Monday, March 30, 2009

Better Half (Or, Cabooseled)

Last week, my lower half was in revolt.

Below the belt, I was all calamity.

I'll spare certain details, but I was betrayed by my own special downstairs on three occasions: two of them are PG-13 enough for me to relate here with the kind of reckless abandon I should be wary of, given how 50% of me was operating on its own rogue agenda last week.

Betrayal #1:
While futzing with signage atop a 20 foot ladder, the crotch of my pants blew out while two female colleagues watched from below.

I hope I provided a nice show.

Given that I didn't realize the extent of the blow-out until hours later, I can only imagine.

Betrayal #2:
In a mad dash to the gym, I accidentally grabbed a pair of black swimming trunks that I thought were gym shorts. Upon realizing this changing in the locker room, I decided to roll with it, rather than make another mad dash home to get an appropriate pair of shorts.

Again, I hope I provided a nice show.

Given that it was a crowded Saturday, I got an ocean of "Oh, get her" looks as I attempted to workout while keeping my junk properly stowed.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Worth a Trip to Spain (Or, Los abrazos rotos)

I've gone on and on here on the subject of Penélope Cruz...and her win at the Oscars this year was about the only thing I was happy about (well, that and Hugh Jackman's camptastic outing of himself...hello.). Anyway, the cause for this post isn't an ode to Vicky Cristina Barcelona (although it was the only film from last year I truly loved), but a pre-ode to Los abrazos rotos - Almodóvar's soon-to-be-released (in Europe, anyway) film.

It looks achingly good (see trailer below) - and the graphics (from the always fantastic Juan Gatti) are already killing me.

See also - the official site. The press kit is...well...complicatedly delicious.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Thar She Almost Blows (Or, Overheard)

[I overheard this a few weeks ago dropping my laundry off at the 9:00 AM]

FRAZZLED WOMAN: Yeah, that's right: I'm completely bipolar. I'm also an alcoholic. That means if I don't get a drink in the next ten minutes, I'm going to tell you how I really feel about you.

[A minute later...after the man she was speaking to laughed at her admission]

FRAZZLED WOMAN: I'm fucking serious. I'm happy now...but you better can it with that laughing.

As tempting as all that was, I didn't stick around for Mount Frazzled with the Laundry to erupt.

File Under: Things One Shouldn't Admit in Public (Or, Camptastic Tuesday)

I'm pretty sure I've admitted this here before:

As a squishy pre-teen boy, I was obsessed with Olivia Newton-John.

I'm not quite sure why I feel compelled to re-admit this today, but ONJ has come up in conversations several times this past week...and I'm in dire need of any sort of stimulus to get this blog back off the ground.

My bedroom was littered with posters (Xanadu,, long-playing records (Totally Hot,, and drawings I made of the world's single (at the time) Australian Superstar. At one point, I begged my mother to buy me a braided headband, so I could emulate her look from Physical.

In the privacy of my own room, of course.

In hindsight, I realize my mother must have been deeply concerned with my need for said terrycloth headband...or at the very least, she laughed her ass off at my expense.

In the privacy of her own room, of course.

Above is the video for "Twist of Fate" from the soundtrack of the entirely unwatchable Two of a Kind. I bought the album and taped this video off of television long before I had the mispleasure of seeing Two of a Kind on HBO. Based on this video, I thought the movie was about some sort of neon Thunderdome/Star Chamber discotheque alternate universe in which ONJ must beg and plead to return to Planet Earth to reclaim the still-handsome John Travolta before he fell into the evil clutches of Scientologists out to remake him a bloated, annoying, overpaid ham.