Utils in Bat Country

Curse you, superfluous R!!!

During one of our daily 5 mile treks, P suddenly looks over and is all do you know what word I've been saying wrong for years - perogative.  Apparently it has an extra R and is prerogative.  As I walked, trying out this new wayward pronunciation and tripping over both my feet and my tongue, I revolted.  No way is it pRerogative.  That doesn't even make sense! That's not how they say it in the song!  It's my PERogative to not say PRERogative, hmph!

When we got back to the house, I pulled up dictionary.com and lo and behold:

pre·rog·a·tive

/prɪˈrɒgətɪv, pəˈrɒg-/ Show Spelled[pri-rog-uh-tiv, puh-rog-] Show IPA

–noun

1.an exclusive right, privilege, etc., exercised by virtue of rank, office, or the like: the prerogatives of a senator.

2.a right, privilege, etc., limited to a specific person or to persons of a particular category: It was the teacher's prerogative to stop the discussion.

3.a power, immunity, or the like restricted to a sovereign government or its representative: The royal prerogative exempts the king from taxation.

4.Obsolete . precedence.

Well, hell.

(Though the puh-rog included makes me think that saying perogative may not be wrong? Or is so wrong but so ubiquitous that it's become grudgingly permissible?)

Day 2 back from vacation

Isn't much more promising than day 1.

Tale as old as...hold the phone

While wandering the aisles of Target, I came across the DVD for Beauty and the Beast.

As one who has seen the movie dozens of times and owned multiple VHS and DVD copies, I have much confidence when I say: THAT IS NOT WHAT BELLE LOOKS LIKE WTF.

It must be elves

How else is it possible that even though I haven't moved for the last 3 years, I have this many socks with no home?

(Oh yes, as you can tell from the duffel bag in the corner, I decided that packing was a fine time to organize the closet.)

I'm sure I'm having a great time at the shore...

but I miss this face

Crossing Paths

Your intrepid util writers are winging themselves into each others regions at exactly the same times.  Alas, while Tass flies off to the midwest for Lollapolooza, I am winging my way Eastward to the shore.  Actually, Tass flew out on Thursday so she may be overhead as I type this *pauses to wave out window* and by the time this publishes I will hopefully (fingers crossed, please please please baby Jesus) be safe and sound in New Jersey.

Yay vacation!!

Logic

It makes total sense to take pictures of potential matches on your phone because you know various family members are going to insist on examining the possibilities and this way they aren't getting notifications every day when they want to look at the one of him at the lake one more time and compare to the other one of bachelor #2 skiing, right?

Yep, that's how I spent part of my morning.  Oy.

How Zero Became Two

You. Guys.

I don't even know how it happened.  Well, I do actually.  I popped over to the mall after work to grab a pair of the Loft cap toe flats w/ the Friends and Family promotion and on my way through, I decided to stop at JCrew just to see how the next smaller size would look in the Pipe Dream hoodie of Monday's Keep or Return entry.

Of course, they were sold out of the orange but if I'm just looking for fit, I'll just grab the XXS in the Navy.  My plan was to see that the smaller size fit better, but they are sold out of the orange so I should really just return it.

But then, somehow, this happened.

I now own TWO of these overpriced, ridiculous things.

[Random aside - I had come out of the dressing room and was standing in front of the bigger mirror debating with myself.  'The XXS really does fit better, I do actually really like the navy, I'd get a lot of wear out of them, maybe I should just buy this one and keep both?' The sales girl came back and told me it looked nice and I briefly explained my dilemma and kind of laughed and said I appreciate the vanity sizing but when I'm in the XXS, there's something a bit off.  And she looked at me and said I know, the people who are actually small are completely sized out.  ....   Hmph.  I can be small(ish)!  I mean yes, it is ridiculous that the smallest size they have in this particular top isn't even tight on me, well perhaps a skosh around the hips in the navy, but still.]

