Dammit!! ...

I just discovered that, when I changed my template from a black backgroud to a white, I lost the links to the other bloggers I had listed.

If you're linked to me or me to you, please respond to this posting so that I can update this site.

Thank you!

The Shot Heard 'Round the World ...

Well, here it is; the last episode of Will and Grace.

I went to The Post tonight to watch. Actually, I had forgotten it was on and I stopped in on my way home from work and discovered the "Behind the Scenes" prelude episode on the suspended television screens, so I decided to stick around.

It seemed so appropriate to end the show with the four of them in a bar all toasting shots to their friendship and it sort of made me envious. I mean sure, it was all scripted and acted, but after watching I couldn't help feel a little pang of jealousy. Here, a show was ending that not only spanned 8 years, but catapulted you forward another twenty or so. Their lives went thier separate ways and came back full circle. It not only made me think of my small circle of friends I have now, but those from my past; those closest to me when I was growing from my pre-teens through my teens and into my young adulthood. Those people are all gone now; moved on with their lives and families; some who have kids who are (gasp) already in college. We were close and spent several evenings together wondering what the future held for us.

I often still think of myself in that time and not someone who's been on this earth for nearly forty years. I wonder where I'm going and I look back on where I've been. I look at my life as it is and realize that I really haven't accomplished anything that I had set out for myself all those years ago. It's depressing and I sometimes (more often than not) think that it's too late for me; that I'm destined to sit on a vinyl barstool whose surface is patched together with a strap of coordinating electrical tape while nursing a Coors Lite and watching the house rodents scurry along the baseboards.

I then realize that there is still so much out there to do and avenues to take. I've held an interest in writing since I was seventeen or eighteen and have written several short stories, but never had the ambition to have someone look at them and to see if they were worth pushing further. I've painted all my life and taught myself several styles and mediums, but never felt confident enough to do anything other than give them away as gifts.

I see friends of mine who are branching out into new areas; going into business for themselves or taking an existing position and turning it into something where people are actually stopping and taking notice. I see friends who, at ages older than myself right now, are setting out on new ventures and careers. I've had the moral support to do these things on my own, but not the ambition and all the lack of confidence in myself to drown any dream faster than Shelly Winters wearing ankle weights.

I just wish I knew what life had in store for me...

I wish I had writers like those of Will and Grace who had everything neatly typed out on white paper and, after all is said and done, the quick-stepping notes of an upbeat jazz piano tune will signify that yes, this is something good going on here...

To Ivan with Love ...

"If I were to criticize your blog, the one thing I would say is this: those of us over 50 have a difficult time reading white text on a black background. You should have a white background with a black font."

So, Ivan, I hope this format is a little better on the eyes.

It's always a pleasure talking with you.

xoxo

Super Bulge ...

The makers of the new Superman movie seem to be alittle jealous of the Man of Steel's manhood. So much so that they are making editors digitally remove most of the "superbulge".

Personally, I can't wait for the director's "uncut" version to be released...

American Midol ...

It just pained me deep inside last night when I had to witness the complete disappointment on Chris Daughtry's face when he got booted off American Idol. Chris was not only the only person worth watching this year, but the only person worth watching since the show first aired. Sexy, charasmatic and a terrific voice, he was a shoo in from the get-go. It just goes to show you that the general public have absolutely no input in choosing who should have a record deal on this show. Why the hell is the cheesy hotel lounge singer still on along with the girl who's nerves make her voice crack half the time?

I'll miss watching you, Chris. You'll never know what you do to me (in my imagination)...

Sneak Peak ...

M, O, Gar & myself all scored free passes last night to go see the new Poseidon movie. An interview on Good Morning America yesterday morning stated that: "We were not trying to make a remake of the 1972 classic". Let's see...a ship named "Poseidon" is hit by a tidal wave on New Year's Eve at midnight. Everyone on board drowns in the grand ballroom except a small handfull of people who must climb up to the "bottom" of the ship and make their way out of the propeller shaft. Of the cast of survivors, one is a little boy who suddenly disappears in the depths of the ship and another is a leader who must sacrifice his own life in order to save the others...

Yup...no similarities there...

All that aside, I was abosuletly floored by the movie! The special effects will definately be a serious contendor for an Academy Award. The rogue wave hits about twenty minutes into the movie and, not only are you witnessing what happens in the grand ballroom, but you're swept away in flash fires and explosions throughout the ship as thousands of passengers and hundreds of crew members are tossed about like ping-pong balls in a bingo cage. A short, but gripping scene during the rollover takes place in the 10-story lobby of the ship, as glass elevators (of course filled with people) are ripped from the walls and plummet down/up to the floor, along with a second scene (also having to do with an elevator) where you know someone is about to die, but you find your palms beginning to sweat and the hairs on the back of your hands start to stand as the director makes you wait and wait for the inevitable.

Richard Dreyfuss plays a gay architect who had just been dumped by his lover. With his life seeming to have no meaning, he is just about to take the ultimate dive into the depths of the Atlantic when he looks up and sees the full moon hanging delicately above the horizon suddenly being blocked out by a wall of water. As you see the fear rise in his eyes, you can suddenly feel your own heart begin to race as you, along with the suicidal architect on screen, begin to realize what's about to take place. From that point on, it's a roller coaster ride that doesn't let up until the closing credits scroll up from the bottom of the screen.

