I Noticed Something

All of the movies I've thoroughly enjoyed this year have something in common...
That's right: Mustaches. All of these movies, The Men Who Stare at Goats (a ridiculous, hilarious political satire), Zombieland, Inglourious Basterds, and District 9--they all feature mustachioed heroes. And before you mention it, yes, Woody Harrelson has a very faint blond mustache in that picture.

Is this a new trend in Hollywood? Or, perhaps, more specifically, is this the easiest way to convey an absurd character who will gnaw into my precious little heart? Honestly, these are my four favorite movies of the year and I will definitely want them on DVD.

The Men Who Stare at Goats is extremely funny and politically biting. There's something odd about George Clooney admiting he's a jedi warrior to Ewan McGregor. But, this movie has Dr. Strangelove written all over it. Wonderful movie. Ignore Kyle Smith of the New York Post, who wrote on Rottentomatoes.com: "Heslov directs for the first time in a career that, I pray, will consist of one movie." What a complete waste of criticism. Kyle Smith, whoever you are, I hope you're fired. The movie was highly entertaining; I don't think that means the director should never be hired again.

Happy Halloween!

I didn't get to dress up this year...but, I did get to embrace Robert Pattinson.

Yeah, I think I won in the end.
(So pathetic, I know...stupid teens).

Good People Still Like Andre Agassi

And not that chump Pete Sampras! What a chump.

O.K. so I used to be really into tennis. I have my own racket. It's a racket very close to Agassi's. Agassi was always my hero, and if Agassi was your hero, you hated bushy-eyebrowed Pete Sampras. That's part of tennis. Also, who cares if Agassi once was on crystal meth. If that's a crime, the whole state of Montana should be thrown in jail. Oh, and there's a big prison right down the road from here.

We're still on your team Agassi! We even hate Roger Federer, who wouldn't allow you to really rock at tennis before you retired, but instead, made you look like an old, balding gentleman. I'll get my hair cut like you did, Andre.

A Lot Goin' On

Sorry, it's been a while. Recently,
My sister was married. Congrats to her!
I spent about 24 hours either flying or sitting in airports.
I now have a brother-in-law.
I got to wear a three-piece suit. I also sweat three gallons.
I became The Chosen One of the family to pass on the name.
I went from 20-degree weather to 90-degree weather back to 20-degree weather.

And: it was extremely wonderful to get to dance with my beautiful girlfriend at the wedding. What a ravishing green dress. I am truly lucky.

The Fabric Of Our Lives?

So, I take issue with this commercial that pops up every time I try to watch a video on NBC.com. It's a commercial for Cotton. It's a lovely textile, but something is fishy when I hear a black woman, named Jazmine, singing about how Cotton is the fabric of her life.
Does she not know about cotton, and uh, what it did for her ancestors? I'm not trying to be controversial or a jerk, but honestly, am I the only one that finds irony in this advertisement?

Animals Get Along Here

I came home from school a few days ago to see a very intimidating gang just outside my door: a chihuahua, a Jack Russell terrier, and a black cat (which has been named Piddles II).

Then, the night before last, I woke up to the sound of a bell jingling. I look out the window to find three cats stalking past my window in a line, with bell collars. They were apparently hunting together. Piddles II was at the rear of this feline train.

My Conclusion: Piddles II is pimping these animals out to do his bidding. He hires the cats for night prowling, the dogs for daytime security. Isn't that right, Piddles II?

"Dolla' dolla' bill, ya'll."

I'm pretty sure this cat keep the coyotes from destroying our quaint little apartment complex. And if I'm late with a rent payment, there will be a paw knocking on the door. Very faintly, but there you have it.

"Humor is a great servant, but a horrible master."
-Quote from some guy I don't remember that Kevin gave to me in regards to my story.

Well, after workshop, it comes time to take everyone's differing opinions (seriously, my stories tend to divide people), try to sum them up, and then completely ignore them as I listen to myself in writing.

Sometimes--and believe me, I love literature and all that jazz--but sometimes I'll sit in a classroom and think "Damn, this is a bit too liberal arts for me..."

