Friday, January 30
If adolescence were even half as painful as it appears in Thirteen, no one would make it out alive. Evan Rachel Wood and Holly Hunter give amazing performances. That's all I can say because I have to go rock quietly in a corner somewhere and pretend like I didn't see those last 100 minutes of film.
posted @ 5:48 PM |
Why don't you just give me a paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?
Of all the sonofabitchin' things to have happen to you, none seem so bad as a paper cut. However, as I have worked as a stock-girl in a hardware store, I am tough, and I can tell you this: A cardboard cut is 10 times worse. The pain, the agony, the itty-bitty tiny cut to show for it. Yesterday, I received something that gives cardboard a run for its money: My window shade (vinyl? acrylic? some other weird polymer?) gave me a paper cut on the palm-side of my middle finger and it is irritating me with persistent pain, aggravation, and relative wussiness. This may affect my blogging. I'm just saying.
posted @ 7:40 AM |
Thursday, January 29
Inquiring minds want to know
Since Sex and the City is reaching the end of its run, my friends and I are picking up the slack. Now usually I don't use this site as a venue for frank sexual discussion, and I have to ask myself, "Why not?" The question of the day for my friends and I is this: How many are too many? Now, when you're talking about chocolate-chip cookies, too much is never enough. When you're talking about sexual partners, it's a different story. Assuming that all involved are disease-free, what's the cut-off number? At what number do you say, "Um, yeah, no thanks. I gotta go now"? 12? 38? 136?
I don't think there's a definitive number. I would never end a relationship just because the person I was dating had been with 30 other people. However, there is a point at which a number can become ... intimidating. That number, however, is variable, as it relates to the number of people you yourself have been with. (This is not the point at which I reveal my number, people. Keep dreaming.) And, though I am loathe to admit my sexism, I have to admit that I will allow for a much higher number for men than for women -- although I'm not making judgements here, there is a certain point at which I am unable to keep my eyebrow from raising.
Would the, um, intimidation factor ever keep you from dating someone? Is this something both partners need to be (loosely) equal on? And if a high number would bother you, why? Is it a jealousy thing, a morals thing, or just a ... thing?
posted @ 12:52 PM |
Wednesday, January 28
God, I love this game
BC had an easy win over Providence tonight, and it was beautiful to watch Jacobs go 4-4 from beyond the arc and 6-10 overall to lead the team with 18 points. Word on the street is Coach Inglese was less than pleased with the loss to Virginia Tech. Hopefully, between her getting them fired up and this win, they will have the confidence they need to face Notre Dame at home this weekend. The Irish, currently unranked, beat No. 17 Miami tonight in a tough fight, 59-50. I just hope they're still tired by Saturday.
posted @ 7:23 PM |
Tuesday, January 27
I'd love to be the one to disappoint you when I don't fall down
I don't care what anyone says, Significant Other is the best "I hate you, you fucking bastard" break-up CD ever. It's also really good for releasing your aggression during a workout. (In this category, I also highly recommend Melissa Ferrick's Freedom, though I have to deduct points for not having an "explicit lyrics" label. And if you want to wallow in your own freakish misery forever, may I suggest Too Late to Cry by Alison Krauss.)
In addition, go buy this Atari-thingy. It was the best damn gift I ever gave myself. You know you want one. (If only to be more like me.)
That's what I'm here for, people. Helpful tips like these.
posted @ 4:24 PM |
I'd make a hobbit joke, but they've all been done
The Oscar nominees are out, and there are no surprises (although I was pleased to see Keisha Castle-Hughes get a nod for Whale Rider). This was a dreadful year at the movies, evidenced by the fact that Return of the King is a front-runner for best picture. Aside from too many lingering and cloying shots of Sam and Frodo crying over their impending, but sadly never actualized, doom, an ending that never ended, and a heavy reliance on battles scenes, the movie was only okay. Like most trilogies, it was weak by the third installment. The love story between the king and the elf-maiden was diluted, and the camaraderie between the fellowship was forced. Mostly, I was just done with the whole thing.
