This story begins a few weeks ago at a "Welcome to the Team" gathering for my new boss at a local pub (yes, that's right - a pub!) I can't recall the name of it right off the top of my head, but it was Irish...Definitely Irish...I think. Most of that evening seems to have passed in a bit of a haze since the beer was flowing freely because the director of the division was picking up the tab and no expense was to be spared.
Anyway, at some point in the evening, two of my co-workers, both attractive twenty-somethings, turned to me and started dissecting my "look". Needless to say by the time they finished with all the things that are wrong with me, I wanted something a bit stronger than beer. Thank God for Jager! It was then that it was decided that I needed a make-over. Nothing radical mind you just new glasses, haircut & clothes. Like I said, nothing radical.
Now, I have several friends that are gay and ever since Queer Eye for the Straight Guy first hit the airwaves, I've been patiently waiting for them to show up at my door to redecorate my apartment, teach me how to prepare coq au vin, introduce me to the world of couture, show me how to apply pommemade to my hair and...whatever the hell that pixie Jai does. Now mind you what I'm about to say is purely theory so it could be horribly wrong, but I think the reason this hasn't happened is that they are scared. That's right, scared. Scared that they just might succeed too well and I would become the center of attention. No queen wants someone else to be the center of attention. What's the point of a tiara if no one notices?
Originally, we planned the makeover for the Tuesday following Memorial Day. Due to several things, this did not work out so we rescheduled for this past Tuesday. Please let me stress that we did not leave work a half hour early. That would be wrong and I would never condone not putting in the full eight hours that are due to the company in recompense for my paycheck. Again, we did not leave early. But, supposing that we did, we might have started out at LensCrafters. Having just had my eyes examined for this express purpose, all the remained was to look over the selection of frames.
A lot of time was spent looking at different versions. Well, I should say that they spent a lot of time looking at me in different versions. As you may recall, without my glasses I can't see anything but blobs and shapes. It is very difficult for me to actually see what a particular frame looks like on me without squinting really, really hard which just ruins the whole effect.
I do have certain requirements regarding my frames, such as they had to have clip on sunglasses because I really don't care for the idea of having to buy two pairs of glasses and the tint couldn't be bronze. Other than that, I was open. Should the glasses be rimless? No. Should I get transition lens? Another no. How about these round ones? No, yet again. What about these beige ones? An emphatic no. Eventually, we settled on a nice pair of frames that were both to their liking and mine.
Off I went to get the glasses made and off they went to The Gap (for a little shopping of their own). Unfortunately, LensCrafters couldn't fit my prescription into the nice $119 frames that we picked out. Actually, the prescription would have fit fine but the clip on sunglasses wouldn't fit over it. So, with this bad news, I went to find the girls at the Gap. After they tried on a couple of outfits and returned some items, back we went to LensCrafters where we eventually settled on another pair - a $200 pair also with clip on sunglasses but don't clip to the lens. There was a bit of sticker shock since this only was the frames and not even the lens, but then I was reminded that I'd had my last glasses for about 6 years, so assuming that these last as long that works out to $33 a year or about 9 cents a day. Plus, I have vision insurance, so I suppose I could handle that.
I've looked around on the 'net and can't find a picture of the glasses. Surprisingly, LensCrafters doesn't actually show any of their available selection - guess it's because that selection will vary by location. I tried everything that I could think of, from the model number to various keywords on Google. In this case, Google was Garbage. Perhaps, I shouldn't type that what with having only recently re-established my #1 position with the "musings adulthood" keywords. Oh well.
Glasses out of the way, it was time to tackle the hair, which included any and all hair that happened to be on my head. My guides to a brand new me had made a 6:30 appointment so inevitably it was about 6:50 before I was led to the chair with them trailing not far behind. I told my stylist, Janice, that the women were in charge and to do what they said. I figured what little of my hair remained would grow back eventually no matter what they asked for. It turns out that I basically got the same cut as I normally get (see my previous entry about habits). The only twist was the introduction of "product". Yep, the only difference between the old and new me is a dab of gel - who knew it would be so easy?
Au contraire, mon frere. The worst was about to come - not because of the result, but because of what I had to suffer to get there. After getting my beard trimmed and my moustache slightly reshaped, it was decided that the "skunk" look that I normally sport (not by design, it just grows in darker on the sides and lighter in the middle) just wasn't appropriate, so out came the hair dye.
For the next 50, GQ filled minutes I had to sit in the chair as the hair dye did its job. For those of you who haven't had their hair colored, the smell of the dye is nothing short of caustic. Generally, the dye is applied to the hair growing out of the top of the head and not to that growing right beneath the nose. Just as I would grow accustomed to the smell, Janice would come around and "freshen up" the dye..."just to be sure we got everything" was her reason. I suspect it was because she took a certain sadistic pleasure in seeing a grown man cry.
All told, everything came out well. Due to length of time that was required for the coloring, the girls abandoned me so we never made it to the clothes portion of the makeover. We were going to go today at lunch but one of the two was out sick today. I don't know exactly if/when we are going to go but there will definitely be another entry.
The big unveiling at work went well. I was a few minutes late, but now that I have apply product, I blamed it on that. Everyone likes the new glasses and the consistent color of the facial hair. One weird comment that I heard a couple of times was that I looked more tan. That took me aback a bit especially since I don't tan - I red. My sister got all of the Italian genes from the pool, which left me just the German. And Germans are not well known for their olive skin. About the only thing that I can figure is that the combo of the new, smaller glasses and the dyed moustache/beard somehow gave my skin the appearance of a deep, rich, George Hamilton tan.
Oh, one last thing. There are some before and after pics of the transformation which I will post once I get them. Until then, remember the immortal words of Fernando Lamas..."it is better to look good than to feel good." And man, do I look good - everybody says so between fits of laughter.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
What If This Is As Good As It Gets (Again)
Once more, and for some inexplicable reason, this page is again the result when you use the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button when doing a Google search on "musings adulthood".
I would like to thank everyone that has made this possible...my parents, my friends (especially Kevin D), my third grade teacher, the academy, the other nominees for not being as well linked as myself and most importantly - God. I'm not exactly sure what He did for me, but since He works in mysterious ways, we won't ever know definitively. Plus, it's always best to throw kudos to a omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent diety whenever possible - just in case.
I would like to thank everyone that has made this possible...my parents, my friends (especially Kevin D), my third grade teacher, the academy, the other nominees for not being as well linked as myself and most importantly - God. I'm not exactly sure what He did for me, but since He works in mysterious ways, we won't ever know definitively. Plus, it's always best to throw kudos to a omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent diety whenever possible - just in case.
