I DON'T WANT TO BE A WAITER!!!

Okay, so this week was somewhat odd. Monday night, Sarah called me up and was like "Hey, let's go to Seattle and see Mirrormask because it's only playing this week." Doing some thinking, I said, "Sure, let's do that." I called up my old friend Ethan (a current Seattle resident) to see if he would like to see the movie with us, but instead got his dad, Jean. Jean and I talked for about 45 minutes about the perils of trees as they pertain to photography, and the unfortunate link between Kool-Aide and the Jonestown Massacre. Wendesday rolls around, and Sarah and I depart from the hellhole that is Spokane. We get in around three-ish, where my dog snubs me for leaving him. However, he instantly bonds with Sarah, which is good. Feeling the need for serious shlock cinema, we find Silver Hawk at the local Blockbuster (fans of Gen Y Cops might enjoy it). We watch and mock the eternal slo-mo fight sequences. Mom makes dinner and apple pie, and it is good. I call Ethan again to see if he wants to come with us to the movie. I get his mom, who promises to pass on the message. Either he didn't get the message or he didn't want to go, because he wasn't at the theatre. In the meantime, Sarah and I stop in to a bar next to the Varsity and grap a couple pints of Guinness. We then go back outside and meet up with Brandt. We then go see the movie. It's entertaining. When we get home, I discover my old MST3K tapes (including my old chestnut, the rarely-seen Russian/Finnish co-production of Jack Frost). We then retire to our respective quarters. In the morning I wake up refreshed and eat breakfast. Sarah wakes up later and drinks coffee. After some random misadventures we go to the Wallingford area hoping to meet up with friends. I hope for Ethan, Sarah hopes for her friend Anne. One of us does not get his or her wish (and it isn't Sarah). We eat lunch with Anne, who works at the Mafia branch of BoA. We then hit a few thrift stores. Upon returning, Mom and Dad take us out for Chinese. We return and watch the newly-recovered Jack Frost, a film that dares to ask the question "Will he catch the dwarf?" We then retire once more. In the morning, breakfast, and preparation to leave. We head out at about 11:00 AM. We drive all the way across the state, and here I am, tired and stiff.
Now, on to the meat and potatoes of the post. Mirrormask is indeed quite good, though one should go in with the expectation that it will be a primarily visual treat. The artistic design is fantastic, and definitely matches David McKean's original designs. On the downside, though it is written by beloved fantasist Neil Gaiman, the story is rather barebones and the characters are not as fully-developed as they could be. Gaiman obviously wrote this one in a hurry, and it shows. Thankfully, it is not without his characteristic dark wit and clever dialogue. We just don't get enough of it. At any rate, the story and characters are swallowed by the beatiful visuals, which really serve as the primary stars of the show. While it is far from perfect, it is also a most entertaining romp through an imaginative fantasy world. If you know what you're getting into, it can be most enjoyable, but don't expect a detailed and elaborate story.

Don't Fuck With Wilford Brimley!

After yesterday's disturbingly introspective post, I shall now return to a more traditional format. Yesterday, in a fit of nostalgia, I decided to call Ethan, seeing as how I will be on the west side of the state later this week. For the uninitiated, Ethan is probably my longest-standing friendship, and one of the best guys I know. At any rate, he was out when I called, so I ended up talking to his dad Jean, who also happens to be quite the cool guy. Jean, a Whitworth alum, was somehow surprised that I had a somewhat morbid sense of humor, seeing as I went to Whitworth and all. It seems that about a month ago, he was on campus and had run-ins with students of the excessively-happy-don't-tell-me-about-unpleasant-things/apathetically-conservative variety. Those of you who know me know that while I do not have any real personal issues with those of the conservative persuasion, I am anything but in my personal politics. The point being, Whitworth has much more going on outside the mainstream than it is often given credit for. So let's make those dead-baby jokes, laugh at the folly of mortals, and jest about Nazis. I'm thinking the time has come for the Hessler chair to become a public position. Consider this a call to arms! Philosophers, screw the religion/theology department! Say horrible things in Core! Make the English profs cringe! Make the Art department feel inferior! Demoralize the Comm majors! Make a freshman cry! Disrupt Hosanna! Raise a little Hell, here, people! My alma mater is in danger of becoming boring, people! Do something about it!

For All Those Social Nincompoops Out There

I include myself in that grouping. I was conversing with a friend a while back on what it means to be socially inept, and there seem to be two varieties of this out there: one is the sort who is just boring and dull and doesn't know when to leave (I'm looking at YOU, Tall, Dark, and Hackneyed!) while the other is just plain prickly and says whatever is on his mind, regardless of who overhears it. My own social ineptitude is probably this latter category. For instance, I once told someone that if their life was so horrid, they should just kill themselves and be done with it. While tasteless, this was of course all in jest. I think part of this is that I don't really "get" the whole emotions business. Every time I have given in to my emotions, they've hurt me, so consequently I bury them. As a result, emotions hold little sway in any of my thought processes. When I make a decision, I'm not really thinking about how other people will feel about it. Oh, it matters to me whether others will be harmed or not, but I am less concerned with their emotions on the matter. That may be why I say some of the stupid things for which I am so famous. I realize that for some of my readers, this may be unexpected introspection on my part, to which I say, deal with it. This is my blog, so I can say whatever I damned well please. It may be that I will become a kinder, gentler version of my current self, but who cares? I wouldn't be the first person to tone it down with age.