your tool carefully. You can't use a Sensor Excel for Women without danger of damaging the peonies, let's say. If you use a beard-trimmer you're in real peril of performing your own clitorectomy.

Suddenly I thought of the brand-new razor with Okra-Goo™ technology. I ran the Venus Breeze blade under the shower head and spreken zie Deutsch! It spiffed up the Yaya Gardens in no time!!!

Kowabunga! I'm SOLD!!! My new Yaya razor let me zip through a task that seemed to take 45 minutes of uncomfortable yoga posturing and almost certain accidental slicing or dicing in the past. Thank you Gillette, for free admittance into the Divine Secrets of the Yaya Razor.

Fearless Sisters Turn to Golf Grrls

Dearest peeps - I have many, many sisters, but my nearest and dearest friends I call my Fearless Sisters. This is a guest post by my Fearless Sistah #4 . . . I, BTW, am Fearless Sistah #1.

(That's right LJ - numbah ONE. ;)

Enjoy!

*****

The Fearless Sisters have decided to become Golf Grrrrls! Watch out world! Here's some of the discussion so far:

Fearless Sister #3 (yes there is a thing 1 and 2 but they do not appear in this story, yet) has been taking golf lessons from Peter, who for some inexplicable but apparently amusing reason, also refers to himself as Pedro during the lessons. Fearless Sister #1 (see told you!), after receiving revelations of the sporting kind from FS#3, and of course internet research - 'cause information is her for-tay, after all - came up with a basic list of clubs she should look for and sallied forth to procure these non-cheesy comestibles.

It appears that FS#1 has found a ready supply of various golf clubs for herself and FS#2 (told ya again), for a mere $3.00 a club! And a possible selection of golf bags as well. These are available from two places near her that resell items from estate sales and auctions. Yea, go grrrrl!

Well, first off, these really are "bags of clubs," not really "sets." So, FS#1 did some creative "mixing and matching"! And since these are clubs from "estate sales" there was also some discussion about whether the first time someone hits a ball with a driver, whether the wood will be so old that it will just explode into a dust cloud! LOL! Film at eleven.

As always, late to the party FS#4, opined that she'd prefer not playing so clubs need not be procured for her, but she'd work on helping the others test the John Daly theory of golf - a beer a hole, with 18 chasers once you get to the clubhouse - by being the trustworthy driver of the beer cart. FS#3 helped the case by remarking that Peter/Pedro had even suggested that a drink or two before class would help relax their stance. Alrighty, then, let's see that "beer will make us play better theory" in action! Film at eleven.

FS#1's ever helpful hubby, suggested we all watch "Caddyshack" as part of our golf training. That sounded like a good idea to us all, so we have added that to the training schedule. As well as FS#3's required reading of the book "The Book of Caddyshack: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About the Greatest Movie Ever Made." Available soon at fine libraries near you.

FS#1 updated the group by informing us that she had "outfitted" FS#2 with 3 irons (#3, 5 7), two woods (#1, 3), a putter, a sand wedge, and a pitching wedge, lovingly encased in a lightweight bag (possibly from the '80's) with a thick padded strap, made from nylon with purple azaleas on it. GORGEOUS! So now for only $33.60, FS#2 is ready to roll! Well, except for balls, and tees, and oh, other stuff! Hopefully FS#1 will shortly divulge the MARVELOUS set she has managed to create for herself. So we may all drool and marvel at the greatness that she is.

In the meantime, FS#4 thinks, she should hie herself to some sort of "outfitters" just so when she shows up to drive the beer cart at the golf course in JEANS she doesn't get her license revoked with a curt "I guess you didn't get the MEMO!" comment. What a bummer that would be. And what a wonderful excuse to do some internet researching herself before schlepping over to the Goodwill in the "best" part of town to find her "driving the beer cart and laughing at her sisters" ensemble.

Ah, indeed, golfing is beginning to look like it will be very, very good to us.

By Fearless Sister #4

Roger Ebert has a Pair

He's very weak from cancer surgeries, and to quote him, "he ain’t a pretty boy no more," but nothing is going to stop Roger Ebert from attending HIS Overlooked Film Festival.

Read his message here.

Atta boy, Roger! I love ya buddy. Show the industry that a wheelchair ain't the only thing you're sitting on, and spit in their eyes for me.

China teacup salute to Mrs. Keysunset for the link.

Muh HAIR!

Ah, the long-awaited hair post! I wish I had photos of my hair at every unruly stage of dressing, but I'm way too frigging lazy to take pictures of all that. You'll have to settle for spell-binding descriptions . . . or whatever I perchance to dish up.

