Six Word Theater

Six Word Theater

Click here for last week's entry.

Inspired by the challenge Hemingway undertook to tell a story
in six words("For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”), I attempt
to polish my skills by telling a six-word story or phrase each
Wednesday.

Feel free to "continue the story"
or start your own.

Today's Entry:


"Forget me!"
She did.

Heart's atrophied.



-Adam

Better Living Through Absurdity

This week's topic: It's a Double-X Chromosome Thing

The female of the species generally comes with her own particular set of quirks. These differ from those of men in that they tend to have a higher potential for irrationality, irritability and usually, an illogical sort of premise that’s being followed. I can say this, because I am female. Some women are smart enough and learn to reject some of these more annoying foibles of womankind –other’s…like the vast majority…aren’t.

One in particular that has always fascinated me is the need for one woman to prove something to another women –especially when a man is involved. Now men are often accused of “marking their territory” or getting into pissing contests –and yeah, they do have a tendency from time to time to act rather boorish. But women are just as guilty of this, if not more so. Because they’ll mark territory even when a) there’s no dispute of ownership or b) there’s no ownership to begin with. Hence the illogical sort of premise I mentioned earlier.

Here are a couple of cases to prove this less-than-miraculous bit of nature:

I was talking with a friend of mine at school…male of course…who I’ve never had more than a friendship with. But we are good friends and extremely comfortable with each other, so perhaps that’s misinterpreted somehow. Anyways, we’re outside having a conversation and a girl walks up. We both acknowledged her and continued with our talk –I knew she was in one of his other classes and I knew he thought she was attractive. But as we were discussing something kind of important, we just wanted to get it out of the way before starting another conversation with a third party. She decides for some reason that I’m a threat. Despite the fact that I smiled at her and said to just give us a sec to get some details clear AND complimented her on something –I was a threat. No ownership, no challenge –and yet, she felt she had to do something about me. So as I take off my glasses to clean them, she neatly inserts herself between us and gives a startled, “Oh!” sound. We both look at her and she says, “You know, without your glasses, you’re ALMOST pretty!” I just raise an eyebrow and say, “I try.” But my friend is staring at her totally aghast –all he can think to say is, “Bitch!” Which of course, was not the desired result she had hoped for. She stomped off, I was trying not to laugh too hard and my friend was trying to figure out what just happened.

Another time I’m out at a restaurant and there’s a guy there who I’m friends with and we’re chatting at the bar, just enjoying our cocktails, reminiscing about old times and catching up a bit –and this girl walks over. Now she’s apparently a regular and she’s got a little thing for my friend. So of course, I become the enemy. She sits down next to him –close enough to be sucking up his portion of the room’s oxygen supply. She then proceeds to lean over, her shirt gaping to expose a bony chest with no hint of curve and gives me “that look.” I just raise my glass slightly and smirk at her, shaking my head a bit. She then drapes herself all over him –arms and legs tangling like some sort of over-tanned bit of calamari. It was actually quite hideous to watch. He looks distinctly uncomfortable and he’s trying to politely disengage from the corpse-like grip the succubus is attempting to maintain. I’m laughing at this point –and of course, like any animal in the wild, she acts like she’s scented fresh pray –so she leans over him again and says to me in this overly-saccharine voice that promises nothing but eternal shame and damnation, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m so friendly –but he’s just SOOOOOOO cute, don’t you think?” At which point, I give her the gimlet eye and shrug slightly saying, “Well it doesn’t really bother me at all if you want to play barnacle –but his boyfriend would sure give you a smack or two if he caught you!”

*shakes head sadly*

Women. We fight for the right to vote, we declare that we are independent, determined, capable, we assert that we are equal to anyone, male or female, and we loudly claim that we are the more logical, rational and mature of the species. All of that may be true –but if you’ve ever seen a group of girlfriends go to a bar or club, where the ratio of good-looking men is far lower than that of women, you’ll quickly see that perky group of BFF’s turn into a writhing, ugly mass of embarrassing comments, blatantly false rumors and an overabundance of weight-related insults, all in order to determine which one of those future sacrifices on the alter of thick-necked, ham-fisted groping gods, will emerge as Queen Cunt.

