Olive Juice!

I'm thinking I'm falling in love with Dev Patel, and it's not all Slumdog Millionaire's fault.

I know I might be three years too late, but I don't give a damn. I'm crushing on his skinny ass.

There's something about an angry man in glasses! :39  is permanetly etched into my memory bank.

For the record, I don't think that autographer was very nice... And telling the man to go back to his country?

That's all.

No Dangerous Methods For Me

First of all I would like to say: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! and WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?!?!?!?! 

Seriously! For why can't things ever go my way for once? It's seriously like the gods of good times look down on me and laugh their asses off whenever I attempt to have just that.

For two weeks life has sucked for me. I reallyed need a pick me up, so I decided to check out what was going on with the Chicago International Film Festival. Ever since I moved back to Chicago, it had always been my intention to attend the film festival, but for some reason I was never able to go. So instead of waiting on people to go with me, I went on my own to go pick up tickets for Monday night's viewing of A Dangerous Method. I've mentioned before that I really wanted to see this movie. When I saw this I can honestly say this was the first time I smiled in two weeks. I felt lucky!

However, it was very unlucky for me that I was driving downtown right after work and couldn't find anywhere to park, so I had to park in the venue's expensive ass parking lot: $12 FOR 30 MINUTES! I reasoned by telling myself it was for a good cause. A Dangerous Method? Cronenberg, Mortensen, and Fassbender in one movie? I would have paid anything my account would have allowed me to pay on those tickets.

Alright, so here's what happened: I go to the venue, find the right line to purchase the tickets, tell the cashier what I want to see, when I want to see it, and how many people were coming with me (I was forcing my two of my favorite companions to see what I'm sure is a quality flick), and the cashier (in his  douchiest nicest possible voice) tells me that the show is all sold out. I freak out and tell him to check again. I know it was one of the most anticipated shows at the film festival, but I don't believe in "no", so I told him to check again. He did. There weren't anymore tickets available, and I swear that was the longest walk back to my car. I had my head down, arms swinging, and that lump in my throat started to get tighter and tighter. I was thisclose to crying. Then it dawned on me: I JUST SPENT $12 FOR 5 MINUTES OF PARKING...no fair!

Oh well! I know I'll see it eventually...

What The Hell Is This?

I woke up craving a little Viggo Mortensen in my life. I love him as an actor and he's not so bad to look at. So, needing a little Viggo every once in a while isn't a guilty pleasure it's a necessity. 

I went to Netflix in search of a good Viggo movie to get my day going, and one of the movies available for streaming was 28 Days. I'd never seen it, and I like Sandra Bullock. Everything seemed like win-win-win situation...boy was I wrong. 

First of all, it took way too long for Viggo to show up. The first 20 mins of the movie consisted of typical Sandra Bullock quirks and jokes that failed to amuse me at 6:30 in the morning. Then there was this guy in the movie that talked with the bottom row of his teeth...you know what I'm talking about! Don't pretend like you don't know about that ONE person you know that whenever they talk you can see the entire row of their bottom teeth, and the teeth be all yellow or crooked. Well, 28 Days had a guy just like that, and every time he spoke I saw the yellowness of the bottom row of his teeth. At first I thought he was just really into character, because it looked as if this guy hadn't flossed a day in his life. Then I thought about it, and I'm almost positive people are able to bring floss into rehab. Rehabilitation Centers might deprive you of a good time, but they're not going to force you into bad hygiene.

Then finally comes the scene where Sandra Bullock jumps her dumbass out of a window and fucks her leg up. I guess Viggo Mortensen is supposed to be the guy who saves her from herself. He's her great white Knight in blue jeans, and he looked damn good when he picked her up and carried her back into the rehab center.

In my honest opinion, that was the best part of the movie. I knew Bullock's character would see the light and stay sober. She's the protagonist and is supposed to be a source of inspiration for folk going through her fictional situation. But the one thing that I didn't see coming was the lack of Viggo in Sandra's sober life.

Why??????

After all the flirting, kissing, ball throwing, and bad Santa Cruz jokes, she doesn't end up with Viggo in the end. The movie ends with that goofy ass smile she always gives, I guess to indicate that things are all good and everything will be okay. But it's not okay without Viggo. In fact, you're even more fucked up without him.

I don't believe in computer violence, but this is one instance in which I wanted to throw my Toshiba out of the window. I quickly realized it wasn't Toshiba's fault so I calmed down. But for real Sandra...don't play with me! Don't promise me Viggo if you're not gonna fully deliver the Viggo! tease.