Monday, June 14, 2004
I Spy With My Little Eye
Today I went to get my eyes checked. I've been wearing glasses, almost exclusively, since the 4th grade. There was a short, 4-6 month experiment with soft contacts at one point, but since it turned out I could only wear them comfortably for about 8 hours, I went back to glasses. There was also a two, pain-searing, torture filled minutes when I tried hard contacts, but I would rather not discuss how I screamed like a little girl, thank you very much.
It turns out that I'm a bit blinder than I was 6-7 years ago, which is the last time I had my eyes checked, but not by much. I am still near-sighted and probably won't need bi-focals for another 10 years or so, but I will definitely need them eventually according to my eye-guy [he went to the Illinois College of Optometry which is apparently in the Hyde Park area, but I'm not sure if he is an opthamogolist (Dr) or an optometrist (grad school)].
As a side note, for some bizarre reason I'm usually confused momentarily as to if I'm near-sighted or far-sighted. You would think since the description of type of sight you have is also the common name for the condition (as opposed to myopia or hyperopia) this would not be such a problem. But my mind likes to play tricks on me and reverses the two. Of course, I still have to think about which is my right and which is my left hand, so...
I also learned that my astigmatism is considered oblique, though I'm not why the direction is important. Again, according to my eye guy, most astigmatism are either vertical or horizontal. Well, I do like to be unique in a mass culture kind of way. For those who aren't up on all the latest optometric terminology, an astigmatism is:
Basically, this means that I need my glasses to correct focus so that I can read. So, I won't be traumatized when the time comes for getting bi-focals.
Now, before I saw the eye-guy, I was pre-screened by an assistant. The pre-screening included such optical favorites as:
- Read the Smallest Line (Right & Left Versions)
- Which Figure Appears to be Floating? (Special appearance by the Polorized Glasses)
- What Number Do You See? (Are You Color Blind?)
and of course, everyone's all time favorite...
- Puff the Magic Air Ball
That one always gets me. I know that it is coming and yet, like a horror movie, I jump every time.
I have to say the worst part of the whole vision testing rigmarole is that until they start flipping around the various lens to figure out your prescription, I was nearly blind. That's right, the bastards took away my glasses. Don't they realize that I am wearing glasses for a reason? I can only see blobs and shapes; I can't focus in on anything. Jerks!
So there it is - my trip to the eye-guy. Oh yeah, one more thing was mentioned, as it is by every medical professional that I have seen since college, I should quit smoking. He says that there is a direct correlation between smoking and macular degeneration (which is basically a form of blindness). Aren't there any benefits to smoking? Surprisingly, yes there are.
Oh and one last vision related note. I noticed the other day that my garage door opener is blue. I've had the dang'd thing for nearly a year and only just noticed it was blue. Granted it is a dark blue and since I tend to glance at it when putting the garage door open or down it is possible that cultural inertia took over and my mind just decided that it was black like 99% of the rest of them. Then again, I still have to think about which is my right and which is my left hand, so...
It turns out that I'm a bit blinder than I was 6-7 years ago, which is the last time I had my eyes checked, but not by much. I am still near-sighted and probably won't need bi-focals for another 10 years or so, but I will definitely need them eventually according to my eye-guy [he went to the Illinois College of Optometry which is apparently in the Hyde Park area, but I'm not sure if he is an opthamogolist (Dr) or an optometrist (grad school)].
As a side note, for some bizarre reason I'm usually confused momentarily as to if I'm near-sighted or far-sighted. You would think since the description of type of sight you have is also the common name for the condition (as opposed to myopia or hyperopia) this would not be such a problem. But my mind likes to play tricks on me and reverses the two. Of course, I still have to think about which is my right and which is my left hand, so...
I also learned that my astigmatism is considered oblique, though I'm not why the direction is important. Again, according to my eye guy, most astigmatism are either vertical or horizontal. Well, I do like to be unique in a mass culture kind of way. For those who aren't up on all the latest optometric terminology, an astigmatism is:
A condition in which the cornea of the eye is asymmetrically curved, causing out-of-focus vision.
Quoted from MedlinePlus Medical Encyclopedia
Basically, this means that I need my glasses to correct focus so that I can read. So, I won't be traumatized when the time comes for getting bi-focals.
Now, before I saw the eye-guy, I was pre-screened by an assistant. The pre-screening included such optical favorites as:
- Read the Smallest Line (Right & Left Versions)
- Which Figure Appears to be Floating? (Special appearance by the Polorized Glasses)
- What Number Do You See? (Are You Color Blind?)
and of course, everyone's all time favorite...
- Puff the Magic Air Ball
That one always gets me. I know that it is coming and yet, like a horror movie, I jump every time.
I have to say the worst part of the whole vision testing rigmarole is that until they start flipping around the various lens to figure out your prescription, I was nearly blind. That's right, the bastards took away my glasses. Don't they realize that I am wearing glasses for a reason? I can only see blobs and shapes; I can't focus in on anything. Jerks!
So there it is - my trip to the eye-guy. Oh yeah, one more thing was mentioned, as it is by every medical professional that I have seen since college, I should quit smoking. He says that there is a direct correlation between smoking and macular degeneration (which is basically a form of blindness). Aren't there any benefits to smoking? Surprisingly, yes there are.
Oh and one last vision related note. I noticed the other day that my garage door opener is blue. I've had the dang'd thing for nearly a year and only just noticed it was blue. Granted it is a dark blue and since I tend to glance at it when putting the garage door open or down it is possible that cultural inertia took over and my mind just decided that it was black like 99% of the rest of them. Then again, I still have to think about which is my right and which is my left hand, so...
Friday, June 11, 2004
The Ants Go Marching in One by One
Well, not ants but cicadas. Cicadas are the insect du jour here in Dayton. Or, more appropriately, insecte de l'été, which means "insect of the summer" for anyone who doesn't have either a nodding acquaintance with French or isn't a crossword fanatic. The way people are talking about them, you would think that this is one of the ten plagues of Egypt. Of course, if people start breaking out in boils then there may be something to it.
Cicadas are big, nasty looking bugs with that "song" that sounds like a rattlesnake hopped up on cocaine. Not sure what I'm talking about? Well here is a very nice page on cicadas, including sound files put together by the University of Michigan Museum of Zoology. According to them,
Yep, Brood X (as it is affectionately known) has burst forth from their extended juvenile period and sucking plants dry as we speak. And up until last week they were far enough away that I could go about my life without having to worry about actually seeing one. You see for me, the best kind of bug is one that is dead and pinned to a display board - though the display board is not necessary. I know, I know, bugs are an important part of the ecosystem and if they were gone we would all die. Bullshit. I'm sure that there are enough Twinkies, SPAM, and hot-dogs currently out there to feed the entire planet at least until I die a cantankerous old man (if all you had to eat was Twinkies, SPAM and hot-dogs, I bet you'd be a tad pissy as well). After that, what would I care? But I digress...
