Quote of the Week

From the boy

"I brought the scarf you gave me. So I could have a litle bit fo you with me... and it's less nasty than taking a used condom".

Re memories for him to take home.

If They Happen in Threes I’m Screwed

I need to stop with the casual lying. In the past few days I have said things that were NOT heartfelt or truthful. This has come to bite me--and several others involved—on the ass.

1) Case in point—I asked Charity to help me out and do Samuel’s taxes for him. We agreed to a fee and made plans to meet up and exchange paperwork. Due to the fact it was raining Samuel ended up taking me to the Pier where she was working that night but he didn’t have any cash and neither did I. Instead of telling Charity this, I mad the boy wiat in the car while I told her that he left town to fly home to visit with his very sick grandmother. Less then 24 hours later the boy REALLY was on a plane to the New York area.

(Before you think that I made up a terrible lie—we knew that Samuel’s grandmother was in hospital. We just didn’t know for sure how bad it was yet.)

2) This lie was a practical white lie but still managed to screw me over. I told my boss at work that I loved my job on the show and would totally stay longer if I could. I then explained how I was looking for my next job and hadn’t found anything yet and that I doubted it would be as great as this show. My boss then surprised me by extending my job another week…

(I should have kept my mouth shut.)

3) Final lie in last few days was when Mrs. Garrett told me that she just landed a new gig out of town that would last over a month. I was ‘so excited’ and yet ‘so depressed’ that she was leaving town for so long since we could have been ‘hanging out’ after next week.

Nothing has changed with her plans as of yet but with how things have been going I’m sure the job will fall through and she and I will spend days on the couch watching Meg Ryan/Reese Witherspoon films till the cows come on.

(Insert irony here.)

From TV Guide

DISPATCHES

March 28, 2006

When I heard that longtime TV producer Dan Curtis died this week at 78, I kind of felt like a part of my childhood died as well. This showman no doubt was most proud of his epic World War II miniseries of the '80s, Winds of War, and its colossal 30-hour sequel, War and Remembrance. Yet I can't help but think fondly of the supernatural '60s soap opera he created (also for ABC), Dark Shadows, which introduced the world to that fang-tastically brooding vampire hero, Barnabas Collins.

Many was the afternoon I would hurry home from school (or, in the summer, the public pool) to catch the latest creepy installment of this Gothic soap. I had the books; I had the board game; I even sported plastic fangs and could produce a replica of Barnabas' gaudy ring upon demand. I wasn't yet a teenager, but I already knew what it meant to be a passionate cult-TV fan — a vibe I would be able to analyze professionally many years later when shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer came along.

When Dark Shadows was briefly revived for NBC in prime time in 1991 (scheduled poorly by the network and doomed by preemptions from coverage of the first Gulf War), I was thrilled to be able to visit the new Collinwood set (a mansion in the Hollywood hills) while it was in production. (They were filming a vampire attack with a bat flying in the window. What ghoulish fun!)

I later interviewed Curtis at his MGM digs, which was then just an office building, no longer a studio backlot. He bristled with energy and bravado at the thought of reviving his landmark cult series, and he never lost his belief that TV was a canvas for grand-scale storytelling. His War and Remembrance, which cost in the range of $110 million, was widely regarded as one of the last gasps of the sprawling miniseries, beating Lonesome Dove for the Emmy that year, but because the ratings didn't quite live up to its ambition, it marked the beginning of the end of this epic style of TV.

They don't make them like Dan Curtis used to make them. That's worth some remembrance, reflection and appreciation.

True Enough

Quote of the Week

Miss Chloe continues to bring with this gem...

"Nothing ruins a moment quicker than a finger...in the wrong socket..."

Seriously true.

Barnabas--Where Were You?

From TV Guide:

A DARKER-THAN-USUAL DAY AT COLLINWOOD

Dark Shadows creator Dan Curtis died yesterday at the age of 78, the Associated Press reports. The producer-director responsible for such miniseries as The Winds of War and War and Remembrance had been diagnosed with a brain tumor in December but, it seems, hung on until his wife passed away only weeks ago.