The Protagonist:
Middle-aged woman of Turkish/Balkan/Italian extraction has thick, coarse, wavy, willful dark-brown hair that curls about an inch below the collarbone. Yes - that would be the hair on her HEAD! Perverts!

The Scene:
A bathroom with a basket of hair-care products on the counter, a Conair Fabio 2000 watt hair dryer, three brushes, and one comb. Two of the brushes are made of metal which holds the bristles. The metal is pierced with many holes of varied and confusing aspect, so that hot air from the hair dryer may flow through and essentially bake the hair into submission. One of the metal brushes is cylindrical; the other is square. The third brush is just a normal brush.

The Products:
Expensive - Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Serum
Expensive - Bumble & Bumble Straight
Cheap - Sunsilk Straighten Up Shampoo, Conditioner, & 24/7 Conditioner
Cheap - Pantene Smooth and Shine Anti-Frizz Serum
Cheap - Smooth N'shine Polishing Spray

The Trailer Script:
In a world where chemistry and biology are locked in a stark battle . . .
Ancient Thracian genes are put to the test.
But then - a new hope arises from an unlikely place . . .
and a girl's best friend just might be found in a bottle. (No - wait! That doesn't sound right . . .)

And a girl's best friend just might turn out to be closer than she thinks . . .
Coming this Summer . . .

Can Chai's Hair Lie Straight?

My hair, if left to it's own devices, will roll up into huge frizzy waves that seem to lodge behind my ears like trash at the high-water mark on the beach. It snarls, poufs, flops and lashes my eyes. Without corrective treatments, my hair re-offends like Courtney Love with a restraining order against her.

My sister, Sweet Tea, on the other hand, has perfectly managed hair that falls into place like a Cyndi Lauper song - Time After Time. When I asked her secret, she told me she mixed Paul Mitchell Super Skinny Serum and Bumble & Bumble Straight into her hair while it was still wet and then blow dried with a flat-brush. Both of those products cost $20 a bottle, but I tried them to see if chemistry could tame my Thracian thatch.

After shampooing I smeared the potions onto my head and then Fabio baked my hair dry while I pulled it flat with the square brush. (The cylindrical brush is for bangs. The regular brush is for putting everything in place at the end, right before hair spray.) The hair gels didn't freeze my hair t-pin straight, but they make it smooth and agreeable. The chemicals kind of got it drunk and made it friendly to it's neighbors for most of the day.

I like having drunken, agreeable hair.

But I don't like spending $40 on two tubes of hair goo. So I started experimenting with other pots, bottles and tubes of smell'um to find the right chemical combo, at the right price, to keep my hair relaxed, tractable and jovial all day, every day. After years of study, two MacArthur Foundation grants and fact-finding trip to Key West, I've come up with the answer. It's so simple a teacup Neanderthal could do it. Everything I need is at CVS.

Here's what I do:

1. Wash hair with Sunsilk Straighten Up Shampoo
   
2. Condition hair with Sunsilk Straighten Up Conditioner
   
3. Towel dry hair
   
4. Work a nickel-sized dollop of Sunsilk Straighten Up 24/7 Conditioner into hair
   
5. Work three pumps of Pantene Smooth and Shine Anti-Frizz Serum into hair
   
6. Part hair with comb
   
7. Use 2000 watt Fabio hair dryer with 9' cord (best hair dryer evah made!) to bake hair dry while pulling it flat with square brush. Do the bangs with the other metal brush. Get hair very dry.
   
8. Brush hair into place with regular brush.
   
9. Spritz all the hair with Smooth N'shine Polishing Spray. This stuff is my secret. They sell it in CVS in the black hair care section. This is one of the things that makes black women's hair so shiny. It also comes in a thicker solution you can smooth into your hair with your hands. I use the thick stuff on the damaged tips. You don't have to use much. It makes hair lay down like Lassie.
   
10. Apply hair spray if needed.
    

I was going to put some photos of the products in here - but I need to start writing a post on how I shave my legs.
;)

Happy Birthday Kate Pierson!

The B52s' Kate Pierson turns 59 today. Yay Kate!

I love this woman's voice. I love her in the B52s. I love her with Michael Stipe. I love her with Iggy Pop. I just love her.

And I'm going to see her sing at House of Blues Myrtle Beach on August 3rd. Again, I say - Yay Kate!

Funny Shopping Jaunt Covers for My Lameness

My bud, Mrs. Keysunset, sent along this hilarious link about a trip to a posh sex shop. The author is British, which makes it that much more funny. Be sure to read the comments.