Not far from where I live - across the road, actually - there is a stand of trees that has been home to these flying hell-spawn. Unfortunately, they have begun to migrate over to my apartment complex. And just what should happen to be right outside my apartment? A tree. Yessiree, the bugs have landed. Truthfully, they're really not such bad neighbors. They don't are only really active during the daylight hours, most of which I'm at work, and the rest of the time we just ignore each other. Perhaps there is something to be said for having to spend your formative years underground.
Cicadas are big, nasty looking bugs with that "song" that sounds like a rattlesnake hopped up on cocaine. Not sure what I'm talking about? Well here is a very nice page on cicadas, including sound files put together by the University of Michigan Museum of Zoology. According to them,
Cicadas are flying, plant-sucking insects of the Order Hemiptera; their closest relatives are leafhoppers, treehoppers, and fulgoroids. Adult cicadas tend to be large (most are 25-50mm), with prominent wide-set eyes, short antennae, and clear wings held roof-like over the abdomen. Cicadas are probably best known for their conspicuous acoustic signals or "songs", which the males make using specialized structures called tymbals, found on the abdomen.
All but a few cicada species have multiple-year life cycles, most commonly 2-8 years (de Boer and Duffels 1996). In most species, adults can be found every year because the population is not developmentally synchronized; these are often called "annual" cicada species. In contrast, the cicadas in a periodical cicada population are synchronized, so that almost all of them mature into adults in the same year. The fact that periodical cicadas remain locked together in time is made even more amazing by their extremely long life-cycles of 13 or 17 years.
Yep, Brood X (as it is affectionately known) has burst forth from their extended juvenile period and sucking plants dry as we speak. And up until last week they were far enough away that I could go about my life without having to worry about actually seeing one. You see for me, the best kind of bug is one that is dead and pinned to a display board - though the display board is not necessary. I know, I know, bugs are an important part of the ecosystem and if they were gone we would all die. Bullshit. I'm sure that there are enough Twinkies, SPAM, and hot-dogs currently out there to feed the entire planet at least until I die a cantankerous old man (if all you had to eat was Twinkies, SPAM and hot-dogs, I bet you'd be a tad pissy as well). After that, what would I care? But I digress...
Not far from where I live - across the road, actually - there is a stand of trees that has been home to these flying hell-spawn. Unfortunately, they have begun to migrate over to my apartment complex. And just what should happen to be right outside my apartment? A tree. Yessiree, the bugs have landed. Truthfully, they're really not such bad neighbors. They don't are only really active during the daylight hours, most of which I'm at work, and the rest of the time we just ignore each other. Perhaps there is something to be said for having to spend your formative years underground.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
When the Cat's Away...
Normally, I don't write entries while at work but my boss left for vacation about 1pm today. I held back from writing an entry right away since bosses can be sneaky and suddenly reappear when least you expect them.
Oh, what a happy circumstance! Even more so because my boss sits in the cube right next to mine. I have a couple of projects to work on but now there is no rush. I can dog it for the next 10 days...come in late, leave early, take 3 hour lunches, have a mid-afternoon siesta, keep a cooler of Corona under my desk - no problems. Does anyone know someone in Brazil? I was thinking of taking up Portugese and what better way to learn a language than to speak it with someone all day long?
Oh, what a happy circumstance! Even more so because my boss sits in the cube right next to mine. I have a couple of projects to work on but now there is no rush. I can dog it for the next 10 days...come in late, leave early, take 3 hour lunches, have a mid-afternoon siesta, keep a cooler of Corona under my desk - no problems. Does anyone know someone in Brazil? I was thinking of taking up Portugese and what better way to learn a language than to speak it with someone all day long?
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Weekend Recap...Several Days Late
Sorry to make you wait for this post, but it was too late on Sunday to sit down and write everything and well...as for yesterday, I figured you'd waited that long, what was another 24 hours?
Before I actually tackle the weekend, there are a couple of house-cleaning chores to be done and both come from my Memorial Weekend post. First, I mentioned the town Paw Paw, Illinois early in the post and said that I would get to it later but then never did. The interesting thing about Paw Paw, besides being what my family called my great-grandfather, is that it is now the home to a very large wind-farm. As I was driving up I-39 to get to my parent's house from camping, I came around a bend in the road and what should I see but a field of windmills. These were those sleek modern windmills - not those that you see in paintings of the Dutch countryside. Believe me, there is just something awesome about seeing, what seemed to be, over 100 of these all together. I'm not suggesting that you take a road trip specifically to see them, though if you find yourself in the vicinity of Starved Rock, it might be a nice little side trip.
The other item in that post that I need to clarify was this line...
Watch this space in the next day or so for another exciting installment. I don't want to give too much away, but let me just leave you with this...two cute, young women are involved.
That particular outing has been postponed until next week, so just keep your pants on. I promise it will be well worth the wait.
Okay, that out of the way, let's move on shall we?
SATURDAY
There I am barely awake at 9:30 or so, when my cell-phone rings. Bleary-eyed, I go stumbling around the apartment trying to figure out 1) where the hell I left the damned thing and 2) who would be calling me? I actually had a suspect in mind for the second question and all too soon my suspicions/fears were confirmed....it was my Uncle Bob. Most weekends are the same - between 9 and 10am (usually on Sunday) I will receive a call from my uncle asking me what I'm doing and extorting that it is "Project Day". I remember a simpler time when Project Day meant making a turkey by tracing my hand on construction paper and decorating it using tissue paper, safety scissors and some Elmer's All-Purpose Glue. Today, Project Day has more sinister overtones...I will actually be working. Perhaps working is not the right term, it's more along the lines of hard labor - you know, the stuff they make criminals do on the chain-gang.
The last several Project Days have included such fun activities as pulling out the stump of an apple tree or moving a holly bush 8" so that it is centered on a window or installing a retaining wall. That is Project Day and now you know why I live in fear of my phone ringing on the weekend. You may be saying to yourself, why doesn't the idiot just say no? First, who are you? [NOTE: Originally there was a joke about Nancy Reagan here, but given the passing of our 40th President, I've decided that it may be in bad taste - unlike the $900 per place setting china that she bought for the White House] More importantly, he knows that I really don't have anything else to do and I'm not that much of a lazy slob that I would feel comfortable telling him to F-Off because I want to lounge around the house all day. I have really got to find some friends!