How sad--maybe someone should try and redo Dark Shadows right for him!!!

You Know I did

List 10 things you've done in your life that you think most people probably haven't done, and repost!

~~~

1) Fallen through the ice and into the Charles River.
2) Hit James Van Der Beek with a grocery cart while intoxicated.
3) Danced with Elijah Wood and Dominic Monaghan.
4) Got paid for sex—by accident.
5) Was freaked about friend's car being broken into, stayed up late with said friend watching bad horror film which we discovered was filmed in our building--in my apartment. We had no idea!!!
6) Was felled by an infection that left me unable to walk for 3 days.
7) Almost barred from high school graduation for running an illegal pornography company out of my audio/visual department.
8) Worked for the Kennedy family and met most of the political members of said family.
9) Had a piece of published work stolen and reposted on a Christian/Right Wing website.
10) Stranded in Las Vegas and missed first day of work on my new job. No one believed me.

The Case of the Cap

So I am in a cute cap today at work. I know most of my friends have seen it but everyone at work is surprised… I try not to be too trendy at the jobby job as to not seem too gay. I know—lost cause.

The real reason though? I FUCKED up my hair. I took a vote and decided to go to red for a bit—thinking along the lines of a strawberry blond look with maybe highlights. What I have ended up with is a cross between Ginger Spice/Armenian red/Ronald McDonald. And while it is very drastic and punk (according to Jac) and amusing (according to the boy) I have been HORRIFIED.

And now I have to figure out what I will do with this. Either dye it blond and see if I can fix it that way or shave my head ala Natalie Portman in “Vendetta”. I’m so annoyed.

But the cap is fetching and quite distracting.

Hell's Belles

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

That's Right

Which Gay Pop Diva Are You? (pictures)

You're Xtina!
Take this quiz!








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Random Rory

I’ve now heard rumors that Veronica Mars is not definitive for the CWN schedule and feel bad for convincing so many people to not watch season two because they’ll miss the novelty of this season’s major twists. Maybe the numbers will help.

I have to stop feeling guilty about the things I want to do. He’d want me to do them anyway and if the roles were reversed so would I.

I don’t know if my new shorts will fit right. I’m terrified to try them on since I have been feeling so huge as of late.

I’m suspecting that someone has figured out that I don’t like them much. And this could be a problem with other people.

I think I want to go red again but am not sure if this is a good idea or if I’ll look silly. I guess I need an honest opinion.

I should really follow through with Ruby on the new play process. I guess I just feel like I don’t have time and don’t want to half ass it.

I really should call my mom.

I need to start collecting postcards again so I can re-create my collage on my closet. The room fells bare without it.

I’m sleepy all the time and I’m not sure what that is about.

I really want another fun game night with all my friends—the last one rocked.

With all the advice I have given in the last few weeks I should really get started on my advice blog idea. I just don't know if anyone would be in it.

I wonder if I should spend my own money to give the loggers a going away-sorry your job ended thing.

Quote of the Week

This one is from a new friend/dear old friend--June...

"How many guidos in New Jersey have the hots for trannies!? Christ's sake! The whole cast of the Sopranos was in my inbox last week with emails eloquently stating "U R hott, wanna fuck?"

The image alone makes me crack up--muchless hearing Miss June say it in that sexy, scratchy smokey voice....

Boredom Leads to Stealing

Saturday night—party night international. Early last week I got an invitation for a Big Brother friend’s party from someone who is quite well known for being a friend’s crush. I was on the fence about the whole affair but decided that I should at least go and give it a try for no other reason that what else would I do? So Shelly, Lola, Lizzie and Bess made plans to hit the party and see what kind of fun we could get into.

Besides a late start, due to many a female fashion crisis, we headed off to the strange land that is Silverlake after picking up a couple bottles of fun. We found rockstar parking—thanks to Lizzie and the no sex—and after a bit of confusion we eventually found the right house and made our entrance. And wanted to leave as soon as we did.

