After a full day at work, and my yoga class, I wanted nothing more than to veg out with my sweet potato pasta dish and my cats. I clicked on HBO Go and started scrolling through movies. One of the first three movies to come up, since it’s alphabetical with numbers first, was 101 Dalmatians, the real-life version made by Disney years ago. I thought, “Oh, puppies! And Natasha Richardson!.. RIP.” (Yeah, I know, it’s her sister Joely, not her.)
Anyways, I started watching it and it’s cute and adorable and OMG!Puppies! and Playbill (on the right) is clearly enjoying it, too. Then it gets to the basic plot. Cruella DeVil wants to make a dress out of the fur of dalmatian puppies. This means she has to capture, kill, and skin a lot of them. She’s already done this to a rare white tiger in the beginning of the movie, which is bad enough. But now: PUPPIES?
Jesus H. Christ on a Cracker: What the fuck, Disney? Who decided that this was a good idea for a children’s movie? Steal the puppies to sell them on the black market as pets? OK. Maybe. But steal them so she can make a piece of clothing out of them? Fuck no. This movie is not appropriate for children. It’s not even appropriate for me. The thought of any animal dying so someone can wear it is disgusting so the thought of inflicting it on children makes me cringe.
I can be a little critical sometimes and I can also hold unpopular opinions. It was always my policy to just let it rip; people can accept me or not and fuck ‘em. In my mind, this is still my policy. But in practice, with people I don’t know very well (yet) and still have to function amongst, I’m keeping some of my (negative) opinions to myself.
This is the sunset from my roof about a month ago. Just because.
For instance, the topic of the summer Olympics came up at work and people started talking about the disaster state of Rio and which athletes were “the ones to watch” this year. Immediately in my head I thought, “Really? Who gives a shit about the Olympics? Do people still watch that?” Apparently, they do. I don’t understand why people enjoy it but I won’t attempt to crap all over their parade.
And having been through the dating and relationship circus (long distance, short distance, etc) too many times to count, I almost always have opinions about other people’s shit in that category, too. But I’m no longer adding my $.02. In my mind, people will do what they want to do and they have to get hurt and make their own mistakes to learn. I’ve done long distance (living in two different states) before and it blows. But I’ll keep that to myself instead of grilling my bff about his friend who, at best makes questionable life choices, about who’s moving where and why are they bothering to do transcontinental and this is probably her rebound from her last abusive relationship that she also got into way too quickly and her attempt to have a relationship without actually having one because: long distance, etc. etc. See? Gah. (Don’t worry, neither of them read here or even know this place exists.)
And when people eat shit like Kind Bars and Special K bars and think they’re being healthy? I have to bite my tongue instead of yelling, “basically candy bars.” Same goes for sweet-and-low, stevia, truvia, and basically anything that’s not raw sugar. “Your body doesn’t know how to digest chemicals,” I want to say, but I don’t, because people are still stupidly holding on to the “non fat” trend of the 1990′s. No fat or sugar, you say?! Must be health food.
I have lots of opinions. I’m not apologizing for them. I’m just going to keep them to myself and my little space on the internet that I reserved to rant and rave. Thanks for listening.
I’ve been reading a lot about how the theatre community thinks Alice Ripley is wasting her talents in her small roles in American Psycho. They’re pissed that her roles are barely-there and I have to say they’re pretty much unnecessary. The show would be the same whether or not Patrick Bateman’s mom showed up.
Ripley was last on Broadway in Next to Normal where she famously and award-winningly got to have mental breakdowns onstage every night. Rumor has it that she also blew her voice out pretty hard with the score. Whatever the case may be, American Psycho is her first return to a Broadway stage and people are pissed. They’re even going as far to say that she must be furious with how small her role is.
To the fans who don’t know how the industry works, let me just tell you: she didn’t take the part without reading the script first. No one tricked her into a small role. If she has an agent worth his or her salt, he/she negotiated a really good deal for her, what, with being a Broadway veteran and a Tony Award winner. That counts for something.
Equity weekly minimum is around $1,475 (I think) and with her credentials I’d bet she’s making at least $2,500 every week. You could offer me $2,500 every week for a small-ish role in a Broadway show and I’d sure as hell take it. I’m pretty sure most people would.
As the theatre crowd erupts in self-righteous anger over this I’d like to remind them that Ripley is a person and has bills to pay, too. And if she can still pay those bills while working on Broadway, who is anyone to tell her what role is beneath her? Oh, right: not you. Or me. Or anyone but herself.
My new thing is to chat with guys very seldom before I meet them. Otherwise you develop this ridiculous person that you think they are based on their texts and it’s usually incredibly off.
So, I went on a date last night with a guy who, online, in the brief time I’d chatted with him, seemed nice enough. He was cute – in a quirky way. We met at Ninth Ward downtown. It looked like a cool place and they had happy hour.
He was nice. He was really nice. And he was kind of cute in person. Still quirky. But there were way too many pauses in our conversation. I didn’t know what to say to him, and even worse, I didn’t care. I just wanted to finish my beer and go home. And eat. I was really hungry and I didn’t want to order food there and have to spend more time with this person who I’d never see again.
We decided we’d split the very minimal check (thank you, happy hour!) and when his debit card was declined twice, I picked up the tab. I was kind of pissed he didn’t even offer to swing by an ATM.
This is why I’ve never been on a date where I haven’t offered to pay my half. I can’t imagine how annoying it is to always pay for dates, even when they’re not going well. Sometimes the guys decline my offer, but sometimes they accept.
Lesson here is: Ladies, it’s the 20th century. Don’t expect your date to pay for your alcohol or food.
Awkward side note: Just noticed that this dude checked out my profile again at 2am last night. Oy vey.