This weekend Project Day wasn't too bad, that is if spreading two truck loads of mulch is your idea of the perfect summer activity. Ahh, mulch. What can I say about it except that it is extremely aromatic (and not in a good way) and that it is surprisingly warm. I guess decaying plant material will be like that. The work wasn't that difficult - pitch the mulch from the truck into a cart attached to the riding mower, drive to the bed that needs mulch, pitch mulch into the bed, spread the mulch, rinse and repeat. However, I really would have preferred to be in my air-conditioned apartment flipping through the channels looking for anything even half-way decent to watch.
When we finished, my cousin Dean and I went to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which we both rather enjoyed. It was not nearly as slavish to the book as the original two movies and the series is definitely taking darker turn - kind of a reverse of the Batman series. Maybe I'll post some additional thoughts about the movie later, but I can see that I'm really starting to run on a bit and there is still aways yet to go.
SUNDAY
Another phone call. This time it wasn't until about 11am and it wasn't my Uncle - it was a guy that I know from work. Actually, it would be hard not to know him since his cube is directly opposite mine. In any case, he owns a boat and a couple of Jet-Skis and I had been letting him know that I would enjoy going out on either in as subtle a manner as I could muster which basically breaks down to me saying something along the lines of "When are we going out on the boat?"
It wasn't the boat, but the Jet-Skis this weekend. This was the first time he was putting them in the water for the season and he wanted to know if I wanted to come along. Fearing my Uncle would call and I would end up putting sod down in his entire yard, I quickly said yes.
Who would have guessed that within about 25 miles of my apartment is a rather large lake. It's no Lake Michigan, but it does just fine for a couple of Jet-Skis. After a quick safety briefing, we donned our life vests and away we went.
In my head, I am not afraid of anything. In the real world, however, I find that I'm a bit of a chicken. I'd been on a Jet-Ski once before about 15 years ago so I had a passing knowledge of the Jet-Ski - basically, if I would recognize one if I went past it. Now, since he owns them, my friend is a bit more experienced on the Jet-Ski than I and he kept trying to teach me how to do quick turns to soak someone, as if this is a skill that I really need to master. In any case, I did manage to get the Jet-Ski up to 50mph on a couple of occasions, but (and this is where the chicken part comes in) there is something about becoming airborne when hitting a wave or wake, even if only for a millisecond nor any higher than a centimeter, that made me more than slightly nervous. I don't know that I can really explain except to say that thoughts of being dumped off the back and somehow snapping my neck kept replaying in my head. Pleasant, huh?
In any case, it was still a lot of fun tooling around at about 25-30mph. Plus, I only fell off twice - both when trying to make those quick turns my friend tried to teach me. Going right, no problem. Turning to the left, on the other hand...well, let's just say I should only travel clockwise on a Jet-Ski.
Whew. As ever, I have just gone on and on. There was going to be a whole section on D-Day plus 21915 days, but I think that it is time to hang it up for the night. Talk with you soon.
Before I actually tackle the weekend, there are a couple of house-cleaning chores to be done and both come from my Memorial Weekend post. First, I mentioned the town Paw Paw, Illinois early in the post and said that I would get to it later but then never did. The interesting thing about Paw Paw, besides being what my family called my great-grandfather, is that it is now the home to a very large wind-farm. As I was driving up I-39 to get to my parent's house from camping, I came around a bend in the road and what should I see but a field of windmills. These were those sleek modern windmills - not those that you see in paintings of the Dutch countryside. Believe me, there is just something awesome about seeing, what seemed to be, over 100 of these all together. I'm not suggesting that you take a road trip specifically to see them, though if you find yourself in the vicinity of Starved Rock, it might be a nice little side trip.
The other item in that post that I need to clarify was this line...
Watch this space in the next day or so for another exciting installment. I don't want to give too much away, but let me just leave you with this...two cute, young women are involved.
That particular outing has been postponed until next week, so just keep your pants on. I promise it will be well worth the wait.
Okay, that out of the way, let's move on shall we?
SATURDAY
There I am barely awake at 9:30 or so, when my cell-phone rings. Bleary-eyed, I go stumbling around the apartment trying to figure out 1) where the hell I left the damned thing and 2) who would be calling me? I actually had a suspect in mind for the second question and all too soon my suspicions/fears were confirmed....it was my Uncle Bob. Most weekends are the same - between 9 and 10am (usually on Sunday) I will receive a call from my uncle asking me what I'm doing and extorting that it is "Project Day". I remember a simpler time when Project Day meant making a turkey by tracing my hand on construction paper and decorating it using tissue paper, safety scissors and some Elmer's All-Purpose Glue. Today, Project Day has more sinister overtones...I will actually be working. Perhaps working is not the right term, it's more along the lines of hard labor - you know, the stuff they make criminals do on the chain-gang.
The last several Project Days have included such fun activities as pulling out the stump of an apple tree or moving a holly bush 8" so that it is centered on a window or installing a retaining wall. That is Project Day and now you know why I live in fear of my phone ringing on the weekend. You may be saying to yourself, why doesn't the idiot just say no? First, who are you? [NOTE: Originally there was a joke about Nancy Reagan here, but given the passing of our 40th President, I've decided that it may be in bad taste - unlike the $900 per place setting china that she bought for the White House] More importantly, he knows that I really don't have anything else to do and I'm not that much of a lazy slob that I would feel comfortable telling him to F-Off because I want to lounge around the house all day. I have really got to find some friends!
This weekend Project Day wasn't too bad, that is if spreading two truck loads of mulch is your idea of the perfect summer activity. Ahh, mulch. What can I say about it except that it is extremely aromatic (and not in a good way) and that it is surprisingly warm. I guess decaying plant material will be like that. The work wasn't that difficult - pitch the mulch from the truck into a cart attached to the riding mower, drive to the bed that needs mulch, pitch mulch into the bed, spread the mulch, rinse and repeat. However, I really would have preferred to be in my air-conditioned apartment flipping through the channels looking for anything even half-way decent to watch.
When we finished, my cousin Dean and I went to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which we both rather enjoyed. It was not nearly as slavish to the book as the original two movies and the series is definitely taking darker turn - kind of a reverse of the Batman series. Maybe I'll post some additional thoughts about the movie later, but I can see that I'm really starting to run on a bit and there is still aways yet to go.
