so there are some two dozen oscar categories. one that is typically the biggest disappointment to me is original song. not because of who wins but because the nominees are generally pathetic. sometimes it's like asking me to pick between two bowls of utterly contemptible food: snot-and-squash souffle or pissed-on pureed peas. other times it's like choosing between a plain and dry hamburger from mcdonald's and a whiskey river barbecue burger from red robin.

in eighty-three, the award could've gone to one of two works sung by barbra streisand in the film yentl, but instead the prize went to flashdance... what a feeling. i'm sorry. what???

the next year, i just called to say i love you from the woman in red won. okay. that's a pretty song. but then there's against all odds from the film by the same name, and that song still manages to give me chills. 

the year after that... say you, say me. that one's pretty, too. but separate lives is so much better.

take my breath away from top gun won in eighty-six. but maybe that one should've gone to somewhere out there from an american tail or glory of love from the karate kid, part two. but really, i'm not in love with any of those.

two thousand one. if i didn't have you from monsters, inc. no. that one should've gone to may it be from lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring.

and before you come at me with yes, but this is from the gal who was pissed off that lotr didn't get three best picture oscars. i can be unbiased, yall. two thousand three. into the west from return of the king won that year. it absolutely should NOT have done so. you will be my ain true love from cold mountain should have.

four. al otro lado del rio from the motorcyle diaries over learn to be lonely from phantom of the opera.

which brings me to the first of many years in which i LOATHE. EVERY. SINGLE. NOMINEE.

five. it's hard out there for a pimp from hustle and flow; in the deep from crash; travelin thru from transamerica. of all the films released that year, the academy felt that only three contained music worthy of an oscar, and THESE ARE THE SONGS? what the fuck. the next year, again the nominees are from three films, and three of those songs are in the same film. i need to wake up from an inconvenient truth won, when the award should've gone to listen from dreamgirls. the next year's another of only three nominees, two of which are from the same film; jai ho from slumdog millionaire won. 

ten. we belong together from toy story three. i prefer coming home from country strong.

eleven. man or muppet from the muppets beat the only other nominee, real in rio from rio. they both suck.

twelve. skyfall from the film by the same name won. everybody needs a best friend from ted should have.

thirteen. let it go from frozen won. happy from despicable me two should have.

fifteen. writing's on the wall from spectre won. that award should've gone to 'til it happens to you from the hunting ground. 

this year, the nominees are: audition (the fools who dream) and city of stars from la la land; can't stop the feeling from trolls; how far i'll go from moana; and the empty chair from jim: the james foley story. i'm guessing one from la la land will take the prize, but i don't much care who wins.

the best instances in which the academy got it right: streets of philadelphia from philadelphia; my heart will go on from titanic; lose yourself from eight mile.

the oscars: best picture

about a week or so ago, my film challenge friend and fellow blogger christina wrote a post about this year's best picture nominees. i used to love the oscars. when i was a terribly troubled, antisocial runt of a gal, i'd spend that sunday night watching all these gorgeous folks in their gorgeous attire sitting in that gorgeous theater celebrating all the gorgeous work they'd done, and my geeky, writer self would be crafting my acceptance speech for best original screenplay that i was certain to win when i turned into that swan my father kept saying i'd eventually be.

now this terribly troubled, antisocial lump of a gal with no grace whatsoever (sorry, pop) but a damned fine group of friends (YAY) abhors the oscars. why? because they're shit. and for the next few weeks, i'm going to post a whole bunch on why i think that is. for the sake of my sanity, we're sticking to the past four decades for these...

let's start with best picture, shall we? you know what won best picture forty years ago?

rocky. the contenders? all the presidents men, network, taxi driver and bound for glory. i'm not familiar with the last one. i've seen the others though, and you can bet your ass they're more deserving of the title. now. i'm not knocking rocky. it's a good movie, full of hope and determination and spirit. i dig it. but it's NOT BEST PICTURE MATERIAL.

of course, this is also the era that gave us star wars, superman, alien, raiders of the lost ark and e.t.: the extra-terrestrial. it pains me to say this, but the pickings were kind of slim, and please don't read that as my knocking those films, except for alien, of course. i watched that one once. no way in hell will i do it again. the others, though, i like'm just as much as the next person. but if you look at the films released between seventy-seven and eighty-two, not a lot of caliber there. i'm pretty sure empire strikes back should've gotten a nomination (not a win) for best picture because that is HANDS DOWN the best of the star wars saga, and if e.t.: the extra-terrestrial can get a nomination, so can empire; the rest of'm don't deserve acclaim, but that one did for sure... anyway... highest grossing film of that year. just saying.

out of africa won instead of the color purple in eighty-five; driving miss daisy over dead poets society in eighty-nine; forrest gump instead of the shawshank redemption in ninety-four. braveheart over apollo thirteen in ninety-five.