I intended to write about my hair today, but I ran out of time. You'll still have that to look forward to for Friday tho'. To quote Ulysses Everett McGill:

"Muh hair!"

No Post Post

I was going to write about hair products today. My hair is the thickness and texture of a horse's tail, but it's also wavy. It needs LOTS of management, and products galore to come out looking like anything other than a cave-woman's coiffure when I grow it long.

My hair is past my shoulders now and to tame it I started out using products that bled 40 bucks from my wallet. But now I've found cheaper stuff that does an equal or better job. I wanted to share that with you today, but I need to go look at golf clubs.

Yes, I'm planning to take golf lessons. But since I don't know if I'll like it, I need to start with dirt cheap equipment. Skinflint CHEAP! Even cheaper than Play It Again Sports. I'm shopping at an estate liquidation house. I don't care if the clubs look like Noah used them to chip balls off the deck of the ark. If I'm going to play the Sport of the Account Service Manager, I'm going to start with clubs that will ensure supercilious glances and snide feedback.

I might even get reprimanded at Bushwood! A friend of mine was recently upbraided when she showed up for a golf lesson in . . . you won't believe it, Thurston . . . jeans! She was told, "Perhaps you didn't get the memo, but jeans are not allowed here at Bushwood." I heard she showed up for the next lesson in an ascot and a wizard's robe.

Anway, this no-post post is getting enormous. Tomorrow Peeps! Hair care secrets by Chai-rista. Batteries not included.

Vampire Wear for the Pool

I love the feminist magazine Bust. Every issue is filled with interesting book, film and music reviews plus more articles than I can read on on alterna-culture movements and little publicized projects by fascinating women. But like every other magazine on the planet, it makes money by offering lots of things to sell. That's ok. We're all capitalists here. But I find myself amused by the attitude required to move the merch in Bust.

For example, this morning I paged through an old issue before breakfast and found myself confronted with gothic swimsuits. You read that right! Goth swimsuits, people. The photos of over-kohled minxes in thigh-high stripes and fish-nets were printed in desaturated tones, to emphasize that the lure of Thanatos is never absent for these grrls . . . even at the beach.

Oh, the energy it must take to maintain the pallor and the hair-dos while swimming. Not to mention the make-up! Naturally, as soon as I got to my research desk I had to find more goth swim wear - so you, my dear reader, would not doubt me!

Here's one I found at heavyred.com:

I'll call this "Anorexic Bloodhunger Striptease." I'm guessing this ensemble isn't made from anything that can get caught in sunlight without self-destructing. Much like the waif who is wearing it. Ah, the irony just got me in the eye! It burns like f**k!!!

Seriously - this gal is freaking me OUT! You couldn't find a vein on her if you were Dr. G. Those white-walled crack-eyes aren't helping matters either. Why does she need a swimsuit when any substance other than grave dust will certainly corrupt her ancient flesh? I can't take looking at her any more. I hope somebody dunks her in saltwater. Then her thigh-highs will fall down around her ankles and her gauntlets will fill up with sand and somebody is going to have to listen to her bitch all the way back to Motel 6. It's all just attitude, remember?

Let's move on . . .

This little princess of the night looks downright playful compared to the wraith on the right. She's almost smiling and she doesn't look like she just woke up on a meathook somewhere in Texas. See the cute lil batshape on her panty? She's slightly chunky in an agreeable way and her eyes aren't blacked out. She's about as goth as Lara Flynn Boyle. But so were the ones I saw in Bust. They were curvy lasses with Linda Ronstadt hair selling $200 clam-diggers and cork espadrilles. If you were a vampire, would you wear espadrilles at the pool? Apparently Bust thinks you would.

Anyway - the last thing I found was a Goth Swimsuit Calendar. I shit you not! It's the sort of thing you must see for yourself:

Goth Swimsuit Calendar 2007

So - now, are we ready? Have we bought enough stuff to have our Goth credentials validated by the lifeguard? Can we venture pool-side without losing the carefully constructed attitudes? Did anybody bring five gallons of zinc?

Annual Woodie Award

Yes - the Woodie Award!

In honor of the March birthdays of Truly Bad Films, I distribute annual Woodie Awards. (I'm late this year. Like you've never been late . . . ) In my Fair-n-Balanced® subjective manner, I award Woodies to blogs who in the previous year have made me laugh so hard I slumped over my keyboard squirting tears. The Woodie recognizes those who have either written posts And/Or provided the forum for comments that made me laugh until I was as weak as the Bingo gal after an AARP picnic. The writing that made me laugh need not have been by the author/owner of the blog. It could have been in a comment. Or it could have been a quote in the blog post or in the comments. This is what the Woodie Award looks like:



The award is named after Ed Wood, the unparalleled bad film maker. This is because my blog is, from time to time, about bad film . . . and I like Ed Wood. How often do you get to put a cross-dresser on an award and give it to people? See! I had to do it. And then there was this whole level of giving people "woodies" that my juvenile-impulse-controller couldn't shut down. Sorry, world!