I’d bring popcorn if I was you.

Bedbugs XXIX

Bedbugs XXIX

Click here for an explanation of how Bedbugs is created.

Click here for last week's Bedbugs.



Measured and metered sounds that fall outside the range
your ears can pick up. It's driving me crazy, unborn and aborted
ideas and ideals practiced out of societal context. Memories
that get fractured before they're even planted firmly in
frontal lobes lined up eagerly waiting for something,
anything, besides reruns. Light in your attic
was put there by the man I won't speak about.
I manage the same place as the music. Then
where does the light come from?
Feeling and following my own lead brings eager
groups back to the mental slaughterhouse. Pretension
is on the first floor, talkers and doers have been brought
upstairs though nobody's heard from them again. Two of
them can reach it but they're waiting until someone
gives them financial incentive.
Waking up, she knows someone has been there. Selling and
not buying her memories. One door ahead tells her to wait,
the other tells her to listen to her own tune they put
in her head. Matter of silence- this is the song's best part.



Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:


-dissolved into bits smaller than
-wolf in the bleached forest
-pulling color from the leaves
-don't make me care
-silk under me
-one more time is yearned for
-best to leave this one alone


-Adam

The Boxpress "NEW" Music Time Show with Brian Hughes #2

A musical series in which Brian delves into the current music scene. The idea: put into big, neon lights new and exciting music.

Show# 2: Dr. Dog and Caribou. PLAY PODCAST

Dr. Dog performs "We All Belong" in Philadelphia at their CD release party.

Caribou performs "Melody Day" in The Pink Room.

If you think you might want to listen to some more of my podcasts - please click below:

Show #1: Variations on the classic song "Fly Me To The Moon."

Show #2: "Perfect: Part 1"

Show#3: "Perfect: Part 2"

Show#4: "Last Songs by 5 Great Artists"

Show#5: "Perfect: Part 3"

Show#6: "The Story Songs"

Show#7: "Bob Dylan: Part 1"

Show#8: "Perfect: Part 4"

"New" #1: King Khan and The Shrines/ O'Death

Six Word Theater

Six Word Theater

Click here for last week's entry.

Inspired by the challenge Hemingway undertook to tell a story
in six words("For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”), I attempt
to polish my skills by telling a six-word story or phrase each
Wednesday.

Feel free to "continue the story"
or start your own.

Today's entry:


Stranger offers toddler
toys.

Empty
sandbox



-Adam

Better Living Through Absurdity

Again, this shall be brief, not only because I've been ill but because I'm in the last week of the semester and slammed with projects and work.

This incident occurred a couple of days ago...


I stopped off at a restaurant for a quick drink/meeting with my boss and, as happens from time to time, I had to use the ladies room.

I went inside, marveled at the roomy stall, and of course, sat down to take a piss. Now, I don't know if this happens to other people, but I find that if I'm not concentrating on the fact that I have to pee, I won't. And my mind started to wander. And I began to sing. In a very low voice, I did my best imitation of Paul Robeson singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and I confess, I loved the sound of my voice, made even deeper by illness, echoing off the tiled walls of this admittedly well-appointed water-closet.

There I am, lost in thought, doing my "negro spiritual best" while NOT taking a piss...and then I hear it.

The rustle of feet, the sound of the toilet paper dispenser, pants being pulled up -and a toilet flushing. Not my toilet. Another toilet. Another pair of feet walking by my stall. My singing ceased abruptly and an almost painful silence filled the restroom.

Quickly I began to perform the task I had come in there for originally, waited till the other person had departed and hied myself out of there posthaste.

On my way out I was stopped by one of the waitstaff. She said, "Excuse me, but while you were in there, did you happen to notice if a man was in one of the stalls?"

I opened my mouth. I closed it. I opened it again. And closed it once more. And then I shrugged my shoulders, raised an eyebrow and said quite archly, "I didn't happen to inspect them all -but I can say that there most certainly wasn't one in mine!" and walked back to my table with the best Joan Collins swagger I could muster.

