Irony. . .

I ordered a credit report a while ago to make sure my credit was ok. It was, but I forgot to unsubscribe to the auto-credit report service that you sign up for to get the report. Thinking my balance was $0.00, I didn't think I had to pay a bill; but, it turns out, the credit site auto-billed my card, and I made a late payment.

GG Sony Bravia. . .

Here's the only recreation of the events possible. Someone came in through my window, shut the window almost all the way except that a roll of trace paper stopped it a few inches up. They went into my bedroom, removed my sheet from my bed, wrapped it around my tv and left through the door. Unfortunate timing as well, since I had just met up with Alex to grab some food and head over to the hospital to see Ben. We had to wait for the police to come, and then afterwards we headed to the hospital. the police came over to MGH a little later to show me some pictures of suspects. I ruled out 7 of 8 (suspect was based on a mysterious maintenance man that knocked on my door 8 a.m. and engaged me in an awkward conversation about what needed to be fixed). When it seemed as though Ben might be using too much energy acknowledging the presence of his visitors, he decided to call it a night. Now I am going to do something unusual for me (unusual in the past four or five years, that is) and fall asleep without the tv on. I have a lot on my mind regrading cruel and unjust maladies and my experiences tonight. . . .

Movie review: Glengarry Glen Ross

One might think I would have already seen a top 100 movie that includes my name twice in the title, but I hadn't. I decided it was time, and after watching a couple episodes of Carnivale, I threw it in last night. The first great bit of acting was Baldwin. I had previously credited Ben Affleck with one excellent bit of acting, but it is clearly modeled afterBaldwin's excellent profanity-laced tirade. Some might know what scene I am refering to - yeah, Boiler Room, when he gives the motivational speech and then gets the disgusted look on his face, throwing a set of keys onto the table: "Money can't buy happiness? Look at the fucking smile on my face. Ear to ear, baby. You wanna hear details? I drive a Ferrari 355 cabriolet. I have a ridiculous house on the South Fork. . . " Lemmon, Arkin, and Ed Harris all find out they won't have jobs soon if they don't start selling fast. Everyone is antsy. . . around this time I fell asleep. I drifted into a dream where I was on the side of a hill with some woman around my age, maybe a little younger. She was telling me to sit, and she would be back in a minute. She came back with two machine guns, gave me one, and started to tell me we only had one chance, and if we failed the revolution would die. I argued that it was a dumb idea, and there was no way it would work. She started to get irritated, threw em the gun and said, "Listen, let's go now." I started whining a little, demanding she come back, but I followed her anyways. We were walking down a path for a few minutes - mountains on both sides, no one in sight. Then she said, "ok, here's the plan, we sneak around this corner and start firing. There was a shed that we started walking along, with our back against it - jack bauer style. All of a sudden I looked up and there were about 50 people with guns pointed at us, black cloth over their mouths. I slowly looked at her, and she looked at me. Her facial muscles started to twitch in terror, but I was unsympathetic. "Fuck you! You fucking idiot! I told you how stupid you were, and you didn't listen! You fucking bitch!" "Oh like this is my fault?! What?" "Yes, yes it is. I can't believe how fucking dumb you are, and now we're both going to die you dumb bitch!" "Oh what the fuck ever. You didn't have to follow me. It's just as much your fault as mine! So fuck off!" "Oh, did I suggest we make the revolution live on with two people and two guns?!" "Then we die for what we believe in!" "Right, but I don't fucking want to die. I told you that!" "Fuck you!" "Fuck you!"
Then I wake up and Al Pacino is going off on Kevin Spacey, right after he told Spacey's client Lingk that the check had gone through to the bank:

Lingk exits.  Pause.

                         ROMA
                   (to Williamson)
           You stupid fucking cunt.  You,
           Williamson...I'm talking to you,
           shithead...You just cost me six
           thousand dollars.
                  (pause)
           Six thousand dollars.  And one
           Cadillac.  That's right.  What are
           you going to do about it?  What are
           you goin to do about it, asshole.
           You fucking shit.  Where did you
           learn your trade.  You stupid
           fucking cunt.  You idiot.  Whoever
           told you you could work with men?

