changing lives since 2003 (ms_pooka) wrote,
changing lives since 2003
ms_pooka

...and skip away happy as a sandboy: my weekend of ditches, hormones, darko, and drinking

my period decided to join the party a week early. the accompanying cramps have taken on a life of their own and as life requires sustenance, they have been devouring a steady stream of tylenol caplets and have shat out their waste in the form of a stinky, ugly pile of sudden flashes of anxiety, frustration, and unwarranted anger. it's become a way of life, seemingly without end. the unquenchable appetite, the bloating. god i feel so great it's surreal.

my friday turned lonely as schedules and plans collided. i rode the spray of shrapnel over to see fritz lang's M at the midnight movie.

as i curled up in one of the impossibly cramped seats in the upstairs theater, peter lorre appeared on the screen looking a suspicious bit like james spader for brief flashes (you're not going to believe me on this, but you should... i've included photos (see below) which will likely ensure you won't believe me.). this all reminded me of the sunday afternoon a month ago when, as darren and i sat at a stop light on lemon avenue, james spader came roaring straight out of pretty in pink with mouth agape in what must have been a triumphant 80's "yeahhhhhh..." as his boxy, red 80's model convertible came screaming past us in the glorious arc of a left turn. god it was the best.



anyhow... fritz lang's M. there were some laugh out loud 30's-style moments including the rather gratuitous and lengthy crotch shot featuring police captain "fatty lohmann" shot upward from the floor between his legs where his tight-fitting pants revealed several lumpy bits. the intent was unfathomable and must have been a failed effort at film noir styling. and i was thankful the male sitting two seats down from me also found humor in some of the same scenes that i did.

i found myself with some free time saturday after being unceremoniously ditched by nakedjew. well, maybe it's not fair of me to say he "ditched me". "forgot about me" would be more appropriate. thankfully, i wasn't bitter about it. i took the time to vacuum, perform some light housekeeping duty, wash the cat blanket, and fuck off quite a bit as usual. most importantly, i did manage to leave my house long enough to finally load up at the liquor store. i almost purchased more than i could carry and fortunately, this lifted my painfully hormone-laden spirits just the tiniest bit.

then the jew showed up and we visited cafe brazil and good records before heading over to the inwood lounge for a little pre-movie drink. we met up with fuckface dave and a gaggle of people he had met on myspace.com.

DONNIE DARKO: THE DIRECTOR'S CUT. don't let the capital letters and bold-face type get you excited. the director is a known alcoholic on a steady diet of lsd. he took this little mobius strip of a movie and he fucked it all up. i went in thinking i wouldn't even notice a difference since it's been a year since i've watched it. well, right off the bat... my favorite scene... the one that made me love the movie in the first place ... was completely jacked up. the insane little man went and replaced echo and the bunnymen's the killing moon with i can't remember what but am certain nj will wander along and help me out. can you believe that shit?

my synopsis: the director's cut is a donnie darko for dummies that tried too hard. it ended up spreading on a layer of schmaltz that left a bad taste in all of our mouths. if you're planning on seeing it and it's your first time, rent the dvd first so you don't completely ruin it for yourself.

in a vain attempt to soothe our ruffled cinematic spirits, we darted across the street as quickly as possible to the nearest bar. nj was already starting to act up and punished me for his bad behavior by holding the hand of dave's new friend amy to help her across the street... leaving me to nearly be run over by a drunk driver. i'm completely serious here.

we were frightened easily by the inwood tavern or whatever the name of the bar was where we had landed and we made a quick escape to a place called the Slip In. naughty, right? it was deep in the heart of mexi-town in a location whose strangeness rivaled that of lee harvey's. the Slip In would make for a grand little drinkery if it wasn't for the booty-shakin' music that was constantly being pumped out. it reminded me a bit too much of the pub 'n' grub in tyler.

after we went to relieve our bladders, we discovered ourselves ditched and finished our beers on the patio where nj revealed he had stolen a cigarette earlier and then he went as far as to trade his chair for another. i soundly berated him (don't feel sorry for him... i've been told i'm supposed to do this), made him give back the cigarette, and issued threats of withholding favors. jews are shameless.

ps: i got to make out with dave at the bar, but don't tell nj. even though he was hugging me at the time, i don't think he realizes.

though nj was kind enough to sprinkle me with quarters as if he was on a timer, he made me pay for it by punching me soundly in the back later that night (and no, i am not talking about anal sex). but it was still worth it for the quarters.

sunday, after surviving a mild hangover and being ditched for the fourth and final time of the weekend (this time for brunch), i was tremendously excited to learn that kroger signature now carries quorn. i peed in the aisle just the littlest bit. i accidentally purchased some cd's while picking up my cramps ticket on the way home. then i was saddened somewhere in there to learn of the demise of laura branigan. i'll never be able to hear that name without seeing an image of me as a 10 year old sporting a sleeveless, v-neck, sunset multi-colored leotard with glow-in-the-dark fluorescent orange ribbon on the ends of my baton as my twirling class spun out a mean routine on the stage of caldwell auditorium with Gloria screaming from our hearts like a modern day hymn.
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