Severe Jam Damage

Before I start let me announce I haven’t read the book. Yes, I know. You’re thinking to yourself, but Eli has usually read all of the sci-fi shite that no one else likes or reads, but on this occasion I am forced to admit that Philip K Dick is not - and has never been - high on my list of reading materials. Which means that I went into this movie completely blind not having a clue about the plot except that it involved drugs and featured an animated Keanu Reeves - and who would have thought you’d ever see that?

I went to the afternoon show which meant it was me and 11 guys, all in various phases of geekdom. There was the loner at the front who was reading while the lights were on, the bloke who sat way at the back all by himself and the two guys who wandered in all beardy glasses and looking like they’d just stepped out of a 48 hour marathon session of D&D.
Yes, all of (geek) humanity was there including one bloke who chose to sit behind me and kick the shit out of the seats.

Reminder: I hate fidgety people.

There were 120 seats in the theatre (I counted. Yeah, I know…) so I can only guess that it must be me. WHY LORD WHY? A mostly empty theatre and I get the fidgeter sitting behind me. If you are wondering why I didn’t move seats the reason is that I had a lovely seat with no one in front of me and the fecker wandered in as the lights went down and the movie started and he didn’t begin his World Cup re-enactment until about 20 minutes into the show.

Other than that I had a good time. The first few scenes you are very aware of the animation-over-film and it’s slightly distracting but you soon get used to it. I wonder also at the ‘16′ rating. If it was fully live-action would it have been rated as an ‘18′ movie? The plot, well I sorta had that one figured out from one particular conversation held early in the first act. Keanu is best when he’s a drawn in character, Downey and Harrelson are typical stoners, doing what they do best and Ryder is surprisingly un-annoying - again perhaps this is due to the animation.

I don’t know if this one is worth the price of admission, that is, do you get anything more from it on the big screen than if you waited to see it on DVD. Overall, a general thumbs up.

Short Review: It’s no Wedding Crashers.

Longer Review: Oh look, it’s Owen Wilson, yeah him with the funny nose and the bright blonde hair. What’s he doing? Oh, it’s that thing he did in Wedding Crashers and Shanghai Nights and every other movie he’s been in.

There are certain actors who are ‘Ac-TORs’, then there are ‘Character Actors’ and then there are ‘Characters’. Ricky Gervais is an example of a character, every role he plays is pretty much the same. So too with Owen Wilson. Every single movie I can think of he plays the dopey ‘puppy’ with the heart of gold who really only wants to be loved.

I laughed out loud at Wedding Crashers, a couple of times even. ‘Dupree’ had me laughing at only one scene. But then they ruined the impact of that scene by referring to it throughout the rest of the movie.

The conclusion looks like it was tacked on, the Hudson \ Dillon story is okay I actually found myself rooting for them and hoping everything would work out. Dillon’s overworked, underappreciated husband gets a tiny bit whiny at times but I think pretty much everyone can relate to working in a j0b where you have to keep your mouth shut to get ahead - for a while at least. Although not all of us have to work with our Father-in-law. There were a few times I was hoping Dillon would punch Michael Douglas just to wipe the smarmy ‘I’m married to Catherine Zeta Jones’ smile off his face. On the whole that part of the movie was okay but what happens to Wilson’s character is laughable, and I don’t mean that in a good way. I know the movie is getting huge box office returns and the posters are splashed all over the buses and Wilson is currently Hollywood’s Golden Boy and blah, blah, blah.

I should have waited till it came out on DVD, truth is I wanted to see ‘A Scanner Darkly’ but the next show wasn’t for a couple of hours so I ended up buying tickets to see ‘Dupree’.

Overall not great.

