Promotion Emotion

I just saw a TV ad for Old Navy. They are running their "$19 Jean" sale. Again. They just had one, two weeks ago.

Except this time, if you purchase a pair of jeans on Saturday, you get a FREEEEE graphic print T-shirt.

Groovy. I need some new sleepwear.

Re-cycle

I was on the way home from class tonight and heard a George Thoroughgood song on the radio (which station, I can't be sure).

This got me thinking about the song he did that was included in Streets of Fire, one of my favorite movies.

I blogged about this movie earlier this year - one of my first posts.

It's now in my DVD player and I'm going to let it lull me to sleep. This weekend I'm going to dig out "Ladies And Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains" and it will be watched at some point.

Ah. Memories. And Diane Lane.

I can't take it

Pretty much any site I visit on the web, there are advertisements for the World Society for the Protection of Animals (WSPA). And this picture is what I see the most. And it just makes me so sad. Every time.

I want to kill anyone who is cruel to animals. For any human to take that kind of unecessary power over a helpless creature just blows my mind. It makes me want to blow them away with a .22 rifle.

I rescued a little beagle at the APA. I named her Maggie, and she was the most beaten-down dog I'd ever seen. She didn't make a sound for the first six months we had her, and only came out from under the bed to eat and go potty. She had been a stray, but boy, whoever had her before me did a bang-up job on her...literally. Until the day she died, anytime someone would reach down to pet her, she would duck her head and cower like she was about to get beaten. Heartbreaking.

She eventually came out of her shell a bit, but never was a very cuddly dog - never did fully trust humans, even me. I knew I had to be extra-good to her, and gave her a wonderful 10 years of love, treats, and belly rubs (when she's let me). In turn, she gave me an incredible 10 years of life lessons, sweetness and companionship. I miss her very much. And I still cry when I think about her for more than 10 seconds. Crying now. Great.

This is Maggie...two days before she died. (the white dog is KoKo)


Okay, anyway, these pictures just tear me up. I think the ad campaign is very effective, and far reaching. It incites. It provokes thought. It calls for compassion and action. It's just difficult to take - so I guess it's doing it's job.

Now that I'm a complete mess, I'm going to head to bed and love extra hard on my boy Oliver.

Neat-O

I want these:

Ice Bucket


Anxiety Sculptures


Tengue All-Stars



Kim the Talking Clock

Inglorious Crap - Movie Review

Suckage.

That's right. Inglorious Basterds was a 3-hour suckage of precious time I will not get back.

Brad Pitt - well, he was very good. The definite highlight of the movie for me. His performance was reminiscent of Earle Grace in "Kalifornia"...kinda backwoods, but oddly endearing, watchable, and unforgettable.

Oh, and David Bowie's "Cat People". Great song, kind of a weird inclusion, but nice to hear.

Many of Tarantino's master touches were barely there, or missing completely. He did one of those backstory-moments on the Bruno character, but it was minimal and hardly worth playing out, as you never really felt invested in the character.

Missing were the razor-sharp gut-clenching shock scenes (partial decapitation, eye-plucking) that are a mainstay in his movies. Also missing were the long diatribes and revealing moments his characters are known for - you know, the ones that make you really feel for them. Samuel Jackson's character in Pulp Fiction, George Clooney's in From Dusk Til Dawn, Uma's in Kill Bill. I didn't really feel for any of these characters...not one.

Gloves off - I feel like because Tarantino had Brad Pitt attached to the film, he kind of got lazy, sat back and let Pitt drive the vehicle. Because as we all know, Pitt can carry a movie & can rake it in at the box office.

I'm disappointed. I cannot recommend it. And of my friends who've seen it and sang it's praises, I now question their judgement when it comes to good cinema.

Seriously. Skip it.

Inglorius Basterd Dog

I was just attacked by a full-sized SS Nazi German Shepherd. In a very small space.

He got away from my neighbor, and attempted to make Oliver his appetizer.

If you've never been charged by a ginormous dog that's been bred to attack, well, you're not missing anything. Trust me on this.

I remember watching, in what seemed like slow motion, this dog coming at me in a low, determined crouch.

I remember looking into it's eyes thinking, "Wow, he's serious. This could be bad."

I remember hearing Oliver sound off in his attack mode next to me, and I think that snapped me into action.

I instinctually grabbed Oliver by his harness and swung him up over my head.

The Nazi dog jumped on me to get to Oliver and tore my shirt and scratched my neck and stomach up pretty good.

Good times. Good times indeed.

It was a complete accident, I know this, and my neighbor has already been over to see if I'm okay and provide shot records so that I don't have to worry about rabies, etc.

What's funny is I don't remember anything that happened between having the Nazi dog on me immediately after Oliver went airborne to when I was in the elevator going up to my floor. I think the fight/flight response took over.

I wonder if I made any sound, or what I said, if anything, to my neighbor?

I'm starting to think I should ask my neighbor the next time I see him what I did during the attack. Part of me wants to make sure I didn't go off on him, but the other part feels justified in saying whatever was said.

Because nobody puts my baby Oliver in a corner.

You Never Really Know

I have a slight fondness for reality TV. Rock of Love has been a guilty pleasure, as is any of the Housewives series and Big Brother. As the summer has come to a close, there was one show that caught my eye, and I decided to give it a go.

Megan Wants A Millionaire.

In catching up with my news this morning, I see that a former contestant of the show is a major suspect in the mutilation and killing of his wife.

The medical examiner could only identify the body via the serial numbers on the breast implants. Not by the dental records or fingerprints. Because of the mutilation.

So this little story got me thinking - you never really know someone. Time makes no difference - until the situation arises, a person can be as predictable as the setting sun.

Case in point:

- John Huber, a beloved Hagen Jr. High School science teacher in Dickinson ND (my hometown) murdered his wife, his wife's parents, and his wife's sister on March 15th, 1983. He just up and went crazy one night, and hunted down the people in his life he felt were responsible for the dissolution of his marriage. It shocked the entire town, and the students at the Jr. High were devastated.

One of the people he murdered, his wife's sister, lived two houses down and across the street from where I lived at the time. My brother and I used to play with her kids. When we woke up the morning following the murders, there were police vehicles all over the place. The family eventually moved away, but I remember thinking how said it was that my playmates didn't have a mom anymore.

- earlier this month, on August 4th, a former classmate of mine, Jeanne Ficek, was murdered by her husband of 20 years, Dennis Haugen, also a former classmate of mine. He shot her, then he shot himself. I didn't know them very well while in school, but I imagine Jeanne thought she knew her husband Dennis pretty well. But for whatever reason, one day he decided to end both their lives.

Friends of the couple who were interviewed said they were a quiet couple, with an 18 year old son, and both respected at their jobs. No indication as to what might have set off this murder-suicide.

So here we have two cases of people who've shown, by their actions, that you never really know someone. For whatever reasons, each of their situations "drove" them to commit heinous acts that didn't fit with their personalities or how people "knew" them to be. You can be married to someone for over 20 years, and one day they off you. You can be a respected and loved science teacher and one night hunt down your family members and pick them off, one by one, with a shotgun.

Life is a crapshoot. You take a chance when you're driving 70 mph on the highway, when you get on that plane to Chicago, or when you cross the street on your way to lunch with a friend.

You shouldn't have to worry about your life ending at the hands of someone you love.

But it's these, and other similar stories, that make me think twice about people. And make me want to enjoy my life fully every day I have one.