SUNDAY
Another phone call. This time it wasn't until about 11am and it wasn't my Uncle - it was a guy that I know from work. Actually, it would be hard not to know him since his cube is directly opposite mine. In any case, he owns a boat and a couple of Jet-Skis and I had been letting him know that I would enjoy going out on either in as subtle a manner as I could muster which basically breaks down to me saying something along the lines of "When are we going out on the boat?"
It wasn't the boat, but the Jet-Skis this weekend. This was the first time he was putting them in the water for the season and he wanted to know if I wanted to come along. Fearing my Uncle would call and I would end up putting sod down in his entire yard, I quickly said yes.
Who would have guessed that within about 25 miles of my apartment is a rather large lake. It's no Lake Michigan, but it does just fine for a couple of Jet-Skis. After a quick safety briefing, we donned our life vests and away we went.
In my head, I am not afraid of anything. In the real world, however, I find that I'm a bit of a chicken. I'd been on a Jet-Ski once before about 15 years ago so I had a passing knowledge of the Jet-Ski - basically, if I would recognize one if I went past it. Now, since he owns them, my friend is a bit more experienced on the Jet-Ski than I and he kept trying to teach me how to do quick turns to soak someone, as if this is a skill that I really need to master. In any case, I did manage to get the Jet-Ski up to 50mph on a couple of occasions, but (and this is where the chicken part comes in) there is something about becoming airborne when hitting a wave or wake, even if only for a millisecond nor any higher than a centimeter, that made me more than slightly nervous. I don't know that I can really explain except to say that thoughts of being dumped off the back and somehow snapping my neck kept replaying in my head. Pleasant, huh?
In any case, it was still a lot of fun tooling around at about 25-30mph. Plus, I only fell off twice - both when trying to make those quick turns my friend tried to teach me. Going right, no problem. Turning to the left, on the other hand...well, let's just say I should only travel clockwise on a Jet-Ski.
Whew. As ever, I have just gone on and on. There was going to be a whole section on D-Day plus 21915 days, but I think that it is time to hang it up for the night. Talk with you soon.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Big Day
There is a lot to write, but it is nearly midnight and time for me to go to bed. It has been a busy weekend so I thought that I would jot down a few notes for me to flesh out tomorrow or Tuesday. In brief, my weekend included:
Working at my aunt & uncle's
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Jet-skiing
D-Day (plus 60 years)
The Tony Awards
I'll just let you stew on that for a while.
Working at my aunt & uncle's
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Jet-skiing
D-Day (plus 60 years)
The Tony Awards
I'll just let you stew on that for a while.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Don’t Know Why There’s No Sun Up In The Sky
Two posts in one day? Madness! In defense of my sanity, the post "Unwept, unhonour’d, uninterr’d he lies!" was very nearly finished when I saved it early last week. All it needed was a bit of spit and polish and...voila! Now, this has the potential to be a bit of a blogging week (as I will explain below), so I figured it is best to try and keep as current as possible. So, without further ado...The Memorial Day Weekend!
As I had mentioned in a previous post, I was going camping with a bunch of friends at Skydive Chicago. This is the second year in a row for me and the third year for some. I don't know if it yet counts as a tradition or is just something we kinda do. In any event, that's not important.
THURSDAY
I half-heartedly cleaned my apartment (for reasons that will become clear in a while), washed the clothes that I knew I was taking and packed.
FRIDAY
I decided earlier in the week that I would make every effort to be on the road by 2:30pm (EDT). I was mostly successful, having gone to K-Mart at lunch to pick-up some additional supplies (sandals, snacks, 2 cases of bottled water and some OFF! insect repellent). The only thing that prevented me from making my self-imposed starting time was the fact I needed to get my oil changed. Oh well, 25 minutes and $33 later I was on my way. Now normally, when going to Chicago, I will take 1-70 into Indy and then I-65 towards Chicago. As I like to say, the drive to Chicago would be fine except for the part in Indiana. I-65 is nothing but fields on either side of a relatively straight highway. This tends to get a bit monotonous after about 15 minutes. Anyway, instead of I-65, I took I-74 out of Indy. This route had several things going for it...I drove right past the Speedway (you know where the Indy 500 is run) which I had never seen, it was a faster route to Skydive Chicago than actually traveling through Chicago and it was brand new boring. It was basically the same as traveling I-65 (straight and fields to the left and right), but I've never traveled that interstate (at least that I recall).
While I was driving, Stacey called not once, but twice to remind me to pick up firewood. I'm driving through the middle of corn and soy fields - where the F*** am I going to get firewood? The answer? The IGA in El Paso, IL. Who even knew that there was an El Paso, IL? There is also a Paw Paw, but that comes in later in the story.
I arrived at the campsite about 8:30pm (CDT) and we pitched the tents, started the fire, and basically sat around catching up. We finally drifted off to our tents about 12:30/1:00am. That night it got a wee bit chilly - somewhere in the mid-40s. I usually borrow my father's sleeping bag since he only uses it when he takes his annual fishing vacation in Canada. But because I didn't go anywhere near my parent's house, all I had was a flat sheet and a blanket. As I stated before, I rarely get cold. Stacey and Jeremy each put on about 14 layers of clothes in preparation for the night, I put on a pair of thin house pants and a tee-shirt. This would have been fine, except for the fact that I kept waking myself having to go to the bathroom. Our campsite was about 300 yards from the pavilion where the bathrooms are, but I kept rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, only to wake up a little bit later. I finally had enough, put on my shoes and made the trip. I would have selected a local tree, but other campers had come in after dark and I wasn't exactly sure where they were and didn't want to end up relieving myself on a bush that they had backed their tent up against.
SATURDAY
We got up around 8:30am or so. After some general dilly-dallying around the campsite and Stacey making about 42 calls to various family members, who were going to join us in the afternoon and evening for the Serilian show. Oh, did I ever mention that this is basically the reason that we go camping at Skydive? Yep, Serilian has played there the past three Memorial Saturday's as part of some deal-o that Skydive does. There is a whole story about Kevin, Stacey's brother and bassist for Serilian, but you have to know him for it to be funny. Let's just say that in the morning he was complaining of Ebola infection or something but come the afternoon he was fine and ready to start drinking. After the morning calls were all made, Stacey, Jeremy and I went in search of more firewood, having burned through (literally) the four bundles I brought the night before. We managed to stockpile a nice stash and then went to the Wal-Mart for some additional supplies. I purchased a sleeping bag and a queen size air mattress. I didn't really need the air mattress for this trip, but I didn't have one should anyone actually visit me in Dayton and they were right there next to the sleeping bags.
