Catching up with…

Or, La Science des rêves
I saw this beautiful film over the weekend and just thought I’d spread
the word. I went to go see it because the trailers promised some
amazing visuals, but I left enamored by the whole idea of the movie. It’s
hard to sum up the story, as the way it’s told is less than linear. I
saw someone use the term "visual puzzle" and that seemed to strike a
chord with me. In any event, Gael García Bernal (Motorcyle Diaries, Y
Tu Mama Tambien, Mal Educación) is fantastically quirky and helps gray
the lines between reality and dreams. True to dialogue in just about any European city, the conversation flows easily from one language to another. The subtitles add to the humor at times, playing up the rampant grammar bungles. Check it out if it’s playing in
your town.

Official Site

IMDb Synopsis

Trailer

Let’s face it. Blogging is a pain in the ass. So if I am logging back on here after a journaling ice age, then it must be for something good. Every now and then, the folks over at E! Entertainment Television get it right. The first episode of The Chelsea Handler Show that I caught left me gasping for breath between fits of laughter. Seriously. She’s comic genius.

But who the hell is she? Yeah, I had never heard the name before either. I did, however, recognize her as the funny one from Girls Behaving Badly.

Her video clips are definitely stronger than her monologues, but this show  has potential. Give her a shot.

On this day in history, a dog achieved more than most of us will in a lifetime. No, I’m not talking about licking, sniffing or otherwise violating his own special area. On March 9, 1961, Russian dog Chernushka completed an orbit around the earth aboard Sputnik 9. My sources are unclear what prerequisite studies were involved in the pup’s intensive preparations for space flight, but I’m sure there was some calculus involved. "Blackie," as he was called, had his own little doggie space suit and everything. Can you imagine the pressure that must have been on this canine? In a country where people were waiting in line for cheese, he was getting fitted for a pressurized suit. There’s no word if his parents were as proud as I imagine them since the Russian space program typically collected stray dogs off the street for the program. Which could only have gotten the pure bred, well mannered pets of proper Russian families in a huff. Despite the apparent rock star lifestyle he was living, his only companions on the orbital flight were a handful of mice and a wooden mannequin. Talk about a long trip.

Chernushka was not the first Russian dog hurled out of Earth’s atmosphere as part of the Muttnik Program. Belka (Squirrel) and Strelka (Little Arrow) were the first dogs to spend a day in orbit and return safely. Strelka even lived to give birth to healthy pups of her own, one of which was given to Caroline Kennedy as a gift. The only gift of mine that ever made headlines was the ceramic "vase" I gave mom that set previously unachieved standards for ugly.

Tucked inside Sputnik 10, Zvezdochka (Little Star) followed the success of Chenrushka by only 16 days. And 18 days later, the Cosmonauts put the first man in space in the Vostok 1 capsule. All thanks to the courage of man’s best friend. Okay, maybe courage isn’t as accurate as involuntary compliance, but it sure makes for a better story.

Sadly, not all the brave barkers made it back to receive the wild accolades of their fans. But credit the Russians for paying the dogs their due respect. Some of them were immortalized in monuments, the rest were honored on stamps. I hear there’s even a slew of plaques for them at a Moscow research center. Again, recognition and global adoration to which I can’t even begin to aspire.

Good boy, Blackie. Now stay off the couch.

Some art mimics life. Some lives mimic art. More often than not, my life seems to imitate pop culture. And usually the kind accompanied by a laugh track.

Somewhere between olympic coverage of world class athletes hurling stones across ice and an episode of NBC’s The Office was a recent birthday party at work. Yes, the latest installment by our company’s culture committee was a birthday celebration involving crepe paper, cake and a little pink bmx bike. The birthday girl has a thing for motocross, you see, so we thought it would be swell if we set up an obstacle course and forced coworkers to navigate cones straddling a bicycle designed for a 5 year old girl. The 16" Magna Starburst, including training wheels, was haphazardly assembled only minutes before the "party" which ensured a minimum degree of danger.

Fortunately there were no major injuries to report, with one exception. The time trials were brought to a halt when yours truly applied an extra burst of speed across the finish line, severing the right pedal from the dainty crank. On the same day the Magna Starburst was brought into the world it was also retired, deemed unsafe to ride. It appears bikes engineered for the frames of pint-sized girls cannot bear the stress of competitive adult men.