I didn't stick around to see what happened, but I can only assume there was a search of the restroom, and now the place will forever have some story to tell about how a man who sounds like Paul Robeson haunts their ladies restroom.

just asKing

Melissa King's health, career and relationship advise column for The Boutros Boutros Follies! Check out the first entry here and her website MyHeartDances

Hi! Thanks so much for your questions. Please keep them coming! I love talking about relationships and making career choices too, so please send them in as well: melissa@myheartdances.com

Q: What is the best way for a woman to add more calcium to her diet without adding a lot of calories? Thank you!

A: Dairy products are usually the first things people think of when they want to get calcium, but there are a lot of other sources as well, dark green vegetables like callard greens, kale, broccoli, mustard greens, and bok choy. Sardines (with bones) packed in mustard or tomato sauce can be a low calorie meat option (check the nutrition label, calories vary with the brand), also tofu and soy milk that have calcium added. Of course you can also add a calcium supplement; current thought is that calcium citrate is the type best absorbed by the body. 1000 - 1200mg a day is often what is recommended for women and you should split it into two separate doses - for instance 500mg in the morning and 500 at night.

Q: I'm 29 years old and all of my life I have been able to eat whatever I want and not gain weight. But in the last two years I have gained 18lbs. I'm not sure what's going on. I get regular exercise, but since I've never had to worry about it, my eating habits are terrible. How can I correct this situation?

A: If you came into my office I would ask you a lot more questions: What exactly are your eating habits? What do you do for exercise? Has your life changed in any way since before you started to gain weight?

At first glance, you might say "no, it hasn't changed," but if you look a little closer, you may see a decline in physical activity, a rise in nights in front of the TV with your favorite ice cream, or an increase in stress.

It is often said that our metabolism slows as we get older, and maybe that's true, but it seems that people never consider the other factors that change as we get older. After we graduate from college, we usually head to a job that requires us to sit all day. Then, coming home late, we grab fast food because it's quick, and get home and relax - exercise and cooking a healthy meal being the last thing we want to do. Then we get married, have children, and our time for physical activity decrease, not to mention the temptation of having oreo cookies and other treats always around for the kids.

Exercise

But let's assume you aren't married with kids, not too much has changed since before you started gaining weight, and your doctor has ruled out any physical problems. You say that you get regular exercise. Our bodies become very efficient at the physical activities we are regularly engaged in, so if you are doing the same exercise you have always done, your body is not as challenged by it as it used to be, and therefore you burn less calories. You can easily fix this by changing up your routine. For instance, if you jog, you can simply add more hills, or do interval training by including short sprints.

Eating

It seems that as we get older, we become more likely to eat for boredom or loneliness. And if you have never had to worry about your eating habits, I can understand how it would be especially difficult to make changes. You might want to start with just one or two things like: add more veggies to your diet - you can add vegetable to almost anything - soup, sandwiches, pasta, pizza; drink water instead of soda or juice (these drinks add calories but don't make us feel full), choose more natural foods and try to avoid processed or packaged foods. Think about what healthy foods you do like: What vegetables? What fruits? What kind of whole grains (maybe have oatmeal instead of a bagel for breakfast).

If the topic of healthy eating interests you, I would recommend getting a book that makes healthy eating fun and very simple without including fad diet ideas. Integrative Nutrition and The Energy Balance Diet are two of my favorites (these are essentially the same book). If you really want to make some bigger changes and want to look further at your specific needs, please feel free to contact me for an appointment.

Have a question for Melissa?
Post it in the comments or
email her: melissa@myheartdances.com

Bedbugs XXVIII

Bedbugs XXVIII


Click here for an explanation of how Bedbugs is created.

Click here for last week's Bedbugs.