the film seven was worthy of some attention, i think, because of its story and the efforts the crew took to tell it (the acting's not the best, by any stretch, so when i say crew, i'm talking about the folks who get the sets dressed and ready to go). and before you say that movie wasn't even nominated for an oscar that year; it was, for best film editing (not a category i'm going to play with for this series, by the way... there's only so much effort i can put into this thing, and too much digging into oscar history could result in some seriously elevated stress levels). you know what else was nominated for best picture that year? jerry maguire. if that movie could snag a best pic nom, then seven probably should've gotten one, too. you know what won best picture in ninety-six? the english patient. UTTER CRAP. THREE FUCKING HOURS OF POORLY-PORTRAYED, POORLY-CONSTRUCTED CRAP.

ninety-seven: titanic. that one should've gone to good will hunting.
ninety-eight: shakespeare in love. that one should've gone to saving private ryan.
two thousand: gladiator. SERIOUSLY? that movie's SHIT. erin brockovich should've won that one.

and then we come to tolkien. to peter jackson's masterpiece production of the lord of the rings trilogy.

two thousand one. a beautiful mind. that movie's NOT shit. that movie is, pardon the pun, beautiful. incredibly deserving of a nomination. but when you put it next to lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring... NO. just no. the only oscar fellowship won that it shouldn't have was best score (which is a category i'm going to play with... eventually).

two. this is where christina and i have a disagreement. chicago won best picture that year. chicago. over gangs of new york, the hours, the pianist... and the lord of the rings: the two towers. the last of those should've been the winner. and before yall come at me with how no film should rack up that many oscars... the english patient won nine. NINE too many.

three. the lord of the rings: the return of the king. finally, the academy got their heads out of their asses.

nine. the hurt locker. that one snagged nine nominations and won six awards, including best picture. also shit. not worthy of a single nomination. and yall, i love jeremy renner. and many, MANY of my relatives have served. so i'm not knocking the film's premise or content. it's good. it's not oscar material, though. by ANY stretch. ten films were nominated that year for best picture. my vote was for inglorious basterds or precious.

fourteen. birdman or (the unexpected virtue of ignorance). over american sniper. over the imitation game. over the theory of everything.

so many films that are so worthy of best picture nominations but didn't get them... stand by me, steel magnolias, a river runs through it, philadelphia, tombstone, a time to kill, murder in the first, sleepers, dangerous minds, donnie brasco, spy game, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, walk the line, cinderella man, serenity, memoirs of a geisha, five hundred days of summer, the lincoln lawyer, lawless, lone survivor, the finest hours...

so many films that are so UNWORTHY of best picture nominations but DID get them (not to be confused with not good, though i can certainly do without a few of these)... broadcast news, moonstruck, working girl, ghost, beauty and the beast, four weddings and a funeral, babe, moulin rouge, lost in translation, finding neverland, little miss sunshine, atonement, juno, the blind side, an education, black swan, the social network, the descendants, hugo, moneyball, lincoln, silver linings playbook, captain phillips, philomena, the martian...

which brings us to this year...

and the nominees are: arrival, fences, hacksaw ridge, hell or high water, hidden figures, la la land, lion, manchester by the sea and moonlight. i've seen FOUR of those: hacksaw ridge; hidden pictures; lion and la la land. the first and the last are good, but i wouldn't say they're best picture good. hidden figures, though, that one's AMAZING. lion, too. i was interested in manchester by the sea... until i learned how miserable that film has left people; that casey affleck does a fantastic job, but it's horribly, HORRIBLY depressing. i don't need more of that in my life, thanks. i'd heard good things about hell or high water. arrival, fences, moonlight? unh, no thank you. i've NO desire to see those. they may very well be worthy, but no.

ones that should've been nominated: loving, fantastic beasts and where to find them and deepwater horizon.

the best instances in which the academy got it right: return of the king, the silence of the lambs and schindler's list. 

a sixties playlist

the beatles. can't buy me love.

ray charles. hit the road jack.

the chiffons. one fine day.

patsy cline. i fall to pieces.

sam cooke. what a wonderful world.

creedence clearwater revival. fortunate son.

neil diamond. sweet caroline.

aretha franklin. respect.
jimi hendrix. voodoo chile.

jefferson airplane. white rabbit.

ben e. king. stand by me.

the mamas and the papas. california dreamin.

henry mancini. moon river.

the monkees. i'm a believer.

elvis presley. can't help falling in love.

otis redding. (sittin on) the dock of the bay.

the righteous brothers. you've lost that lovin feelin.

the rolling stones. paint it black.

the shirelles. will you love me tomorrow.

simon and garfunkel. the sound of silence.

nancy sinatra. these boots are made for walkin.

percy sledge. when a man loves a woman.

the temptations. my girl.

