Welcome to the summer, baby

The usual post written at the airport is trapped on my laptop. I am safe and sound at home in the 100 degree + weather, lounging about in as little clothing as possible and lamenting the sore throat I have, which is a hand-me-down from Mary Kate.

Today's goal was to put myself in such a stupor as to not really think too hard about anything. I declare this mission accomplished, and my accomplices were the hits from the 90s and really, really bad movies. Let's go through my day.

8:30: Wake up. Think I'm still on Chicago time and congratulate myself on sleeping until 10:30, because that means I have to deal with the heat 2 hours less than I actually have to. Realize my error and go downstairs to eat breakfast.

Umm, after this I lose track of time, so the original plan to write out a schedule is pretty much kaput.

I decided to peruse the DVD selection I'd have for the 10 odd days I'm spending at home. Now, I have to clarify something first: for every decent DVD we own, there are 3 bad ones to cancel out the goodness. This is mostly due to my mom's voracious appetite in cheap DVD sections of Walmart, which has led her to buy such classics like:

Autumn in New York
The Lion in Winter
Shadowlands
Grumpier Old Men

I keep on reminding her there are 1034 copies of the same movies in the HUGE bin at Walmart for a REASON: because they did not sell when they were on the shelves with spotlights directed at them and disco balls twirling in time to their main movie themes. These movies are usually bad, and only succeed in infecting the good movies that are already on the shelves. Somehow Wet, Hot, American Summer and Finding Nemo just don't have the same ring to them once they are sandwiched between Man of La Mancha and Penny Serenade. Or between Grumpier Old Men, for that matter.

Today, however, because I am an accepting and entirely non-judgmental girl, I decided to give these movies a chance. Maybe they were just misunderstood. Maybe they actually did long to be taken for a turn in the DVD player, and I would turn out to be the new Siskel and Ebert, triumphantly roosting on the leather couch in the living room, surrounded by empty popcorn bags and bottles of beer, spilling out of my bathing suit in a remarkably hot house, giving two thumbs up to such unrecognized classics like Xanadu and The Sandlot 2, while giving 2 decidedly very thumbs-downy thumbs to Citizen Kane and Singin' in the Rain.

I started with Rain Man. I don't know if that's supposed to be two words or one, but it doesn't even merit me going downstairs to check, or opening up another window on this sorry excuse for a computer to imdb it. It was an ok movie. Good to pass the time, Tom Cruise irritated me, loved the matching suits in the Las Vegas casino, hated the weepy featurette at the end.

Whatever.

Then to temper this experience, I moved on to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Maybe a mistake, but well, if it's got Marilyn Monroe, then it's GOT to be good. Why did I used to like these movies 30 times more than I do now is still beyond me, but these musicals will always hold a special place in my heart.

Then I took a break from this strenuous work and re-enacted a few of my favorite scenes from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes while wondering what everyone else was doing.

Once I realized my mom wasn't coming home to do the royal handing over of the car before going to her second job, I moped around a bit before I started on Dr. Zhivago.

In 8th grade, my friend Jenae and I had an option of getting extra credit by watching the movie, Gettysburg, and writing some sort of a report on it. Jenae came over for a fun filled afternoon of civil war remiscing and education, hoping this movie would not be as long as the actual battle it represented. This was still in the dawn of DVDs, and I didn't realize that SOME DVDs have 2 sides to them, so we naturally started on the wrong side. For the entirety of the film, we were struggling to figure out just who was who, and WOW they really did start in on the action quickly, didn't they? I mean, no wasting time here! Just get straight to the canons and start blowing the enemy's brains out! When the movie was over, we looked at each other, and determined we were no more knowledgeable about the battle of Gettysburg than we were before watching the movie. The only thing we knew for sure was that this group, who we were pretty sure were from the North, had won the battle, since, well, we don't have slaves.

Then I read that the movie was way longer than 2 hours. And we decided we'd write the report anyway, without really watching the first half, because we already knew who won the war.

I didn't learn my lesson, people.

I stuck Dr. Zhivago into the DVD and my ears were assaulted with decidedly British accents in an obviously Russian country. Yet, I patiently waited out the rest of the movie. I had a few observations to make:

There was remarkable little character development throughout the movie.

On the back of the movie, the summary herals the "haunting score" of the movie, and well, they weren't kidding about that. Not that the music was particularly haunting, but I think that sometimes scores are only described as that because the theme is played so often that the audience leaves the movie with this inevitably drippy theme haunting their brain for the rest of the week. This movie had a theme, and what is a theme if it isn't played 8 times in 10 minutes? Dr. Zhivago had a theme, and the makers were DAMN WELL GOING TO USE THIS THEME, EVEN IF KILLED THEM IN THE PROCESS. Everything merited the theme. Dr. Zhivago was eating a potato, the theme would appear. Dr Zhivago raised and eyebrow, there comes the theme again. Dr. Zhivago finds he has no clean underwear, his nail is broken, there is snow outside, and his stomach hurts, the theme is played again. (obviously, I have a few issues with overuse)

There were a few fishy scenes. Like when Dr. Zhivago walks into a library, sees what I could only presume to be a former acquaintance, judging from the extremely passionate and longing looks they cast at each other, and within 30 seconds, they are getting down and dirty in the girl's apartment. Whatever, I guessed that's what some starved Russians in the revolution had to do to get warm once the fatty foods and vodka ran out at home. Occasionally I wouldn't mind reenacting that perhaps, without the whole revolution twist to the story. Then there was some line later on with the girl saying something to the effect of "wouldn't it have been nice if we had met earlier?"

"Why yes!" I thought to myself. "Then Zhivago wouldn't have had to drag you and your girl to an abandonded house where his family used to live in order to carry on his business there, while the rest of his family is trapped in Paris. What a grand idea. Pity you guys only met in the library."

However, after 1 hour and 14 minutes, Dr. Zhivago died. I sat, dumbstruck.

This movie merited 5 Oscar awards? THIS movie?

Then I realized there had to be another side to the movie.

However, since I understood the movie relatively completely without the first half, I'm not too inclined to watch the first half. I don't know if I can sit through at least another hour and a half of haunting themes, since now that I stopped to think, I have other things to haunt me. It's time to take the dog on a walk.

The only human interaction I've had today was when Julie and Rory called me. I nearly swallowed them hook, line, and sinker through my cell phone that hardly gets reception, I was so starved to talk to someone. The conversation with Julie was something like me yelling through the phone how much I missed her while the line cut in and out of reception. The roommate remission continues to amaze me, since I do love being alone. It just takes a while to get used to it, is all.

And if you have time, please, give me a ring. Or I am going to HUNT YOU DOWN AND CALL YOU MYSELF.