                         BAYLEN
            Could I...

                         ROMA
            I'm going to have your job, shithead.
           I'm going downtown and talk to
           Mitch and Murrray, and I'm going to
           Lemkin.  I don't care whose nephew
           you are, who you know, whose dick
           you're sucking on.  You're going
           out, I swear to you, you're going...

Then I turned the movie off and went back to sleep. This time the heated exchanged in dreamland happened between the two guys I work with (who are good friends) One was threatening to fire the other and kept challenging him to a fight. I was the mediator this time, and I kept saying, "You guys aren't serious? What is going on? Take it easy guys! Is this a joke?" I was in the elevator waiting for both of them when this courier girl walked on. She lit up a cigarette, and I got really scared. "Can you please put that out? My boss is going to be here in a second and he's gonna flip out if he sees you smoking in the elevator. . . " "No. Fuck him!" she yelled. "Please, come on, please. . . " I started to crumple right there, and then I woke up. At around noon the next day I resumed the movie, and it was excellent. I think I am going to leave sportscenter on tonight when I go to bed. . .

Mingulos peppers. . . .

. . . don't exist. I just found this out. Ever since I saw Donnie Brasco many years ago, I always wanted to try a mingulos pepper. During Joe Pistone's speech on the meaning of "Forget about it," he says "If something's the best in the world, like mingulos peppers. . . .forget about it!" So I work with an Italian guy, and I asked if he had tried mingulos peppers, and if I could find some somewhere. He informed me that Pistone actually said "Mia (as in short for "Mama Mia"), those peppers. . . forget it." Now I will never be able to enjoy that mysteriously awesome pepper.

A few reviews. . .

Extras: Ricky Gervais. . . . . . (napoleon dunamite voice, wait for it. . . ). . . .yessssssss. Inevitably excited about the series, I must also say I was unequally as disppointed by the fact that the first season consists of 2 discs and six episodes. . . The Office style. In any case, the episodes were greta and the extras on the dvd, well that's where he'll get you. I could not stop laughing at the outtakes - esp those on the second disc. They show the total amount of takes - not one crack-up, but maybe all? of them. . . Good show. . . .

Rome: I felt this show was on par with Deadwood. Anthony vehemently disagreed, and I still can't figure out why - Swerengin vs. . . ok maybe no specific character has that certain. . . what the french call. . . "I don't know what." It's going to be cancelled I hear due to budget, which is unfortunate because hbo shows in general should not be cancelled due to budget, ever. . . next

2001 by Kubrick: I spent a good time watching the first half of this movie wondering how I was supposed to perceive it in the late 60's. I haven't finished it yet. I fell asleep in the middle. It's annoying to do that because you have to over-rewind to make sure you didn't miss a word, etc. . . (This was not really a review, I know. . . . maybe when I finish it)

Ghostface Killah: Fishscale and More Fish: Fishscale is great. Sure, my transition to hiphop feels awkward slightly. I listen to songs like "shakey dog" and "the champ" - great songs - but they're about gats, smokin', big-titty bitches, and regaining past superchamp rapper glory."Pokerface," however, I can relate to, since I have watched Rounders, and I am familiar with all the quotes, which become comedy when John Malkovich is not saying them.

Vonnegut R.I.P.. . .

"He threatened for a long time to sue Big Tobacco for false advertising, and as recently as 2005: "Brown and Williams, on their package, promise to kill me. And they haven't done it. I mean, here I am 83." With a wrongful death charge to back it up, maybe he'll get justice yet."

Taxi driver. . . .