I told myself I'd try them both on at home, beat some sense into my head even if it meant ramming my head into the faucet multiple times and when that failed I figured I could at least take back the $12 scarf I snagged at LEC to help mitigate some of the damage.  And then I picked the scarf up and looked at it and looked at myself and said, stripes + stripes in complimentary colors.  Hmmmm.

SAVE ME FROM MYSELF INTERNET

Adagio for my heartstrings

Forget volumes of text. From here on out, when EH asks me what I'm looking for in a relationship, I'm going to respond with someone who will look at me like this:

Read and Watched in July (And Tree of Not Life)

I got distracted this month with some stupid, online video game, and put a few hours in on that, rahter than reading. But it's OK, I forgive myself.

I made an attempt at watching Tree of Life. For those of you unfamiliar, it's directed by Terry Mallick who did The Thin Red Line, which I loved. It was reviewed on NPR when the film was released, and the reviewer (whose name I never remember, but whom I almost always agree with) said the film was both horrible and wonderful, both extremely worthwhile and not at all worth the time and effort.

So I went. The Guy and I headed to a local art house theater, bought our $10 tickets, grabbed seats, and rolled with it. Almost.

The film isn't chronological, which is fine with me. I have the brainpower to get through a movie that moves in strange ways. There's a 1960s family with two kids, Brad Pitt is the dad. They like to walk down the middle of their neighborhood streets together. I know, because the early part of the film showed them doing this. A lot. Mallick wants you to know they were mostly a HAPPY family, dammit. BUT! He also wants you to know Brad Pitt was sometimes a Mean Dad. Not beat the kids with a wiffle ball bat mean, but sometimes harsh, overbearing, the Manly Dad of the 1960s. Fine. Sean Penn is one of the kids when he's all grown up, and he and his parents are dealing, 30-some odd years later with the death of the other brother, presumably in Vietnam.

OK, so far so good. We are maybe 20-30 minutes into the movie.

And then it got arty.

But not Arty in the good way. Not 2001, Stanley Kubrick arty. Just random, and WHININGLY arty. Mom does a voiceover, all about how the loss of her son made her question god, his existence, etc. Which, yeah, for a believer I can understand how this is a valid way of thinking. Mallick decided to go about 9538 steps further, and for the next 15-20 minutes the viewer is treated to animation (and what seems to be amazing underwater sea footage, but I'm too lazy to check) of essentially the Big Bang through dinosaurs, all with a swelling and overwrought score.

By the time we got to the dinosaurs, I was getting pisssed. When the dinosaurs showed up, I was FURIOUS. I don't mind paying to see a director's acid trip. I do mind when it's an homage to something, especially when I'm not sure what it is. Is Mallick trying to reaffirm the existence of god, by showing what he has wrought? In that case, fuck you, Terry, I call bullshit and point you towards the science section of your local library. Is Mallick doing the opposite, calling bullshit on this poor mom's faith? In that case, fuck you, Terry, for being a heartless asshole.

I think, instead, Mallick is a self-absorbed fucktwit who really likes computer graphics and nonsense.

The dinosaurs? That's when I walked out.

Sadly, the Guy really wanted to see the movie. He thought the animated scenes were BEAUTIFUL, and he may very well be right. By the time I left, I was so angry with having wasted that 30 minutes of my life, I had shut down completely and couldn't tell you one way or the other. The Guy talked to the theater manager, after I went across the street to grab a drink, to see if he could get a ticket to sit through the movie without me (I told him to stay, but the manager-dude claimed he didn't have the authority, and the Guy never bothered to call the theater). The manager asked, with no prompting, if I had walked out when the dinosaurs showed up.

Obviously, I am not the only one.

Books read in July

Emma by Jane Austen (Finished 5 July 2011)
Cut by Patricia McCormick (Finished 5 July 2011)
Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (Finished 6 July 2011)
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (Finished 8 July 2011)
Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter by Seth Gram-Green (Finished 25 July 2011)
52 Pick-Up by Elmore Leonard (Finished 31 July 2011)

Books read in 2011: 25