So being an unemployed bum, for the next week anyway, I woke up yesterday morning trying to think of someway to fill my day that did not involve Oprah, Tricia or any other ‘My life it shit, how bout yours?’ merchants. Anyway I took a wander up to the village, and then since it was a beautiful day (okay the MORNING was nice, the thunderstorms didn’t start until I was well safe at cozy back at home) and since I’d thrown my camera in my bag on the way out the door I wandered down to the beach. It’s a funny thing living in the suburbs, I had completely forgotten that the beach is a five minute walk away from my parents front door.
The sun was shining and the wind that whipped around the houses and blew dust in my eyes seemed much gentler down on the shore, so I loaded up the camera with black and white film and wandered slowly, snapping anything interesting that I saw. I like shooting in black and white because you have to think a little bit more about the shot. With b&w it’s more about shape, texture and contrast. Especially in the sunshine, generally I’d shoot b&w on overcast days as you don’t have to concern yourself with the high contrast of sun versus shadow. But I think (hope) I got a few usable shots yesterday. Anyway I wandered* past the ‘Baywatch’ babes shack where two rather unathletic looking people were lazing about in the sun. I was almost hoping someone would get into trouble to see what the two of them would do as they didn’t seem likely heroes. A bit further down the beach a Mother and her children were splashing about in the water. As I passed them I heard her shout at the kids.
‘Ahh now you’ve gotten all wet, that’s exactly what I didn’t want to have happen!’
Hmmm, perhaps you shouldn’t have brought them to the beach then luv?

*I’m too lazy to think or take a look at thesaurus.com so apologies for the overuse of the word ‘wandered’ in this post.

On the bus there was a woman sitting in front of me reading a copy of Good Food. She skipped past the article featuring Gordon Ramsay and hovered over the Gary Rhodes article about seasonal veggies. I’ve noticed that Gary Rhodes always has the same sort of ’smile’ on his face in every photo. He’s a bit Dorian Gray isn’t he? Anyway she flipped past the ‘perfect pasta’ article and some other thing about how to make yer pastry stay flat. Now before you go all indignant on my ass and start talking about reading over people shoulders etc, I really couldn’t help but see what she was reading as she was one of these people who held her magazine up so that people three rows behind could see what she was reading. Anyway I digress.
She flipped to a page with the glaring headline ‘How we learned to cope with our childs’ terrible allergy!’ And there was a lovely photo of the family looking all healthy like.
‘Ooh’ I thought to myself ‘So what is the terrible allergy? Is it something like peanuts? Or maybe it’s something they can’t get away from like sugar or starch?’
But no, there in a little purple star was a note saying ‘All recipes are gluten and dairy free’. Ahh so the kid is lactose intolerant and has coelaic, big bloody deal.
The recipe (and quite frankly, the point of this post) was for ‘Meat Ragu with Polenta.’
Now I have a number of friends who I would consider to be serious foodie people. If you can eat it without incurring illness chances are they have tried it. But I don’t think that ANY of them like polenta.
For me the word ‘polenta’ is far too close to ‘placenta.’
Also I know of no way to make it even vaguely appetising. You see chefs struggle with it all the time on ‘Ready, Steady, Cook’.
‘Yar’ drawls the student from Yorkshire. ‘Oi’d ‘erd so much about it, I thought you cud shew me a way to cook it.’
And the chef is left to boil it and pour it out onto the plate like some sickening Italian porridge. Cos really that is all it is.

So yeah, polenta along with coleslaw and porridge - Foods of the Damned.