Don't expect to find me anywhere near that wreckage outside
of your life, meaning to the song ended ten minutes ago, everyone
left...get the picture, and frame! Curvature in the
metal spinal replacement doesn't get one a backbone
despite everything the ad says. Waking up three times
in one night. Developing another sense
of seasons and break open the wooden box and remove it. If all else
fails, blame the one before you.
She managed to get upstairs where more of her light reflected
in all of the pools manages to show off her best side, the inner one.
Experience at eighteen frames per second helps one get more done in a
day, waiting for emotion to finally be shared. Black and white
are the honest tones where natures like that are concerned
with reckoning and withering and crafting, complaining about
only two of them is more efficient.
She fell asleep again when none of us were watching. Indoors.
Match made in Heaven, if there is one..





Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:




-unborn and aborted ideas and ideals
-the same place as the music
-light in your attic
-feeling and following my own lead
-two of them can reach it
-selling and not buying
-this is the song's best part




-Adam Barnick

Six Word Theater

Six Word Theater

Click here for last week's entry.


Inspired by the challenge Hemingway undertook to tell a story
in six words("For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”), I attempt
to polish my skills by telling a six-word story or phrase each
Wednesday.

Feel free to "continue the story"
or start your own.

Today's entry:


Tequila.
Commute.

Hit guardrail.

Eternal
hangover




-Adam Barnick

Better Living Through Absurdity

This will be a ridiculously brief entry, as I am sick and have to face a lecture and a presentation tomorrow morning and all I really want to do is...well not be sick obviously.

So -I took some medicine a little while ago and happened to fall asleep. Shortly before entering dreamland, I was pondering the amount of Vitamin C and Zinc I had taken -easily 2 weeks worth of the recommended daily dose in about an hour. I worried that perhaps I was doing my innards some sort of irreparable harm. But no such thing -as it turns out, I was damaging my psyche a lot more!

According to the clock, about an hour had passed, when I woke up in a panic and began feeling my arms and legs, my face and my throat. After this bizarre inspection, I sighed with relief and then shook my head at my stupidity.

You see, while asleep I had a dream which somehow, some way -had convinced me that because of all of those supplements I took, I had mutated into a metal-covered orange slice. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was wearing (don't ask me what an orange slice has to hide!) a pink frilly apron and I was crying about my steak and kidney pie having fallen in the oven...not something I knew could happen to steak and kidney pie but I suppose it's not impossible.

Now granted -if you take into the account that I was worried about supplements, I had been emailed a picture of this apron pattern (the finished one happened to be pink) earlier in the day, my eyes had been watering all day due to being sick and...well I got nothing for the steak and kidney pie -but everything else I can account for -if you take all of that together, well the dream seems almost...normal.

Well okay, not NORMAL. But at least a lot less random.

Wait wait...as I was about to close this -it came to me -I realize where the steak and kidney pie came from -the steak was from a conversation with a girl at work about a good steak and the kidney is from the gruesome book I'm reading where not only are a lot of people eviscerated but a girl pleaded kidney problems so the cops would let her go to the bathroom and then she ran for it -and the pie...........

yeah okay still got nothing for that.

If only it had been a steak and kidney apple fritter. THEN it would all connect.

Cripes -the above is rather disturbing. Back to bed.

Bedbugs XXVII

Bedbugs XXVII


Click here for an explanation of how Bedbugs is created.

Click here for last week's Bedbugs.



Calling me over and over while oscillation patterns
dance like light and degrees of temperature and form and
suicidal intentions laid into patterns of color,
making a point with metal. No matter what, lost measured
hope can be found between the cracks if you look close
enough with those special glasses that strange man
left you. 432 senses were deadened down to five or less,
welcome to the world. No matter what’s in the test pattern,
you’ll find it interesting. Bright color exists, you just have
to clean the grit off your eyes to find it. Bluish moonlight
comes from the same place as the music, slow dancing
in the room’s corner is a shriveled figure you’re mostly
encouraged to forget. No doubt in the scared girl’s mind as
she steps away and the music we’d heard in all those
empty buildings warbles forth..it had been a man. Hands extended,
I think. Invitation to some place and ritual that’s too exciting
and nightmarish to comprehend. Picture yourself out in the field.
It can still find you there, no matter that’s why I won’t call back.

Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:

-the song ended ten minutes ago
-curvature in the metal spinal replacement
-break open the wooden box and remove it
-light reflected in all of the pools
-experience at eighteen frames per second
-complaining about only two of them

-match made in Heaven, if there is one.