The party was lame—not just kind of dull or slow but just lame. The host wasn’t as hotte as we remembered, the people all classic Hollywood types with the too old dressed too hip in full effect and just awkward to boot. I spent the majority of the party in the kitchen with Lola catching up then anything else. Of course, Lizzie and Shelly worked the room rockstar style while Bess drank and Lola and I took turns smoking. Excitement personified.

After what seemed like forever we finally made our excuses and headed out to find some other adventure. We ended up at the Bigfoot Lodge—emo to the extreme—and sat around sipping beers, snapping photographs, and making smack talk. I felt a bit out of sorts without any black on or poetry to cry over but it actually worked out well.

The high point was Lola and I making fun of a boy that Lizzie and Bess brought back to our table; I don’t want to be mean but the boy looked like someone we know and once pointed out—let’s say the flirtation stopped. Of course the boy deserved it for telling Lizzie that she was too old—he was too much wrong for us to deal with.

Once his exit was made we continued with the paparazzi action until the bar hit last call. It was at this point that I noticed a yellow parasol next to us and I joked that I should swipe it since it was obviously deserted. I was told by the ladies (those paying attention) that I shouldn’t and I wouldn’t get away with it.

So of course I slid off my jacket and wrapped the parasol up in it as we were leaving. This caused much amusement for the ladies—because not only was it a big gay gold parasol but because I pulled it off. I was feeling proud of my theft skills and my girl gang of accomplices until it was decided to take photos with said stolen parasol in the parking lot of said bar I swiped it from. No hardened criminals here.

Of course the moral of the story is don’t make me bored—or I’ll steal stuff. And what to do with big gay parasol? I’ll find someone more deserving and just pass it on it’s merry little way. It’s bad karma to have stolen goods.

Sometimes It Doesn’t Work.

Friday was rough… There was no new inciting incident, no novel cause for the distress but just a familiar feeling of being fucked up. It began after work when I was basically in the position of screwing up my whole night and having no way to prevent it.

I realized that I should have left work earlier—not listened to what was being offered and just gone. I got home late—too late to push people to do what we said we would do and too late to adjust for the new plan. I skipped out on dinner with the girls because it run into the show time, skipped out on “Doctor Who” with Davis because I couldn’t get there and basically became depressed on my couch.

And poor Edie saw what was happening and tried to help by giving reasonable suggestions but I just wasn’t having it. I let myself be sucked into feeling useless and dumb and just incapable of living my life due to such a shallow thing.

I mean—the car issue doesn’t normally hold me up. I walk everyway, I get places fine and everyone is great about including me in the game plan and just meeting up with me. I don’t think most people I know could what I have done for the last 8 years. It’s a rare moment tat I get worked about the lack of transport. It’s an accomplishment—as dubious at it sounds.

But Friday night I felt like shit and like I was missing out on things that I wanted for such a loser, sucky reason. The funny thing is at the end of the day things managed to work out—I got over myself and let someone help me and I had a fun time. I still watched the show at home (which I LOVED) and got time with my friends and everything worked out in the end.

And I’m thankful for that. For all the little things that make my work. And for my friends who help make it work better.

You Are 19 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Mae-by, Mae-by Not

I finally made time to hook up with Kelly and Lizzie two nights ago to head over to Peggy and David’s and see the latest addition to their family. I was feeling guilty since it has been almost five weeks since they had their baby but I also didn’t want to be one of the people that night be overcrowding them.

Babies always amaze me—the idea that something so small and defenseless comes out of one of us is just weird and touching at the same time. And little Mae is a very beautiful baby and I mean beautiful. (I’m not one of those people who thinks all babies are cute—I wasn’t a cute baby so I can talk smack.) She was very docile and took being held by the strangers pretty well.

Looking at her little serene face as she laid across my arms I remembered how much I do want kids and a family of my own. It’s kind of fun and popular for us all to play it coy when it comes to the subject but in the end of the day most of us (barring Valeska) are eager to have one of our own. Of course these thought only occur when holding a pink clad, smiling, squirming little one and not when drinking beers at the BR.