jackie wilson. (your love keeps lifting me) higher and higher.

the young rascals. good lovin.

check out erin's list.

seven things to celebrate in february: a scavenger hunt

one. february fourth. thank a mailman day. take some treats to the folks at your local post office or shipping store.

two. february eighth. kite flying day. go fly a kite. sounds simple enough... but the WIND...

three. february ninth. national pizza day. treat a friend to some pizza. and not the cheap shit. if there's a gino's east, say, in your neck of the woods... it's national pizza day, for crying out loud. PIZZA, a gift from the gods, yall. YUMMY YUMMY GOODNESS.

four. february eleventh. make a friend day. this sounds simple enough, too, right? for geeks like me, it's really, really not.

five. february fourteenth. ferris wheel day. go ride a ferris wheel. this, too, sounds simple enough. except if you're scared of heights, then maybe not so much. show of hands... you can't see but both mine were raised pretty high just then.

six. february fifteenth. singles awareness day. all the single ladies... and laddies. so this day started as sort of a joke, but... maybe you've got a single friend who's having a rough go of it lately. take time out of your day to do something to let that person know how much he or she is loved and needed.

seven. february sixteenth. do a grouch a favor day. one could argue that this task could be tied to the previous one... NO. i don't care what you do or how you do it... but find the grouchiest soul you know and put a little light in that person's world.

reminder: tasks don't need to be done on the date with which they're paired. you've got the whole month to tackle this.

ten things celebrated in january: a scavenger hunt

one. january tenth. peculiar people day. peculiar: strange; odd; unusual; funny; curious; bizarre; weird; abnormal; exceptional; extraordinary; remarkable; puzzling; mysterious; perplexing; baffling; suspicious; eerie; uncanny; unnatural; freakish; fishy; creepy; spooky; eccentric; unconventional; wacky; oddball...

read or watch miss peregrin's home for peculiar children. what's the first word on the tenth line of the one hundred tenth page or what's being said in the seventieth minute of the film and by whom? also, write a letter to the strangest person you know telling him or her what you most appreciate about that person's character. lastly, what makes you peculiar, and how do you feel about that trait or talent?

the first word on the tenth line of the of the one hundred tenth page is i. what makes me peculiar? my navigational skills in crowded areas when traveling solo.

playing asshole with my brother.

two. january twelfth. feast of fabulous wild men day. my mother thinks the most fabulous wild man is tarzan. fact AND fiction, who are yours and why? take a picture with the factual one, if you can. share a favored line of dialogue by the fictional one, if you can't.

my brother, cousins, uncles, several friends and a number of the folks at pappadeaux's. i think i tagged about a dozen people for this particular item on my personal facebook page. i was glad to do it.

and i know since i shared a photo, i don't have to do this, but... fictional ones would be han solo, then legolas, gimli, merry and pippin.

quotes:
solo: uh, we had a slight weapons malfunction, but uh... everything's perfectly all right now. we're fine. we're all fine here now, thank you... how are you? (star wars: episode iv - a new hope).

legolas: shall i describe it to you, or would you like me to find you a box? (the lord of the rings: the two towers).

gimli: i'm wasted on cross-country! we dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances (the lord of the rings: the two towers).

pippin: what's that?
merry: this, my friend, is a pint.
pippin: it comes in pints? i'm getting one (the lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring).

merry: i don't think he knows about second breakfast, pip.
pippin: what about elevenses? luncheon? afternoon tea? dinner? supper? he knows about them, doesn't he?
merry: i wouldn't count on it (the lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring).

three. january thirteenth. make your dream come true day. what's a dream of yours? do one thing that sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. and i promise you, something great will come of it (benjamin mee -- we bought a zoo). be bold, be bold, and everywhere be bold (herbert spencer). works toward making that dream a reality.

several months ago a friend encouraged me to contact the folks at howard books to express an interest in gaining employment with them at their nashville, tennessee campus. i didn't do it because i'm a coward. but on this day, i made myself sit down and write them. and then i stuck it in an envelope and slapped one of my star trek beam me up scotty stamps on it... maybe nothing will come of it, but... i'm proud of myself for writing it, so i'm gonna roll with that.

four. january sixteenth. appreciate a dragon day. what's your favorite film, novel or program that contains a dragon in it? if it's a film, what's being said in the seventy-sixth minute (this is a corrected time; for those of you who may have already accomplished this task, you may keep it at the original eighty-sixth) of the film and by whom? if it's a book, what's the sixth word on the tenth line of the first page? if it's a program, what's being said in the sixth minute of the tenth episode in the first season and by whom? 