Pretty sure that it's obvious I'm not a fan of this movie. It's taken me 11 years to watch this movie and to be honest I could have waited a lifetime. However, I will get my Viggo fix soon (as well as my Fassbender's). David Cronenberg has heard my Viggo cries and decided to gratify my needs. 

This looks so good! 

Why get married?

I work with married couples registering for much needed wedded items to fill their first matrimonial homes at a major department store. When I first got the job, people were telling me that brides are the worst in the world to work with; then I started to encounter one too many dreaded, verbally abusive, arrogant, asshole grooms-to-be. 

Just two days ago I had what seemed like a lovely couple register with me. Then came the tour of the home store when the bride-to-be asked a question about flatwear (forks & spoons). I didn't think it was stupid, but it obviously pissed the groom-to-be off so much that he called her a "fucking idiot" and told her to "use her fucking brain for once". At that moment, my body tensed up and I got flushed with rage. If she is so fucking stupid why the hell is he marrying her?

I, surprisingly, shut my mouth and kept on talking like I didn't hear a word, but when I looked back to the bride-to-be she was crying. I'm not sure if she was crying because of what he said to her (since I'm sure he spoke to her like that on the regular) or if she was embarrassed. I asked her if she was okay and if she wanted me to give her some tissue, she said no and told me to continue. So I did. I'm not going to feel sorry for someone who stays in that kind of a situation.

So why am I posting this? Because I'm angry. I'm angry that majority of the women I deal with would rather be married to an asshole than have self-respect. Is being married that important that you would allow yourself to be disrespected and abused verbally, mentally, or physically?

Which brings me to a bride who had just gotten married and wanted to purchase the remaining items on  her registry. I began helping her complete the registry, when her husband showed up and completely took over and told her what she should buy, how she should purchase them, and where they should go. I normally appreciate when a man takes charge (it's what I look for in a partner), but not in a way that is so over-bearing and abrasive that it's a complete turn off. The only men that I know who participate in such behavior are insecure men out to prove a point, and I absolutely hate insecure men. 

So anyway, to make a long story short, it came time to change the address on the registry, because like most couples they had now moved into their matrimonial homes and vacated their former pads. The bride wanted to change the address to the Chicago address instead of leaving the former Peoria address as the shipping address although she was still receiving mail and wedding gifts at that location. The groom, said no! because the whole process was taking a long time and he wanted to go home (why didn't he just go home in the first place? We were doing just fine before he showed up!). They started to go back and forth even after I told them that I could easily change the address on the registry. He yelled, "No!" And kicked her as hard as he could in the shin. After that she agreed that whatever he said was best. 

After dealing with some of these people, I am so turned off by the mere mention of marriage. It's situations like this that tarnish the once beautiful notion of two people spending the rest of their lives together. If this is what marriage is, then I don't want it. I rather be alone than someone's dog.

Life Is Making Me Bitter

I try so hard to be as optimistic as I possibly can. I don't know, for some reason, right when I feel as though I'm on the right track something happens that makes me want to jump in front of a bus and end it all! 

Last night, my car was broken into. I don't have a nice car like some of the home owners on my block, so I never thought that this would happen to me, but it did. At the time that I found out, I got angry, but not enraged. I have come to realize that a person cannot have nice things in certain neighborhoods. It's a fact. A home can get broken into just for possessing nice things that the homeowners spent their hard earned money on. And of course it is the homeowners fault, no fault of the violator, because he or she should have known not to own such nice things in a shit neighborhood.

I called the police, but what can they do? They're only the police. No one came for over an hour and no one came to collect evidence. I'm sure there was plenty of it since the violator broke my back window, climbed through it, crawled over broken glass, sat in my front seat, ripped off the steering panel, broke the handle for my windshield wipers, and tried to hot wire my car. Evidence everywhere. Do you know what the officers told me when I asked them were they going to dust for finger prints. "Miss they won't even come out for something like this. You can have all the evidence in the world and no one would come out just for a car that got broken into." Oh okay. I just sat there frustrated. Why wouldn't whoever come out to dust for fingerprints? Then it dawned on me, they don't want to come out to dust for fingerprints. They're waiting for a big crime like a murder or a huge bank robbery to dust for fingerprints. My little car doesn't matter. It's only a car. I can survive without it. Get over it lady, move on.

I seriously can't believe this happened to me, but I'm too frustrated with the lack of help that I'm receiving from the Chicago Police to even get irate. I really want to, but then I think about other things that calm me down, like the fact that I have to pay a $500 deductible to get my car fixed. $500 of which I do not have. $500 that will set me back even further and derail my hope of getting the fuck out of Chicago by March 2011. 

But who was I kidding? How dare I hope to get out of this neighborhood? That would be something entirely too nice.