Was anyone really surprised? It was probably no coincidence that the women in the office all "participated" first. It was all cowbells, pom pons and giggles as they bobbled around the cones and occassionally off the walls. We’re not certain the financial company across the hall appreciated our frivolity, but our office was united as a team and couldn’t get enough. Plus, the longer this went on the less work we had to do. But it was a totally different atmosphere at the Start/Finish line when I crouched over that teeny, delicate, blush and bashful colored bike. The giddy cheers were now tribal chants, urging me to strive for a stronger, faster, more dominant performance. Sure enough, straight out of a sitcom plot, some goofy guy in the office takes the good natured fun up a notch. Was I a little embarrassed because the bike could never be ridden properly after I was done with it? Not really, and not just because my time was light years faster than the competition. Nope, I was more red-faced because of how I couldn’t escape the office cliche. I could see the TVland story playing out to its silly end before I ever approached the flower clad two-wheeler, but I was helpless to alter the inevitable outcome.

The demise of the Magna Starburst ultimately meant a return to the usual work routine, the monotony only momentarily lifted. With the script reaching its predictably farcical end, there was comfort in knowing the next break in the drudgery was only as far away as the next employee birthday.

I hear he’s really into tennis and shopping so we’re certain to be in for an episode of Just Shoot Me starring the Williams Sisters.

I was priveledged with the opportunity to see the opening round match of the Davis Cup for Team USA. When I’ve seen pro women’s matches in the past, I’ve been really surprised by how much faster the ball moves in person, so I was curious to see just what an Andy Roddick service looked like in person.

Shawn got us amazing second row box seats. We were literally a few feet from the players. We were just behind the corner of the left side of the court, so when the players were receiving serve there we got a clear vision of what it was like. I believe Andy’s fastest serve of the day was 143 mph and let me tell you that in person that is very, very fast. We all cringed when one of the ball girls got pegged by an errant serve. Ouch. But she toughed it out and didn’t look phased. The bruise will surely be  a merit badge.

Unfortunately, Roddick’s opponent was not the caliber originally slated. Hanescu, was injurred and replaced in the match by Razvan Sabau. I know, I never heard of him either. He was clearly overwhelmed by the occassion, but came up with a few crafty drop shots. The Romanian team needed to win this match to stay in the competition, so it was too bad their highest ranked player was hurt the day before in doubles. Memo to Romanian coach: since no one on your team was going to beat the #1 doubles team in the world, the Bryan Brothers, rest your best players and put in the subs for the doubles match. It could have made Sunday much trickier for the Americans.

Meanwhile, the Romanian team did have a vocal contingent of supporters who admirably remained on their feet the duration of the tie (Davis Cup speak for "match"). The Romanian fans weilded a variety of signs but most puzzling to Americans was the "Romania Heart USA" sign. I think we just have a different take on competitiveness here.

With the win, USA moves into the quarterfinals against Chile. You can get all the information you’d ever want at the Official Davis Cup Site but you will not find this smashing photo of Brandon there.

People in California drive stupid. Need I say more? Probably not, but I can’t help myself. Upon moving to the sunny state governed by The Terminator, something is immediately evident. The roads are chaos. It’s like some Mad Max scene where the villains are soccer moms in mini-vans, older gents in sedans and spoiled teens on the phone driving SUV’s. If they don’t kill you, they will certainly make you crazy. Mel Gibson had to be (okay, act) clever to win his battles and that meant learning how to play by new rules. Similarly, a 25-minute minimum daily commute has garnered me some survival strategies of my own.

Accept that every California-plated mini-van will enter the highway by immediately and aggressively crossing all four to five lanes of traffic to access the left lane they believe they deserve to travel in, only to ride the break because that lane is invariably full. Breathe. Let them jam up the left lane along with the sedans in assorted shades of gray with their every-driver-for-themself mentality. Ease your mind because in California we have the right lane for passing. I know. it defies logic. But there’s no room for traditional logic in a world of drivers that can’t see outside their own personal bubbles. Without fail, when traffic backs up, the right lane is the one moving. Stay calm. Ease on over to the right and let the savages fight for a chance to wait in the "fast" lane.