the dialogue in the seventy-sixth minute of the film harry potter and the sorcerer's stone is as follows:

mcgonagall: miss granger!
hermione: i went looking for the troll. i've read about them and thought i could handle it, but i was wrong. if harry and ron hadn't come and found me, i'd probably be dead.
mcgonagall: be that as it may, it was an extremely foolish thing to do. i would've expected more rational behavior on your part, and i am very disappointed in you, miss granger. five points will be taken from gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment. as for you two gentlemen, i just hope you realize how fortunate you are. not many first-year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. five points will be awarded to each of you for sheer dumb luck.

five. january twenty-third. national handwriting day. write a letter. WRITE it, as in put a pen or pencil to paper and fill a sheet of stationery with the words of your choosing, stuff it in an envelope, seal it, stamp it and put it in the post. let someone you love know you love them and why. because it's that time of the year when we all get a little down in the dumps, yeah? the echoes of the hurrahs from the holidays have faded. winter's setting in. warm that person's heart in a way that can be cherished for more than a millisecond.

six. january twenty-fourth. squirrel appreciation day. there's a book called scaredy squirrel by melanie watt. that squirrel's afraid of pretty much everything. chances are good that you're afraid of one of the things the squirrel is. do one thing that scares you (eleanor roosevelt). that thing you and the squirrel are afraid of? do a thing that pertains to that fear. AND THEN, help a friend face one of his or her fears that is similar to the squirrel's.

the squirrel's terrified to leave the safety of his tree. i'm terrified to leave the safety of the ground, to strap myself into a small car traveling at sixty-five miles an hour from start to finish say, like aerosmith's rock'n'roller coaster at epcot. upside down and all around over rickety rails. that's not what i'd call a good time. but i rode that bitch by myself, yall. (ignore those other folks in the photo; i've no idea who they are.) in addition to riding it, i rode space mountain, big thunder mountain and the seven dwarves mine train. i did that last one TWICE, and the second time, i went by myself. i rode more roller coasters in three days than i'd ridden in my life.

seven. january twenty-fifth. opposite day. wear a t-shirt backward for the entirety of your day.

i managed to go all day wearing a polo shirt the wrong way without anyone remarking on it until i got to pappadeaux's, and then ONE server asked me why i had my shirt on backward.

eight. january twenty-eighth. chinese new years day. treat yourself and a friend to some chinese food. also, what's a trait of your chinese zodiac sign (i'm an ox, by the way. yay) that you do not have? how can you cultivate that characteristic? what's a trait that you do have? if it's one you're not proud of, how can you alter its prevalence?

i took my three favorite writing friends to pei wei for lunch last saturday. good times.

a trait of the ox i do not possess is patience, and with regards to cultivating it i'm pretty sure that ship sailed a LONG, LONG time ago to a galaxy FAR, FAR away, but i imagine counting to ten and breathing a half a dozen times to keep my temper in check would probably help. a trait i do have, in spades, is moodiness. it's not one i'm proud of, and the easiest ways for me to cope with it are to pop some pills and avoid people whenever possible.

nine. january twenty-ninth. national puzzle day. put a puzzle of more than five hundred pieces together. you can get a little help from your friends if you like, but i'd prefer you do this by yourself. because i'm evil like that.

i so, SO should've started this one at the beginning of the month instead of waiting until the actual day. i will finish the fucker... eventually.

ten. january thirty-first. inspire your heart with art day. spend a day at an art museum or gallery (this was edited to include galleries because i neglected to consider their advantages when i originally wrote the post) admiring the creativity of others. visit the gift shop if there is one and buy some postcards depicting artwork you favor or find postcards elsewhere if there is no gift shop (an additional edit) and drop a grateful line to your craftier friends.

it's a small museum, so i didn't spend the day there, but i'd never been to the pearl fincher museum of fine arts, and i really wanted to go check it out. i liked the size of the place and how quiet it was. i loved being able to purchase notecards created by local artists and look forward to sending them to my friends.

a seventies playlist

acdc. highway to hell.

aerosmith. dream on.

the beatles. let it be.

boston. don't look back.

james brown. get up offa that thing.

the carpenters. top of the world.

creedence clearwater revival. up around the bend.

charlie daniels band. the devil went down to georgia.

john denver. annie's song.

neil diamond with barbra streisand. you don't bring me flowers.

the eagles. already gone.

fleetwood mac. go your own way.

gloria gaynor. i will survive.
janis joplin. me and bobby mcgee.

billy joel. she's always a woman.

elton john. don't let the sun go down on me.

barry manilow. mandy.

pink floyd. wish you were here.

queen. bohemian rhapsody.

simon and garfunkel. bridge over troubled water.

ike and tina turner. proud mary.

the who. won't get fooled again.

hank williams jr. family tradition.

stevie wonder. signed, sealed, delivered, i'm yours.

zz top. la grange.

check out erin's list.

an eighties playlist: male vocalists

bryan adams. summer of sixty-nine.

garth brooks. if tomorrow never comes.

peter cetera. glory of love.

phil collins. against all odds.