I wake up a little late for work - just a little, but I decide to take a cab anyways. I realize I made it sound like this is an anomaly, but despite actually living a nice (and often refreshing) 10-15 minute walk from work, I take cabs maybe 30-40% of the time. Today's taxi driver was a little different, and before I tell the story I must say I was in a good mood this morning - I got a good night sleep; I set my alarm for 7:00 and hit the snooze for ten minute intervals until 8:30; and, for the latter half of that 90 minutes, I finally watched the end of Barry Lyndon, which I will discuss briefly. So, the taxi driver picks me up. I tell him where I am going (like 1.3 miles away), he starts driving. When I am passing the Four winds bar and grill on my right, I notice he did not turn the meter on. I say, "hey, you didn't turn the meter on, you might want to do that. . . " He says "oops! I forgot" (He has a middle-eastern accent) In any case, he doesn't turn it on. This confuses me. He drives to the lights at Atlantic. As he turns the corner, he says, "What do you usually pay like six bucks?" I find this question annoying since I told him to turn the meter on and he didn't, so I say "I don't know, guy. That's why I told you to turn the meter on three blocks ago." I say it in a normal voice with a hint of annoyance. He doesn't really say anyting after that. "Next left?" he says. "Yeah." He goes to drop me off and I give him two bucks. I say, "You didn't turn the meter on so I'll give you two bucks for a tip." Then I go for the door and it won't open, even though the lock seems to be up. "Fuck!," says my inner monolouge. He is like, "What is this, two dollars? What's going on?" I am like, "Dude, I told you to turn the meter on and you didn't. I am giving you the tip only." Now I want to get out, but the door won't open, and this guy seems semi-harmless, then he starts tweaking: "Two fucking, man! Are you fucking serious. What the fuck, man!?" He opens his door, gets out of the driver seat, pounds on his roof and is like, in english that is all fucked up - (and it was fucked up because I think he was genuinely pissed but couldn't express how pissed he was in the english language, which, in turn, made him more pissed) "You have to fucking be keeding me, wtf? Are you fucking serious wtf?" At this point, let's realize he is being penalized by me for not turning on the meter. I do know what a taxi cost me to get to work. Maybe he has even been my taxi driver in the past - it is $4.35, and I give $6.00 total. All taxi drivers have turned on the meter in the past. More importantly, he was saying all that towards me through the windshield of the door I couldn't open. I say to him after his verbal assault, "Are you going to hit me or something? Why is my door locked?" He takes a respite from his frustation, as though that were a serious allegation against him as a driver," What do you mean??? That is not locked! Pull it up!" This is where I felt like a melvin sort of. The lock on the cab (Ford Taurus style) was only pulled up about 5/6th of the way. I pulled it up further and as soon as it budged, I bolted for the opposite door and got out. He jumps back in the cab. I would estimate 10 people were within earshot of the following verbal assault (in semi-broken english) "You fucker. You fucken cock SUCKAH! You fucken THIEF! FUCK you, you FUCKEN DICKHED! etc. . . . " All comments were said by a cab driver who wanted to make four extra bucks and probably would have murdered me over those four bucks if it weren't in the middle of the financial district in the morning. Since he was yelling all this at me, and I try to amuse myself in situations where I am made to look like a criminal by taxi drivers who I usually tip well if they are honest, I looked at him after ten seconds of him following me down the sidewalk with his window open, and said "take it easy, psycho." Not in the Adam Sandler way, but just as a stern last few words, and to divert any attention around me that might them think I actually was a thief. . . .So, I go into work, tell my boss, who I had imagined would have done the same as me, for he is very sensitive and a lot more argumentative than me (I rarely get into arguments, as most people know), and he is more passionate about the little things that I usually don't care about. His first response was "Wow, you took a cab here? Why? You must live some exquisite lifestyle I don't know about. . . ." Then he said, "So, it usually costs you six bucks, why didn't you just give him six bucks?" I was like, "it's the PRINCIPLE! Like, what if I asked for a receipt?" He still looked at me like I was an idiot. I don't know. . . .comments?

Part 2: Barry Lyndon. I talked about this movie with Seth, and he noted the theatrical aspect of the movie. This was when I had just passed intermission. In any case my favorite lines after intemission both come from the narrator:

"Lady Lyndon was soon destined to occupy a place in Barry's life - not much more important than the elegant carpets and pictures - which would form the pleasnat background of his existance. . . "

the other one, which I can't find right now, had to with the fact that Barry's rise to wealth could be attributed to the same traits that would eventually lead to his downfall. Seems standard to me fro some reason. . .

As for the epilouge, maybe seth will comment on that. . . .