That said, Lost in Translation was more interesting than engaging, Master and Commander was just ... who cares? and I still haven't seen Seabiscuit or Mystic River yet.
posted @ 6:31 AM |
Baby, you can drive my car
Thanks to World 66 and Sooz, we can all see exactly where I haven't been in the US. (There's no need for a world map, because I haven't left the damn country yet.) I'm sorry, but I've got to go now. I've sorely neglected large portions of the country, and they need me.
posted @ 6:12 AM |
Monday, January 26
I'm making up words now, just because I can. I joined Orkut last week, just because I could. Just as I did Friendster months ago. I was scrolling through some profiles on the aforementioned site (why not -- no one had posted to their blogs in at least an hour), and I got pissed off. All of a sudden, I remembered why a certain friend made me want to kill her on a regular basis. She was too fucking cool for all of it -- all of it being life, emotions, relationships, me, what have you. I sent her the great big "fuck you" in my head, but then I had to ask myself why I was still mad. This was years ago, and we're friends now, so why was I angry? Everybody's Friendster profiles are idiotic. I tend toward the cynical myself and frequently strive lamely for coolness. But there is something about this attitude that just sets me off. Perhaps it's my own insecurities rearing their ugly heads (I reject what is cool in order to be cool). I can't quite pin it down, but it follows me. The attitude seems to say that nothing can actually be touching, or sad, or just ... heartfelt. Because that's not cool. There's no point in doing anything, because nothing has a point. And maybe there is no point to all of this (my ramblings in particular), but if that's true, I'd rather not know. I'll keep pretending I'm doing something, if it's all the same to you.
posted @ 11:09 AM |
Sunday, January 25
I didn't think anyone cared, but apparently I was wrong, so I thought I should point out that this site now has an Atom feed. Now, I'm not really sure what that means, but Blogger made it easy, and all the cool kids are doing it. So, um, enjoy?
posted @ 9:13 AM |
Saturday, January 24
The wait is over
I am officially old. I'm an interesting combination, actually, of an old man and my grandmother. I spent the day shopping for, and then creating, meatloaf. In between shopping, chopping, and smushing meat with my hands, I watched a lot of basketball.
Tennessee beat Duke, and it was glorious. And, in other news, my meatloaf was tasty. Perhaps I should take up knitting. . . .
posted @ 6:03 PM |
Friday, January 23
We're getting closer every second now, but close is not enough
When I wake up in the morning, I usually have one of two songs in my head. Either I'm So Tired by the Beatles or Tears by Bonnie Tyler. It's obvious why the first song gets stuck in my head -- my first thought of the day usually involves not wanting to leave my bed. The second song is a little more obscure.
We had Bonnie's album on vinyl when in first came out in 1983. Total Eclipse of the Heart was a hit, and even though I was only 9, it spoke to me. That record shaped my young-girl version of love (and Prince's Darling Nikki clued me in on everything else). Somehow, I was already adopting "every now and then I fall apart" as my mantra. I may have been a little melodramatic. But between that song and Tears, I knew love was something that was going to make me miserable and sad, though in a good way, and hopefully with really cool hair like Bonnie. Those two songs were my favorites at the time, but because this was a record, skipping from song to song was a little harder, forcing me to discover the joys of Faster than the Speed of Night and Have You Ever Seen the Rain? Listening to my CD version of the album in my car this morning brought it all back, from dancing around my living room in Ohio and making the record skip right down to the green carpet that I used to slide across using album covers as my "skates."
I don't want to let another minute get by.
posted @ 10:20 AM |
Thursday, January 22
Okay, I've done it. I've come up with the ultimate "How well do you know Jennifer Garrett?" question. For the lightning bonus round and supreme bragging rights:
What is my favorite John Hughes movie?
a) Sixteen Candles
b) Pretty in Pink
c) Some Kind of Wonderful
d) The Breakfast Club
(If you can actually rank them correctly, we should probably get married or at least have babies together in sin.)
posted @ 5:24 PM |
You got that right
My sweet friends made me a t-shirt for my birthday. (It's a little late because things of quality take time, people.) I know y'all want one, but it is one of a kind, folks, one of a kind.
(Please disregard the fact that the second photo makes me look like I could play defensive tackle for the New England Patriots.)
posted @ 8:17 AM |
Wednesday, January 21
BC beat Seton Hall tonight, but with their lowest score of the season: 50-41. Amber Jacobs is still having problems shooting -- since Miami shut her down, her field goal percentage has been terrible (she went 1-10 against Miami and 1-7 against UConn). Tonight, she was 0-6 against Seton Hall. I can't tell if it's just a shooting slump (hey, it happens), or if she's being guarded really well, or if she's still favoring her ankle. It's wrapped, but it doesn't seem to be slowing her down on the court. She's still the best pressure player on the team, and she grabbed 6 boards tonight. The real story is Kathrin Ress, who's making her presence known now that she can play: She lead the team with 15 points and 6 boards.