When we got back from the store, the family had started to arrive and arrive and arrive. There are a lot of people in Stacey's family. Also joining us were our friends Greer and Lana. After the Serilian show, which had all the drunks up and dancing, I headed back to the camp to get the bonfire going. Only, there was a bit of a problem. The wind was really brisk. Okay, it seemed to gust upwards or 30 miles an hour or more. This makes building a fire a bit tricky. I was able to get it going, but the combination of the wind and the fact that the wood we collected was a bit damp, really took the edge off the whole bonfire. Much drinking and merriment ensued! I finally hit the tent about 4am or so.
SUNDAY
Right around 5:45am or so (at least according to Stacey, who apparently was still carousing) it started to rain. It wasn't until a particularly violent thunderclap at about 7:00am that I actually was aware of the rain. If you didn't know, I can sleep through nearly anything. Once I was spending the night at some friends condo and there was a fire right across the street from the bedroom where I was sleeping. According to them the next morning, the fire trucks came down the street with sirens ablarin' and didn't make any attempt to be particularly quiet. They were amazed that I didn't hear a thing. What can I say, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Anyway, it rained on and off most of the morning and so we decided to break camp and head home a day early.
The rest of Sunday was spent at my parent's house doing very little, though I did see Kill Bill, Vol. 1 - which I'm going to have to see at least 2 or 3 more times to begin to pick up on some of the references that Tarintino has put in there. However, I can see Kill Bill, Vol 2. and wait for the Special Edition DVD with both movies on it.
MONDAY
Went by Erika & Nathan's (my sister and brother-in-law) house and hung out and played with my niece. A couple of weeks ago, my sister sent me the following e-mail:
Natalie seems very excited to see you. She asked me on Sunday if Uncle Chris was coming to Natalie’s house tonight. Then yesterday she heard a noise and said “Uncle Chris is here?” She is a pretty funny little girl!
Talk about heart breakers, especially when it was going to be 10 days before I saw her. Leaving everyone else behind in Chicago was nothing compared to not being around as Natalie goes through her toddler years. I still see her every time I go back, but it is not nearly enough. Of course, add to that that I will again be an uncle in November, I'm really ripe for a full on depressive bout.
TUESDAY (Today)
When I moved to Dayton, I asked my sister to return my cable box to the Comcast office in Lisle since they were closed on Saturday. She agreed, but due to the fact she couldn't manage to get both Natalie and the cable box into the office simultaneously, she turned the responsibility over to my father. Mind you, I moved to Dayton in late July, so it is nearly a year ago. I finally returned the box today. The Comcast people were very kind and didn't blink an eye. They simply took it back, asked me to sign a receipt and I was out the door. Then it was off to my Aunt Josephine's for a quick visit and ducking of all the stuff that she offers. My Aunt Josephine is about half a rung beneath Mother Teresa, I kid you not. She is about as saintly a person as you could hope to meet. However, she is a little baffled by the distinction between "brand new" and "never been used". When I went to grad school, she gave me a set of "brand new" plateware that, most likely, had not be manufactured since the late 70's. There is also the Diet 7-Up incident, but that's a story for another time.
I finally hit the open road for Dayton about 10:40am (CDT) and arrived at my apartment about 4:30 EDT - one of the fastest times that I've ever made the trip. There was only one thing left to do...call my Uncle Bob. You see, Erika works from home 2 days a week and so Nathan bought her a new set of office furniture. I'd been eyeing her old desk for some time and so she asked if I wanted it. Because my Aunt & Uncle were going to Chicago for the weekend for a wedding, they agreed to bring it back for me. My Uncle Bob drove it up to my apartment this evening (which explains why I needed to clean the apartment - bet you didn't think that I would ever explain that didya?) and I am typing away on it this very second.
Okay, couple of things..
No, I didn't jump out of an airplane. It was $180 and I could justify spending that much money right now.
Watch this space in the next day or so for another exciting installment. I don't want to give too much away, but let me just leave you with this...two cute, young women are involved.
Until then.....
As I had mentioned in a previous post, I was going camping with a bunch of friends at Skydive Chicago. This is the second year in a row for me and the third year for some. I don't know if it yet counts as a tradition or is just something we kinda do. In any event, that's not important.
THURSDAY
I half-heartedly cleaned my apartment (for reasons that will become clear in a while), washed the clothes that I knew I was taking and packed.
FRIDAY
I decided earlier in the week that I would make every effort to be on the road by 2:30pm (EDT). I was mostly successful, having gone to K-Mart at lunch to pick-up some additional supplies (sandals, snacks, 2 cases of bottled water and some OFF! insect repellent). The only thing that prevented me from making my self-imposed starting time was the fact I needed to get my oil changed. Oh well, 25 minutes and $33 later I was on my way. Now normally, when going to Chicago, I will take 1-70 into Indy and then I-65 towards Chicago. As I like to say, the drive to Chicago would be fine except for the part in Indiana. I-65 is nothing but fields on either side of a relatively straight highway. This tends to get a bit monotonous after about 15 minutes. Anyway, instead of I-65, I took I-74 out of Indy. This route had several things going for it...I drove right past the Speedway (you know where the Indy 500 is run) which I had never seen, it was a faster route to Skydive Chicago than actually traveling through Chicago and it was brand new boring. It was basically the same as traveling I-65 (straight and fields to the left and right), but I've never traveled that interstate (at least that I recall).
While I was driving, Stacey called not once, but twice to remind me to pick up firewood. I'm driving through the middle of corn and soy fields - where the F*** am I going to get firewood? The answer? The IGA in El Paso, IL. Who even knew that there was an El Paso, IL? There is also a Paw Paw, but that comes in later in the story.
I arrived at the campsite about 8:30pm (CDT) and we pitched the tents, started the fire, and basically sat around catching up. We finally drifted off to our tents about 12:30/1:00am. That night it got a wee bit chilly - somewhere in the mid-40s. I usually borrow my father's sleeping bag since he only uses it when he takes his annual fishing vacation in Canada. But because I didn't go anywhere near my parent's house, all I had was a flat sheet and a blanket. As I stated before, I rarely get cold. Stacey and Jeremy each put on about 14 layers of clothes in preparation for the night, I put on a pair of thin house pants and a tee-shirt. This would have been fine, except for the fact that I kept waking myself having to go to the bathroom. Our campsite was about 300 yards from the pavilion where the bathrooms are, but I kept rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, only to wake up a little bit later. I finally had enough, put on my shoes and made the trip. I would have selected a local tree, but other campers had come in after dark and I wasn't exactly sure where they were and didn't want to end up relieving myself on a bush that they had backed their tent up against.
