Monday

Movie Review: Legends of the Fall- Bears. Wrestling. Montana.


I lived in Montana for two full years before getting around to seeing either 1) Legends of the Fall or 2) A River Runs Through It, both of which are set in Montana (hence this post) and feature Brad Pitt (weird coincidence, or maybe it's just because all the men here look like him? dunno). A River Runs Through It is good and solid and a little dull, and has a lot of fly fishing. No review needed. It's fly fishing porn.

Legends of the Fall, however... many, many people looooove this film, and though I didn't hate it, I also didn't really like it, so now I'mma tell you why. Because I get to. And because I'm boring this week and can't think of anything else to blog about.


K. Part 1. There's this family of dudes that live in BFE* Montana.

Part 2. Youngest Brother, who has been off at college at Haaavaaahhd, brings home Lovely Fiancé, who is all Lovely and Britishy and Fancy and Stuff.
Unfortunately, as there are no other women in Montana, older brothers (pre-politician brother– whose name I forget so I'll just call him Tivo– and Brad Pitt of the Smoldering Glances and Glorious Locks whom I'll just call Angelina) develop immediate crushes on her because frankly, it's her or the bears.

Bears are not very cuddly.

You can tell it's Montana because of the mountains that I drew. 

It's clear, at this point, where this movie is going. There's going to be some kind of intensely angled and darkly shot brother fight that involves a lot of face shots with everyone looking all intense and breathing heavily, but eventually everyone will reconcile and then someone will get married.

Cool. I can hang. I read the romancey novels. I like the romancey movies. This should be interesting and fun to watch in a Twilight-meets-Big-Sky kind of way.

Only... not.

Legends goes from a romance with aforementioned brothers and Main Love Interest to...

... this whole other series of movie subplots.
1. Everyone plays some badminton and then…
2. there's a war and Youngest Brother is all YEAH LET'S DO THIS SHIT and then…
3. for some reason all the brothers are enlisting in the next scene, leaving Main Love Interest back in BFE on the farm with her future father-in-law (because that's not awkward) and then…
4. Angelina isn't forced to cut his Glorious Locks off in the army (um.) and then…
5. Youngest Brother gets seriously effing killed like a LOT and then…
6. Angelina goes all Inglorious Basterds on the Germans and then…
7. comes back with a pack of scalps (???   ?? ? ??)...
8. AND YOUNGEST BROTHER'S HEART (ew, and ???  ???) which is all bloody and gooey and stuff and then...
--pausing for that to sink in--
9. Angelina feels really guilty about YB dying even though he was the one who convinced everyone to sign up for the military in the first place and...
10. we're still in the first 48 minutes of the movie here (jsyk, this movie lasts approximately nineteen hours).

sigh. 

Part 3.
11. Everyone goes home and then...
12. Tivo proposes to Main Love Interest who's all: umm, no, but ask me again in a few years when I get unceremoniously dumped by Angelina via the US Postal Service, and then…
13. it's Angelina's turn but apparently he's a commitment-phobe and still all hopped up on GuiltoMax 2000 about Youngest Brother being dead and all, so he just leads her on and then...
14. goes bonkers again and smokes some opium on a boat. And then….
15. Anthony Hopkins has a stroke. And then…
16. everyone marries someone else. And then…
17. everyone dies. And then…

18. Angelina wrestles a bear.

To. the. death.

(I told you it was her or the bears)

The weirdest part of that last scene is the voiceover, kind of like the guy describing the Dude in the Big Lebowski. He describes death by grizzly as a "good death"** against the background noise of a flute/violin combo, and as I was watching, all I could think of is that if I was trying to fight off a giant, grouchy, hungry, mauling grizzly bear and someone was playing a flute nearby, I'd probably request that they please desist because it's very distracting.

I think the director must have realized somewhere along the way that the movie was really awful, so he was all: let's kill Brad Pitt with a bear and call it a night.

All in all, it's pretty. So is Montana. Brad Pitt is glorious. Also, he dies. By a grizzly. Death by bear. The end.





*BFE: The middle of nowhere. AKA Montana. AKA where I live. Yay.
**wtf would a bad death be? I think death by grizzly mauling officially qualifies as a bad death. Flute music does not make it ok.

Monday morning

Monday morning: 


Yes, that is a wooly mammoth. I thought they were extinct, too. 

I Just Godfathered My Husband, aka Adventures of Pookins the Boar Head

I'm in a vacuum.

I turned in my dissertation proposal last week and now I'm in that odd twilight-y I've-accomplished-something-major-but-still-have-a-lot-to-do-but-don't-wanna-do-any-of-it zone wherein I usually obsessively clean random things like the wall next to the couch with a kitchen sponge but fail to clean any other walls. And then I redecorate for 2-5 days depending on how soon Cpt Awesomepants tells me to quit it because he can't find anything, like seriously, where are the car keys??? And what the hell happened to the couch??!? And I eat ice cream sandwiches for lunch. And dinner.

It's a good, if frenetic, and weird, and unsettling time. And also ice cream is not the best idea for two meals a day. And just because it says 'sandwich' on the packages does not actually mean it's healthy.

K. Long lead-in, but this is not new for me.

Remember that scene in the Godfather with the horse head? It'll make sense in a minute.

I'm redecorating, day 2. I've been pulling pictures off the wall and dusting them and moving them around to new places, which explains why the number of holes in the plaster has recently skyrocketed. This is partly because I eyeball everything and do not believe in measuring first, or ever. It takes too much time. Hammering a nail in 6 different places makes far more sense to me.

I've also pulled down one of the weirder things we own which is the Balinese boar head mask, who I have very recently knighted Pookins. Pookins the Boar Head.


