Cultural Snobbery Pisses Me Off

If you think that liking foreign films makes you a better person than me because one of my favorite movies is Tommy Boy, I've got nothing for you. If you scoff at anything that's "mainstream" or popular, please stay away from me.

Hey, I watched Spirited Away in the original Japanese. I know who Akira Kurosawa and Jean-Luc Godard are. Big fucking deal. My love of ee cummings and Kandinsky does not nullify my love of fart jokes.

Look, I know that I have better taste than most people. If you are one of my friends, feel proud, because, hello, good taste. But I am also aware that every single person on the planet thinks that what he or she loves is superior to all other crap. It's a duh kind of statement really, but too many assholes forget that their love of The 400 Hundred Blows has no bearing on their importance as people.

I know that the United States is dumbing down at an alarming rate, but the solution isn't to become insular and elitist. Take a cue from your kindergarten class and share with the other kids. And for the love of god, don't feel guilty about the things that you enjoy. Unless you love Clay Aiken, in which case, make like Clay and keep it in the closet.

I Have to Wait All Summer?

I watched the last five minutes of Gossip Girl on perezhilton and could not have loathed the show more if it had farted in my face. I love campy, soapy trash T.V., but the actors have to possess a talent besides walking and flipping their hair at the same time, and the writers need to not look to old Sweet Valley High books for their inspiration. That Jessica. What a bitch!

On the flip side, the season finale of House left me dehydrated from excessive crying. I'm not a huge fan of the show despite my love of Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard, but it was truly the most wrenching sixty minutes of T.V. I've seen all year. The show's biggest strength is that the ridiculousness of the medical melodramas never distract from the variety of relationships the show contains. Wilson and House in particular shine as co-dependent best friends who want the best for each other but have opposing views about what that means. The reason that the season finale was so exceptional is that there wasn't a nail-biting cliffhanger. Wilson's girlfriend Amber died and House lived. The end. But whether or not House and Wilson will repair their friendship is tantalizing enough to make me want the fifth season to start right now.

And last but never ever least. CSI: Miami. They shot the Carus! He might be dead! Either way, his sunglasses are broken and he won't be standing with his hand on his waist like a little teapot for another three months. Gah! Will this torture never end?

Kill Screen Hero

My word did I love The King of Kong, a documentary about the pursuit of the highest score on Donkey Kong. There's a dude, Billy Mitchell. And he's a total dick. At the beginning of the film, he is the world-record holder of the highest score. When Steve Wiebe, a husband, father and complete sweetheart sets a new record, Billy manages to get the score invalidated. Because he is. A DICK.

What follows is an almost Biblical match-up between these two men. Except that Billy refuses to play Steve live. Instead, he punks out and sends a videotape of his reclamation of the record.

I absolutely love documentaries like this. Trekkies and Wordplay come to mind, and I'm sure there are more. None of these movies cover ground-breaking or controversial topics. The people in them aren't famous or ticy-actory types. They are "normal" men and women who spend their lives watching Star Trek or doing crossword puzzles or playing Donkey Kong.

The best part about Kong is the strange men who hang on the periphery of Billy and Steve's lives. Billy has several little minions who tread somewhere between the ridiculous and the sublime.

I recommend this movie to anyone who has a sense of humor and a love of obsessive devotion to the small things in life.

Another Moment of Sadness

For the second time in less than a month, my mom has lost a member of her family. My Aunt Drein was 43. Forty-three. Looking at that number it seems even more absurd that she is gone. She died peacefully in her sleep. And that is absolutely zero comfort to the people who loved her. She had just gotten engaged. She was singing in a band and doing really well. She had friends and confidantes and family who loved her. Sometimes this fucking life is just too ridiculous.

All Downhill

I'm 30!! Woo?

Getting Creaky

I've gone walking the past four mornings, and now my knee hurts. What kind of fucked-up, AARP, denture wearing bullshit is that. I don't mind getting older. I just don't want to feel older. This blows.

Don't Grab That!

I don't like to talk about my weight. It's a sensitive topic for many people, and I'm no exception. I try not to care. I try not to judge myself based on the size of my jeans. Or my ass. But since I moved out of my sister's apartment, I've gained over 30 pounds. I never thought I'd be in the situation of gaining that much weight in less than a year. Every morning when I wake up and look in the mirror, I feel just a little bit like a failure.