SATURDAY
We got up around 8:30am or so. After some general dilly-dallying around the campsite and Stacey making about 42 calls to various family members, who were going to join us in the afternoon and evening for the Serilian show. Oh, did I ever mention that this is basically the reason that we go camping at Skydive? Yep, Serilian has played there the past three Memorial Saturday's as part of some deal-o that Skydive does. There is a whole story about Kevin, Stacey's brother and bassist for Serilian, but you have to know him for it to be funny. Let's just say that in the morning he was complaining of Ebola infection or something but come the afternoon he was fine and ready to start drinking. After the morning calls were all made, Stacey, Jeremy and I went in search of more firewood, having burned through (literally) the four bundles I brought the night before. We managed to stockpile a nice stash and then went to the Wal-Mart for some additional supplies. I purchased a sleeping bag and a queen size air mattress. I didn't really need the air mattress for this trip, but I didn't have one should anyone actually visit me in Dayton and they were right there next to the sleeping bags.
When we got back from the store, the family had started to arrive and arrive and arrive. There are a lot of people in Stacey's family. Also joining us were our friends Greer and Lana. After the Serilian show, which had all the drunks up and dancing, I headed back to the camp to get the bonfire going. Only, there was a bit of a problem. The wind was really brisk. Okay, it seemed to gust upwards or 30 miles an hour or more. This makes building a fire a bit tricky. I was able to get it going, but the combination of the wind and the fact that the wood we collected was a bit damp, really took the edge off the whole bonfire. Much drinking and merriment ensued! I finally hit the tent about 4am or so.
SUNDAY
Right around 5:45am or so (at least according to Stacey, who apparently was still carousing) it started to rain. It wasn't until a particularly violent thunderclap at about 7:00am that I actually was aware of the rain. If you didn't know, I can sleep through nearly anything. Once I was spending the night at some friends condo and there was a fire right across the street from the bedroom where I was sleeping. According to them the next morning, the fire trucks came down the street with sirens ablarin' and didn't make any attempt to be particularly quiet. They were amazed that I didn't hear a thing. What can I say, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Anyway, it rained on and off most of the morning and so we decided to break camp and head home a day early.
The rest of Sunday was spent at my parent's house doing very little, though I did see Kill Bill, Vol. 1 - which I'm going to have to see at least 2 or 3 more times to begin to pick up on some of the references that Tarintino has put in there. However, I can see Kill Bill, Vol 2. and wait for the Special Edition DVD with both movies on it.
MONDAY
Went by Erika & Nathan's (my sister and brother-in-law) house and hung out and played with my niece. A couple of weeks ago, my sister sent me the following e-mail:
Natalie seems very excited to see you. She asked me on Sunday if Uncle Chris was coming to Natalie’s house tonight. Then yesterday she heard a noise and said “Uncle Chris is here?” She is a pretty funny little girl!
Talk about heart breakers, especially when it was going to be 10 days before I saw her. Leaving everyone else behind in Chicago was nothing compared to not being around as Natalie goes through her toddler years. I still see her every time I go back, but it is not nearly enough. Of course, add to that that I will again be an uncle in November, I'm really ripe for a full on depressive bout.
TUESDAY (Today)
When I moved to Dayton, I asked my sister to return my cable box to the Comcast office in Lisle since they were closed on Saturday. She agreed, but due to the fact she couldn't manage to get both Natalie and the cable box into the office simultaneously, she turned the responsibility over to my father. Mind you, I moved to Dayton in late July, so it is nearly a year ago. I finally returned the box today. The Comcast people were very kind and didn't blink an eye. They simply took it back, asked me to sign a receipt and I was out the door. Then it was off to my Aunt Josephine's for a quick visit and ducking of all the stuff that she offers. My Aunt Josephine is about half a rung beneath Mother Teresa, I kid you not. She is about as saintly a person as you could hope to meet. However, she is a little baffled by the distinction between "brand new" and "never been used". When I went to grad school, she gave me a set of "brand new" plateware that, most likely, had not be manufactured since the late 70's. There is also the Diet 7-Up incident, but that's a story for another time.
I finally hit the open road for Dayton about 10:40am (CDT) and arrived at my apartment about 4:30 EDT - one of the fastest times that I've ever made the trip. There was only one thing left to do...call my Uncle Bob. You see, Erika works from home 2 days a week and so Nathan bought her a new set of office furniture. I'd been eyeing her old desk for some time and so she asked if I wanted it. Because my Aunt & Uncle were going to Chicago for the weekend for a wedding, they agreed to bring it back for me. My Uncle Bob drove it up to my apartment this evening (which explains why I needed to clean the apartment - bet you didn't think that I would ever explain that didya?) and I am typing away on it this very second.
Okay, couple of things..
No, I didn't jump out of an airplane. It was $180 and I could justify spending that much money right now.
Watch this space in the next day or so for another exciting installment. I don't want to give too much away, but let me just leave you with this...two cute, young women are involved.
Until then.....
Unwept, unhonour’d, uninterr’d he lies!
NOTE: I started this entry last Monday, but just got around to finishing it. Originally it was titled, "Cry Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war" from Shakespeare's Julius Ceaser. But since this is a post about the movie Troy, I figured the quote from the Iliad would be a bit more appropriate and appropos.
Last weekend my cousin Dean and I went to see Troy - all 2 hours and 42 minutes of it. Actually, that's the official running time, which I'm pretty sure includes the end credits, for which I rarely stay unless there is some minor actor in the movie that I recognize but can't recall their name, in which case I'll stay through the actor credits. But really, do I actually care who the third and fourth grips are or who provided craft services? No. So, given the scope of the movie and the fact that anyone who is even remotely connected with the movie now gets screen credit (I'm guessing even the guy who empties the Port-O-Lets is credited, but as something more grandiose than shit dumper), we can probably subtract about 20 minutes from the total. Still 2 hours and 20 minutes is nothing to sneeze at.
If you are going to see Troy, you may want to stop reading now, since I'm not a movie critic schooled in the art of not giving too much of the plot away. Also, if you are not familiar with the general story of the Trojan War, I would suggest reading John Bliss's article The Agony and The Iliad.
I must say that I walked out of the movie a bit...Well, I don't know. The acting was okay, the battle scenes spectacular, and just about everything was working but something was amiss. I think there were actually a couple of things. First, I didn't know who I was supposed to like in this movie or even what side I was supposed to be rooting for. Both of the main characters were anti-heros. Achilles (Brad Pitt) despises Agamemnon, King of the Greeks, and only goes on the Trojan expedition so that he will be remembered through the ages while Paris (Orlando Bloom) is a naive coward who, as you would expect, finds redemption for his cowardice late in the final reel. About the only character that you have any real feeling for is Hector, the greatest of the Trojan warriors who, unfortunately for the audience dies about two-thirds through the movie.