What is hard for me is that I will have to really work for my own children; adoption is very expensive and the process is extremely time consuming. I remember back when Nick was getting ready to start the processes I was very jealous because he easily has the means in a way that I don’t. Part of me hopes that a bunch of money will just fall from the sky to make this all possible.

And I am terrified that money is the one thing that will prevent me from having kids. Its rather disheartening to realize all the things that need to happen first before I would even be considered a suitable candidate. But maybe I am over thinking this and that it will all work out the way it needs to.

Though another part of me hopes I can adopt the child of any friend that needs to stay in the country and can if she has an American baby. I’m not saying I support reckless pregnancy but it could be an option, eh?

Rory Slept Here

It was unintentional. I left a huge spot on Samuels bedroom wall—and I was a bit embarrassed but not able to clean it off before I headed out to work. (Not that kind of stain—dirty dirty.)

It’s because of his bed—or rather his lack of bed. When we first started dating Samuel had a mattress on the floor—twin—and a lack of furniture. I jokingly named his little place the artist grotto because it was exactly how I lived back when I first moved to Los Angeles. Nothing matched, boxes for nightstands and just kind of empty.

Now I’m not very picky, I mean, I spent on a flip and fuck for the first two years I lived out here with nothing but bad film posters and postcards for decoration. The one thing I never did (and actively avoided in college) was share a twin bed with anyone. I just always thought it looked uncomfortable and so I just didn’t. Which is why I hooked up in elevators and common rooms when I did anything with a boy. (Sorry about that)

But recently that all started to change—mostly due to Kaylee. She switched up beds and gave Samuel her twin box spring, bed frame and eventually a new twin mattress as well. Samuel—being Samuel—didn’t know what to do with the original mattress so he stacked the box spring with two mattresses. Now this seems a smart idea but instead turned his bed into ‘Jenga!’ bed.

Which wouldn’t be much of a problem except a twin bed, with two sizable men, and of questionable stability was bound to lead to some issues. So when I spent the night next, we realized that for us to get any sleep it would all be about balance. Which lead to us holding each other, ala Rose and Jack, in a really gay version of ‘Titanic’ except if we fell it would be on a hard wooden floor.

But we were fine for quite a bit until I shifted and he didn’t and I had to throw my hand to floor to keep from falling off. We resettled and fell asleep for quite a bit but I got a leg cramp and shifted and had to grab at the wall to keep for impaling myself on a slew of books and “Buffy” script books while startling the boy out of a deep sleep.

Eventually we figured out how to get to sleep and were fine until the next morning when he had to get up before me, which caused another round of bed hopping. As he prepared to go to jury duty I fell back to sleep right away after finding my own perfect balance.

I must have been really tired because I didn’t remember him leaving when I woke up an hour later. And as I stumbled around his grotto I realized this was the first time I had been alone in his place. That he trusted me to just hang out and do stuff and let myself out. It’s a weird feeling.

So I did all my morning stuff and got ready for work. I was packing my bag when I heard a sound and looked out the window to see his cousin—who owns the guesthouse—and I felt caught doing something wrong—I’m not supposed to be here. So I waited till she left the yard because I didn’t know how I would explain myself. “Hi—I’m the guy your cousin is fucking around with and he’s not home but I’m not stealing anything. Just getting dressed for work—would you like to search my backpack to be sure?”

After that weirdness I turned to leave when I saw a hand print on the boy’s wall. My hand must have gotten dirty when I threw my hand on his floor and then when I touched his wall I left a mark. I tried to quickly wipe it off but couldn’t and I didn’t want to be late to work because my timing was off due to hiding out from the cousin and so I didn’t have time. So I left.

But I felt odd about it. Like I left this huge piece of proof that I had been there. It was like a huge picture of myself—Rory slept here—and I wasn’t sure what he would think of that. Because even though we’re boyfriends and in love we’re still in that weird spot where so many things just belong to us separately. My friends, his place, my television show, his music.

