My Personality at 35,000 Feet

Not to say what it is on the ground, of course...

Your Personality at 35,000 Feet...

Deep down, you prefer spending time alone to spending time with others. You enjoy thinking more than talking. You are good with your place in the world. You are confident and comfortable with who you are. Your gift is having a way with words. You know how to express yourself well. You are inspired by what is possible. Real life is often too ordinary for you. You are happy as long as you are given some personal space. It's important for you to have your own private life.

The Personality Test at 35,000 Feet

Changing My Mind

I'm so going to get burned for this.

Pope Benedict LXXXIX or something is in town lately. Up till now I've only seen snippets of him via the ever-sage news outlets available to me. And you have to admit a distinct and disturbing resemblance to someone of pop culture significance:

But with the increased coverage and having read transcripts of his speeches, I find myself softening toward Emperor Papaltine. Maybe his unnerving appearance gave him a bad rap. Maybe he does have the good of humanity at the base of his intentions, whether you agree with his opinions and methods or not. Maybe he's just been misunderstood in the wake of the all-around nice guy that Pope John Paul II seemed. Maybe he in fact doesn't eat babies.

But the jury's still out on whether he shoots laser beams from his eyes.

Smells Like...

Any guesses as to why the Ladies' Room in my office smells vaguely of hamster shavings?

TXT is the new SPM

I got text-spammed today. I flipped open my phone to see how the battery was doing when I noticed I had missed a text message. Not surprising, as I have incoming texts set to silent mode. Figuring it was from one of my friends, I checked it, only to find that someone called McDermott was inviting me to online chat. I erased it, but I almost wish I'd saved it so I could quote it here for you. Ah well.

Be forewarned, my little chickadees, and welcome to the new phase as we whirl about in our Technological Sprial of Doom.

George Lucas Is A Moron

It's bad enough that they're making YET ANOTHER Indiana Jones movie. I love the franchise, but I don't know that you can top Last Crusade, and seeing as that was the last one done, as Kenny Rogers tells us, you gotta know when to hold 'em, and know when to fold 'em.

It's bad enough that Harrison Ford is reprising the role. He OWNED Indy. He WAS Indy. To me, no one else can play Indy. But that was 20 years ago. Last Crusade was done in 1989. Harrison Ford is, quite frankly, too old now. I don't care if he can still play the part, work the whip, or moan pitifully about why it had to be snakes. The man is 66. Sir Sean Connery (perpetual swoon!) was only 59 when he played Henry Jones, Sr. I will always love Harrison Ford (Lady Readers, even if you didn't crush on Indiana Jones, you're lying if you tell me you didn't crush on Han Solo!), but you should have put your foot down and let Indy ride off into the canyon, never to be seen again.

It's bad enough that Shia LeBouef, or however you spell it, is cast as Indy's sidekick, as I have yet to be convinced that the pipsqueak has even an ounce of acting talent, and he seems to have way too much ego and self satisfaction for having essentially one big role in a movie that, frankly, wasn't very good, and he was not good in it. Not to mention he looks like he might start crying if you tousled his hair. I suspect he could pass for Matthew McConaghey's wimpier and less-stoned little cousin.

This is supposed to be Indy's heir apparent?? There's a feeble plastic quality to him, whereas Indy is all iron and grit and snappy one-liners. And what's with that name, "Shia" (pron. SHY-ah)? It sounds like the name of an underdressed female popstar. Oh. Apparently he's named for his grandfather. God, there was someone running around in the 30s with the name Shia?? The character's name is "Mutt Williams." Yeah, Mutt...at least they got that right. By the by, does he strike anyone else as the poor man's Justin Long (who usually fails to excite a reaction in me above boredom, though he was fun in Dodgeball, and while quite mismatched he seems to make Drew Barrymore very much happy, so I guess he's okay in my book; he just looks too young for his age - he's older than I am! Do you realize he played the kid in Ed?? Great show, Tom Cavanagh kicks ass, too bad it got cancelled. Now how do I get out of this parenthetical digression...).

All of that was bad enough.

But who greenlighted this ridiculous title??

You read that right. Indiana Jones and the KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL.

First off, crystal is very non-Indy. Too fragile. Yes real crystal in the raw form that would have been used to make an ancient skull-shaped artifact is actually a rather strong material, but the word itself implies frailty, which as I said, is very un-Indy (unless they were prepping us for the performance of 66yo Harrison Ford?) Also, check the disparity in titles over the course of the saga:

• Raiders of the Lost Ark
• Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
• Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
• Indiana Jones and the... Kingdom of the Crystal Skull??

