Casie's Online Questionaire

Decided against blighting folks via e-mail.  Here's some optional blight if you wish.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Had a minor breakdown Thursday before last.

 

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?  Yup.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Roast Beef.

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? God, no.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?  ...MySpace friends.  Maybe.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Never, ever.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?  Yes, and they swell annually and make me miserable.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Done did.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Froot Loops.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?  I have before.

12. DO YOU THINK YOU'RE STRONG? Second graders tremble at the sound of my footsteps.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Chocolate Chip.

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?  The color of their skin.  Sometimes the content of their character.

15. RED OR PINK? Red.

16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? My parents have terrible genes.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?  I try not to throw things at people.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? No, not really.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Not wearing either.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Popcorn.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Grateful Dead.

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Grey.

23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Coffee, gin, vanilla, cake.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?  Paul Kernan.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? Yeah.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? ...does porn count?

27. HAIR COLOR? Brown-esque

28. EYE COLOR? Blue.

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Not anymore.

30. FAVORITE FOOD? Beef, yo.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Never turn down a happy ending.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? A Love Song for Bobby Long

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Not wearing one.

34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Winter.

35. HUGS OR KISSES? Hugs.

36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Cheesecake.

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Melissa McDaniel.

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Keira Knightley blocked my e-mail address. Again.

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? Blood Meridian

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Ain't got no mouse pad in this house!

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? Nothing.

42. FAVORITE SOUND? The approval beep after I randomly enter four numbers at an ATM.  And then the cash coming out.  Fraud sounds lovely.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? All you need is love.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Been to Oregon...but Juarez, Mexico was a million miles away.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I wiggle my ears.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? Jackson, TN.

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? I don't really like these questions.

Mardi Gras 2: The Chatham Trek

I was downtown, and my car was blocked.  Driving, however, was out of the question anyway-- a man's better off with a broken back in hell than trying to get through the CBD via car on a regular day.  And this was not a regular day. 

 

I had spoken with Chad.  He was at Le Bon Temps Roule.  They weren't that far from downtown--they deliver food to the hotel, so it couldn't possible be more than a mile.  Plus, I could catch a cab once I got out of the congestion. 

I started to walk.  And I fell down.  Stupid beads lying on the ground tripping me up!  But I got up again and continued walking.  And walking.  And walking.  And walking.  Cabs wouldn't stop.  And Le Bon Temps should not deliver to the hotels.  It's more than a mile away.  MapQuest estimated distance:  3.72 miles.

But anyway...

Chad!  Beer!  Mardi Gras!

Mardi Gras 1: Parades suck, Popeye's doesn't

We were waiting for Endymion.  And waiting.  And waiting more.  And then, we waited a while longer.  And we got hungry.  So we walked up St. Charles to Popeye's and got some chicken and RBAR.  But we didn't get spoons. 

 

Anyway, so we were waiting, and then there was Kevin Costner on a float, looking tired and irritable.  But there weren't anymore floats.  Just that one.  And a marching band.  Everything else had broken down.  Again.

Stupid fucking poorly organized parades.

When Russians Attack! Tales from Craigslist

So, I posted the following on craigslist on Sunday night:

On Tuesday between the hours of 6pm and 9pm I will be opening the doors of my apartment to passersby to come in, peruse, and take things away FREE OF CHARGE. It's like a garage sale, except it's in my apartment and almost everything is free! There are a few big ticket items that I can't let go for nothing, like a floor lamp ($10), a step ladder ($20), an ice bucket ($10), a television ($20), a large pet carrier ($5) and a few other things. But, what kind of things are FREE? Lots of kitchen items-- some dishes, a coffee pot, lots of picture frames, some games, a chair and a myriad of other items. For more information-- i.e. if you're wondering if I have a certain thing or specs on a listed item, e-mail me. For my address and phone number, e-mail me. But remember, the doors don't open until Tuesday between 6pm and 9pm! 

Words cannot describe how wildly successful that was!  55 RESPONSES!  EVERYTHING WAS GONE BY 6:45!  Gone.  Taken away.  

Asians came. They took away the golden chairs.  Hippies came.  They took away the canned food.  Girls came.  They took away the curtains.  And Russians came.  