The funny thing is that we do leave little things at each others place—a toothbrush or sleep pants or a soda but they’re so little that they don’t seem like much. Like if we broke up tomorrow that it would take 2 seconds to get rid of the proof and poof—no boyfriend. But for some reason the hand print felt like something more. Like individual proof of existence.

Maybe I’m over thinking this. The boy was cool with what happened if not pleased. (“Were you hands dirty all night?” “Hey—if you cleaned your floor better I wouldn’t have gotten them dirty”) But it still seems deeply personal. Maybe I watch too much CSI.

Here we go--again.

*List 10 things you want to say to people but know you never will.
*Don't say who they are.
*Disable comments.
*Never discuss it again.


1) I had one of the best weekends of my life with you. It was fun and crazy and divey and quite the adventure.

2) I wish I didn’t give a fuck about things like you do. Seriously.

3) You amaze me with your bravado. I wish I could grab want I want like you seem to.

4) I’m glad that you trust me with the things you do. It means so much to know that about us.

5) I never forgot your promise to me. It means more than you can ever know. I hope to return the favor.

6) You make me feel amazing even if I don’t deserve it half the time.

7) I love how you push me kicking and screaming into new things. I really need someone to do that.

8) It amazes me how you always seem to show up when I need you too. It’s always a surprise and always a gift.

9) You’re like the sister I never knew I needed. But I did and still do.

10) I wish I knew you better in college. You’re such a smart engaging, funny, intelligent man. It’s just sad I didn’t know it back then.

I'm So There Opening Night

Per TV Guide

That big-screen version of Dallas is inching closer to reality. Variety reports that the cast is starting to fill out — particularly in the backside, one might say, with Jennifer Lopez being offered the role of Sue Ellen Ewing (played by Linda Gray on the long-running CBS serial). Luke Wilson is in talks to play Bobby, and Shirley MacLaine is being eyed for Miss Ellie, while the most plum part, J.R. himself, is still earmarked for John Travolta (production on Dallas would begin in October, after he's done filming Hairspray). You can practically hear Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson catfighting over the role of Lucy.

OOH, OOH, OOH!!!!:

Ten things--Per Patti

*List 10 things you want to say to people but know you never will.
*Don't say who they are.
*Disable comments.
*Never discuss it again.

1) I am not one of the people that hurt you—stop confusing my behavior for theirs.

2) If you’re not careful—we won’t be friends. You should know better.

3) I hope you learned from your past mistakes because I can’t watch you do this again. It hurt too much the first time.

4) I wish I mattered as much to you as you do to me.

5) Our friendship went south when my life became scary and it became all about you—it hurt a lot and I still don’t know what to do with that.

6) If you really hate gossip then stop running your mouth. No one likes a hypocrite.

7) I worry our friendship has stopped being fun.

8) I wish you had loved me—it would have made things so much better.

9) We ended the moment you left me stranded. And you may have apologized but I can’t forgive you for making that choice in the first place.

10) I wish I knew what to do for you right now. And it makes me feel terrible—even more so because I feel like this is all my fault. Even though I know better.

Quote of the week

A new winner—the one and only Miss Naomi—joins racks with her rather fun visual association.

Upon looking at a series of nude artwork which ends with close ups of semen covered breasts called “Those aint tears bitch…” Naomi realizes something important.

“I guess I was wrong. Robin should have come…”

The fact that semen covered breasts made her think of her boyfriend almost made me pee my pants. Thanks—the toaster’s in the mail.

A Fun Week

This past week has been crazy—with the exception of a few people (Lucy Ruby Ava and Charity) I have spent time with almost everyone in my life. I spent Friday night with Lizzie Kelly Lola Shannon Cheryl Duncan Dax Grant playing games at the girls place. It was chill and quiet and Kelly and I kicked butt at the ever popular bowl game—adult version.

I then spent half of Saturday at home with Edie just hanging out at the house. Mrs. Garrett has been out of town and she and I have been hanging and chilling and chatting. I set out and accomplished quite a few errands as well and have a new haircut for my troubles.

That night I went and meet up with Miss Chloe who came for a little Southern Cali hospitality. We hit Karma and traded tips on handling our men and ourselves with in the guise of ‘relationships’ and followed this up with a lovely stroll down the blvd. We made a stop at the one and only Fredrick’s where Miss Chloe bought a fetching little number and we chased this all down with 34 oz beers at the Snow White Café.