peter gabriel. in your eyes.

corey hart. never surrender.

don henley. boys of summer.

bruce hornsby. the way it is.

waylon jennings. theme from dukes of hazzard (good ol' boys).

billy joel. you may be right.

elton john. candle in the wind.

richard marx. right here waiting.

john cougar mellencamp. small town.

george michael. one more try.

prince. let's go crazy.

willie nelson. you were always on mind.

lionel richie. hello.

bruce springsteen. dancing in the dark.

george strait. all my exes live in texas.

sting. fortress around your heart.

randy travis. deeper than the holler.

stevie ray vaughan. pride and joy.

billy vera. at this moment.

john waite. missing you.

keith whitley. don't close your eyes.

duets (because i can)

peter cetera with cher. after all.

peter cetera with amy grant. next time i fall in love.

phil collins with marilyn martin. separate lives.

dan hill with vonda shepherd. can't we try.

bill medley with jennifer warnes. (i've had) the time of my life.

yeah. i know. my playlist is kind of sad. check out erin's. hers should cheer you right up.

three sentences

you made quite an impression on my heart -- so quick and so great as to be astonishing and terrific at once; you were the air and the light, glorious color in my world when for so much of my life i'd been in pitch darkness.

i was blindsided by your presence, your absence; the emotions you stirred in me were so monumental, so foreign, so shocking, and i don't handle my emotions well in normal situations so i was phenomenally inept -- ill-prepared and ill-equipped to care for you in the manner in which you deserved.

my behavior where you're concerned shames me, still, and the guilt is as great as the impression you'd made; i've done my best to carry on, but without the air and the light, i haven't the strength or the sight, and i implore you to forgive me and let us try again.



i can't tell you this, of course. you are so far removed from me, and in so many ways. you are so very adept at constructing walls and burning bridges, so much better than me, and i'm pretty damned good at that. i've gotten pretty damned good at writing since i lost you, since i struggled so desperately to find the right words. maybe there's someone who's struggling as much as i'd done. these won't work with you... but maybe they could work on someone else. maybe.

postcard poem... also called things i find whilst digging in my mac for writing and whatnot

she’d found inspiration once, along

the riverwalk. moved here to be closer to it.

three years later, inspiration left her,

as well as job satisfaction, direction, the man

she loved and her older brother. gone. as

though she’d never known them.

she walked along the river, despaired,

exhausted, casting angry glances at the water

reflecting the world she passed.

the biggest reason why being unemployed sucks

am writing this without my glasses and on my super small iphone screen (because having the latest model costs too much), so bear with me. i'll dig into this post later, but for now... since being laid off, i've had to replace four tires and my brakes. none of this was necessary when i was gainfully, if unhappily, employed, by the way.

i'd intended to spend my day getting a copy of scaredy squirrel for the scavenger hunt, which meant driving into houston because the bookstores here don't have it and the wonder twins' copy that we had here has disappeared (it just now occurred to me i may've given it to a friend with her baby shower gift), taking some flowers to the receptionist at my doctor's office in apology for my poor behavior a week or so ago, scheduling an appointment with the doc to discuss my kind of crazy and the meds, then go to a bible study with a friend, followed by pool at barney's with folks from pappadeaux's tonight. it was a good plan.

instead i'm sitting at a mechanic's, where i'll spend half of my bank balance getting new front brakes. i don't even have a book to read.

an hour in, the guy said all of my brakes are shot, so now it's basically all of my balance. fantastic.

so... the cost of that writers conference in new york that i'd expressed interest in attending and my parents agreed to fund, i swapped that out today for the brakes and a local conference. so... touring new york's now off the table. but you know what? that's okay. i've been to london. i'm pretty sure new york's got nothing on that.

fuck yeah survey: send me a number

yall. i has a sad. a very big sad. my packers LOST. THEY FUCKING LOST. i feel like typing but my brain is too despondent to think of something awesome to write, so you get another one of these lovelies from fuck yeah surveys.

one. jennifer kristin griffin

two. aries

three. madness; intimacy; solitude

four. fiction; film; football

five. ann

six. dave matthews band's crash into me

seven. the ability to communicate well; pretty eyes; a nice voice; clever sense of humor

eight. the inability or reluctance to communicate; selfishness; thoughtlessness; making empty promises

nine. magenta

ten. none / two

eleven. i didn't

twelve. pissed off that my packers fucking lost and annoyed that my patriots didn't massacre the steelers; my eyeballs and mouth and skin are dry, but that's because i've not had but one bottle of water today, and that was about ten hours ago; also the folks are nagging me about my conversational style, among other things, which annoys me as well

thirteen. a million dollars

fourteen. single

fifteen. it's a combination of two words colleagues used to describe me

sixteen. star wars: episode v - the empire strikes back; the lord of the rings: the two towers; star trek; serenity; steel magnolias; dedication; about time; good will hunting; philadelphia; playing by heart; seabiscuit; cinderella man