No I have no idea what purpose he served in Bali, I only know that Pookins has real, genuine, boar hair on his head, which has been styled as per my liking in a pseudo- Elvis bouffant. I love Elvis. I also love Pookins the boar head mask. Cpt Awesomepants thinks it's weird and terrifying and I understand, but also don't care.

Seriously, I love this thing. His mouth opens. Here he is eating an apple which I may or may not have placed in his jaw.



This is one of his glam shots done with available lighting and a flower that I had on hand. He's really into fashion.



Moving on.

You probably know where I'm going with this now.

Cpt Awesomepants has had a crap weekend and barely slept last night due to a paper he had to write, so he's NOT on his game right now. I recognize that I should not take advantage of my husband in this state but it's. just. too. tempting.

Me: all calm and nonchalant-like: "can you help me make the bed?"
Him: normal, unsuspecting: "sure."

Standard unmade bed:

da-Nuh


da-Nuhnuhnuhnuhnuhnuh

    SURPRISE!!!!!


Cpt Awesomepants uttered a scream that, to his credit, was very manly. And also very loud. And the dance that accompanied it was most impressive, and would surely have scared off Pookins had Pookins been a real boar. Surely.

And this is how you Godfather someone.


cheers :)

Saturday

Problems With Writing a Dissertation

I'm writing a dissertation. It's supposed to be done by now, but I am an epic procrastinator and it's Not (for reference, please note that I am totally writing a blog post about writing the dissertation rather than writing the dissertation). I rationalize this by telling myself that I'm better on a deadline. Which is totally true.

Anyway, the dissertation is... coming along, we'll just say.

Normal morning:
I make smart. 

As you can see (if you've been thorough enough to read the make-believe titles on the make-believe books) that my dissertation is, at least in part, about the Minotaur.

Which, if you're wondering, is awesome.
and I would like a salad. Srsly. Bulls are herbivores, assholes.
I suppose the problem begins there, because the Minotaur part of the project is super fun and easy, but there are a whole lot more words to write around, and in addition to, that one bit.

Which starts making me a little edgy. Because, well... because I have to sound super smart. Because dissertations are formal, and are evaluated by a committee of Very Smart People with Multiple Degrees and Jobs and Stuff (my chair actually used the word syzygy in her comments, which I have never seen anyone use, ever. Badass.) and I can't say 'fuck' or 'King Minos was kind of a dick,' not even once, even though it's true. 

No, it has to look more like this:
Always add latin if you want to sound smart.

Writing a novel, on the other hand, is a remarkably different process. Novels are fun and you can sit in the same position for days while your hair gets weirder and weirder and in your (crazy-haired) head, battles are raging and people are falling in and out of love and discovering stuff like neato hidden swords and prophecies and dead kings are being resurrected and fighting with fallen angels and so on and so forth*.

*Note: this all happens in my book, which will be published someday, Minotaur willing. 



As I said before: it's fun. 

Whereas dissertationLand is more like: 

Phase 1: Out of  words.

Phase 2: MELT. DOWN.



Phase 3: RUN AWAY


And this is why my dissertation isn't finished yet. 



The End. 









Thursday

The Last Year-ish: A List

There is no way to adequately address the fact that I haven't blogged in over a year (just barely, but still) so I'm going to create a nice list to address Some of the Random and Nifty Things That Have Happened in the Time Frame Mentioned, and hope that suffices.

1. I saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes*.

2. I drank approx 756 cups of coffee.

3. I wrote a book**.

4. I almost died (but didn't. Yay!).

5. I had surgery (to address previous almost-dying issue, so that's nice.) (also, morphine? Amazing.).

6. I rearranged the living room.

7. 80 times or so.

8. I did some dissertation stuff.

9. I got a new dog.

10. I re-homed the old dog because she was bite-y and it was very sad.

11. I decided to train for a half marathon and then stopped and then started again and then stopped and then started again and so forth and so on and yada yada and sometimes I go running now.

12. I went to Florida and watched a scary movie (even though everyone else said it wasn't that scary, which is the first giveaway for not sleeping for many, many hours because you're too busy trying to keep an eye on the front door where Lord Fornicus is going to pop in at any second)

13. I wore a skirt (once).

14. I went paddle boarding and did not fall in. This was– as per my record in all water crafts and the fact that I have little skill of upright-ness when it comes to being in liquid– impressive, and worth writing down.

15. I got a fantastic sunburn.

16. I (and Cpt Awesomepants, who did most of it) renovated the ancient turn-of-the-century kitchen with sledgehammers and fury and righteousness and pain and didn't find a single neato thing in the walls like a dragon tooth or bars of gold or a skeleton :(.

17. I'm pretty glad there were no skeletons in the walls, actually. That shit is illegal.

18. Though if I had, I'd've dressed him in a top hat and put him on the front porch and named him Georgey-Poo.

19. Some other stuff happened, probably.


I think that's it.







*Rise of the Planet of the Apes = Phenomenally bad film. Probably gonna have to do a blog post about it, though it might mean watching the whole thing, which might mean drinking a whole bottle of wine for endurance and the sake of finding humor in a terrible, terrible movie. Also, Cpt Awesomepants thought I should point out that this wasn't really that important to my year, which is true, but we did just see it like a week ago and that's all I could think of.

**I WROTE A BOOK. It is a Young Adult fantasy fiction book about a girl and it's like 75,000 whole words and I'm working out how to publish it which is like working out how to learn Russian if you've never even seen the cyrillic alphabet before and all you have is a crayon and no textbooks and no paper, just a weird drunk Russian dude*** who shows up at your house and speaks in half sentences and doesn't answer a single one of your questions.

***By Russian dude I mean: the internet.