-Adam

Six Word Theater

Six Word Theater

Click here for last week's entry.

Inspired by the challenge Hemingway undertook to tell a story
in six words("For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”), I attempt
to polish my skills by telling a six-word story or phrase each
Wednesday.

I encourage you to feel free
to "continue the story" or start your own.

Today's entry:



God called;
Mom listened, Dad's deaf.



-Adam Barnick

just asKing

Melissa King is a Certified Holistic Health Counselor in New York City. As depicted in the myriad testimonials on her website (MyHeartDances), Ms. King has helped many people transform their body image and strengthen their mind by learning to eat well and breaking life blocks through her private & group counseling sessions and cooking, nutrition, & after school classes. Now, exclusively here at The Boutros Boutros Follies, she will dispense answers to your questions through her advise column just asKing. If it concerns life on Earth, Melissa is here to help. (Especially if it's a heath, nutrition, body image, lifestyle or spiritual fulfillment issue)

By way of introduction, and because I myself am having frustrations in the area, I asked Melissa to write a piece on the subject "Friendship in the Digital Age". Next time: Melissa will answer one or more of your questions.

-Peter Rinaldi

Need advise? Ask Melissa King - melissa@myheartdances.com

Thoughts on Friendship in the Digital Age

When Peter asked me to write about friendship in the digital age, I immediately thought of Facebook, Myspace, and Email and how much the digital age is encroaching upon my life and strangling time out of my day. There has probably already been some good articles written about this, so let’s take a side road and reminisce about the good ole days. Maybe this alone will shed light on friendship in the digital age.

When I think about time before social networking sites, e-mail, text messaging, and cell phones, I think about a time when I would leave home in the morning and be completely engaged in whatever activity I set out to do for that day. Whoever I was with would receive my full and undivided attention. I was not thinking about who might be trying to call me or send me a message (unless there was a new boy in my life of course!) and at the end of a day of school, work, or play, I would head home to my sanctuary. As I approached the end of my drive, I would briefly think of my answering machine. I would feel a little excitement, and then begin to wonder who thought of me that day, and if the little red light would be blinking when I walked through the door. Upon arrival, I would head for the play button and listen with joy as I put my things away and sunk down into a comfortable chair. The audio tape would finish in approximately 1-2 minutes, and I would either make the phone calls I needed to make, or jot down a reminder about any phone call I should return the next day. Then it would be over. I would move on into the living room to enjoy the latest sitcom, or movie, and spend time talking with my family. I would play with my dog, focus on homework, read a book, or work on a fun project.

The other thing I loved back then was that one time a day, six days a week, the mailman would come. When he would drive up, I would look out the window and see if he placed anything in the mailbox. Then I would run out with hope that there might be a letter to me from someone I loved. Most of the time there wasn’t, but when there was, I would run back inside, place the rest of the mail on the counter and then rip open the envelope addressed to me. How I loved those sheets of paper and the beauty of my beloved friend’s brushstrokes. I delighted to know they set aside time prior to this letter’s arrival to think of me.

I expected mail to come only once a day, six days a week. Sometimes there would be no mail for me, and I would feel a bit disappointed, but it would be over in seconds. I would have another 24 hours before I would meet that anticipation again.

I find it comical to think what it might be like if I drove around next to my mailman’s vehicle asking him every two or three minutes if I had gotten any new mail. I’m sure he would file harassment charges or at the very least suggest that I visit a doctor for an evaluation. And if he did actually respond to me, I would have more moments of dissatisfaction than satisfaction, because he would have to say “no” more often than he said, “yes.”

Now, in 2008, I rarely experience the sanctuary from anticipation and expectation I had then – the release from wondering if someone somewhere might be sending me a message or expecting one from me. Last week, a friend of mine was telling me about a professor he has who refuses to get a cell phone or sign-up for e-mail. She has made this decision in resistance to capitalism’s effort to have us working 24 hours a day. Why do I envy her? Am I the only one that longs for the freedom she has from the digital age? Do you think the quality of relationships is any different because I have 24 hour access to my friends and “technically” she does not?

