Have I Told You Lately That I Love....?

Have I told you lately that I love home shows? Not the boring kind in convention centers, but the interesting ones with catchy titles on HGTV. My personal favorite might be "Property Virgins" which follows people who are looking for (but not necessarily **buying**) their first home. Usually, the host asks them for a brief list of things they're looking for in a house. They'll rattle off a generic list like large kitchens, bathtubs, a deck, etc. After watching unhealthy amount of home shows, I've come up with my own list. It's not actually a list of things I'm looking for, but things I don't want in a house.

1. Split-level. One word: ugly.
2. Prominent Garages. Why would you want the most prominent exterior feature to be the garage? When was the last time you said, "Wow. Check out the garage on the left!"
3. Carpet. Anywhere. I actually like vacuuming, but the stuff stains way too easily.
4. Great rooms. What kind of a person wants everything but the bathroom to be in one giant (noisy) room?
5. Chair rails. Useless, useless, useless.
6. Soaring ceilings. Only more space to cool/heat and cobwebs that require ladders to be knocked down. Also, Paul says they make batteries in smoke alarms really hard to change.
7. Fireplaces. Most, okay all, of them are ugly. Maybe if you have an really old, unusually pretty, non-painted brick fireplace, I would still buy your house, but it would be in spite of, not because of.

Now Paul hates, hates, HATES home shows, especially "Property Virgins." But sometimes, on accident, he'll catch a minute or two. Usually, he will only comment on how much he hates them, but tonight, as two newlyweds perused houses, he offered the follow gem: "We will never have a house unless we have kids. Not that I'm trying to blackmail you, it's just two people don't need anymore space them we have now."

Have I told you lately that I love my husband? He's so easily satisfied. I remember back in our last apartment in Provo, he said we could live happily like that forever and he really meant it. He's just always content.

I, on the other hand, now have to convince him that a charming old bungalow, perhaps a craftsman or Spanish revival, is precisely the thing that two people and a cat will eventually need. I don't want to be sixty and still paying rent.

The Land Without Time

Ah, the best part of vacation. Living in the land without time. (Or grammar.) I swear, it's been Saturday for at least five days now. How will I ever go back to school? I lack any/all discipline and I'm pretty sure my brain turned to mush some time after Christmas. What have I been doing with myself you ask? Lazing about and chauffering Paul around. I did a through memory search and he has driven twice--once out of extreme duress. I don't think he'll ever drive again. It occurred to me that it's awfully convenient that the person who has to fly is the one who doesn't mind and the person who has to drive is the one who doesn't mind.

Lazing about pretty much consists of cleaning, organizing, or decorating...well, maybe not decorating. I have an entire giant Rubbermaid container full of stuff for DI or Goodwill or whoever I find first. (I checked, it will be DI. We're on the same road. It's just so easy to get to!) So, we have a lot of free closet space now and I cleaned up the second bedroom, found places for a lot of stuff, put up some shelves, added a utensil rack to the kitchen--which is the cleanest it has ever been, yea even every square inch, framed some things, washed those things that never get washed, etc. I've been a smidge bored you might say.

The Forgotten Arm

This post was supposed to have been written five days ago and been about these adorable pictures of Piper "helping" us wrap presents and unpack.


Then, there was another three days ago and it was supposed to be about these--my fabulous new shoes. I saw them a store window and I remember my grandmother's story and decided to buy them on the spot. (And they were on sale! Score!) But instead my laptop, Sweet Betsy Ross, was infected with a terrible, malicious trojan and I lost days, yes days, battling the archfiend and you in turn lost two posts. And who knows? Those posts could have changed your life. They could have been the blogging equivalents of Rembrants. And now we'll never know. But, with Sweet Betsy reclaimed and oh-so-virus/adware/spyware/malware-free, we can again move forward.

I have recently been struck with a serious craving for a decent Italian soda. My attempts to purchase the syrup had been stymied and I had resorted to club sodas with grenadine, which are delicious, but not what I wanted. I finally tracked down some down at a world market. It was the right brand (Torani) and the right flavor (Raspberry), but somehow it didn't quite hit the mark. Then yesterday, I was almost knocked over by the sudden desire for passionfruit 7UP. I've been nostalgic for Taiwan lately, so it wasn't terribly surprising. I did a Google search and it just so happened that a very large Chinese market was in Chandler and Paul works in Chandler, so I picked Paul up from work (under the devious guise [can guises be devious? probably not] of picking him up from work) and promptly drove off in the opposite direction. The store was quite large and cheap. It looked kind of like Taiwan and it smelled like fish and durians and sold ground pork which is oddly difficult to find, but while it had the right brand of syrup, it sold only the lemon and grape flavors (or "sap" as the bottle's English proclaimed). So we picked up some pork, Meiji almonds, and choco-pies and left. In the car, I mentioned that there was supposed to be another Chinese grocery store on the same road much closer to home, but I had heard only rumors of it. Paul doesn't really like to be kidnapped and taken on multiple exotic grocery trips (he made fun of my willingness to buy meat there but not at Walmart), so I decided I would go by myself today.

