The older I get, the more I find I have in common with my sister. Sure, when we were young, we both liked the staples: pudding, puppies and Saved by the Bell. As adults, our connection has matured as befitting adults: making fun of our parents, liking the same music...and pudding and puppies. One aspect that is never the same is taste in movies. She likes horror and bad action (along with some good movies) and I don't. Mostly because horror movies make me hide under my sheets with my shotgun under my pillow and my bed wrapped in barbed wire to keep out unholy things of the night.
It was with some trepidation I agreed to watch "Next" (starring the unbelievably beautiful Jessica Biel and the equally unbelievably hideous-with-long-hair Nicolas Cage). I didn't need to hear reviews that it was a shitbomb to know instinctually that it was going to be so. But it was this or 23, which would probably give me nightmares. Mostly because I'm terrified of prime numbers.
The premise is that Nicolas Cage, a 2 bit magician, really has actual super-powers and can see what's going to happen in his life 2 minutes into the future. Except, when it comes to Jessica Biel, he can see much further into the future. So, with this awesome power he has, he bets in casinos to make extra money, but not too much, trying to fly beneath the radar, hiding in plain sight. Much like Zatanna did. His exploits lead him to be pursued by FBI agent Julianne Moore, who hopes to use his talent to discover where a nuclear bomb, slated to blow up LA (not the worst thing in the world?), is being held.*
So we go through an hour of the movie, watching "Chris Johnson" escape from people chasing him, bending to tie his shoe at the exact right moment, and generally confounding the authorities. An hour, one of the most painful in my life, goes by in this fashion, during which he also meets Jessica Biel in a diner. Oh, right. He sits in that diner every day, twice a day, drinking a martini for some time before she actually shows up because he has no idea when she's actually going to come. This is creepy. But apparently, not to her, not for long, because when asked to turn him in to the FBI, she hesitates and tells him about it, saving him from being drugged and being all in love with him.
I want to deal with one of the largest issues of the entire movie. It's not the awful acting, or the stupid plot line, or even the fact that there's no action until the last 20 minutes, and even then it's not good. It's Jessica hooking up with Nicolas being more unbelievable than Seth Rogen getting Katherine Heigl in "Knocked Up" (which, by the way, was way too long). I mean, at least Seth is funny, and him and Katherine are around the same age. Definitely the same species. Nicolas and Jessica is at best Beauty and the Beast, and at worst, possibly interspecies romance. I hope he was growing his hair out to make Con Air 2, and not just to prove to people he'll look stupid just cause he can. This is the classic scenario of hideous older man gets beautiful younger woman, usually played out by David Caruso and anybody else.
During Jessica teaching Native American children in the Grand Canyon, one of the kids observes that good ol' Nic likes her, because he's looking at her like her brother looks at his girlfriend. Pan to shot of Senor Cage staring creepily at Jessica. I wouldn't call the look love...it looks more like he's just tasted his Fixodent for the first time and didn't really like it so much. This probably also goes back to the whole bad acting point I kind of glazed over. Don't get me wrong, Nicolas Cage was totally badass in Con Air and Face/Off, and did his part at being a total loser in the lovable hit The Rock, but he has 2 expressions...normal/intense for no reason, and normal/slightly less intense with smile.
Anyway, Jessica gets kidnapped, Nicolas goes with the FBI, they find the terrorists, and kill them all and save Jessica and then, right before the nuclear bomb goes off, Nicolas Cage exclaims he was wrong about something. Not fully explained. Speaking of, I just realized, when did they ever make it into LA? Anyway, the whole thing turns out to be him looking into the future from when he's lying in bed after failing to satisfy Jessica and she's softly weeping to herself that she actually made this movie. I kind of sensed something was up when she said something, and his eyes opened wide, and then the movie kept going, until you find out that everything that happened in the 1/2 hour didn't actually happen in real life, and he's back at that moment and can decide to change the future. Then, in an infinite wisdom moment, the director or writer decided to end the movie with Cage going off with Moore, not actually giving us a real ending. The whole thing left me wishing that I had his ability, and that hour and a half hadn't actually happened and I was still standing with the disc in front of the DVD player, wondering if I should put it in or just punch myself in the brain for a while.**
*Read more about the plot summary
**Much like you're probably doing now after reading this.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Ode to my pumpkin
Driving through upstate New York today with my dad in a 14 foot UHaul truck to collect furniture from a deceased lady's estate for my parent's apartment that has absolutely no chance of fitting, or fitting in with the current furniture either, I noticed that apple and pumpkin season had come upon us. This made me both happy and sad. Happy because I love apples, apple picking, apple pies, apple cider and apple fests. Pumpkins too. But sad because I know I'll never find a pumpkin as beautiful as the one I had 2 years ago. It was large, but not in the over the top porn-style of prize winning pumpkins, smooth and a beautifully rich, deep red-orange color. Best of all, it had a tattoo on the side that said "Boo" to frighten off crows and little children who wanted my candy. I better get started, because I'll probably end up having to visit 4 or 5 patches.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I'm so fashionable
Since June, I've been freelancing. Which includes playing video games, sleeping in, watching Scrubs 4 to 6 times a day, and complaining about how the feral cats in my backyard bring down my quality of life. In my spare time, I collect back-pay from the New York State Dept. of Labor and hope jobs will fall in my lap. These include digital tech, when I go on a shoot with a photographer and art director, hook a camera up to a laptop, and tell them the photos all look good, and doing color correction and retouching for photographers I made contacts with at my old job. It's been swell, and I haven't been too stressed out.