Before I let computer time engross me any longer, I just want to say that the fact of the matter is that it’s not the cell phone, the e-mail, or the social networking sites that are the problem really—I don’t think. It is the way that I manage myself within them. I gain wonderful assets from all of these mediums: the ability to be more in touch with my parents than I ever was before (that’s a good thing for me!); the ability to make my phone calls outside when the sun is shining and a breeze is drifting by, and social networking sites allow me to stay in touch with wonderful people who danced through my life years ago. These are all things I once wished for when I didn’t have them. Now that I do, can I discern the difference between what aspects of it really make a positive difference in my life from the ones that steal from me? If I can do that, then managing the inflow and outflow will be easy. It’s easier that we think…it’s just about making a decision and sticking to it.

-Melissa King

melissa@myheartdances.com

Better Living Through Absurdity

For some reason, HTML is not wanting to cooperate with me -so, should you wish to see the past columns in this series, feel free to scroll down or click on the months on the side and I'm sure you'll find one! Otherwise, feel free to make this your first foray into absurdity!

This Week’s Topic: Chicago’s Finest

So this is a brief anecdote of absurdity, one that happened a couple of days ago and one that I still laugh about, albeit a tad hysterically.

For a couple of years my car wasn’t what’s considered “Chicago legal” –that is, I’d had my out of state plates for way past the required change-over date, and I had no city sticker which is mandatory if you’re going to park in this city. Generally if you have out of state plates, they won’t nail you for it –but there’s always the chance that you’ll get a cop who’s bored or a jerk…or bored. And they’ll ticket you. It’s a great way for the city to make money –the sticker costs $75 for the year and the tickets for not having them are $120 a pop. So, needless to say, I began to develop what I considered to be a healthy paranoia about the boys in blue.

Now, like many people, I make mix cds. Around this time two years ago, I was making a lot of New Wave compilations. New Wave music is guaranteed to make me smile and I threw in a lot of standards as well as some of the lesser known tracks or completely obscure stuff. The Clash almost always made an appearance on these cds and there were two songs that I loved hearing –"Radio Clash" and…"Police on My Back."

Along with developing my healthy paranoia regarding cops, I developed one regarding that song. If it came on while I was driving, I would immediately change it to another song –I was afraid that somehow I’d become a cop magnet.

Now, my car is stickered and plated and paid and legit –and I’ve got nothing to fear from the minions of the local precinct. However, old habits die hard –and I still find myself cringing sometimes when I see a cop coming or if I notice one eyeballing my car. It’s silly but there you have it.

So the other day I found one of these old mix cds from a couple of years ago and I threw it in the player and I’m feeling extra perky and driving down the road –and "Police on My Back" comes on. And for the first time in years, I let it play. So I’m at a stop light, bending down to grab my purse, windows down and singing loudly, and I come back up successful in my hunt for a lighter –and what do I see, but a cop car to my left, a cop car to my right and a cop car behind me. The only reason there wasn’t one in front of me is because I was at the head of the line. And of course, that blasted song is still…well blasting –and I was still singing. Until of course I noticed the heads swiveled in my direction, with the sun and my panicked reflection glinting off of their insect-like cop glasses.

I felt like the villain in a bad science fiction film –so long I had waited, planning carefully, moving cautiously, living in fear –it can’t have been in vain! I can’t have survived all of that only to lose out now!!! Then Edward G. Robinson’s “You’ll never take me alive copper,” runs through my head and the death scene in Little Caesar…this can’t be good.

I turn to the one on my left…at first, I thought he was shaking in rage. Then I realize he’s laughing. He’s POINTING and laughing. I turn to the one on my right –he’s laughing as well. I look in my rearview mirror –that one is grinning and gives me the thumbs up sign.