"Thank you a lot for this chance for us to get some things!  We are students from  Moldova&Russia & it will be very helpful! Could you, please, tell us adress - we  will come on tuesday at 6 pm to your place. Thank you!"

 But I didn't believe they were sincere!  I did not!

But they countered with this:

Can you believe how fun loving those Russians are?  They love life!  I'm so wildly happy they sent me that completely unnecessary picture.  Their heedless joy brightens up the darkest days.

God Bless craigslist.org

On Jasper and Cameron

On Thursday my father came and took my boys away.  Jasper Honeysuckle and Cameron Del Mar are gone.  They've gone off to live in a barn somewhere.  I don't know they'll be fine.  It's cold out there.

It seems viciously appropriate that this week they are gone.  It's poetic justice-- the physical manifestation of all that I've left behind and all that has disappeared in the course of the last seven days.  Jasper Honeysuckle a symbol of being on one's own in NOLA, Cameron Del Mar being named after Heath Ledger.

I remember driving out to Poland Ave to the SPCA and picking Jasper out.  Taking him home with his motorboat purr to the first apartment I ever had on my own, leaving him at 5:30 in the morning to walk to the first job I ever had that went to buying our food and paying our rent, and not screwing around because we'd be out on the street.  He was my first real responsibility.  He was my cat. 

It's appropriate, therefore, that he goes the same week that all these free and easy plans become finalized.  In less than a week my lease runs out on the last apartment I'll ever rent in NOLA.  It's been confirmed-- I'll spend three months being coddled in the bosom of my hotel and then I disappear into North America.  No responsibility, no anchors, no turning back.  Goodbye Jasper, hello stunted adulthood. 

And how appropriate that Cameron Del Mar goes away the same week that his namesake dies?  A yellow cat with a bad personality, hissy and angry but cute and lovable despite himself-- not unlike a blonde actor in the performance of his career as a cowboy that it's impossible to love but makes it equally impossible not to try.   Heath Ledger won't make any more movies.  I'll never see Cameron Del Mar again.

Here I am in this empty apartment.  Most of the furniture is gone, and the silence is deafening.  Every time I get out of the shower I expect to see them lying on the rug, looking at me.  I still close the bedroom door so they can't get in.  I can't bring myself to throw that water bowl away.  

Symbolism be damned.  Now I've got nothing, and there's nothing to hold me back but I hate myself right now.  Animals understand base instincts-- They don't understand running away to 'find yourself', to 'escape' and all the rest of this nonsense.  Do they think they've done something wrong?

   In my mind, I see them wandering through this big empty apartment, from room to room to room, looking for me.  But I'm not here.  And neither are they.  

Just getting by

This has not been a good week...

I want to sleep for years.

In Memory: Heath Ledger

Two days ago, if you had asked me to compile a list of my favorite actors currently working, it would have looked like this:

Heath Ledger

Clive Owen

Colin Farrell

Brad Pitt

Ewan McGregor

I don't want to have to change that list.  I really don't.  I am deeply saddened by the death of Heath Ledger.  As much as I care about film, the loss of a favorite actor is akin to the loss of an old friend.  I am in a very unpleasant state--I am in denial.  I wish this were not so.

He could carry a mediocre star vehicle (A Knight's Tale, Casanova) with the best of them.  He was the best thing in bad movies (The Patriot, The Brothers Grimm), made mediocre movies bearable (Brokeback Mountain, Monster's Ball), and could stand out in an ensemble that buried other stars (Lords of Dogtown, I'm Not There).  And I imagine, this summer, we'll see that he could very well anchor a summer block buster (The Dark Knight).

It was 3:30, and I was sitting in the office.  The end-of-the day slog was upon us.  And then George announced "Hey...the guy in Brokeback Mountain died."

First thought:  I hope he means Jake Gyllenhaal.

I got online.

Second thought:  Fuck.  He doesn't.

I read the middling CNN article, and then I moved over to joblo.com, where the news had struck a chord with fanboys across the net.  The day was ruined.  The week was ruined.  My mind is occupied with it still.

Was this what it was like to be sitting in a cafeteria in the early 60's, the principal coming across the loudspeaker to announce the president had been assassinated?  To hear that the James Dean was in a car accident?  That Marilyn was found in the nude?