And heaven forbid the sun should be momentarily obscured and the roadway is sprinkled by even the slightest rainfall. At that time every california-raised driver is required to crash into poles, curbs, unsuspecting motorcyclists, medians or each other. A young girl born in Wisconsin can safely guide a rear-wheel drive car up and down hills of ice but an adult California native of seemingly sound mind can’t operate a vehicle in the rain without putting us all in danger. Even at these times I find the right lane is the place where I can best control my own destiny.

It’s not that I’ve given up the fight. I’ve changed my battle tactics. In the new world made up of California roadways, it’s better to keep right. Once you’ve freed yourself from the ambition to be in the left lane you’ll discover a new kind of serenity. Suddenly competitive stress is replaced with schadenfreude as you watch the rest of the commuters wage war.

Related links by well-intentioned drivers who haven’t given up dreaming about passing on the left:
Left Lane Drivers and it’s helpful List of State Laws regarding driving on the left
Left Lane Idiots
Phelps
Lauren Fix

Your mobile carrier charges, what, $1.50 minimum for looking up a
number and connecting you? Send google a text message with the business
name and city instead, and they’ll text you the phone number back.
Nifty. It does a bunch of other helpful stuff too. Weather reports,
dictionary results, currency conversions, movie listings. You can try
the online demo right here.

Breaking chain letters is the newest, hottest New Year’s resolution. This is a bandwagon you can feel good about boarding. Together we can stop the harebrained proliferation.

The next time some purportedly close friend or relative tries to guilt you into
continuing another  insipid chain letter, or insists that you will get
money from Bill Gates, or pleads you are only their friend if you
answer 75 questions and a kitten will die if you don’t respond… make
them look at this.

Seriously, if you know how to check email, by now you should be able to see through the shams.

And, Friends, I love you, but I’m not going to respond to your endless question fill-in-the-blank survey. If you need me to forward some warm fuzzy message "including the friend who sent it to you" then we can’t be friends.

I’m certain that breaking these chains will not prevent you from obtaining financial independence. Nor will it cause the immediate death of some orphan in South America. And no, refusing to comply with these audacious requests will not bring either of us bad luck.

Happy Friday, campers.

I’d like everyone to take a moment to get acquainted with Morningwood. Stop snickering. I’m talking about the band from NYC. Their self named album releases January 10th and it should be pretty
big on alternative stations near you. Comparisons tend to be all over
the board. Mostly because songs seem to be one thing during a verse and
a whole other monster in the chorus. Melds the sweetness of Juliana
Hatfield, the production quality of Garbage and the rock inertia of the
Yeah Yeah Yeahs when they go off. I’ve even heard them likened to
Blondie. Jetsetter (formerly Jetsettermusicletter) was the first song I’ve heard from them. It was good enough for me to hop on the internet and check them out. Yep, they’re on iTunes. You can buy a few singles now. Meanwhile, their official website has music, discographies and videos for the taking. Nth Degree is another great track and, heck, I even like the male vocals on NY Girls. 

It appears the third day of January is historically a big day for pope activities. At least that’s what my initial, however shallow, research has found. 

On this day in 236 A.D., St Anterus ends his reign as Catholic Pope. On the very same day in 269, St Felix I begins his reign as Catholic Pope. Which is odder? That these things occured on the same day or that it took THREE YEARS to elect a new Pontiff? And you’re still harboring angst over that whole Florida recount episode. Sheesh.

I’m pretty sure conclave has rules about this now, but in 936 Duke Alberik II of Spoleto appoints his son Pope Leo VII. The controversial move did not bring Spoleto fame.

While not officially papal in nature, this is the day Joan of Arc was handed over to a mean bishop. The year was 1431.

Fast forward to the same day in 1962. That’s the big day Pope John XXIII excommunicates Fidel Castro. Unreliable sources quote his holiness as saying, "That’ll learn ‘em." The same sources were unable to verify if said quip was spoken in Italian, Spanish, or heavily accented English. I told you they were unreliable.

Incidentally, today Roman Catholics celebrate the Feast of St Anteros. Yep, he was a pope. The 19th to be specific.

If Pope Benedict XVI has done anything historic today, reports of his holy doings have not yet made it to the west coast. I promise to keep you posted. Meanwhile, I have no comments regarding the newest pope. I’m waiting until he does something nice.

I’m not pushing some new pope fetish on you. I just noticed a trend on one of my new favorite links, Scope System’s Today-In-History Page.