‘I call Bullshit.’
Tony’s little legs drummed on the leather seat, he’d been doing it for hours. I’d already warned him about fidgeting once but like with so many of my warnings he thought they were empty promises and continued to beat his tiny legs in a miniature tattoo. I leaned over and grabbed him by the ankles.
‘Quit it, yer annoying me now.’
‘It’s bullshit!’ He said again. ‘Pure and total, one hundred percent Stank-O-Rama.’
‘You are talking bullshit’ I replied. My head was swimming, it had been what? Three, four days - a week? Whatever, felt like we’d been on the road forever. I’d pulled the NavSat out of the dash a couple of days ago. The cables lay in a heap in the passenger footwell, wires like entrails streaming out of the broken box. I was a paranoid junkie and had pulled out all the electrics, bar the heater. I regretted pulling out the stereo as Tony decided to serenade me with his repertoire. Of course, with his being a Lep this consisted of some of the worst, most twee diddley-eyedle shite that had ever graced a pair of uilleann pipes. But now we had nothing except a heater and Tony’s failing voice. No NavSat meant we were pretty much flying blind and I couldn’t risk jacking into the net. I could have gone in mute, but chances were those Drags were still on our tail. They were definitely ugly and very likely stupid, but I was willing to bet that at least one of them was jacked in, waiting for me. Anyway the point was moot, I’d left my phones back in my now steaming pile of rubble flat.
‘Admit it Quinn, we’re lost.’
‘We’re not lost’ I shouted ‘We’re just’ I paused, ‘Taking a diversion.’

We were lost. I knew it and Tony knew it but fighting about it was the only thing that was keeping me awake, that and his incessant leg drumming, fidgeting and whining. Trouble with car sharing with a leprechaun is the fucker is too short to split the driving duties. I briefly wondered if I could find a cutter round here who could supply him with a pair of legs. They didn’t have to be fancy or perfect. Any pair would do, Femme or Masc I didn’t much give a shit, so long as they’d allow him to reach the pedals. I grinned to myself at the thought of Tony tottering round on a pair of Femme’s legs, that would fuck his act up big time. Maybe if I was lucky the cutter would have a spare set of Stilleto’s with neon ‘tex. I must have laughed out loud cos suddenly I remembered where I was. Or rather, where I wasn’t and I wrenched my eyes back to the road, trying to focus, see if anything looked familiar. I was tired, my eyelids drooped like the tits on an eighty year old Femme, but I knew if I pulled over to get a bit of kip the visions would return and I’d be back wide awake and screaming.

‘Wait! Stop! There!’ said Tony, pointing his stubby little arms out the window.
‘What? Where?’ I slammed on the brakes, thinking I’d hit something.
‘The sign, over there.’
I followed the line of his finger where an old fashioned signpost stood in the middle of the road. Arrow shaped pointers radiated from the top in no kind of order I could see.
Tony was scrabbling at his seat belt, I’d have liked to have found a child car seat to stuff him in, but we’d been in a hurry when we left, what with the rocket launchers and the fire and the building crumbling around us, so I had to take what was available. In this case an S-Class merc with the keys left in the ignition, as I said those Drags weren’t too bright.

Tony hopped out of the car and ran to the pillar that stood sentry over the road. By the time I got my legs working and stepped out of the car he’d climbed halfway up the pole and was straddling it like he had a free pass in a cat house.
‘Well we know Dublin is back there’ he was muttering, ‘But where the…? Oy, Quinn, do you recognise the names of any of these places?’
I glanced up at the signpost.
‘Nope’ I stretched my arms, cracked my neck. Briefly I bluescreened and had to shake my head to clear my noggin. Something bothered me about this, the location was all wrong, I had a bad feeling about the place.
‘Tony, don’t you think it’s odd that there is a signpost like that, here? In the middle of a perfectly straight road?’

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I’ve been working on the editing of one of my novels in progress so I guess Tony and Quinn were on my mind a bit. Interesting that I’m writing less of a ‘full short story’ lately and more snippets and half-tales. I’m not sure if that says much for me as a writer. Anyway I don’t know why our two intrepid adventurers are stuck in the middle of nowhere or when this piece happens - whether it’s before or after the happenings in the main plot. Maybe it’s one of those missing scenes like when Jack Bauer goes to the toilet. I’m thinking it should stay missing. Inspired by the above photo taken by Flickr user Pablo D Gavilan
Taking part this week are: The Gurrier, Tea and Cakes, Chris, Linus, Tadmack and Aquafortis.