BC has to face a tough Virginia Tech team this weekend, and I don't think they can pull it off if Jacobs doesn't snap out of it.
posted @ 7:11 PM |
Ms. Garrett goes to Washington
Actually, I didn't. I'm a good citizen and I vote, and normally, I listen to important speeches from the POTUS. But I just couldn't listen to that man spout a lot of bullshit and expect us to believe it. Rather than listen to the idiot give his twisted version of the state of our union, I watched Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. In general, I like Capra -- It Happened One Night is one of the Best Movies Ever. However, let's not speak of It's a Wonderful Life. (I just hate it, alright? Don't try to convince me otherwise. It is not a wonderful life -- it's a shitty, horrible, rotten life and then you die, okay? Also, Donna Reed just irritates me.) I was pleased to find that this Mr. Deeds was actually interesting, sweet, and funny. And when Gary Cooper finds out that the woman he loves has been lying to him -- I was done for. I'm going to rent a bunch of Cooper classics and call it a life.
posted @ 6:14 AM |
Tuesday, January 20
My life is a B-movie
I spent most of yesterday watching movies, which is the perfect thing to do on your day off. I started out with The American President, because I hadn't seen it yet even though I am cheap for Aaron Sorkin, and hey, it was On Demand. (I have quickly become an OnDemand ho, by the way. I may never leave my house again.) It was cute and funny, but I was sad to discover that by watching the film, I have now seen everything that Sorkin's produced. I was also somewhat amused to discover that he lifted entire lines from the American President and reproduced them in the West Wing.
Then I moved on to an actual theater and saw Big Fish with Leigh. It was also cute and funny, but in a surreal, lush, brightly colored yet hazy way. Ewan McGregor was wonderful, and why did no one tell me Billy Crudup was so damn ... chiseled? On the whole, the movie seemed a toned-down version of Tim Burton's usual fantastical, creepy, yet ultimately sweet look on life. And I mean that in a good way.
I finished my night off by suffering through My Beautiful Laundrette, which for some reason, is billed as a good movie. It is not. It is practically incoherent, which I could have handled if I had cared about any of the characters. Which I didn't. Even Daniel Day-Lewis couldn't pull it out of the muck.
I'm Jen Garrett, and I'll see you ... at the movies.
posted @ 12:29 PM |
Sunday, January 18
The grass is happy, and I think so am I
What a day. I hit MI:5 on DVD only to discover that not only is it a great show, but apparently the Brits actually have one-hour shows that last one hour. Then, my boys stick it to Indy and make travel arrangements for a trip to Houston. I've asked them to bring me back a ring as a souvenir. Then, amidst all my jumping up and down and ceremonious donning of my Pats t-shirt, I make yummy dinner (who knew lentil shepherd's pie could be so good? I think the secret is the Worcestershire sauce). And the crowning moment of glory: The L-Word debuts on Showtime and holy mother of god, but they actually showed realistic lesbian sex on TV. Oh, yeah, and the plots were kinda okay. Katherine Moennig is now my girlfriend, much as Evan Farmer is my boyfriend. (I tried to say that Tom Brady was my boyfriend today, but my roommate was having none of it. She claimed him as her own. That's okay. I'll take Ty Law or Adam Vinatieri. I'm not picky.)
posted @ 8:58 PM |
Saturday, January 17
Have I stayed too long at the fair?
Today, it was in the 30s in Boston. It felt warm to me. I walked places. With my coat open and no gloves. After the last few days, it was practically spring. Here's hoping it's cold and snowy enough tomorrow to shut down the Colts.
(And I'd been so successful at not blogging about the weather.)
posted @ 8:54 PM |
Friday, January 16
Warning: Blogging can be hazardous to your health
I'm not an anti-bacterial kind of girl. My mother always said, "You've got to eat a peck of dirt before you die." No, seriously, my mother said that. Out loud. In front of me. (She got it from her mother, who, in her defense, did grow up on a farm in Ohio.) It freaks my roommate out, but I tend to do things she disapproves of -- like not washing my vegetables before I eat them, applying the 15-second rule liberally, and calling Evan Farmer my boyfriend. (Though that last one has little to do with my point.)