I tracked the other store down (turns out it's brand-new) and set off on a wild adventure through West Mesa. I say adventure because the area is always crawling with cops and seems a bit...um, let's say run-down. (Also turns out the store is part of a big "revitalization" push.) Anyway, it was much bigger than the other store and did in fact have my beloved passionfruit syrup. I also bought some plum syrup, which may have been a miscalculation since I realized after tasting it that I liked plum flavored chicken and sweet potato fries, but neither of those taste like anything one drinks. The flavor was dead-on, though, so maybe I can use it in sauces or marinades.

So here I am, enjoying a lovely club soda with passionfruit in the sun while Aimee Mann's "Goodbye Caroline" plays on the stereo. Is there a better way to spend one's time? Okay, enjoying a lovely club soda with passionfruit in the sun while Aimee Mann's "Goodbye Caroline" plays on the stereo on a white sand beach might be an improvement, but this is pretty darn good.

Let There Be Rock!

I know I haven't updated for a while; I've decided it's best just to gloss over the past two weeks. So, shipped Paul off to Utah, bought a Billy Joel album, saw Yes Man, made potstickers, cleaned and organized the entire kitchen, found a new haircut, played with Piper, rediscovered Iron Chef. Whew. A thrilling time, I know. Now, for what this post is really about: arguing over VH1's latest top 20 list. Category? Hard rock songs. Here's their list:

20. You Give Love a Bad Name (Bon Jovi)
19. Tom Sawyer (Rush)
18. Rock You Like a Hurricane (Scorpions)
17. I Wanna Rock (Twisted Sister)
16. Rock and Roll All Nite (Kiss)
15. Dr. Feelgood (Motley Crue)
14. Run to the Hills (Iron Maiden)
13. Photograph (Def Leppard)
12. Breaking the Law (Judas Priest)
11. Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple)
10. Ace of Spades (Motorhead)
9. Runnin' with the Devil (Van Halen)
8. Walk This Way (Aerosmith)
7. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)
6. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)
5. Enter Sandman (Metallica)
4. Paranoid (Black Sabbath)
3. Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)
2. Back in Black (AC/DC)
1. Welcome to the Jungle (Guns 'N' Roses)

You see the outrageous flaws. First, let's all agree that Bon Jovi and Twisted Sister don't even belong on this list. I love Dee Snider as much as the next person, but seriously. Top 20? No. Frankly, the Scorpions and Kiss probably don't deserve the honor either. Although, both songs are legendarily awesome. I'm also kicking off Motley Crue because I just don't like their music and Def Leppard because Photograph is not that great of a song. So, we're down to:

19. Tom Sawyer (Rush)
14. Run to the Hills (Iron Maiden)
12. Breaking the Law (Judas Priest)
11. Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple)
10. Ace of Spades (Motorhead)
9. Runnin' with the Devil (Van Halen)
8. Walk This Way (Aerosmith)
7. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)
6. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)
5. Enter Sandman (Metallica)
4. Paranoid (Black Sabbath)
3. Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)
2. Back in Black (AC/DC)
1. Welcome to the Jungle (Guns 'N' Roses)

Now, the question is are we ranking songs or bands? Songwise, it's not that bad, but bandwise, it's criminal! Guns 'N' Roses over pretty much any band on the list? No sir, that is just not right. So, I offer my superior ranking in order of band awesomeness. I acknowledge that once you hit the top five, they're more or less equal.

14. Welcome to the Jungle (Guns 'N' Roses)
13. Walk This Way (Aerosmith)
12. Runnin' with the Devil (Van Halen)
11. Run to the Hills (Iron Maiden)
10. Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple)
9. Breaking the Law (Judas Priest)
8. Tom Sawyer (Rush)
7. Ace of Spades (Motorhead)
6. Paranoid (Black Sabbath)
5. Back in Black (AC/DC)
4. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)
3. Enter Sandman (Metallica)
2. Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)
1. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)

Songwise, the order is something more like:

14. Runnin' with the Devil (Van Halen)
13. Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)
12. Walk This Way (Aerosmith)
11. Run to the Hills (Iron Maiden)
10. Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple)
9. Welcome to the Jungle (Guns 'N' Roses)
8. Back in Black (AC/DC)
7. Breaking the Law (Judas Priest)
6. Ace of Spades (Motorhead)
5. Paranoid (Black Sabbath)
4. Tom Sawyer (Rush)
3. Enter Sandman (Metallica)
2. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)
1. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who)

Still, it's not perfect. If you had to pick Van Halen's best song, would you choose Runnin' with the Devil? And Whole Lotta Love from Led Zeppelin over Kashmir? Sigh. (Shakes head) Oh well, at least I'm posting again. In the last minute, two future topics have been suggested courtesy of House Hunters: bad baby names (Phineas? Is your child a ninety-year-old Amish man?) and absurd Britishisms (there is no such thing as a "cooker").