Later I met up with the boy and we spent the night watching TV and spooning—always lovely—which led to an early and full night of sleep. We managed to work in a quick brunch before paring ways early Sunday. We met up at Joy’s later for a fun night watching the Oscars with everyone--and possibly their brother—and while ‘Crash’ killed me, I had fun.

Monday was the start of the workweek but I found time that night to hang out with Miss Kirby. We had a light dinner and headed back to my place for conversation. It was nice and at points serious but all in fun. Tuesday the boy picked me up from work and we went back to my place where he and Edie finally met. It was like a house on fire and while I have yet to try and chat her up about Samuel—I’m pretty sure it is all good.

Wednesday I spent playing catch up with Jac and watched tons of television and had some nice wine. The boy came over again and we spent the night all snuggles and “Babylon Five” watching. Thursday Naomi and I went downtown for a friends’ gallery show and outside of getting lost TWICE we had a great time. I fell in love with a painting and she fell in love with an amazing wheelchair bound artist. We tried to make a late dinner and fell somewhat short. I then spent the night with said boy and doing the type of things the Catholic Church warns you about.

It’s been quite crazy and fun. All I have to do now is working in a few more people, some writing and a little home décor and it’s all good. How much fun can be had all alone while the rest of the social whirl heads off to ski?

I guess I’ll find out.

Crankareffic

I am annoyed. I’m sure it is that I am tired. Or my co-worker blowing the circuit for our station thus losing HOURS of work. It could be the bitchy new story woman who tries to tell us all how we are doing the show wrong. It could be that.

Or I could just be a bitch. Not sure yet.

Sadness

This is so so sad, especially for their 13-year-old son, Will.

Dana Reeve, the widow of Christopher Reeve, passed away of lung cancer late Monday.

What's more troubling is that Reeve was one of the many non-smokers afflicted with the terrible disease.

The Christopher Reeve Foundation released the following statement:

"On behalf of the entire Board of Directors and staff of the Christopher Reeve Foundation, we are extremely saddened by the death of Dana Reeve, whose grace and courage under the most difficult of circumstances was a source of comfort and inspiration to all of us. Dana will always be remembered for her passion, strength and ceaseless courage that became her hallmark."

So sad.

Yeah—I know…

So I was depressed last night about ‘Crash’ winning the best picture award… Not because I didn’t like it—cause I did-but I just felt it was the most uneven of all the films nominated this year.

The acting is certain cases was not that great, the writing overly clever and symbolic, and the direction wasn’t that original. I honestly would have wanted to see anything else win.

Which started me thinking about past years and whether winning does matter. I’m not sure it does when you look down this list of “losers”—especially when the film that won in its year is one you have NEVER heard of.


Little Women

The Thin Man

The Good Earth

A Star Is Born

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

The Wizard of Oz

Wuthering Heights

The Grapes of Wrath

The Philadelphia Story

Citizen Kane

The Maltese Falcon

Double Indemnity

It's a Wonderful Life

Miracle on 34th Street

Sunset Blvd

A Place in the Sun

A Streetcar Named Desire

High Noon

Shane

The King and I

The Ten Commandments

12 Angry Men

Auntie Mame

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

The Diary of Anne Frank

Meredith Willson's The Music Man

To Kill a Mockingbird

How the West Was Won -- Bernard Smith, Producer

Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Mary Poppins

Doctor Zhivago

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Bonnie and Clyde

The Graduate

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

M*A*S*H

A Clockwork Orange

The Last Picture Show

Deliverance

Sounder

American Graffiti

The Exorcist -

Chinatown

Jaws

Nashville

All the President's Men

Taxi Driver

Star Wars

Apocalypse Now

Norma Rae

Raging Bull

On Golden Pond

Raiders of the Lost Ark

E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial

The Big Chill

The Color Purple

Dangerous Liaisons

Field of Dreams

JFK



Howards End -- Ismail Merchant, Producer

Pulp Fiction

The Shawshank Redemption

Sense and Sensibility

Fargo

L.A. Confidential

Saving Private Ryan

The Sixth Sense

Moulin Rouge

The Hours

Brokeback Mountain

How Love Goes

The Five Love Languages

My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.

Complete set of results

Physical Touch:		11
Quality Time:		10
Words of Affirmation:		4