Another thing that bothered me was that according to Wolfgang Petersen's telling the whole war took place in about 17 days - 12 of which there was no fighting so that the Trojans could mourn the death of Hector. Contrast that to the 10 or 12 years over which the war is supposed to have taken. Which leads to something that has always made me curious. There were somewhere between 1000 and 1200 Greek ships each of which carried about 50 men. That's at most 60,000 men. How does one carry on a 10 year war with only 60,000 men? Also, how did the city of Troy manage to survive a siege that long without being starved out? It's not as if the Trojans could just order out Chinese every night.
Some of you may know that I am a huge fan of the tracking crane shoot. A really big fan. I think that they can reveal more about a situation in a single shot than 10 pages of dialogue. If you have ever seen the movie Gone With the Wind and can recall the scene at the train depot where Scarlett is tending to the Confederate wounded, we start close on Scarlett with a single soldier and slowly pull back and up to reveal that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of wounded. This scene was the first time that I noticed the tracking crane shot and how effective it can be. Another example that comes to mind are the scene in Henry V after the Battle of Agincourt when Henry walks across the battlefield carrying a page that was killed
All of that was just lead into this...Once the Greeks are underway, we see medium shot of Achilles standing at the prow of his ship, some words are exchanged with one of his crew and then we pull back and up to reveal the extent of the Greek fleet. This would have been even more effective if James Cameron hadn't had almost exactly the same shot in Titanic. About the only thing missing was Achilles crying out, "I'm the king of the world" a la Jack Dawson.
Bottom line...eh. I'd still recommend seeing it, even if only to have a reason to go someplace well air-conditioned in the heat of summer.
Coming Attractions
Okay, one summer "blockbuster" down, several more to go. Here is the current list of movies that I'm waiting to see.
Van Helsing
The Day After Tomorrow
Okay both of these are already out, I just haven't gotten around to seeing them. Perhaps I'll wait for them to play the cheap theater.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - June 4
The Chronicles of Riddick - June 11
Spider-Man 2 - July 2
I, Robot - July 16
The Bourne Supremacy - July 23
Catwoman - July 23
Thunderbirds - July 30
Alien vs. Predator - August 13
I'm sure that I'll see trailers for some other movies that will intrigue me enough to want to see them, but these are the majors one's for right now. There is one movie that I will not be seeing at the theater, on Pay-Per-View, on network TV, or as an in-flight movie, if I have anything to say about it...Garfield: The Movie.
Last weekend my cousin Dean and I went to see Troy - all 2 hours and 42 minutes of it. Actually, that's the official running time, which I'm pretty sure includes the end credits, for which I rarely stay unless there is some minor actor in the movie that I recognize but can't recall their name, in which case I'll stay through the actor credits. But really, do I actually care who the third and fourth grips are or who provided craft services? No. So, given the scope of the movie and the fact that anyone who is even remotely connected with the movie now gets screen credit (I'm guessing even the guy who empties the Port-O-Lets is credited, but as something more grandiose than shit dumper), we can probably subtract about 20 minutes from the total. Still 2 hours and 20 minutes is nothing to sneeze at.
If you are going to see Troy, you may want to stop reading now, since I'm not a movie critic schooled in the art of not giving too much of the plot away. Also, if you are not familiar with the general story of the Trojan War, I would suggest reading John Bliss's article The Agony and The Iliad.
I must say that I walked out of the movie a bit...Well, I don't know. The acting was okay, the battle scenes spectacular, and just about everything was working but something was amiss. I think there were actually a couple of things. First, I didn't know who I was supposed to like in this movie or even what side I was supposed to be rooting for. Both of the main characters were anti-heros. Achilles (Brad Pitt) despises Agamemnon, King of the Greeks, and only goes on the Trojan expedition so that he will be remembered through the ages while Paris (Orlando Bloom) is a naive coward who, as you would expect, finds redemption for his cowardice late in the final reel. About the only character that you have any real feeling for is Hector, the greatest of the Trojan warriors who, unfortunately for the audience dies about two-thirds through the movie.
Another thing that bothered me was that according to Wolfgang Petersen's telling the whole war took place in about 17 days - 12 of which there was no fighting so that the Trojans could mourn the death of Hector. Contrast that to the 10 or 12 years over which the war is supposed to have taken. Which leads to something that has always made me curious. There were somewhere between 1000 and 1200 Greek ships each of which carried about 50 men. That's at most 60,000 men. How does one carry on a 10 year war with only 60,000 men? Also, how did the city of Troy manage to survive a siege that long without being starved out? It's not as if the Trojans could just order out Chinese every night.
Some of you may know that I am a huge fan of the tracking crane shoot. A really big fan. I think that they can reveal more about a situation in a single shot than 10 pages of dialogue. If you have ever seen the movie Gone With the Wind and can recall the scene at the train depot where Scarlett is tending to the Confederate wounded, we start close on Scarlett with a single soldier and slowly pull back and up to reveal that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of wounded. This scene was the first time that I noticed the tracking crane shot and how effective it can be. Another example that comes to mind are the scene in Henry V after the Battle of Agincourt when Henry walks across the battlefield carrying a page that was killed
All of that was just lead into this...Once the Greeks are underway, we see medium shot of Achilles standing at the prow of his ship, some words are exchanged with one of his crew and then we pull back and up to reveal the extent of the Greek fleet. This would have been even more effective if James Cameron hadn't had almost exactly the same shot in Titanic. About the only thing missing was Achilles crying out, "I'm the king of the world" a la Jack Dawson.
Bottom line...eh. I'd still recommend seeing it, even if only to have a reason to go someplace well air-conditioned in the heat of summer.
Coming Attractions
Okay, one summer "blockbuster" down, several more to go. Here is the current list of movies that I'm waiting to see.
Van Helsing
The Day After Tomorrow
Okay both of these are already out, I just haven't gotten around to seeing them. Perhaps I'll wait for them to play the cheap theater.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - June 4
The Chronicles of Riddick - June 11
Spider-Man 2 - July 2
I, Robot - July 16
The Bourne Supremacy - July 23
Catwoman - July 23
Thunderbirds - July 30
Alien vs. Predator - August 13
I'm sure that I'll see trailers for some other movies that will intrigue me enough to want to see them, but these are the majors one's for right now. There is one movie that I will not be seeing at the theater, on Pay-Per-View, on network TV, or as an in-flight movie, if I have anything to say about it...Garfield: The Movie.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)