make me a match

I really wanted to watch Driving Lessons, but sadly the technology available to me does not read the "back-up" copy of the movie I have. Looks like I won't be enjoying a moody Rupert Grint set to a soundtrack by Sufjan Stevens tonight after all. Mreh.
Instead, I am watching the movie The Matchmaker. I don't want to sound too hipster, but if you haven't heard of it, I'm not surprised.

Shit. That sounds incredibly hipster.

I will set the scene:
Janeane Garofalo is (surprise!) a single and cynical thirtysomething sent to Ireland for work and finds herself in the middle of the annual matchmaking festival.  She scoffs at romance in general and ignores the beauty of the Irish countryside because she just needs to get her job done, goddammit, and get home. It's kind of like a Katherine Heigl movie in the 90s. Except with less attractive people and more sheep. Everything goes wrong, no one is moving fast enough, and her hotel room is frustratingly inadequate. But amidst all this turmoil and the horror of spending a week among verdant countryside and friendly people, might she find love where she least expects it?  Well, you're just going to have to watch it and find out for yourself.

I like it.  There's a reason I put it in, of course. I have only seen it once and can't quite remember if I liked it or not, but I just finished watching The IT Crowd through the 4th season, and I find myself thirsting for more Irish accents.  Maybe I should have watched The Commitments. ...maybe I'll watch it next. But for now I am watching The Matchmaker and it is the perfect match for my movie-watching needs right now.  Even if it doesn't feature Rupert Grint.


by the way, if you haven't already, and I haven't already told you, and you haven't already bugged me to watch it for several months, then you should watch The IT Crowd. Go on. Scoot on over to Netflix for a few hours.

running

This summer, I am fighting my inactive tendencies!

Kinda. A bit half-heartedly, to be honest.
I am running.
If you know anything about me, you know that I hate this. I hate running. I believe that it should be used only in emergency situations and as punishment for real sports.  But when a friend asks says "we should go running! At the park!" what else can you do but take a second to consider your slight jiggly-ness and say "definitely!"

On a good day, I can run for about eight or nine minutes. That's right. Minutes. 
On a bad day, I can run for 20-30 before succumbing to my doom and accepting death.  ...there's a story here. Allow me to explain:

Last week, Kala and I decided to run someplace different: a trail by our house that goes through the woods, under bridges, and past the movie theater. We parked and started off down the trail.
We ran, I stopped to walk after my lungs stopped working, and I walked until Kala turned around and we met in the middle.

As we started to walk back, the sky started getting unnaturally dark for 6PM and the air was heavy with imminent rainfall.  I looked up, and thick, dark clouds loomed overhead.  The trees swayed and I noticed a suspicious lack of bird noise.

Storm's comin'.

"Hopefully we'll make it back before the rain hits!" we said.
Hopefully.

The rain hit, hard. Trees thrashed violently. Lightning cracked and thunder boomed threateningly.
But that wasn't so bad. In fact, it was kinda fun to run in the rain. And then the trees started trying to kill us.
It was a bit like that moment in Pac Man: you're chasing a blue ghost and you've almost caught up to it- you feel powerful and like everything is going your way- then (blink) it's pink again and suddenly you're the hunter become the hunted.
The trees which were normally sought as shelter have become the scariest. things. in the world. Like the forest in Snow White, or the poor interpretation of the last Triwizard challenge in Goblet of Fire (where the maze tries to eat Cedric and Harry).

doesn't look so scary now, but just wait till the trees come to life

I would say I ran for my life, but if that were true, my life doesn't seem that important to me. I had already run more than normal that day, and when the storm hit and Kala shouted "let's just run back" over the rain, my reaction was "sure!"  Actually, I believe at first it was "well, the Mythbusters say you'll get wetter running through rain than walking" but this was no ordinary summer rain.  It was no delicate sprinkle, no short-lived shower.  This was a monsoon.  A monsoon that was hurling trees at me like a kid throws water balloons. Except tree limbs don't splash when they hit pavement, they block the trail or fall directly on top of you.