That is until I picked up a job with a fashion photographer named J. Castle Greyskull.* She had placed an ad on Craigslist looking for people who had worked at my company and a few others; I answered, and one short interview that involved playing Spartacus' favorite game (try to bite whatever part of me is near his teeth)**, I was hired. The job involved 10 hour a day shifts, editing and slight color correcting photos at Fashion week. Visions of beautiful models crowding around my laptop and offering to rub my broad shoulders flowed through my mind.
The vision started to blur a little and the women seemed less attentive to that knot in my back on arrival. I was greeted by 6 plus foot tall giraffe women, each weighing maybe 24 pounds, handing out copies of Metro. These weren't even the runway models, yet they made me look fat! Next, everything came to a sudden halt when I realized I was going to be spending 8 hours out of every day sitting in the Kinko's next to Bryant Park with a mostly incompetent partner (and next to a guy playing some first person shooter from the 90's) followed by more hours in Greyskull's apt. with her assistant, Judy Judgemental. Who was a flamboyant gay man who spent as much time as possible discussing how fat Britney was at the VMAs, anal bleaching, and how he didn't have an original opinion of his own. Wow, was this job turning out to be fun.
After 4 days, working 12-13 hours per day plus 3 hours of travel round trip, I ended up getting sick. It was after this that I complained that 13 hours is not the same as 10 and the photographer and her cowering minions laughed at me. Two days later, I had quit from coughing and overt surrounding crappiness. I was blissfully sick for another week, but at least had no reason to leave the apartment.
I realized something then. I'm willing to put up with a lot (such as 18 hour work days when I was in St. Maarten) in pursuit of something I want to do. Greyskull had some terrific connections. Still, I couldn't imagine myself cornering a celebrity and, along with 12 other vultures, asking them to swivel their heads my way "one more time" seventeen times more.
*Part of that name is real. You figure it out.
**Spartacus is a dog.
That is until I picked up a job with a fashion photographer named J. Castle Greyskull.* She had placed an ad on Craigslist looking for people who had worked at my company and a few others; I answered, and one short interview that involved playing Spartacus' favorite game (try to bite whatever part of me is near his teeth)**, I was hired. The job involved 10 hour a day shifts, editing and slight color correcting photos at Fashion week. Visions of beautiful models crowding around my laptop and offering to rub my broad shoulders flowed through my mind.
The vision started to blur a little and the women seemed less attentive to that knot in my back on arrival. I was greeted by 6 plus foot tall giraffe women, each weighing maybe 24 pounds, handing out copies of Metro. These weren't even the runway models, yet they made me look fat! Next, everything came to a sudden halt when I realized I was going to be spending 8 hours out of every day sitting in the Kinko's next to Bryant Park with a mostly incompetent partner (and next to a guy playing some first person shooter from the 90's) followed by more hours in Greyskull's apt. with her assistant, Judy Judgemental. Who was a flamboyant gay man who spent as much time as possible discussing how fat Britney was at the VMAs, anal bleaching, and how he didn't have an original opinion of his own. Wow, was this job turning out to be fun.
After 4 days, working 12-13 hours per day plus 3 hours of travel round trip, I ended up getting sick. It was after this that I complained that 13 hours is not the same as 10 and the photographer and her cowering minions laughed at me. Two days later, I had quit from coughing and overt surrounding crappiness. I was blissfully sick for another week, but at least had no reason to leave the apartment.
I realized something then. I'm willing to put up with a lot (such as 18 hour work days when I was in St. Maarten) in pursuit of something I want to do. Greyskull had some terrific connections. Still, I couldn't imagine myself cornering a celebrity and, along with 12 other vultures, asking them to swivel their heads my way "one more time" seventeen times more.
*Part of that name is real. You figure it out.
**Spartacus is a dog.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
It's RAIDing on my umbrella (of data storage devices)
Tonight I decided I needed to understand how RAIDs work, so I went to whom wikipedia's technology section would be if it was ever actualized in 3 dimensions: Human Dynamo.
"Dynamo, I do not understand. How do RAIDs work? I'm all confused, cause I thought a RAID was one thing, and it turns out if could be many different things...well, let me use an apt metaphor to describe it. It's like if you see an animal, and you tell someone 'I just saw a grey wolf outside' and they know exactly what you mean. But then you find out people use the word grey wolf like they use the word canine, and so what you saw could have meant red fox, grey wolf, dog, hell even dingo, to many different people."
