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SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER
The minute you see the dog in I Am Legend you know that dog is gonna die and of course then the dog does die but there's still another forty-five minutes or so till Will Smith eats it, and that forty-five minutes just dra-a-a-gs. And you walk out of that multiplex thinking, I sprang fifty bucks – including over-priced, high-caloric treats – on what exactly?
The Omega Man was better. Even if it was racist.
END SPOILER
Still a fun way to kill an evening, surrounded by my boys plus Nathan in whom I retain a benevolent auntie-like interest – is there a distaff equivalent of "avuncular"?
Max's return heralded by the mysterious reappearance of the pie plate Sunday morning. Every six weeks or so for the past year I have been getting phone messages from Alicia: I have your pie plate. What do you want me to do with it? Right, Alicia – I bake so many pies. Wow! Twenty minutes of unscheduled time today! I know! I'll bake a pie!
"Maybe she just wants to see you," Ben suggested once, but I know Alicia. Alicia doesn't have the slightest interest in seeing me. No, it's just that Alicia's universe gets thrown seriously out of whack if there's one thing out of place in it and the presence of this alien piece of LeCreuset bakeware has been torturing her more effectively since last Christmas than all of Ebenezer Scrooge's ghosts.
Anyway, I never called her back. Fuck her. Fuck all of them.
"So how was the dinner?" I asked Max casually the next day.
Of course I am reminded of Jo March's rude behavior towards Aunt March in Little Women. This is why Amy is chosen to accompany Aunt March to Europe and Jo was not. Why would Alicia invite me to dinner if I never return her phone calls?
"It was fun," said Max, ever the diplomat. Then he laughed. "I got to hear all about the time you ran away to Coney Island for two days with a Columbia University freshman when you were twelve -- "
"Oh, he didn't –" I cried aghast. The he being Rik.
"Oh, it wasn't mean or anything –"
Coney Island, I read recently, has been pulled down to make room for condos.
In other news, the Little Store has been a cash machine this week with various locals emerging from the woodwork to do their Christmas shopping there and six (count 'em) Internet orders due to ship today. With God and Allah as business mentors, it should continue to do well till the day after New Year's. And then we sink into the two-month Slough of Despondency.
Every year I donate the last week of Little Store revenue to some worthy cause. The ever practical![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cat_herder tells me this is impractical -- even for me. I suppose it's some sort of expression of gratitude: life is tough, many things suck but great beauty surrounds me so thank you, Universe. Not feeling particularly eloquent today.
The minute you see the dog in I Am Legend you know that dog is gonna die and of course then the dog does die but there's still another forty-five minutes or so till Will Smith eats it, and that forty-five minutes just dra-a-a-gs. And you walk out of that multiplex thinking, I sprang fifty bucks – including over-priced, high-caloric treats – on what exactly?
The Omega Man was better. Even if it was racist.
END SPOILER
Still a fun way to kill an evening, surrounded by my boys plus Nathan in whom I retain a benevolent auntie-like interest – is there a distaff equivalent of "avuncular"?
Max's return heralded by the mysterious reappearance of the pie plate Sunday morning. Every six weeks or so for the past year I have been getting phone messages from Alicia: I have your pie plate. What do you want me to do with it? Right, Alicia – I bake so many pies. Wow! Twenty minutes of unscheduled time today! I know! I'll bake a pie!
"Maybe she just wants to see you," Ben suggested once, but I know Alicia. Alicia doesn't have the slightest interest in seeing me. No, it's just that Alicia's universe gets thrown seriously out of whack if there's one thing out of place in it and the presence of this alien piece of LeCreuset bakeware has been torturing her more effectively since last Christmas than all of Ebenezer Scrooge's ghosts.
Anyway, I never called her back. Fuck her. Fuck all of them.
"So how was the dinner?" I asked Max casually the next day.
Of course I am reminded of Jo March's rude behavior towards Aunt March in Little Women. This is why Amy is chosen to accompany Aunt March to Europe and Jo was not. Why would Alicia invite me to dinner if I never return her phone calls?
"It was fun," said Max, ever the diplomat. Then he laughed. "I got to hear all about the time you ran away to Coney Island for two days with a Columbia University freshman when you were twelve -- "
"Oh, he didn't –" I cried aghast. The he being Rik.
"Oh, it wasn't mean or anything –"
Coney Island, I read recently, has been pulled down to make room for condos.
In other news, the Little Store has been a cash machine this week with various locals emerging from the woodwork to do their Christmas shopping there and six (count 'em) Internet orders due to ship today. With God and Allah as business mentors, it should continue to do well till the day after New Year's. And then we sink into the two-month Slough of Despondency.
Every year I donate the last week of Little Store revenue to some worthy cause. The ever practical
cat_herder tells me this is impractical -- even for me. I suppose it's some sort of expression of gratitude: life is tough, many things suck but great beauty surrounds me so thank you, Universe. Not feeling particularly eloquent today.