I don't want to name any names, but hell, when I can sing, dance, do a standup routine, or macrame my final project in a class, I really start wishing I was in a real class. I'd even take a real literature seminar again.

Then again, I could be saying all this a bit prematurely because there's no syllabus so far and we're just supposed to read these two books (currently out of stock) as much as we want and then do some homework none of us have any idea how to do because, again, it's just up in the ether.

Small Towns

Missoula is a funny place. There's a big metal box here for the mail, but I don't get my own slot until the USPS "Lock Guy" comes around and installs mine. He only works on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have to wait until next Tuesday.

It's a much nicer apartment this year. I'm in a complex with white trash families that ostensibly brew their own meth and let their hordes of children run all over the place. Direct quote: "I don't have enough brain cells from all the drugs to chase around these children..." But, it beats living in a basement. I'm pretty sure the neighbors directly across from me were featured on the History Channel's "Gangland". They look the part, at least, with their shaved heads, endless tattoos, and shirtless, muscle-bound torsos. But, it beats living in a basement.

The internet, well, that's a strange thing to Montana. For instance, my paperwork to get into the University was all in hardcopy, penned in and mailed off. Bresnan is the only real company here that provides "High Speed Internet". Quotes used ironically because there is no high speed internet in these here parts.

But what pisses me off is that I won't have the internet installed here until September 18th. That's as soon as they can do it. There are too many people trying to set up their internet service and apparently they only have one installer driving around frantically. September 18th is as soon as this one installer can come to my apartment, look at my cable modem which is all ready to go, hit a button, and turn the system on. I shit you not. It will take 3 minutes to complete and I have to wait 3 weeks for it.

Yesterday I pulled up to a stop light right behind the Bresnan truck and you better believe I was tempted to beg the guy to install my internet, and if kind words weren't good enough, I'd pull out my pocket knife and yell "I need Google, dammit!"

Needless to say, nothing happened, nothing will happen, and I'm stuck going to the library for internet until then. Stay tuned--I'm not dead on the water just yet.

Live From Gillette, Wyoming

No, it's not the newest razor out there -- that would be more interesting. I'm staying in a town with a few hotels, a handful of streetlights, and the same four employees that just rotate around the town to keep it running, acting as grocers, plumbers, pallbearers. I know how these small towns work.

I've driven 2,062 miles so far on my way back to Missoula, MT. Two thousand sixty-two miles in two days. I feel awful.

But, I have learned a few things while driving 2,062 miles in two days:
1. Bear Grylls could never handle such a task. And, he would need more hotel visits. Suck it, Made-up-name Vs. Wild.
2. No matter how far you drive with the same crowd of cars, all speeding together and having absolutely no problems (AKA being in "them wolf packs" as my driver's ed teacher lovingly termed them), the drivers around you are not your friends. Don't be sad when they have to exit the highway.
3. Though the gas station attendant may frown on it, window squeegees can be used to clean the entire car.
4. Sometimes what you think pelting the windshield is not rain but hundreds of insects. Green, snotty, snotty rain.
5. Pro-choice supporters do not waste money on billboards.
6. Even if your music playlist is 600 songs thick (A miracle really. Thank you, Progress), after about 1,000 miles you will get completely fed up with music altogether. A fix: Listen to Catholic AM radio blasting out of Missouri and Iowa (A different kind of miracle...). And you thought you were conservative! This priest-on-air said cellibacy was a gift because women are too "meddlesome". Try not to giggle as he says "Choose missionary" over and over.
7. Most people place crosses or wreaths where a loved one died in a wreck on the highway. In South Dakota, however, they put up triangular signs with a red X that read: "THINK! Drive safely!" And if four people died in the car, there will be four of these signs grouped together, asking you to think four times harder and drive saferer.
8. If you look out your side windows at another car, and see its driver, you will make eye contact. There is no fighting it. It will happen. To make things less awkward: Raise your eyebrows as high as you can and stare at them before laughing madly and accelerating onward.
9. Driving west at sunset is horrible. Almost as horrible as seeing a "ROAD WORK AHEAD" sign. Hear me South Dakota and Iowa?

Alas, that's all I can say for now. My brain has turned to mush. I saw some modern white windmills earlier and found them beautiful.