Regretably, Christmas is Canceled

I regret to inform you that Christmas has been canceled. I'm afraid I simply cannot leave a place of sunshine for snow (even if it is two feet) if it involves air travel. Don't blame me. I checked it out. We could drive home easily--most of the roads are clear and visibility is excellent. But that big mean Grinch Paul said no and driving away by myself (well, with Piper for the companionship and all) probably wouldn't lead to good things there. Even if we were driving, I don't know what I'd bring our clothes in because I can't get the suitcases out. The noise they make...it's just like that awful rattling of the overhead storage bins at take-off. No, I've said it before, but I've never meant it so much. No flying. If that means it's the year without a Christmas, so be it.

What IS Up Doc?

Well, the semester has collapsed into finals (which are next week), so I finally have some time to think and sleep. Let's see. Paul successfully passed his 90-day review at work and was rewarded with a hefty raise. He's still very busy at work. There's a very funny story about why, but I'm not sure if I can post it. I don't want Paul to get fired too! We bought a new TV as a slightly early Christmas present to us. It's the 32" Sony LCD TV I mentioned before. We got it for a better price too, courtesy of Circuit City's bankruptcy. The old one wasn't doing so hot, so I figured it was replace it now during the fine sales season or replace it sometime during the next year when TVs may or may not be on sale. I really like it. It's a good thing it mostly covers Christmas because buying presents is hard for people with disposable income. Paul just buys himself what he wants, so there's nothing left for me to get him! (Yes, I am well-aware of how incredibly fortunate we are to be in such a position and yes, I feel the appropriate level of guilt, which is why I am having been answering yes every time I'm asked if I want to donate a dollar to [insert name of worthy charity here] at the checkout and tipping generously.) If you have any good Paul-present related insights, please share them because I don't!

There is No Me in Avant-Garde

There is no me in avant garde. Or we. Paul and I learned this last night as we yet again embarked on "an adventure." Oh foolish mortals, when will we learn that there is a reason we live a normal life? It's because we're NORMAL. By definition, if one are not normal, then one is abnormal. Who wants to be abnormal?

Our tale begins on Tuesday, when someone courteously left behind an alternative publication at the bus stop. I need to kill some time, so I started flipping through it. There was an ad for a film--Repo: The Genetic Opera--which Paul and I had periodically discussed. It had an intriguing premise (it's a horror opera--really, almost every line is sung) and cast (Paul Sorvino, Sarah Brightman, Anthony Head, even Paris Hilton). It was an 1-day engagement with one of those director-writer Q and A sessions after the film. So we said, what the heck? Let's be adventurous. So, I bought the tickets--little nervous about the part that said dressing in costume is encouraged--and on Thursday, despite the many better and more important things we had to do, drove off to a little dollar movie theater in Chandler. I became slightly more nervous given the amount of black and capes as we waited to verify our names and ages (you didn't actually get tickets, they put your name on a list at the door), but figured it was part of the adventure. We got in, found seats in a giant theater with with tables (like the Alamo Drafthouse!) and random pieces of furniture to make extra seats. (Ever watched a movie in a church pew? Me neither, but I know where to now.) Soon, the theater was overflowing with black, fishnets, piercings, and leather. Still, I held steady. Hadn't Chris Hicks once written that there was a certain amount of humor being there for one of those Rocky Horror Picture Show things? We sat through the opening banter and then the director, writer, and composer took the mike. The director opened by saying that Repo: The Genetic Opera had been called the worst film ever, the worst movie of the year. This is when genuine panic first set in. What were we in for? Well, something. A few parts were good, more were interesting, many I covered my eyes for. In brief, there's a man (the Repo Man) who repossessions organs. He's been coerced into the job (he's really a doctor, you see) because his daughter is ill. His boss is the villian. He is also the man's dead wife's ex-lover and possibly the daughter's biological father. Throw in the boss' three worthless children (in the role of the bawdy buffoon) who are squabbling over their dying father's estate, a drug-dealing grave robber/narrator, and a blind opera singer who is also owned by the villian and was the dead ex-lover's best friend. There's mostly revenge, some parents-must-let-go-at-some-point, a smattering of mixed social commentary (obsessions with plastic surgery, drug addiction, the evils of consumerism/genetic modification/etc.) as the plot's connective tissue. Paul and I had a secret signal worked out if we had to flee--three quick squeezes of the hand. Unfortunately, there was a miscommunication and I misinterpreted Paul's attempt to flee as him wrongly thinking I wanted to flee. Thus we wound up staying for the whole thing. And thing really is the word for it. It certainly gave us much to talk about on the drive home.

Paul's Official Opinion: Repo is a terrible movie--but stylish. It's uniquely terrible. The gore was over-the-top, yet lacked a payoff. C+ (B as average)
Jennifer's Official Opinion: Repo is a disappointing movie. It was often interesting, but lacked any real development of the plot or characters. The opera aspect was really underdeveloped. This is impressive when you consider than 95% of the movie was sung. (Paul agrees.) C+