We managed to finally get out of the Death Woods, Kala running the whole way. I stopped twice to retie my shoes and a few times out of sheer exhaustion.  I escaped with only a scrape across my thigh, but I learned something about myself: In the case of a zombie apocalypse*, a visit to Jurassic Park, a mugging, an alien invasion, or a missing-identity spy thriller, I am going to die.  I will stop to rest my lungs or tie my shoes and I will get eaten, or beaten, or shot.
I was also reminded why I will never be Sydney Bristow.

not bad for a summer afternoon.


*the Zombieland kind, not the Shaun of the Dead kind.  Zombieland zombies can move pretty fast (Rule #1- Cardio). In the event of a SotD Z-day, I might be able to survive by hiding and/or using my sewing machine to bludgeon any that come close to me.

soup to nuts

Riding the train to an internship where I earn good money while being held responsible for projects that actually matter to the progress of the company may trick me into thinking I am an adult, but this is not so.

I was in a meeting the other day (doesn't that sound so grown up?) hearing a pitch from an interactive media company.  They presented their services and generally talked themselves up for any future business we might be able to give them. They promised to follow through with a project, and assured us they were more than capable to join a project at any point in its development. They would be able to work with us "from soup to nuts."

From soup. To nuts.

I wrote the phrase down on my paper, and because there wasn't much else to take notes on in this meeting, it stood out a bit on the page, attracting the attention of my fellow intern, who chuckled appreciatively.  He then started to doodle a soup bowl and a handful of peanuts with an arrow between them. I puzzled over where this phrase could have come from.  I know it meant from begininng to end or running the gamut or whatever, and behold, according to Wikipedia...

It is derived from the description of a full course dinner, in which courses progress from soup to a dessert of nuts.

 AHA! So now you know.

He then promised that they will monitor and investigate all steps of the project, saying "we do due diligence."

...unsurprisingly "doo doo diligence" inspired many suppressed giggles and acted as a gentle reminder that although I might dress for work and be able to vote and eat hummus and could potentially serve my country in the armed forces, I am not, in fact, an adult. 

FYI- "Soup to Nuts" is also the name of a 1928 comedy in the vane of Amelia Bedelia and the title of an episode of the acclaimed television series That's So Raven.

summer update

Summer update:
 (aka the flimsy reasons I have not been writing as much)

• I am reading the sequel to Name of the Wind, Wise Man's Fear. So far I am pleased, but I have on good authority that this book will also leave me in the lurch, without conclusion or any semblance of closure. Awesome. I am currently about 700 pages into this 994 page behemoth. ...and I am open to book suggestions.  Just kidding, I never read what people tell me to. Ask my mom.

•  I am 3 weeks into my summer internship! It has been going well, but I am hesitant to include any details because I'm a little worried I may have signed some nondisclosure agreement that directly prohibits blogging about the projects I am privy to. And then they would find out through some secret division of the company that I had talked and would send a pair of agents to shoot me in the parking garage. I would narrowly escape, but only because my dad would squeal his car past me, brake quickly and shout "Get in!"  And then I would know he had been a part of it the whole time. But deep down I think I knew. Then he would ferry me to a private jet taking me out of the country, but I wouldn't be able to trust him even though it was probably my best option. This would lead to years of counter-espionage and a roller coaster relationship with my father. So... I will not be writing about it. Just in case.

That's about it. But those two things in themselves take up the majority of my time. But here are some notes I scribbled down to eventually blog, but couldn't find the space to do it:

From the overheard conversation at the dog park:

• (on hearing these two women - previously strangers to each other - make small talk) If you're saying the facebook, you're too old to use Facebook. 
• "I'm still trying to sell my house." (exasperated face)     "Oh my friend is looking at houses! Give me your address" ("so I can stalk/murder you." ...my mind filled in those blanks. I watch Dexter, I know how these things work.)