stupid racists are funny.
now, here i venture into a world of political incorrectness, so if easily offended you may wish to turn your eyes. but if stupid racists are stupid racists no matter what to you, then you may also enjoy my antidote.
i'll try to keep it short and sweet.
the night my now sister-in-law first arrived in atlanta for the wedding, we decided to head to the neighborhood pizza joint for dinner. we would go it on foot as the mojo is but three-quarters of a mile from our door and well, i drive a pickup, and believe it or not, passengers in the back of a pickup are illegal even in GA.
now, my readers may remember that my now husband and now sister are russians. slavic peoples, if you will. so when a group of neighborhood adolescents saw fit to yell "
crackers!" at us, i simply could not contain my sudden onset of giggles.
i am sure those poor girls thought i was just some damn holier-than-thou white bitch laughing in their face to hide my fear like most true holier-than-thou white bitches would, but it was all i could do.
trying to explain to those poor children that they just called a couple of slavs a racial slur for stupid american caucasions just didn't seem conducive... but after all, all people with pale skin are honkies just like all East Asians are chinese even if they are from Laos and all middle easterners are all Pakistanis even if they are form India.
wow. there are dumb people in this country. if i don't laugh about it, the grief might kill me.
paranoid android moment # who the hell knows:
walking through downtown atlanta in the a.m. hours, "bittersweet symphony" by the verve. the skyline closing in on me at the rhythm of the strings in the intro... someone walks out the revolving door of a huge mega-office-plex just as mr. ashcroft begins his lament. i can smell the starbucks and french fry grease. the streets are sparsely populated beyond ourselves...
on a lighter note, this weekend marked the end of my anxious wait for cillian in drag, or as they call it on the marquee,
"breakfast on pluto."
/>despite the fact that, true to the norm, the screenplay and the actual novel are merely distant cousins - well, more like first cousins, i guess to be fair - i was not disappointed.
granted, i went into it anticipating as much, based simply on the fact that all of the press and trailers i had glimpsed referred to cillian's character as "kitten," whereas i distinctly remember the hero(ine) of the novel carrying the nom of "pussy."
nevertheless, i would normally still be begrudged, especially having devoured the book in record time (for me) - i adored it that much.
but cillian rarely lets me down (i have forgiven Red Eye) - and this time was well beyond exception... it's always my highest compliment to someone's acting abilities to say that i forgot it was them up there. that compliment is squared when i regularly refer to you as the most lovely creature nature manufactured... as i do cillian.
so let it be known that even if he doesn't win that golden globe tonight, he won it in my world.
and that is not to knock anything/anyone else in the film as a whole. brilliance all around, and stephen rae has never wronged me either.
mr. jordan your film may not be the "breakfast on pluto" that i knew, but it as a lovely lovely lovely adaptation.
Pushing - and with a good deal of force - is required, but sometimes I can be a big meanie bitch.
If this thought shocks you or is something you'd prefer not to see proven, stop reading here.
Still with me? I'll give you some more time, coz I am about to do some offending, I am sure.
Ok - here goes.
I have officially been provoked to the point that I am starting a LjC log. What, pray tell, the hell is an LjC, you ask? Well, I'll tell ya.
An LjC is a human being. One that I am forced to speak to on a semi-regular basis. One who, upon hearing their name in greeting, I know I won't be free of for a minimum of 20 minutes. And one who - here it comes, you still have time - and I am serious, this is heartless - feels the need to remind me with each phone call, relevant or not (and most often not) that they are terminally ill.
This is excluding, of course, the 7-minute lecture I was miraculously spared today on their child's unique form of autism and their unbearable sob, which is ceaseless, despite whether or not conversation even begins to warrant it.
I would spare this human my wrath and offer at least my empathy, but I tried that and they still insist on milking it for all its worth... and I would refrain from being so hateful if that were not ever-so-clearly the case.
So, without furthering the extent to which i am making myself look like an ass and a half, here begind the LjC log:
1-11-2006: 9 minutes
ti count 2
home from florida and the non-honeymoon, fully aware of a few facts:
i will never outgrow roller coasters
newlywed sex is great
orlando is a magnet for the british working class... maybe i don't really need to see blackpool so much anymore... i haven't been surrounded by so much scouse and cockney and eyre accents since i was last in the land of liverpudlians
and they all love golden corrale buffet restaurants... or at least it seems that way
i would still be perfectly content to live in savannah
it's never cold in florida... you'll be wearing t-shirts on new years day whether you want to or not and you'll always see at least one child inappropriately lacking sufficient clothing at each theme park you visit
i think that's enough for now!
ladies and gentlemen... dr and mrs ilya
/>