seventeen. u2's with or without you; airborne toxic event's sometime around midnight; smashing pumpkins' stand inside your love; tori amos' baker baker; hootie and the blowfish's not even the trees; third eye blind's the god of wine; temple of the dog's say hello to heaven; indigo girls' prince of darkness; counting crows' anna begins; poe's wild; sara bareilles' between the lines; ingrid michaelson's the chain

eighteen. u2; van halen; airborne toxic event; a fine frenzy; tori amos; sarah mclachlan; def leppard; depeche mode; silversun pickups; garbage; dave matthews band; stevie ray vaughan

nineteen. the packers fucking losing to the goddamned falcons; my inability to find gainful, suitable employment; that i could feel absolutely fine one minute and be sucker punched by the crazy in the next

twenty. the packers winning handily; huntsville, utah in june; the wonder twins' laughter

twenty-one. compassion; kindness; generosity; genuineness; sense of humor

two. my brother

three. my mother

four. i need them too much; they annoy me too often, but i have a feeling that's mutual; they say they're proud of me, but i have a really hard time understanding how that could be

five. meh. the start of football season? does that count?

six. no clue. because. i. don't. do. tumblr

seven. see number twenty-six

eight. i didn't take a shower today

nine. people crowding me, either by riding my ass or pacing me on the roadway or standing too close to me in line at a store; celebrities running their mouths about politics; uninformed people acting like they're geniuses

thirty. french mastiffs and akitas

thirty-one. none

two. whether i did my homework

three. my physical well-being

four. dating the douchebag that jeopardized my physical and mental well-being

five. i don't

six. all the mistakes i've made and how ashamed i am of and can't forgive myself for them

seven. playing on the computer the first and last hours of my day; arguing with my father about petty shit like whether it's three minutes past (according to my computer) or three minutes before (according to his phone) nine p.m.; hanging out at pappadeaux's

eight. get a job; get a book written and published; get my own place

nine. getting a book published

forty. barnes and noble booksellers; pottery barn; williams sonoma; restoration hardware; anthropologie; sur la table

forty-one. chicken spaghetti; blue bell dutch chocolate ice cream; the republic grille's trg salad with salmon; babin's broiled halibut with lump crab lemon butter sauce with capers; ranger cookies; bread and butter

two. watched television

three. writing

four. the best date i've been on... we met at ihop, gave each other tarot card readings (which was actually kind of fun and totally his idea, and i liked that he was game for that), went to mcdonald's for french fries, a texaco station for drinks and then sat in the ihop parking lot for like two hours just talking... i loved that i spent four hours with a guy and never felt uncomfortable or awkward or insignificant; i loved that i could talk to a guy without worrying about what i said

five. are writers, so they're probably not celebrities in the traditional sense, but i'd really like to meet rainbow rowell and jenny lawson

six. there's one in the top left corner

seven. mine? :] the bloggess; tex-erin-in-sydneyland

eight. if the world were perfect four, but it's not so none

nine. no /  no

fifty. why the fuck do the green bay packers still employ dom capers as their defensive coordinator? that goon needs to be booted out on his stupid ass RIGHT NOW

oh look! another survey!

i swiped this from audrey lou.

what are you completely bored of in life right now? depression. two days in a row, i've felt fine until about four p.m. and then the bullshit whammies me and i'm driving down gosling road bawling like my dog just died or something. and then two hours later, i'm fine again.

what is your favorite scented candle? rewined champagne.

what movie do you laugh at the most? ace ventura: pet detective.

what is the last song you listened to? queensryche's silent lucidity.

what’s one thing you still have from your childhood? the scar on my stomach.

what was your least favorite subject in school? geometry. or principles of accounting. or the one about judicial systems.

if you had a superpower, what would it be? i wanna be like professor x so i never have to wonder what the fuck people are thinking so i could stop being such a paranoid wench.

what is the best compliment you’ve ever received? i'm sure there are ones more worthy of the title best, two of which are referenced in this post. but i've never much cared for the skin i'm in, so i'm gonna go with this one: a man i cared for told me i was gorgeous -- i was wearing a gray t-shirt promoting the sport of rugby, ragged blue jeans and beat up doc martens, no make-up, no product in my hair. i'm pretty fond of that memory. and then there's this one. i like it quite a bit, too.

what’s the most adventurous thing you’ve done? toured wales by myself.

what’s one thing you need to have in your fridge at any given time? coca-cola.

if you could raid one woman’s closet, who would it be? no one living. i'd snag jackie kennedy onassis' wardrobe.

what is your favorite movie? star wars: episode v -- the empire strikes back. (but if you were to ask me this some other time, that answer would most assuredly be different.)

twitter or instagram? twitter. fuck instagram.

