All Over the Place

Ghettiquette: Socially acceptable behavior in the ghetto. Good manners in a bad neighborhood.

It is considered good ghettiquette to pour out the first drink of your forty to honor your dead homies. It is considered bad ghettiquette to mess up the rotation. Puff, puff, pass.

Hello all, sorry if this entry seems really disjointed—it was written over a 5-day period. I start writing, then have to go somewhere or get distracted, you know how it is. The past week and has revolved around finally finishing my screenplay (hallelujah), applying for this arts and culture journalism scholarship (they only choose one writer, I'm not expecting anything) and thinking about "Jackie and Debra." On numerous occasions, I've laughed aloud in class by myself about it. I've also picked up her speech pattern, which is great.

"Let's plant a tree for Stephanie Berger!"

More highlights: FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS! I saw them at the Overture Center last Sunday night and they were friggin' awesome. Also awesome was Eugene Mirman who opened for them. "I was doing a book reading in Seattle when this kid with Aspergers stands up in the back row and yells 'bow down to me for I am your ruler!' And I responded, 'But I do bow down to you.' Because that's who god really is—a 12-year-old boy with high-functioning autism." It was funny, but maybe you had to be there.

I don't think Mel is crazy at all. If I was a stalker, these would be my types.

I took this Dreamweaver class last week so I can become a master of the Internet. We had barely learned anything yet and were just messing around with the features, when my skinny Abercrombie/Hollister-clad instructor flatly said, "If you really wanna look like a n00b, don't title your Web site." Like heaven forbid we don't title our Web site though you haven't even taught us how to make one yet. I laughed—again maybe you had to be there.

Mifflin was yesterday and although I did enjoy myself, I'm glad it's over. Day-drinking for eight hours is not something I handle well. And living on Mifflin is surprisingly stressful, especially when 17-year-olds townies try to enter your house and won't get off your porch. On top of the alcohol, I felt drunk with power kicking strangers off my property.

And no one dared fucking with me with this on.

Minus a few obnoxious guests and the puke under the kitchen table, the day was successful—beautiful weather, nothing stolen and no tickets. Woot Woot.

Now, I must work on my film paper comparing Pride and Prejudice of 1940 with the 2005 version. Oh Keira Knightley, despite your beauty I am still tempted to mess up your face. It's a weird feeling to know exactly what you have to do before you graduate in two weeks. Bah, let's just not think about it.

Until next time, title your Web sites.

-J.

Why I'm Going to Hell

Hasselhoffing: The act of changing a colleague's desktop wallpaper to display the manly physique of David Hasselhoff.

Dear God, man! I leave my workstation for a few moments to visit the big boys' room and you've Hasselhoffed me.

The other night, I was that irrational, angry girl at a bar. I thought this guy was whispering about me and laughing, then I could have sworn he said, "What the fuck are you, anyway? I commie?"

I flipped a shit.

In general, I don't think being called a communist is a big deal or even bad, but at that moment I felt like he was attacking my soul, and no other title could have upset me more. I ended up yelling that he didn't know anything about me and that he "had a very punchable face." He also happened to be cock-eyed, but I didn't say anything about that.

The next night, I was informed it was actually a glass eye he had, which he proceeded to take out after I left. Who screams at a partially-blind person? I do. And that was only the beginning of my ridiculously stupid eve, but I'll spare you the rest of it.

If he threw his eye at me, I would have shut up.

Another story: We watched Magnolia in screening the other night, which is one of my favorites, and you know at the end when it's raining frogs? The moment when the first frog hits the windshield, I felt something fall on my shoulder. I immediately brushed it off, then I swear I saw a giant cockroach on my knee. Once again, I flipped a shit. I started cursing under my breath and shaking my entire body. I tried to be discrete with all the other people around, but I was still a spaz in the dark. I should also point out we've had cockroaches in this theater before, so my vision was actually based in reality. I'm still worried one of them crawled into my purse then moved to my bed and has since laid eggs in my hair.

If asked what I did this weekend, my answer would have to be "flipped shits."
Thought: I feel bad for guys who come to my Zumba class. They probably just want a break from the weight room or basketball court, so they slip into what they think will be some harmless aerobics. Little do they know they are entering a room of full-on girl power. Besides all the shimmying and booty-shaking we do, we end each c

lass with a strip routine of "Man, I Feel Like a Woman." Sometimes I watch the one or two guys to see if they're actually trying to keep up or have just settled on staring at the gyrating ass in front of them. But usually, they really are trying.

Hating his life a little.