At this point I’m a bit flustered and I’m wondering why this blasted light hasn’t changed yet. I turn to the closest officer and he leans out the window and says, “Dig your music.” And I force a smile and say, “Well at least you weren’t laughing at my singing.” He gets on the radio and I realize he’s repeating what I say to the car next to me and behind me –I see them start laughing –and then the guy from my right side yells, “You mean your bellowing don’t you?” The light is about to change and I plaster a grin on my face to show that hey, yeah, I can take a joke as well as anyone…and the last thing I hear before I drive off, fighting every impulse to crank it up to 90mph, is the guy on my left saying, “Remember –the police are on your back!”

It took a good 15 minutes before I unclenched my hands from the wheel –and by that time, Depeche Mode was singing “Master and Servant” and I started laughing hysterically.

LEATHERHEADS by Frank Palmcoast

When he's not watching, with beads of sweat, his fellow, legally blind, senior citizens parallel park, Frank Palmcoast is catching seven dollar movies at the local multiplex from sunny Pompano Beach, Florida. He's retired, he's angry at the world, he can't spell to save his life, and he hates Hollywood almost as much as Hillary Clinton, but that will not stop our irreverent, dementia fightin', AARP card carrying everyman from giving us a fresh take on all things Hollyweird. Besides, how can he pass up that marvelous senior citizen discount?

This week's victim: George Cloonery's Leatherheads

*************************************************

As Shakespear would say," Leatherheads or Knuckleheads" this is the question and this flick has a little of both! I ponder who are the targeted audiences for this movie; sports fans, history buffs, Clooney fans, comedy fans, I wonder. This is a sports, comedy and period piece. A film about the birth of football. Leatherheads probably has fewer dull moments than an actual NFL game.Clooney, Zellweger and Krasinski are ok. For me it's rather humorous that Renee Zellweger's characters name is Lexlie Littleton--what names! The witty banter between Clooney and Zellweger was reminiscent of Tracy and Hepburn.So far the above was the good news and now the bad news. Soon the DVD will be released. They should skip Blockbusters & Netflix and go straight to the Dollar Store and I bet you will want your dollar back.This movie moves slowly at times but it never really becomes dull or boring, so let's just say it's cute and mild. However I must say Randy Newman's ragtime music is great.Clooney in this football period piece goes for a touchdown and only scores a field goal.The movie ends with the two of them riding off into the sunset just like Roy and Dale!One of the main characters name is bullet and at times I wish I had one so I could put myself out of this misery!

Bedbugs XXVI

Bedbugs XXVI


Click here for an explanation of how Bedbugs is created.

Click here for last week's Bedbugs.




The last time I saw him he still wouldn’t accept his own death
that it was coming as far as he saw it life’s an argument
and when you concede or win it is over. The server
barrels home and dreams soft shoulders tugged and gripped
for posters the world over. Only eighteen mesmerized by kaleidoscopic
falsified intention can combat self-pity and trying to mimic
a child’s wail. Shades of grey are painted on and not earned,
she thinks. Wood rot in the third through eighth floors
prohibits any of them from reaching the roof…but if they’re
only planning to jump, does the height matter? In December
nobody will question why there weren’t more bright colors
in your life. They’ll just use it as an excuse to
pretend they’re concerned by having their pictures taken
at the funeral. In weather that blurry vision while writing it down
stops her from inspiring herself with the answer. Sepiatone charm
is easy to remember but finding the brain’s filter that shuts off
memory and magnificent perception or intention unfettered
by the knock the past out of him, it’s the only way
for a fresh start. Eventually I escape and wake up.
In a new room. But seeing and knowing
the voice from the old house is here…



Next week’s seven phrases/groups of words:



-making a point with metal
-lost measured hope
-no matter what’s in the test pattern
-slow dancing in the room’s corner is
-encouraged to forget
-it had been a man
-that’s why I won’t call back




-Adam

Six Word Theater

Six Word Theater

Click here for last week's entry.



Inspired by the challenge Hemingway undertook to tell a story
in six words("For Sale: baby shoes. Never worn.”), I attempt
to polish my skills by telling a six-word story or phrase each
Wednesday.

I encourage you to feel free
to "continue the story" or start your own.


Today's entry:


Generation X:
Listless.
Spent kid's inheritance.



-Adam Barnick