For 2007 we have only one winner. 2006 was a bad year for me and these hilarious peeps helped see me through. When the going got tough, they got funny. Sid F'er has the grace to make cancer hilarious and Moist Rub's mind needs it's own thought-wenches to rub down his brain with scented oils after churning out delightfully demented visions of genius.

The 2007 Winner of the esteemed Woodie Award is:

Leper Pop

Congratulations Gents, and mind you don't wear it down to the gin joints, or the cock fights or to the nursing home. I've got a reputation to uphold here . . .

National Orange and Maroon Effect Day

Virginia Tech in Memoriam

The Illustrated Asshole

Writer Eric Spitznagel created a tribute-blog to Kurt Vonnegut called Vonnegut's Asshole.

Apparently Vonnegut immortalized himself in Spitznagel's heart when he doodled an image of his own asshole in his book titled Breakfast of Champions. Spitznagel is asking published authors to send him metaphoric representations of their own assholes.

The results so far are much more impressive than I would have imagined, and I'm jiggered to find myself inspired to illustrate my own sphincters . . . um, sphincter. Anal, that is.

Not today . . . but soon!

Consider this my invitation to other bloggers to submit or post their own illustrated assholes and link back here so we all may behold.

Aural Wasabi - Re-post from 2004

Ever just sit there at work, tapping away on the keyboard when a ghost of Chinese hot mustard flits into awareness, teasing your sinuses with a memory of delicious pain, then vaporizes leaving you with this unbearable craving to line up at the local Chinese buffet? Yeah - it happens, but most of the hot mustard in central VA doesn't have enough horseradish in it to singe away the lethargy of a humdrum weekday.

So what then? What can you do to reproduce the head clearing effects of high quality horseradish in a low heat-tolerance world?

Go aural wasabi my friend. I know of a handful of songs that actually hurt to listen to them - but at the same time they feel good, as if they scratch an itch inside your brain. They satisfy that brain itch that's been annoying you for so long. The one you never could get at it before.

Of the three songs I have in mind, the Pixies Subbacultcha is the least painful, yet it provides a fairly potent head clearing effect. With it's Peter Gunn rhythms and insanely beautiful lyrics, this is wasabi for the ears that even heat weenies can enjoy.

Taking a step up on the heat scale, the Pixies Vamos is a bit more of a challenge. Frank Black screams like an Alzheimer's stricken Tourettes patient and then simply rocks out in his wheelchair, while Joey Santiago scrubs the scabs off your mosquitoe bites with his guitar strings. Now we're warming up!

But the perfect top-of-the-head lifting aural heat comes from the White Stripes on There's No Home For You Here. Turn it up LOUD and let the Queen-inspired squall cut through your head like a wire saw. Ooooohh, the PAIN. The first few times you'll hardly be able to stand it. And then you'll find yourself wanting it. Playing it twice in a row to prolong the experience. Finding excuses to take short drives during the day just so you can be split open by it. Yeah - aural wasabi. It'll get its hooks in you . . . if it hasn't already.

What's your horseradish?

Chai-Rista's Fav Movie Quotes:

1. "Pete, its a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart." --Ulyssus Everett McGill in O Brother Where Art Thou

2. "Please do not shoot at the thermonuclear weapons!" --Major "Vic" Deakins in Broken Arrow

3. "You never know what what events are to transpire to get you home." --Jim Lovell in Apollo 13

4. "Nihilists! Fuck me. I mean, say what you like about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it's an ethos." --Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski

5. "Well, would you like to know what you'd be without us, the good ol' U.S. of A. to protect you? I'll tell you. The smallest fucking province in the Russian Empire, that's what." --Otto in A Fish Called Wanda

6. From The Fly

Wife: Where has the cat gone?

Huband/Scientist soon to be HumanFly: Into a stream of atoms. It'd be funny if life weren't so sacred.

New Site - New Space - Old Chai

Due to some gratuitous screw-ups on my part, I more or less trashed my old blog Truly Bad Films. I lost most of the blogroll because I'm quick on the hotdog finger, and the house got too crowded when I shared the password with a student and she began adding her own blogs.

So - that's my incredibly gracious way of saying Welcome to the New Site!