It's long and awkward and unwieldy and out of place. I can just envision someone doing the Panties Dance when they say it. It sounds like something one of his kids made up, like Jar Jar Binks (shudder). "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Skull" would have worked all right, but add "Crystal" in there and the rhythm is all off. The movie is bound to suck just based on the title. And on the casting of Weenie LeBouef. *sigh* I'll probably Netflix it anyway just to say I've seen all the Indiana Joneses.

Why do you do this to us George Lucas? We held you up as a demigod of cinematic genius for Star Wars (at least, for Episodes IV, V, and VI) and American Graffiti and Indiana Jones and Willow (shut up! I loved it!). I know it's lonely at the top, but if you felt too much pressure, couldn't you have just chilled on your millions instead of taking such a spectacular nosedive off the pedestal, and giving us Episodes I, II, and III, and now THIS?!?!

I know I've been unreasonably harsh in this post towards both Misters LeBeouf and Ford, but I was annoyed that they were making a fourth movie to begin with and I just heard the title today, which angered me, and when I'm mad, no one is safe. But I think you can all at least back me on this:

George Lucas, you are a moron. Now go back to your ranch and don't come out till we tell you to.

I'd Call It Apathy, If I Cared

I've been infected lately by a nasty case of the Blahs. Poor Husband has had to put up with it: "What should we have for dinner tonight, Rosie?" "Ugh... I don't care." "Do you want to watch this show tonight, Rosie?" "Enh, whatever." "Hey Rosie, how about if I eat all your Samoas, load the dishwasher improperly, set the house on fire, and run naked through the streets?" "Sure, doesn't matter to me."

It's true. I don't seem to care about anything right now. I'm hungry, but there's nothing I want to eat either in my house or in the warped recesses of my mind from whence spring the periodic Random Cravings (really ought to start a sidebar on here with the Random Craving of the Moment). I'm thirsty, but there's nothing I want to drink. I'm bored, but there's nothing I want to do. It takes an act of Congress for me to vacuum, and the dishes are piling up. I'm gaining weight, my hair is shapeless, some of my favorite items of clothing have holes that need mending (like I could fit them anymore anyway), but... shrug.

I go through this periodically throughout the year and I'm usually able to snap out of it, but this just doesn't feel like it's going away. Maybe it's depression. Maybe it's burnout from the last submittal, although I really can't claim that excuse too much longer since we're coming up on two weeks since that went out. Maybe I'm devoid of energy from having had to deal with my family this weekend, though I think this was going on before that. Besides, giving it a name doesn't really matter, does it?

I originally wasn't even going to post anything on this matter because it seems rather pathetic and self-indulgent (let me whine about myself again like I'm the only person this happens to and it's such a hardship). But I realize I haven't put anything new up in a week and a half (aside from the result of a silly Blogthing quiz that I did for entertainment at work) and I can't jimmy up enough feelings about anything to really go off on politics or celebrities, though I have loads of would-be inspiration these days.

So, someone tell me what I'm wearing today, what I'm eating for lunch, and what I'm doing this evening. Because really, I just don't care.

I'm an Orange

You Are an Orange

You have a zest for life, especially for anything colorful, wild, or dramatic. You have a unique take on the world, and you're not afraid to be a little funky. You are a bit reserved toward people who don't know you well. You have a thick skin, which can protect you from anything that goes wrong in your life. Once someone does get to know you, they totally get and appreciate you. Your friends see you as a bright person with a refreshing take on life.

What Type of Fruit Are You?

Dear Dad

Please write down your other daughter's phone numbers and put them in every contact form you have. I am tired of you sending me desperate emails or leaving me grim-sounding but vague voicemails, only to find that you merely wanted her number again.

I am neither her answering service nor her secretary.

She is your daughter. Please commit her contact information to writing or other logging mechanism.

That is all.

Communicatively,

Rosie

Back Into the Cave!

February was a giant pile of Suck. We had another August-caliber submittal to go out on Feb 28 and based on the way it went down, you would never believe an office this insanely and ridiculously chaotic could possibly function at all. On top of that, I had to also balance crappy off-site client workshops all last week that taught me nothing and wasted my time, and nearly made my eyes bleed from trying to keep them open the whole time. On top of THAT, we had a sudden death in the family.

So I was almost looking forward to this week. It would be nice, quiet, and predictable. I'd be able to organize my computer, clean up my desk, catch up on what had been happening outside of the four semi-walls of my cubicle, actually correspond with friends I'd sorta kinda blown off because I just couldn't handle one more thing on my plate. I'd be able to run errands again. I'd be able to catch a workout or two again.

This morning, I roll into my office at the normal time and sit down to run through my morning routine (email, advice columns, news, online banking, etc.). I open Drudge Report (it's alphabetically my first news site) and...

HOLY HELL, THE WORLD IS GOING TO PIECES!