I must admit, as the world was turned upside down before me and everyone on the screen was swimming through water filled corridors, I was swimming in those blue pools that were Josh Lucas' eyes. Against a backdrop of burned walls and oil slicked tuxedo shirts, his eyes were ablaze in color and I found myself waiting anxiously for each and every close-up shot.

I look forward to the official opening night of Poseidon. I plan on seeing it again...if not for the special effects, than to just sit back and look into the eyes of this week's obsession...

Bad Marketing ...

I've oftened talked, either on here or in person, of my life with the devil cat, C-Rex, and his apparent feline delight in seeing how much blood he can draw from me in a single day. I've named him C-Rex due to his stance when he's in his "Attack Mode". Seated upright on his hind legs, his front paws pressed tightly against his chest, ears folded back and his pupils dilated so large that you can see your own scared expression reflected back at you, he reminds me a Terranasaurus Rex doing battle.

I partially blame myself for his behavior. I enjoy tormenting him. Sometimes, we would be sitting on the sofa, C-Rex contently purring, sprawled out next to me with his head dangling over the edge of the cushion. I would suddenly thrust my arm out, my fingers bent tightly in a defensive claw-like position. C-Rex would slowly lift his head up and look at me, one eye blinking the sleep away. If he lowered his head again, I would softly growl and wiggle my fingers infront of him until I see him slowly fold his ears back and look at me more intensely. We would remain that way for as little as a few seconds or as long as a half a minute, before C-Rex would suddenly leap up and wrap his paws around my wrist and begin gnawing at the flesh between my thumb and index finger. Then, as quickly as it began, he would release his teeth and claws and leap off the sofa to take his stalking position under the dining table. He would continue to stare, readying himself for another attack, occasionally being distracted by a rogue dust bunny, until I claimed defeat and turned my attention elsewhere.

He's also developed the strange habit of attacking me every time I try to leave the house. I would like to think it's his way of trying not to get me to leave and to spend more time with him, but that's probably just wishful thinking.

My sofa sits perpendicular to the front door, extending out into the middle of the livingroom. Whenever I go to leave the house, C-Rex would take his attack stance on the floor or sofa and, just as I'm walking behind the sofa, spring into action, leaping up onto the back cushions and wrapping his paws tightly around my arm and begin gnawing through my sleave. Unless I provoke him (which is more often than not) his gnawing is soft, but tension-filled, as if his his mind is telling him God, how I want to just rip this arm apart, but I can't...I...just...CAN'T!! It's the hand that feeds me!

The point I'm trying to make is that I have war wounds. There are days when I look like I tried to get affectionate with Edward Scissorhands. Sure, it's annoying to have to explain my scratches and tell people no, it's not self-mutilation and no, it's not stigmata. It's just playtime with the devil-cat.

Anyway, last week, I decided enough was enough. I stopped in to CVS on my way home from work to pick up a few essentials. With my arms cradling paper towels, coffee, milk, bread, kitty litter, and a few other things, I found myself walking down the first-aid aisle towards the register. I figured I may as well pick up a box of band-aids. However, I felt it would be even more embarrassing to explain my body riddled with flesh colored plastic strips than the actual scratches themselves, so I quickly scanned the shelves for the more inconspicuous clear band-aids. Finding a box, I juggled the other items in my possession, stuffing things under my arms and between my teeth, in order to grab a box of band-aids from the shelf. I made my way to the register, paid for the items and went home.

I never needed the band aids until yesterday...

My last thing on my to-do list before heading off to work was brush my teeth. C-Rex loves the smell of mint and, as with any other morning, he jumped up onto the sink and raised his head, his tiny nose wiggling back and forth like Elizabeth Montgomery. I bent down closer, not seeing the trickery in those eyes until it was nearly too late.

Almost instantly, C-Rex's pupils dilated, his ears folded back and he charged. I pulled back just in time, keeping his claws away from my face and, more importantly, my eyes. But he went for the toothbrush, wrapping his paws around my wrist. Had I just played along, it would've been the normal routine with him gnawing and then releasing. But, in my startled retreat I nearly pulled him off the sink and his claws dug deep into my wrist before he let go and fell to the floor. An inch long scratch at the base of my palm like an extention of my life-line began to redden as blood made its way to the surface. I cursed myself and C-Rex as I ran my wrist under some cold water. The cut wasn't deep, but just enough to ruin my shirt if my sleeve brushed against it. Not to mention it looked like a half-assed suicide attempt.

Good thing I just bought some new band-aids...

I reached in the medicine cabinet, pulled down the box, opened it and pulled out an individually wrapped bandage, all while thinking it'll be cool...they're clear...I won't have to explain away a band-aid at the base of my wrist...

I tore apart the wrapping, peeled away the backing and slapped the band-aid over the scratch.

Then I paused...

I looked, questioning in my mind to what I was seeing...

I looked at the box and read it again: BAND-AID Brand Adhesive Bandages...PERFECT BLEND Clear Bandages... "Breathable protection that blends with the skin...

So why wasn't it blending? Why do I have this dark patch on my wrist?

I read the side of the box: Available in 3 shades...Light, Medium, Deep

Now, not that I have a problem with this (other than the fact that I have a box of band-aids in my medicine cabinet that is anything BUT inconspicuous), I think, when Johnson & Johnson come out with a bandage that is specifically meant for African Americans, it should actually SAY something to that effect on the box! Sure, there's a picture on the front, but the top of the box says "CLEAR" The way the shelves were stocked, the top of the box was all you could see. It just seems to me that, after 55 years of having the flesh-colored strips on store shelves, introducing a new (and much darker) color should be packaged much better.