dogs or cats? dogs. definitely.

dolphins or koalas? dolphins. definitely.

bird-watching or whale-watching? neither.

weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten? octopus. so disgusting.

what’s your favorite band? van halen, but only because i've loved them longest.

what country do you wish to visit? austria.

what’s your favorite color? green.

least favorite color? burnt orange.

what color dress did you wear to your prom? i didn't go.

blow-dry or air-dry? my hair looks better if i blow-dry it, but i'm usually too impatient to mess with that.

pilates or yoga? neither.

jogging or swimming? swimming. definitely.

best way to decompress? sit at mom's computer in dad's office, blogging, facebooking and listening to music.

what’s the best thing to happen to you last year? i met ann and kelly.

where would you love to live? london.

what’s your midnight snack? crackers or chips.

what do you usually order at starbucks? venti black iced tea with one pump of sugar.

who is the last person you texted? my sister-in-law.

what are three things you can’t live without? film, literature and music.

what’s the first thing you do in the morning? pee.

what is the question you get asked the most? what the hell is your problem?

what’s one word you use too much? fuck.

would you describe yourself as messy or neat? messy.

what karaoke song would you sing without needing the monitor? i wouldn't. stage fright. my eyes would be glued to that screen, regardless of whether i needed to be prompted. and the things i like to sing ain't the things you sing in karaoke.

what’s one skill you wish you had? the ability to shrug shit off.

what is the geekiest thing about you? that i do shit like this? or that i've seen movies dozens of times?

put a little love in your heart

studying english in college meant reading crap like flannery o'connor's good country people and herman melville's billy budd, sailor and a shit ton of shakespeare. i love shakespeare, yall, but a gal can only take so much iambic pentameter. i spent the first two years at a small women's college in nevada, missouri (also called bumfuckville, misery... GREAT college, godawful location). i was sick to death of school. i spent more time playing cards and watching mtv and movies in the basement or trading smut books with my suitemates. the penchant for reading romance novels stuck. 

erin's book challenge kicked off yesterday. today, she asked me what romances i could recommend. some titles are ridiculous, but the stories are pretty good. the ones in bold are the ones i like best. some of'm may be hard to find. some of'm are incredibly sappy, but i like them anyway. some of'm are stories in a series. the ones that are collections are separated by commas. the rest are divided by semi-colons.

contemporary

cecelia ahern: love rosie

sandra brown: fanta c, adam's fall

vanessa diffenbaugh: the language of flowers

gayle forman: if i stay, where she went; just one day

emily giffin: something borrowed, something blue

jane green: straight talking; bookends; jemima j

john green: the fault in our stars

debbie macomber: navy wife

judith mcnaught: paradise

david nicholls: one day

nora roberts: daring to dream, holding the dream, finding the dream; the macgregor brides, the macgregor grooms, the macgregors: alan and grant; seaswept, rising tides, inner harbor, chesapeake blue; born in fire, born in ice, born in shame; the villa; vision in white, bed of roses, savour the moment, happy ever after; the next always, the last boyfriend, the perfect hope; tribute; birthright

rainbow rowell: eleanor and park; attachments; fangirl
ellen shanman: right before your eyes

nicholas sparks: the notebook; a walk to remember

lavyrle spencer: separate beds

katherine stone: promises, roommates, love songs, illusions, bed of roses, happy endings, rainbows, the carlton club, twins.
jennifer weiner: in her shoes

elizabeth young: asking for trouble; a girl's best friend

fantasy

cecelia ahern: p.s. i love you

audrey niffenegger: the time traveler's wife

nora roberts: jewels of the sun, tears of the moon, heart of the sea; blue dahlia, black rose, red lily; key of light, key of knowledge, key of valor; dance upon the air, heaven and earth, face the fire

rainbow rowell: landline

historical

kathleen baldwin: a school for unusual girls, exile for dreamers

julie garwood: the lion's lady, guardian angel, the gift, castles; saving grace; the secret, ransom; the prize; the bride, the wedding

heather graham: one wore blue, one wore gray

johanna lindsey: love only once, tender rebel, gentle rogue; prisoner of my desire

elizabeth lowell: untamed, forbidden, enchanted

judith mcnaught: whitney my love; once and always, something wonderful, almost heaven

romantic suspense

sandra brown: best kept secrets; french silk; mirror image; slow heat in heaven

nora roberts: honest illusions; public secrets; the reef; river's end; genuine lies; the witness; sanctuary

westerns

heather graham: and one rode west

elizabeth lowell: only his, only mine, only you, only love

francine rivers: redeeming love

nora roberts: montana sky

lavyrle spencer: the gamble

my true love gave to me: twelve holiday stories

why i wanted to read it: hello. rainbow rowell. duh. yall should know i'll read pretty much anything that's got her name on it. also it's a selection for erin's book challenge.

what i liked: from rowell's midnights:

noel swung his head around and made eye contact with mags. he raised his eyebrows hopefully; his eyes went all soft and possible. it was definitely a face that said, hey. is it okay if i kiss you?