Acts of Service:		3
Receiving Gifts:		2

Information

Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Take the quiz

Get Your Geek On

I Am A: Chaotic Good GnomeBard Ranger


Alignment:
Chaotic Good characters are independent types with a strong belief in the value of goodness. They have little use for governments and other forces of order, and will generally do their own things, without heed to such groups.


Race:
Gnomes are also short, like dwarves, but much skinnier. They have no beards, and are very inclined towards technology, although they have been known to dabble in magic, too. They tend to be fun-loving and fond of jokes and humor. Some gnomes live underground, and some live in cities and villages. They are very tolerant of other races, and are generally well-liked, though occasionally considered frivolous.


Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.


Secondary Class:
Rangers are the defenders of nature and the elements. They are in tune with the Earth, and work to keep it safe and healthy.


Deity:
Finder Wyvernspur is the Chaotic Neutral god of the cycle of life and the transformation of art, although he leans heavily towards Good. He is also known as the Nameless Bard. Followers of Finder believe that everything must change in order to grow and thrive. Their preferred weapon is the bastard sword.


Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy ofNeppyMan (e-mail)

Jason Ryan

So last night was a weird rough night. Nothing exceptional happened, no grand crisis or earth-shattering reveals. I just got some place in my head that I thought I had left a long time ago.

The last few days I have been really tired and the job has been running me ragged; to the point that phone calls seem difficult and company is not really wanted. I spend each night taking a nap and having dinner and reading books. Last night wasn’t much different; I was curled in a ball and plowing through “The Year of Ice”. I liked it and I got it.

The weird thing is after a finished the book I realized how much about my life the story turned out to be; from the leader character on down it seemed verbatim my childhood and so much so that it stirred an odd memory.

For some reason this book made me think long and hard about my dead brother Jason Ryan. He died as an infant and I was barely out of middle school when it all went down. It was from that one event that my parents’ divorce happened and my life took a turn that I never expected.

Not to rehash old turf but I started for the first time to really think about Jay Ryan—as he was called—we never really talked about him much afterwards. I have little slips of memory that filter in and out at times; like the memorial service and the little blue sail boat that we buried with him and the awkward silences with the babysitter who was with him when he died.

But for the first time ever, I wished I was at his grave, wished I could talk to him, tell him how happy we all became down the line. What he missed with all us, how I think of him, how my mother still cries every January on his birthday, how none of us knew that till years later and about how we don’t blame him for all the things that came after. That I still love him and wish he was here.

And as I found myself wander the streets that night—a big gulp in one hand and a cigarette in another—I wondered whether we have all become who were supposed to be. That maybe his death served some grander purpose—that it became the means for all of us to set off and find our own happiness. Just maybe.

Of course—you never know these things. And with realizing that I headed home for the night, making myself push through all the dramatic thoughts and wishes. I made myself go off and enjoy myself. I hung out with the girls at Ali’s and had drinks and baby talk and sex talk. I laughed and smiled and joked with them; because if there is anything you can do for the dead is that—living your life fully.

And as I went to sleep that night I felt better—relieved. I slept through the night and woke up happy and smiling. I don’t remember dreams but I feel like something must have happened there. But the weirdest thing happened at work—a new producer joined the show and was someone I knew through Edie. A writer friend of hers from back home. The weirdest part—his name.

J Ryan.

Building A Beast of Burden

Every so often I realize that I am quite capable at causing my own problems. I agree to things that in retrospect make no sense and then I wonder why I spend a whole night on edge. I am my own worst enemy.

I have to figure what it all means. And deal with it appropriately.

Quote of the Week

Once again this belongs to Davis with his description of being hung over.

"A little too much Jack Daniels and I'm puking like a cheerleader two hours before getting fitted for her prom dress..."

Oh how well you know the pain of many a cheerleader.