*stunned silence from Dynamo*
Dynamo's lady friend: "No, I completely understand. It's like when you're in school, right, and your teacher tells you that a square is a parallelogram, but just because something is a parallelogram doesn't mean it's a square."
*High fives for the assist on the metaphor and explanation. Understanding is key to any good relationship.*
"Ok, but that's not...something about a grey wolf could also be a female or a male...so you see," Dynamo possibly said.
"No, Dynamo, that is completely incorrect. Whether it's female or male, it's still a grey wolf," I scientifically explained. "Also, in hindsight, I would like to tell you that there's no way you should get close enough to a live wolf to tell if it's male or female," I said, thinking ahead.
"See, L-Bo, a RAID IS* a bunch of drives all working together like you thought, but there can be different arrays and setups: mirrored, stripey-striped, mirror-stripey-striped and parity check.**"
"Dynamo, despite me being a 12th level intellect, and stunningly handsome, I do not understand."
"Ok, let's say there's a bunch of wolves, and they're out hunting in a pack..."
"WHOA, WHOA!! Why did you go with wolves, and not parallelograms? Huh??!!" Said an angry Dynamo's lady friend.
"Because, silly, parallelograms don't hunt in packs. They prefer to go the solo route."
"Oh, now I understand. Thanks L Bo," said a mollified and still anti-hyphenation Dynamo's lady friend.
"Anyway," began Dynamo, vainly trying to refocus the conversation, "let's say the wolves are out hunting bucks. Big buck hunting, if you will."
"Wolves don't hunt bucks," said a quite contrary D.L.F.
"No, they do." Said I. Quite succinctly.
"Well, a striped array would be like if one wolf went this way, and the other kind of flanked him, and this one went after the buck first and then this one followed."
"Okkkkk. I don't get it," said I, not getting it.
Eventually it was all explained, making me expert enough to write this article for you all to fully understand how a RAID worked, what it does and why they're so important. In case you need further details, however, go here: RAID.
*Is is just capitalized, IS does not stand for anything. RAID on the other hand stands for Redundant Array of Independent Drives.
**Note: I put no actual research into this and just kind of wrote things I thought I remembered.
"Dynamo, I do not understand. How do RAIDs work? I'm all confused, cause I thought a RAID was one thing, and it turns out if could be many different things...well, let me use an apt metaphor to describe it. It's like if you see an animal, and you tell someone 'I just saw a grey wolf outside' and they know exactly what you mean. But then you find out people use the word grey wolf like they use the word canine, and so what you saw could have meant red fox, grey wolf, dog, hell even dingo, to many different people."
*stunned silence from Dynamo*
Dynamo's lady friend: "No, I completely understand. It's like when you're in school, right, and your teacher tells you that a square is a parallelogram, but just because something is a parallelogram doesn't mean it's a square."
*High fives for the assist on the metaphor and explanation. Understanding is key to any good relationship.*
"Ok, but that's not...something about a grey wolf could also be a female or a male...so you see," Dynamo possibly said.
"No, Dynamo, that is completely incorrect. Whether it's female or male, it's still a grey wolf," I scientifically explained. "Also, in hindsight, I would like to tell you that there's no way you should get close enough to a live wolf to tell if it's male or female," I said, thinking ahead.
"See, L-Bo, a RAID IS* a bunch of drives all working together like you thought, but there can be different arrays and setups: mirrored, stripey-striped, mirror-stripey-striped and parity check.**"
"Dynamo, despite me being a 12th level intellect, and stunningly handsome, I do not understand."
"Ok, let's say there's a bunch of wolves, and they're out hunting in a pack..."
"WHOA, WHOA!! Why did you go with wolves, and not parallelograms? Huh??!!" Said an angry Dynamo's lady friend.
"Because, silly, parallelograms don't hunt in packs. They prefer to go the solo route."
"Oh, now I understand. Thanks L Bo," said a mollified and still anti-hyphenation Dynamo's lady friend.
"Anyway," began Dynamo, vainly trying to refocus the conversation, "let's say the wolves are out hunting bucks. Big buck hunting, if you will."
"Wolves don't hunt bucks," said a quite contrary D.L.F.
"No, they do." Said I. Quite succinctly.
"Well, a striped array would be like if one wolf went this way, and the other kind of flanked him, and this one went after the buck first and then this one followed."
"Okkkkk. I don't get it," said I, not getting it.
Eventually it was all explained, making me expert enough to write this article for you all to fully understand how a RAID worked, what it does and why they're so important. In case you need further details, however, go here: RAID.
*Is is just capitalized, IS does not stand for anything. RAID on the other hand stands for Redundant Array of Independent Drives.
**Note: I put no actual research into this and just kind of wrote things I thought I remembered.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
