Ordinary Miracles

I'm obviously giving this year's Matty's Best Movie Award to a timeless classic, which (fortunately) was preserved and not destroyed by a new live action movie.... Charlotte's Web.

One of my favorite childhood stories, retold with a bunch of actors I don't care about playing the voices of the animals turned out to be quite a good movie indeed (minus fart jokes and crows, which were NOT in the book).

If the movie doesn't quite milk your udders, the soundtrack in the background will, composed by Danny Elfman, who decided to sign on for this move rather than Spiderman 3 (sure to make more money than this movie). I'll hand it to Danny- it's not as creepy as his other soundtracks (in which I usually enjoy the creepy undertones of his music), but it still came through perfectly, carrying on the flavor of E.B. White's book, while adding his own shit.

If you still aren't quite tickled with neither this movie nor the soundtrack, sit in the theatre and consider everything that happened to the good people of Somerset County while you listen to Sarah Maclauclin's Ordinary Miracles, which plays during the credits of the movie.
Hopefully you'll get all the meaning and hidden understanding and somewhat-irony of this under-estimated timeless tale.

If you STILL can't appreciate Charlotte's Web, just go fucking read the book already, and cry your fucking eyes out (like I do every time I read it).

Good job, Dakota Fanning, for not making me throw up (as your previous movies have). You actually were a convincing Fern Arable. I was quite happy with you, and forgive you for your last movies. Please don't undermine my new confidence.

So congrats, cast and crew of Charlotte's Web!!! You win!
And shame on the rest of Hollywood.... 2006 was a year of stupid-ass movies!!!!

I Spy... someone moving on

One year ago... on Christmas morning,

Nurse Nigel awoke in apartment 809, Beachside Village in Port Prozac to find his girlfriend... dead.

I was listening at my door when her family was calling relatives, notifying them that this woman's cancer had finally taken her life.
I was watching through the peephole when he hugged her mother. The mother told him she was happy he'd brought her to his place for Christmas, and assured him her daughter had died happily.
I was standing outside as the body was loaded up into a van to be taken away. I watched the look on Nigel's face as his lover was wheeled away from him for the rest of his days.

I've watched from afar for a year now since this tragedy. While I'm taking my groceries out of my car, Nigel is the first to shout over to me to ask if I need a hand (which I never have said yes to, because heaven forbid we ever rely on the closest people to us to actually lend us a hand). When I arrive home and drunk from ridiculous nights out with ridiculous friends, Nigel and his pals laugh and wave to me and make jokes about "minding my step" as I trip over my own feet. I always note how he's still smiling. When I'm putting clothes into the washer in the laundry room just outside my door, Nigel can be expected to pop his head in and say "How've you been, man?"

I admire his persistent good moods and from a distance, hope for happiness for this seemingly caring human being. He demonstrates a healthy view on life, and I'm happy that he's still finding happiness this year.

Tonight, Merry Mel and I witnessed another moment of Nigel finding happiness.
We were laying on my bed laughing and chatting like women about all of the unimportant things that ego-centric single people like to chat about for hours, when we heard some noises through the wall.

For the next fifteen minutes, we sat cupping our hands to the wall and listening to Nurse Nigel fucking, fucking, fucking.....

I'm happy for him. It's been a while since I've heard Nigel slamming away in the sack.
It's all part of moving on, I suppose. It shows strength (in more ways than one).

What's up?

What have I been up to lately?

-regular teaching and schoolwork
-helping to come up with poems for Nixon Elementary's Christmas performance
-typing up a tell-all book of this summer (as I reflect, I realize I never stopped and actually counted everything I did wrong. I better hope that my journals never fall into the wrong hands)
-2 dates from 2 men- whose names happen to be Rich and Abel. (no lie... Rich and Abel) Both dates ended up with no chemistry. The husband hunt continues.
-ridiculous fun times with Shelley and John (I wasn't sober all Thanksgiving long)
-calling my mechanic,trying to speed up the process of getting my van home in time to decorate it with lights for Christmas.
-cleaning my horror movie set-like dirty apartment


That's all I feel like saying right now... I've been typing all damn day now on this silly summer book of mine.