He was a great actor, and he had finally proven that.   He had made it to the A-list.  He was going to start getting offered the good roles.  He was risky, he had the matinee-idol looks, and he was selective.  There was an incredible filmography in his future.  And box office glory.  And Oscar.  And now there is nothing.

Drugs?  Suicide?  Accidental or not?  Who cares.  Will a reason, a cause, an answer change the fact that he is gone?  Must all the greats become a cautionary tale?  Let him be.

I cannot begin to speculate on what those who knew him have lost, and their pain is greater than ours.  But we have lost a god of the screen in this new century of cinema.  We have been deprived forty-plus years of incredible screen work.  We have lost a friend we could count on to entertain, to mesmerize, to light up the screen.  Now there are only memories, and shadows on the wall.

Heath Ledger, RIP.

On the Academy Award Nominations

The nominations for the 2008 Academy Awards were announced this morning. As usual, I watched the press conference. Some thoughts:

I didn't see Michael Clayton. That handicapped my predictions. Three acting nominations? Best picture, director, and screenplay? It looked pretty standard issue...

Thank you Academy for not falling all over and mostly overlooking the vastly overrated American Gangster and Sweeney Todd. What tedious films...

Does the lack of acting nominations for Juno mean it isn't as popular as everyone says? I hope so... No J.K. Simmons, Jason Bateman, Alison Janney, or Jennifer Garner? That doesn't sound like a groundswell to me.

Cate Blanchett for Elizabeth: The Golden Age? Really?

Whether the writer's strike prevents your annual fete or not, there will still be awards. That's all that matters. (snort)

***

BEST PICTURE
ATONEMENT
NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
MICHAEL CLAYTON
THERE WILL BE BLOOD
JUNO

BEST ACTOR
Johnny Depp - SWEENEY TODD
Tommy Lee Jones - IN THE VALLEY OF ELAH
Daniel Day Lewis - THERE WILL BE BLOOD
George Clooney - MICHAEL CLAYTON
Viggo Mortensen - EASTERN PROMISES

BEST ACTRESS
Cate Blanchett - ELIZABETH: THE GOLDEN AGE
Laura Linney - THE SAVAGES
Marion Cotillard - LA VIE EN ROSE
Ellen Page - JUNO
Julie Christie - AWAY FROM HER

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Javier Bardem - NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
Tom Wilkinson - MICHAEL CLAYTON
Hal Holbrook - INTO THE WILD
Casey Affleck - THE ASSASSINATION OF JESSE JAMES BY THE COWARD ROBERT FORD
Philip Seymour Hoffman - CHARLIE WILSON'S WAR

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Amy Ryan - GONE BABY GONE
Cate Blanchett - I'M NOT THERE
Ruby Dee - AMERICAN GANGSTER
Saoirse Ronan - ATONEMENT
Tilda Swinton - MICHAEL CLAYTON

***

Predictions? (I reserve the right to change my mind)

Picture- There Will Be Blood

Director- Paul Thomas Anderson

Actor- Daniel Day Lewis

Actress- Julie Christie

Supporting Actor- Javier Bardem

Supporting Actress- Cate Blanchett

***

Anyway, a great year for movies and a pretty fine selection of nominees. Way to go.

See the entire list of nominees here

See my favorite films of the year here

"Greed is Good." A Democrat's Praise of the Reagan Era (WTF?)

"(Ronald) Reagan changed the trajectory of America in a way that Richard Nixon did not and in a way that Bill Clinton did not. He put us on a fundamentally different path because the country was ready for it," Barack Obama told the Reno Gazette-Journal.

If you don't stop, Barack, the Republicans will win.  This is your second verbal mishap in as many days.

"...he and his rivals were asked to name their biggest weakness. Obama answered first, saying he has a messy desk and needs help managing paperwork - something his opponents have since used to suggest he's not up to managing the country. Former North Carolina Sen. John Edwards said his biggest weakness is that he has a powerful response to seeing pain in others, and Clinton said she gets impatient to bring change to America."  (chortle)  From CBS News.

