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Ebert has seen Eminem’s new film and, though he doesn’t say much about the quality of the picture as a whole, he notes that Eminem’s prospects for further film success seem much more likely than Britney Spears’s. Interesting. I had no idea that Curtis Hanson was directing and Kim Basinger had a role (as Eminem’s mom!). This thing has a much higher pedigree than I expected. And check out the classy poster! I figured it’d just be two hours of Marshall beating Brittany “Psycho” Murphy about the head and rapping.

I downloaded Apple’s new calendar application iCal the other day and I’m having a lot of fun playing around with it. It’s just so much easier to be organized when your schedule is so pretty! My favorite feature is the ability to subscribe to other calendars. I’ve got US and Australian Holidays, Notre Dame’s football schedule, and upcoming DVD releases. You can even “turn off” calendars that you don’t use so often so your daily schedule doesn’t look so cluttered. I’m going to add another one with my gym’s classes so I’ll be able to be punctual with my non-attendance guilt. 🙂

Wait a minute. So not only does the Earth have two moons, now they think they’ve discovered a third? My mind is blown.

I had three errands to run yesterday. Each one, in its own unique way, turned to crap. Be warned; this is one big long bile-filled rant. Feel free to skip over it if you’re having a good day.

First, the doctor. I went in for my regularly scheduled [discussion of “women’s business” removed for sensitive readers], which went well, and afterwards I’m sitting there while the doctor finishes writing on my chart. He says, “Anything new over the last few months?” I’ve been waiting for this moment. Proudly I say, “I’ve lost 10 kilos!” He’s happy. He asks how I did it. Slight hesitation: “Well, I sorta cut down on carbohydrates…” And he goes off on me. Starts telling me how Atkins and all the rest are full of shit. As Atkin recommends, I calmly and rationally refute all of his arguments. He says it’s because I’m exercising more. I tell him I’ve been doing to the gym with the same frequency since January, and it’s only since I’ve been doing Atkins that I’ve had any results. He says if I wasn’t losing weight, why didn’t I see a dietician. “Because I saw YOU”, I reminded him (mentally adding the word “dickhead”). He tells me my cholesterol will go up; I tell him that in most cases it goes down, and say that I’m willing to have my blood tested to prove it. “Have you READ the book?” I ask. “I’ve read ALL the books!” he huffs. Yeah, right. I point out to him the hypocrisy in denouncing something that he hasn’t done any research on. That, of course, doesn’t stop him from proclaiming, “It’s just… IMPOSSIBLE.” Yeah, like I just misplaced twenty pounds? This pleasant scene ends with him admonishing me to not “overdo” anything, and just take everything in “moderation”. In other words, he advocates the traditional starve-yourself-out-of-sheer-willpower approach. I walked out of there seeing red. Dude, it’s not like I’m doing the frickin’ Weekly World News Blue Dot All Fruit Juice diet. He pissed me off. I’m gonna find a new doctor.

So then it was on to the bank. Banking here confuses me. I’ve got all these new PINs and secret phone passwords and registration numbers and stuff, and I can’t keep any of them straight. I’ve only had the damn account for a week and I’ve already forgotten my Internet banking password. So I go to the local branch to reset it. There’s only one information desk, and a little old man is currently being served. I figure he’s probably just cashing a pension check or something. NO, he’s actually, like, planning his entire retirement. Right there at the walk-up counter. I listen as he invests in stock, sets up term deposits, inquires about mutual funds. I swear I watched him hand the teller a check for $600,000. Twenty minutes later I give up and head on to errand #3…

…the library. This wasn’t so bad. I pick up my reserved book (Lemony Snicket’s The Reptile Room) and grab a few others. I head to the counter. And there she is, the Ill-Tempered Librarian. She’s very short. The problem is that the check-out counter is really wide, and I always set down my stuff sorta in the middle (you know, as you normally would). But then she has to strain to reach it. So then it’s like, do I push them closer so she doesn’t have to reach so far? Or will that draw attention to the fact that I’m four feet taller than her? If I don’t, will that further cement my place as “Giant Asshole” in her head? It’s rather stressful. I tend to just look down, mutter my thanks, and flee.