Moving on, I've been thinking about the idea of low versus high art lately, and how those lines can be blurred to mean something else. Quentin Tarantino, for example: He's considered an innovative, "post-modern" filmmaker... but why? If you individually look at all the different genres he references—kung fu, slasher, blaxploitation, western—along with his chart-topping soundtracks, it's hard to believe such mainstream, commercial and sort of dated subjects could blend together to create movies like his.

Chopping a guys' ear off is one thing, but having "Stuck in the Middle With You" playing in the background makes it something else. QT is the king of kitsch or, as my professor said, "cheese." Somehow he manages to transform what many audiences would typically scoff at into a product worthy of glorification.

I think Girl Talk and Andy Warhol are also artistic figures who have done this—celebrating and intellectualizing unlikely, everyday things... whether it's Brillo boxes or Lil Jon. All three use existing elements, so does that make their work unoriginal or even more original because of it? I suppose parodic irony like this is nothing new, but it seems worth examining in terms of "what makes art" and how to appreciate it. I'm not sure what I'm arguing here, but it's been on my mind.

Katie Fine, I bet you have this game. Lets play it soon.

Anywho, productivity, or something like it, is calling. Until then, carpe diem (it is 420 after all).

-J.

Look at Me, I Be Bloggin'!

Eleventy billion: A made-up number Keanu Reeves decided to bet for final Jeopardy on SNL.

Keanu: I bet eleventy billion dollars.

Alex Trebek: That's not even a real number. 

Keanu: Yet! 

Sorry I've been so...

Get it? Cuz she's M.I.A. Yeah, I'm way clever. I've decided to stop writing frequently because it creates expectations. And at this very moment in my life, I feel any expectations of me would be in vain. But I'm here now, so let us catch up. 

The past two weeks have revolved around me reminding myself I still have school work and trying to figure out what's next. Between half-hearted papers and presentations, I'm in the process of applying to 'ships (internships, fellowships, etc.). Or more like PIRATE SHIPS! 

Hm... too soon? I mean, he is safe now. 

Still, the general plan is to be home for a while, make some money doing whatever I can for a few months, then PERHAPS (it's a big perhaps) teach English abroad beginning in the fall or winter. If I've talked to you about this before, you may remember an interest in Thailand. I have a feeling, however, the 'rents aren't going to love the idea with all the recent craziness going on there. Only time will tell.

The weekend before last was the Wisconsin Film Fest. I saw some good docs, like Art & Copy and Food, Inc. and talked to some cool people in the industry. I won't lie—I felt mildly substantial when I met the editor of Anvil!, who was in town promoting the movie, and told him I saw it over the summer and wrote its film description for the Chicago Film Fest. He was really down to earth and friendly, and a UW alumni himself. What's sweet about film fests is that the actual filmmakers and people behind them seem so accessible; a lot of the time, you can talk to them yourself. I actually asked the editor if he twittered, but he kind of just looked at me funny and gave me a slow "nooooo..." 

Time for the segment I call "Movies I've Watched Recently" 

This picture is completely irrelevant, but Will Ferrell as 

James Lipton continually blows my mind. 

Jackie Brown - Probably one of Tarantino's lesser-known films. Entertaining, but too long and Robert DeNiro makes me feel dirty in it. Pam Grier is one sassy lady though, I like her. 

Coffee & Cigarettes - Awesome vignettes of all kinds of famous people talking over... coffee and cigarettes. 

Twilight - Best part: Bella walks into the classroom and sees Edward for the first time. A fan blows her hair in her face, and a paper under Edward's hand flies up. Their eyes meet. He makes a face like he just jizzed/shat his pants. Amazing. I looked for a clip but couldn't find one, so you have to see it for yourself. 

The Matrix - Clearly, I've seen this before but probably not in like four years. I was reminded of what an epic movie it is. Besides just being totally B.A., there's so much stuff going on (technology, virtual reality, religion, philosophy). My professor talked about this book "Taking the Red Pill" that I really want to read now. I know 10 years is not long ago, but it's still kind of unbelievable that special effects could look like that back then. 

We're watching Magnolia in screening on Thursday, which I'm pumped for because it's awesome and the soundtrack is flawless. 

I'll end this blog with my highlight of the day: Two seemingly drunk, homeless BFFs loudly arguing in front of my house.

"Mufucka, you got the stankiest ass I know!" 

"Bitch, I wash my ass!"

"You son-of-a bitch."

Until next time, keep up the hygiene (like I should talk). 

- J.

Sidenote: How full circle did my entry come involving Keanu and Will Ferrell? The last thing I did was look for a new urban phrase, and I just stumbled across eleventy billion. I love perfect things like that.