Sure, it's all nonsensical political grandstanding--but, God help me, if you fuck this up and by some strange mishap Mitt Romney or Mike Huckabee is elected president...

Well, if that happens we'll all suffer enough, and no further action by myself would be necessary.  

Please win. 

Stop, Disney. Stop

Look at this utter nonsense.  I think I threw up a little in my mouth.

Have you ever seen such garish, humiliating, stupid costumes?  Why is that crab the size of a palomino?  Why didn't they use puppets, a la The Lion King?  And are those dancers really on roller skates?  And why is that set so goddamn ugly?   For that matter, why is Ariel so goddamn ugly?  And who decided to cast Sebastian as a screeching fag?  Ugh.

Hell, they ruined Tarzan...why not The Little Mermaid?  Sacrilege this is, pure sacrilege.

Sick Day Shenanigans

I have the flu.  Last night, I was lying in bed--shivering, feverish, having an obsessive compulsive fit.

My mind kept returning to the loveseat downstairs, the one that reeks of cat urine...it must be removed from my house!

But Josh, you have a fever!  You're in no state or position to drag a heavy piece of furniture outside in the middle of the night!  It matters not!  The thing must go.  

So I get dressed and clumsily stumble around the apartment, tossing the cushions on the floor and getting ready to drag the frame outside and down to the dumpster.  I maneuver the thing outside, shut the door, and pull it awkwardly towards the stairs.

And then, I lose control.  The loveseat, standing up on one end ready to be rolled down the stairs, falls...through the window of the apartment next door!!!

Panic grips me.  A fear more thorough than any I've felt in ages.  How to explain this?  A feverish twenty-something singlehandedly throwing a piece of furniture through a neighbors window at 1:30 in the morning?  Oh.  My.  God.

So, I run.  I flee downstairs and hide in terror in an alleyway while angry screams fill the night air "Whose fucking couch is this?"  "Who threw this fucking couch through our goddamn window?"

I cower for two hours in the cold and muddy, waiting for the screams to subside and peace to return to the night.  Finally, when I think it safe, I return to the warmth and safety of my apartment.  It is 3:30-- I am dirty, sweaty, hallucinatory, nauseous.  I shower, and drift off into an uneasy sleep.  I don't wake up until 3:30 the next afternoon.  I feel a little better; I think my fever broke during the night.  As I go outside to get the newspaper, I see the neighbors have a new window.

Everything worked out in the end.

Moral:  Don't move large pieces of furniture a.) solo, b.) while you have the flu, and c.) at odd hours of the night.

"Respect the cock...and tame the cunt!"

So, I've done a lot of posting of off-the-wall videos over the past couple of days, but nothing, and I mean nothing, matches the link below for sheer visceral terror:

Frank T.J. Mackey finds a new calling...

To use Cruise's metaphor, it's like driving by a car accident that you can't look away from.

Garfield: America's Favorite Cat

There's about a dozen of these...

-

They all end with the psychedelic music video.

Not sure I'll ever look at any comic strip the same way again.

MySpace. Blah.

I have a MySpace page now.  I was made to set it up (You'll see, Mary Woods.  I'll shake your mind control yet!), but I don't want it--it's the most anti-user friendly site of it's kind in the history of the world.  Friend me, though.  I have the stupid thing, I at least want to be popular.

http://www.myspace.com/into_the_badlands

27 Dresses--What the critics are saying

"After Knocked Up, this is a step down for the gifted Katherine Heigl, who deserves a better vehicle than this fluffy, formulaic, retro romantic comedy, which makes a strong case for a moratorium on wedding flicks and wedding gowns." Emanuel Levy

"It's white-lace porn for girls of every age, and the way that it revels in that get-me-to-the-altar mood, to the point of making anyone who isn't getting married feel like a loser, is the picture's key selling point." Owen Gleiberman

"Agonizing, flaccid, and about as romantic as bottle of flat champagne, 27 Dresses is a perfect example of the stereotypical Hollywood romantic comedies that Judd Apatow's 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up successfully disemboweled." Cole Smithey

"Its supposed feminism never gets past advocating a woman's right to literally chase after her dreamboat to ensure the attainment of her own perfect moment at the altar." Nick Schager

This goes out with a big 'fuck you' to Katherine Heigl.