So back to the bank. Old man is still going strong. He finally finishes up and I get to the counter. “I need to reset my Internet banking password, please.” She tells me I have to call Customer Service to do that (despite the fact that Rodd was allowed to do it at the branch). Gritting my teeth, I ask if she can at least link up my two accounts (personal and business) so I can get some money from the ATM. “Sure,” she says, “what’s your secret personal password?” I tell her. It’s wrong. I throw out about fifteen other guesses, from my mother’s maiden name to books I read in college. Apparently one of them was right (or else she took pity on me) because she pulls my info up on the computer. Oh, sorry, she can’t do that. I’m not the prime signa-what’s-it on the account, so I can’t have the money. I can only get at it if I drag the man of the house along with me. WHATEVER. WHATEVER. WHATEVER.

Whew. I feel better now.

The ten worst crimes in Indiana history. Wow. Indiana is all about the lynchings and repressed homosexual serial killers. I had no idea. I like the quote from the 1824 Shawnee Indian massacre hangings: “There are but two powers in the universe that can save your life. One is Almighty God and the other is the executive of Indiana.” (Link courtesy of Moire.)

Hey Max, remember that show FOX aired last year about how we didn’t really land on the moon? Well, the loony that produced it apparently tried to conduct an “ambush” interview with Buzz Aldrin for yet another moon-conspiracy film. “I approached him and asked him again to swear on a Bible that he went to the moon, and told him he was a thief for taking money to give an interview for something he didn’t do,” said the 37-year-old filmmaker. What was the 72-year-old Aldrin’s response? He decked the guy. Go Buzz!

Last September I saw the Bangles perform. I grossed you all out with the notion of the “carrot sac”. I hosted a dinner for some American friends. Roald Dahl had a birthday. So did my brand new little brother. I raved about kiwifruit. I shared some Buffy spoilers. All these little mundane life moments, you know? There I was, just swimming along, oblivious and happy. And then something terrible happened. After a year, those words don’t even seem like mine anymore. I’m disconnected enough now to see my own reactions objectively. I see my own confusion and fear, along with a secret and shameful sense of excitement at the fact that my generation would finally have a “defining experience.” I watch as those feelings turn to anger and sadness. Then, gradually, equilibrium is regained. I’m almost disturbed at how quickly I came to accept the situation and move on. Does anyone else feel like that? I didn’t know anyone in the World Trade Center, and no one I know even lives in New York. It’s almost as if this anniversary of mourning makes me feel guilty for not being more affected. Am I all alone here?

The most prophetic quote from the month: “As Snookums put it this morning when we were going our separate ways at work: ‘If America goes to war, we’re going to Australia.’ I couldn’t have put it better myself. Get me the hell out of here.”

And that’s all I have to say about that.

The other day while perusing eBay I noticed a copy of Roald Dahl’s The Gremlins going for $150 AU. It was his first book and it’s extremely rare. As that price equates to about $80 US, my jaw just dropped. To compare, here’s the very same book going for over $300 US. I’ve seen them sold for even more. I figure that all the Americans just bypassed the Australian auction since it was in a different currency. I’ve actually already got a copy, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to get another one dirt cheap. The Snook agreed that it’s a pretty good investment. So I waited and watched. The auction sat at $150 AU for most of the day, but as soon as we hit the magic five-minutes-left mark, the price started rising. I watched it go all the way to $300 AU. The Snook and I conferred and agreed that we’d go as high as $350. With one minute to go, I put in my bid… of $357.50. The odd numbers are key. Most people bid in “blocks”, so you’ve got to have just a *little* bit extra to win. I had it at $320… less than 30 seconds… then $330… only fifteen seconds… then $350… and I got it! For $355, to be exact. See, I told you the extra $2.50 was key.

Now I’m sorta having second thoughts. Not about the money; I have no doubt I’ll be able to sell it for a profit later. It’s more the mercenary nature of it. Some other fan wanted that book pretty badly and the younger me would’ve let them have it. Instead I’m just perpetuating what is already an overpriced market. Do you think that was a shitty thing to do? In my defense, I’m not fabulously wealthy and I could certainly use an extra hundred bucks or so. Should capitalism outweigh youthful ideals?

Holy crap! Television Without Pity, the website formerly known as Mighty Big TV, almost went under. They’ve managed to secure a deal to stay online, but they’ve got to cut some shows and implement even more intrusive advertising technologies. That sucks. I hope they offer some sort of subscription model. It’s one of the few sites on the Net that I’d actually pay to access.

I’m going insane. You know the song “All I Want” by Toad the Wet Sprocket? (Yeah, I’m putting together a 90’s mix CD.) Wasn’t it the theme to a TV show? At first I thought it was Party of Five, but no, that was the Bodeans’ “Closer to Free”. Was it Melrose Place? The IMDb is not helpful. What the hell am I thinking of?