Ahh Sandyford, I shall miss you.

The traffic build up that starts before 8am!
The choice of lunch venues! (Londis you spoil me!)
The bit of brick wall to sit out on sunny days at lunch time!
The dark and dingy office!
The clocking in and clocking out! It’s just like a factory!
The sitting in my car for 25 minutes to move 300 yards!
The Leopardstown Roundabout!
The amazing one way system!

Truly I am leaving a work of staggering engineering genius.

I’m beginning to think I’m losing my mind. I was at a wedding down in Laois last Friday (erego the late Flickr Fiction) and as far as I can remember I had a great time. There was lots of wine and food and laughs. It was a lovely sunny day and warm with it, and the bride was glowing. We were staying in a hotel down the road and a mini-bus took us to the castle where the reception was taking place. Although it was much more of a party than a wedding reception. The bride wandered throught the crowd offering people ‘bloody mary tomatoes’ and after we’d finished choking on them said she’d used ‘much less vodka’ than the recipe recommended. Hmm, yes, just how long were those tomatoes soaking? They had brought in their own caterers and there was a free bar. So it was white wine for me and a beautiful piece of barbecued steak and salad for dinner. It starts to get a bit fuzzy as I try to remember the events later on in the evening, but then I can’t even begin to imagine how much wine I must have poured down my gullet (and my dress, and on the table) by the end of the night. Apparently there were homemade hamburgers served at around 11 and I have vague memories of seeing people wandering with food in the dark, but it could have been an alcohol induced dream. I’ve seen some photos since (still haven’t developed mine yet) and apparently I spent the entire day making weird faces. It’s the only way to explain the horrendous pictures. Normally when I drink I still pretty much remember everything and I’m the ‘go-to’ girl for anyone who wants clarification on just HOW LOUD they were really singing at the karaoke, or what that bloke REALLY looked like.
However on this occasion I appear to have been at a totally different wedding to everyone else.
‘Remember when the band played N17?’ (A band consisting of banjo, tin whistle, double bass and bongos)
‘Eh, No.’
‘And that girl started comparing her scars with J?’
‘Eh, No.’
‘And then the grooms mother got up to sing?’
Eh, No.’
‘And D said she looked like the Intel man in that rain-mac and asked the band to play the Intel jingle?’
‘Eh, No.’
‘And when we got back to the hotel we crashed an 80th birthday party and then had sandwiches and gin?’
‘Err, sorta.’

Country weddings, I’m blaming all that fresh air.

So with nothing better to write about here are a few of the books I’ve read lately.
First up is The Ledge by Blanaid McKinney. I picked this one up on holidays on one of the bargain tables. It sounded pretty interesting according to the blurb which reads:

At the time of his kidnapping, John was a successful film critic, with his own late night TV slot and something of a cult following. Crazed fans were an occupational hazard. One night, during a break in the show, John stepped outside to have a smoke. When he didn’t come back, nobody worried too much.

Which sounds kind of interesting right? Except that all of this happens in the first chapter of the book. The rest of the book follows 3 other main characters and their association (however tenuous) with the main character John. It’s worth the five quid I paid for it although the conclusion may be less than satisfying to a number of readers.

Mirror, Mirror by Gregory Maguire - My continued fascination with revamped fairy tales (and the excellent Gregory Maguire) led me to this version of ‘Snow White’ which places our Snow (in this version named Bianca de Nevada) in the middle of the Italian alps. Our Witch Queen in this case is the depraved Lucrezia Borgia who becomes jealous of her brother Cesare’s infatuation with a young Bianca. Throw in a quest for the Tree of Knowledge, eight decidedly non-Disneyesque dwarves and a touch of hentai (the old cook claims to have taken an octopus for a lover) and the result is a refreshing new take on the tale of Snow White.

