Dragon Christmas

I recently dragon-flew my way from Idaho into my original lair of Enfield, Connecticut. I have recently watched Wolverine AND the Wizards of Waverly Place--how awesome would it be if that was just one long title?--but in honor of Christmas, I think I shall talk about Christmas movies.

I say this because my father and sister are currently watching The Holiday Inn. Oh yes, the movie where Bing Crosby dons blackface and pays tribute to Abraham Lincoln. (......) But what I really wanted to talk about is how any self-respecting woman could possibly choose Fred over Bing. Fred is impish (my sister's description) and is constantly drunk and is generally skulking about and occasionally bursting into dance for three minute intervals. I guess he is somewhat suave on the dance floor. Yeah, so was Vanilla Ice. But when Bing sings, angels weep, flowers bloom, and Posh smiles. Even when Bing tries to dance, it's endearing. I don't understand how they are even rivals. It's like the reality show Average Joe where they take all the average Joes and have them compete over some babe. She sort of latches on to the one who would be most passable at a cocktail party, and just when the Average Joe thinks he has her in the bag---bam! The produces manage to scrouge up some straight male models and throw them in the mix.

Bieber (my sister) and I just watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I never noticed how much sexual tension there was between Herbie and his boss elf who says everything in CAPSLOCK. Or between Rudolph and Fireball (his frienemy). Yeah, that's right--Fireball. Do yourself a favor and watch the stretch between when BOSS ELF makes Herbie cry and when Rudolph is exposed as a fraud. Tell me if you don't want to say "That's what she said" after almost every sentence. Yeah, Rudolph, I BET you want to pull Santa's sleigh. I probably should keep Christmas sacred and enjoy the movie like I did when I was a child. .....But the snowman is such a pimp! How could I not have noticed his pimp watch, pimp umbrella, and general swagger before?

I'm going to keep slinking about my house pretending that I'm the paparazzi. I spotted my dad in a flannel frock so I made him hold paper towels. Can you say Brawny man? I captured my mom reading this very blog. So far my sister has been elusive. She doesn't like to be caught in her natural habitat and she also has stopped shaving. She's pretty much a yeti.

Merry Christmas!

Repossession: Links

In honor of my evening last night, I shall build a post of links, repossessions. I shall harvest the organs of the interweb.

The last few days I have immersed myself in something that might seem... strange. The world of serial killings. While sewing books together I watched this and this. Then, instead of doing any number of productive activities, I made my way through all of Season 1 of this. All of these were remarkably good. They're so dark and morbid and funny and telling-- I mean, I love it when things that are so fucked up end up telling us more about ourselves and our culture and our humanity than almost anything else.

But then I moved onto movies that were less good. And let me tell you something. Anthony Stewart Head is a motherbleeping dragon.

I just watched this movie, with Paul Sorvino, Anthony Stewart Head (a la Giles from Buffy), the girl who played the daughter in Spy Kids, and a bunch of people I didn't recognize. It was so promising. A musical about organ harvesting, plus Giles who is goddamn sexy for an older man and has a phenomenal voice... usually.

I had been warned this movie wasn't as funny as it should have been, so much wasted potential. I blame, mostly, the writing. They should have hired Joss Whedon. That guy can write a musical. Snapples he is good.

Unfortunately, the music was less musical and more people talking to music. Anthony Stewart Head, as Repo Man, was less funny or campy and more... bad. But every once in a while he would roar, like a dragon, baring his teeth. That was kind of funny.

What the movie did have going for it was that, at moments, it was visually beautiful. Not all the way through--and frankly for a movie about organ harvesting could you really expect it to be?-- but at moments. In the way Pan's Labrynth got away with being gross and still kind of beautiful. Or the way The 5th Element was sort of futuristic and beautiful... The Genetic Opera was kind of gothic and beautiful.

Of course, then there was the guy with face flesh safety pinned to his face that was a little too reminiscent of this guy.

Tonight, instead of reveling in all of this horror I shall go see this with my fellow dragon blogger. Goodbye blood. Hello childhood.

No matter how good tonight is, it will never compare to watching this. Which hopefully I'll get to re-experience soon.

Dragon Reign

Check out that mullet and gap-tooth. Hello 1983.

Seattle is the Pesto of Cities!

Ah Seinfeld... how you know the way to my heart...

You'd think, these end of semester days, that I'd be wiling my time away in some dark corner, working my pencils down to little nubs as I prepare to face the final... whatever... of each of my courses. But I don't know... I guess I did something right 'cause pretty much everything that I need to do, I've done. I've finished. Ta-da!

But everyone I know is busy working their pencils to little nubs and as such, I've been spending a whole lot of time in my living room, with my catdragon Frankie.

The last two days? Seinfeld. Brilliant. Last night, as George goes on a tirade about always ordering Pesto, even though he doesn't like it, because he feels like he ought to like it... and Elaine's one time fling is flying in from Seattle... Seinfeld tells me that Seattle is the Pesto of cities.

I like pesto. But I love Seattle. No, it isn't as big as other cities. I kind of don't mind. It has the Sound. And the market. And so much good food. And Open Books. And so much literary culture, generally.

I'm going home for 3 weeks here shortly, and as I look at Boise with it's negative 3 degrees, snow covered pavement, etc-- I am counting down the days. I will go to Open Books. I will eat so many good meals and drink coffee that doesn't come from Starbucks or Tully's. I will see my family. We will watch True Blood. I will go see NEW MOON with my mother. (Don't mock! Bad vampire movies have always been a pastime between us... Edward Cullen probably has nothing to do with it!) I will miss my catdragon Frankie. Even as I go to a couple poetry readings and even as I drink whiskey with my best friend from Kindergarten and even as I drive to Portland and get lost among the stacks of Powells. (So. Many. Books.)

In the interim? I'm hoping to make it to at least one cheap movie Tuesday, which will hopefully result in the "World's Most Engaging Dragon Post EVER." I plan to walk the Boise streets and yell "Dragon" to everyone I meet. I plan to philosophize on why, at the bottom of my blogger post field, the suggestions for "Labels for this post:" include the following "scooters, vacation, fall." Perhaps I will sleep in. I will most likely drink copious amounts of alcohol. I will probably do so while watching the Seahawks lose to the Texans.

At some point I should probably also buy Christmas presents for my parents and brother. For some reason this year, I can't think of a single thing that they could want. Ideas? Anyone? Anyone? Because I am at a loss.

...
These musings are brought to you by my employer, the ones who pay me to sit at this desk, though they don't know that they are paying me to write these posts.

These musings are also brought to you from the Aflac stuffed quacking duck that sits on my desk. And only god knows why.