Apparently in my absence, Venezuela and Colombia are bordering on war, the U.S. is bombing Somalia, some idiot brought ricin into Las Vegas, Marion Cotillard genuinely believes a 9/11 conspiracy theory, they want to dig for oil in a California National Monument, Oklahoma's suing over chicken shit, and both of the Democratic presidential candidates are busily alienating the American Muslim population.

Venezuela: Not really a big surprise. Chavez is a crotchety little twerp who likes to pick fights and thinks he's relevant because Sean Penn told him he is. But still. You really want to take on Colombia?

Somalia: Apparently we've targeted some terrorists there, but isn't there a way to do this that is less overt, less grand in scale, and less damaging to our international image? "Oops - there goes the U.S., starting another war again."

Ricin: What the eff was this guy doing with ricin?? IN VEGAS?? They say it doesn't appear to be a terrorist activity, but if you ask me, what the hell else would you call bringing a known violent and deadly toxin into a location famous for being packed with people in small contained areas? Actually, contained areas aside, I think a civilian just having ricin at all is extremely suspicious. And this guy had guns too and an "anarchist type textbook" as the articles keep saying. But FBI Special Agent Fuhrman (what is it with that name?!) assures us that, "There is no indication of any terrorist act or activity." What, he was keeping it as a science experiment??

Oklahoma: Fair point, really. I just liked it in the list of gripes.

Cotillard: Seriously?! Well, she is French and she also doesn't believe Man has been to the moon. What does it take, people?? Do you have to go there yourselves?? At least she didn't use the Oscar stage as a platform, I guess.

California: SERIOUSLY? What's next, digging up Yellowstone? How about we burn the chicken poo from Oklahoma as fuel instead?

Muslims: The Clinton camp (whether or not Hillary approved it) leaked out rumors that Obama was a member of the Islamic faith, as a way to discredit him, one has to suppose, because why else does a politician leak anything. Bad enough, implying that being Muslim is a bad thing. Clinton is now coming out quashing the rumor and saying that Obama is not a Muslim, but qualifying that statement with the added "...as far as I know." DON'T QUALIFY THAT! That looks catty and cheap. But then Michelle Obama (and later Obama himself) come out swinging that Obama is a Christian and has always been a Christian, and insisting this with such vehemance that one walks away with the feeling that the rumors of Islamic faith were insulting to the Obamas. Super duper that you're Christian, and with the political and social situation the way it is in America today (sad though it may be), I can understand why a Muslim background would not be an asset to a presidential candidate. But don't treat the unfounded rumor like it would be a bad thing if it were true, Clinton Camp. And don't treat the "smear" that you're a Muslim like it's an insinuation that you torture small animals, Obama Camp. There's nothing wrong with Muslims or being Muslim and both of you need to watch yourselves before the American Muslim population realizes that you've both insulted them and throw their votes to McCain.

That's it. Screw all this. I'm going back to my cave where no news can touch me. Let me know when it's safe to emerge.

In Memoriam

My grandmother died today. She was 83 years old.

Here's where I would give a charming reminiscence of the life and times of my father's mother, but the truth is, I can't say I knew her past my personal interaction with her, which feels rather self-centered and inconsiderate. Then again, neither she nor Grandad talked particularly much about their past.

What I do know about her younger life is all very light overview, and sounds rather cookie-cutter. Met Grandad in college, married young (by my generation's standards, at least), lived in the suburbs, raised three kids, happy homemaker all her life. But I don't feel like I ever knew that woman.

Instead, the woman I knew was a great lady who made amazing fruit salad in the summer and a cheesy potato bake that tasted like home. The woman I knew played golf into her 70s. The woman I knew liked a good martini. The woman I knew was a fervent Redskins fan and would become downright surly if an event kept her from watching the boys in burgundy. The woman I knew liked to knit things for her family - I once stole a sweater she made for Dad and wore it until it fell apart. The woman I knew playfully badgered my sister about becoming a hairdresser so that she could get her hair done for free (Sister didn't take her up on it). The woman I knew was never satisfied with my posture and incessantly corrected my use of "me" versus "I." The woman I knew volunteered at a foundation supporting a battered women's shelter. The woman I knew acted in plays and joined her community chorus group because she hated to be idle. The woman I knew just loved children... especially when they were asleep.

Earlier this week, she and Grandad had dinner with some friends and spent the evening talking and laughing. Later that night, she suffered a massive stroke in her sleep. She was taken to the hospital, but she never recovered. It was sudden and no one was prepared for it, but in the grand scheme and considering all possible ways, I can't help but think it was a great exit. She enjoyed life up till the last minute, then let go quickly, painlessly, and peacefully.

My grandmother died today. She was 83 years old.