"oh," mags said. "that's really good."

noel snapped out of it -- and made a face that said, well, duh. "of course it's good. i've kissed girls before" (page 6).

"they're playing our song," he said.

"they're playing 'baby got back'," mags said (page 8).

"what are we doing?" mags asked.

"i don't know..." he said eventually. "i know things have to change, but... i can't lose you. i don't think i get another one like you" (page 21).

from jenny han's polaris is where you'll find me:

it's snowing, of course. there's always snow on the ground here. it makes everything look diamond dusted. the thing about snow is, it's very quiet. the air is hushed. it's like church.

it's reverential (page 96).

living where i live, it can sometimes be hard to tell the difference between magic and make believe (page 98).

from david levithan's your temporary santa:

i want them to see me holding his hand. i want to be holding his hand. i want him to love me when i'm naughty and when i'm nice. i want. i want. i want.

i am worried about being in love, because it involves asking so much. i am worried that my life will never fit into his. that i will never know him. that he will never know me. that we get to hear the stories, but never get to hear the full truth.

"enough," i say to myself. i need to say it out loud, because i need to actually hear it (page 145).

it should be enough as i step over him and see the welcome in his eyes. it should be enough to see his hair pointing in all different directions, and the fact that there are cowboys on his pajama pants and he is telling me he can't believe he fell asleep. it should be enough that he is beckoning me now -- it should be enough to join him in the bed, blanket pulled aside. it should be enough to feel his hand on my shoulder, his lips lightly on my lips. but something is not right. i still feel that, in some way, i should not be here (page 147).

from holly black's krampuslauf: 

when i was a kid, i didn't understand that santa's elves weren't the kind from storybooks. i thought his toy shop was staffed with fauns and boggarts, sprites and trolls, goblins and pixies. before mom left, when i made lists to give to santa, they were always full of magical things. i wanted a cloak that could make me fly. i wanted a tiny doll, no bigger than my finger and as perfectly jointed as a living person. after mom left, i wanted crystal balls with which to scrye my mother and magical chalk that could draw me a doorway to her, and a magical potion i could make her drink that would make her care about us (pages 130-131).

our first christmas together, anne sewed me a tiny doll with jointed cloth limbs and thin embroidery floss for hair. i guess dad told her about my old christmas lists.

i didn't let her know, but i'd teared up when i saw the doll. i was too old for it, but i didn't care. i carried her around in my purse, until she got too sticky with jolly ranchers and marked up by pens that i had to retire her to a bookshelf in my room (page 159).

"we brought gifts," the boy... said, and the blond reached into his coat and brought out a bottle of clear liquor. he removed the cork with his teeth. "mine is holiday cheer" (page 169).

that was the moment i decided that since magic was real... since i'd made this party out of two hundred bucks and sheer determination, then maybe i was wrong about the things i thought i couldn't have, that weren't for me. maybe it was okay to imagine greater things. maybe it was all for me, if i wanted it (page 175).

from gayle forman's what the hell have you done, sophie roth?:

she'd had defenders in that class. wingmen. even if she hadn't noticed them. hadn't noticed him. the truth was, she didn't notice a lot of things at school. she kept her head down, wore blinders. it was a survival tactic. only now did she wonder if it was a stupid survival tactic, like wearing a life jacket made of metal. 

"i asked about you, after the class... but i never spotted you for more than a blur. until tonight... i was debating saying something. you were looking pretty fierce, not fit for company... but then you mentioned ned flanders, and i had to say something" (pages 195-196).

what if the mistake wasn't coming here, but being blind to any of that? 

what the hell have you done, sophie roth? she thought to herself for the umpteenth time. but it felt different now (page 199).

from myra mcentire's beer buckets and baby jesus:

shame leads to secrets, and secrets lead to lies, and lies ruin everything. especially friendships. no kid wants to explain that his mom can't bring snacks to class because she ran out of xanax before the pharmacy would refill the prescription. other parents stop inviting you to birthday parties, because you don't reciprocate. no one asks you to join sports teams, because you never meet the registration deadlines, and if you do, no one ever remembers to pay your league fees. soon enough, people forget you altogether.

so you do things that make them remember (pages 210-211).

the story by stephanie perkins called it's a yuletide miracle, charlie brown. that one and the first one by rowell -- noel and mags are amazing -- are my favorites. welcome to christmas, ca by kiersten white's alright.

what sucked: the last two stories. that even though i marked pages of others because i liked what was written, i didn't love the stories so much.

having said that: it's not a bad collection. my biggest complaint is the stories i loved were way too short and the stories i loathed were much too long.