Green Man Anthology: Tales from the Mythic forest edited by Terri Windling and Ellen Datlow. Datlow and Windling have edited a number of anthologies together based on old fairy and folk tales. I have most of them and this is the latest one received in an amazon envelope. For this anthology they have focused on stories based around the theme of the Green Man, the (male) personification of nature, although some writers have focused on the Green Lady. Featuring stories from the likes of Neil Gaiman, Jane Yolen, Tanith Lee, Charles deLint, Gregory Maguire and others it’s got some interesting ideas, although I found it easier to read piecemeal rather than all in one sitting.

Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K Jerome. I had been looking for a copy of this for ages and eventually trolling around Eason’s last Saturday morning spotted a copy for €2.95. ‘Bargain!’ sez I. Despite being written in 1889 the jokes are still as funny as if it had been written yesterday. J, (Jerome Klapka Jerome) and his two mates George and Harris (to say nothing of Montmorency the dog) decide to take a leisurely trip down the Thames to cure themselves of perceived illness and disease. There is very little plot to the book, but it is the asides that make it so amusing. Harris getting lost in the Maze, J’s belief that he has every disease known to man, (barring Housemaids Knee) observations on holidaying that would not go amiss on an episode of ‘Holidays From Hell’ all told with a vaguely cynical edge that seems unusual for something written in the Victorian era. At just under 200 pages long its the perfect size to throw in your handbag for reading on the bus or train. Although you may well recieve some strange looks as you snigger your way home.

Dammit!I had this written on Thursday and then forgot to publish it as I wasn’t around on Friday. Anyway, only 3 days late eh? I can’t wait to see what the others come up with for this one, the first thing I thought of when I saw the photo was that old video game ‘Rampage’.

‘Well Really’ said the Elephant
‘Its really rather relevant.
I’m find it quite abhorent
that He has done this thing.’

Said Tiger ‘Listen Elephant’
‘Your anger is quite dominant
You’re scaring all the ruminants
and the birds refuse to sing.’

‘We’ll sort out this predicament.
We’ll find the naughty miscreant
Don’t worry my dear Elephant
Don’t worry bout a thing.’

So the Tiger and the Elephant
Went hunting for the miscreant
Keeping rather observant
Through the jungle they did run.

They found him sitting nonchalant
Among the ruins of what he’d wrought
His manner seemed quite jubilant
Despite what he had done.

‘Gorilla’ began Elephant
‘This thing is quite significant.
You can’t ignore the consequence
There’s nowhere you can run.’

Gorilla became petulant
And not so much exuberant
‘But what of my exfoliant?
My skin will get too rough!’

Tiger growled and Elephant
Trumpeted dissonant.
Gorilla flinched and hesitant(ly)
Began to pack his stuff.

‘So I stole a couple of bananas’ he said. ‘Big deal.’

——————————————
Wow that’s awful. Inspired by the above photo taken by Flickr user GavMack
Taking part this week are: The Gurrier, Tea and Cakes, Chris, Linus, Tadmack and Aquafortis.

I’ve tried to keep this blog as impersonal as possible. That is, not mentioning much about work or personal stuff, or when it is necessary couching it in as vague terms as possible. I think I’ve done a fairly good job of it. People who read this blog are either people who know me in my internet guise, or at least know of my internet guise and \ or random strangers who tripped over this place on the way somewhere else.

(Hello random strangers! *waves*)

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I haven’t really put anything on this blog that would give the game away to anyone who I might not want reading this. My ‘bitching about work’ posts tend to be generic and (I hope) fairly standard responses to the trials and pains of working through beaurocratic bullshit that is standard in all offices around the world. I try to keep references to my family and friends as oblique as possible, for reasons of their privacy and mine.

And I’m not actually sure what or where I was going with this post now. So here is another generic sort of announcement:

I handed in my notice at lunchtime. As of the end of August I will no longer be working here, and will instead be moving to a job in the city centre.

I’m looking forward to it.