Even though I firmly believe that all this anti-bacterial nonsense will lead to breeds of super-germs, I still have some of that scary hand gel that cleans your hands without washing them. And after petting a co-worker's puppy this morning, I went for it. Except I was reading my daily dose of blogs at the same time, so I didn't notice it was oozing all over the place. I ended up with far too much goo on my hands and had to anti-bacterialize my arms as well. So all my dirt-eating has been for naught. If the super-germs get me, now you know why.
posted @ 6:01 AM |
Thursday, January 15
Fourscore and seven years ago...
Your host brought forth on this web site a new blog, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that everyone loves me. Okay, it hasn't even been one score, but who cares? My blog is one year old today.
It doesn't feel like a year, does it? Shut up, bitch, it does not. Now, go read some archives and relive that glory that is me.
posted @ 6:01 AM |
Wednesday, January 14
June: I don't go to the movies.
Griffin: You don't? Why not?
June: Life is too short.
Finally saw The Player last night. I've liked Altman since I first seriously experienced his work with Short Cuts. He's weird in a way that I can dig. Some of the Hollywood in-jokes were a little annoying, and I've never been a big fan of either Tim Robbins or Greta Scacchi, but the movie definitely pushed my buttons to the point where one minute I wanted Griffin to be exposed and the next I wanted him to get away with it. (Plus, I watch way too many movies not to be semi-entranced by a representation of the process of making them.)
posted @ 5:36 AM |
Tuesday, January 13
Public service announcement
You know, I used to have friends. Friends who would e-mail me. Nothing serious, just the usual "my god, my day sucks and how much is your day sucking" kind of thing. No more. They think just because they can read about my daily minutiae here, they don't have to e-mail me directly.
Well, I am here to tell you: You do. You have to e-mail me. Now. All of you. I'm going to stop blogging until I get what I want. Okay, that's not realistic. I'm going to blog about you every day until I hear from you. Or your lawyer. Whichever comes first.
posted @ 10:21 AM |
I had to pick my mom up at South Station last night. As my mother is deathly afraid of flying, she was taking a train back from a post-holiday family visit in Ohio. Now, South Station isn't that bad; you can park at the bus station and the exit is right off the highway. However, they've managed to mangle the exit several different ways since the last time I went, and my mother's train was delayed. For seven hours. Meaning I had to pick her up somewhere in the vicinity of midnight, drop her at her place in Lowell, and then drive my tired ass back home so I could grab five glorious hours of sleep before showing my grumpy face at work today.
When I met my mother, however, she saw my grumpiness and raised it. Not only was her train delayed seven hours, but Amtrak took everyone off the train at Albany, N.Y., and bused them to their final destinations. Now, the only thing worse than taking a train from Toledo to Boston is taking a bus from Albany to Boston. She was not pleased. And I am not pleased, because not only did I not get enough sleep, but my hair is flipping out on one side instead of curling under. I don't get up three minutes earlier in the morning to blow-dry this mess just to end up with the same results I would get if I just let it all freeze-dry on the way to work, dammit.
posted @ 6:30 AM |
Monday, January 12
"Phillips-head screwdrivers are awkward tools and untrustworthy lovers, like the Danish."
posted @ 7:50 AM |
A night at the theater
I went to the Somerville Theatre last night to see Kill Bill. (On a side note, I hate when places spell theater like that. It just seems pretentious.)
After taking our tickets, the usher directed us to the left and downstairs. I was bemused; I'd never been instructed to go downstairs at a theater before. On the way down, I spotted this network of lines which I thought would make a cool photo (and I had my handy new digital camera), but my friend assured me it would not turn out because it was so dark. She was wrong; I was right; god's in his heaven, etc. I love the Somerville Theatre for many reasons: Cheap tickets, great local music, and the building itself is old school. There are random owls dotting the interior, and I really wanted to take pictures of some of them, but I didn't get a chance. Maybe it's because I've only had the camera a few weeks, but I'm still a little trigger shy in public. I just couldn't shoot the weird owl sconces once other people were there.
Oh, yeah, and the movie kicked ass. I'm so glad I didn't go see something more boring, like any of the Oscar contenders. (Overheard while buying my tickets: "If you want to change your mind and see Kill Bill, I'm okay with that," the man said to the woman buying tickets for Lost in Translation.)
posted @ 6:18 AM |
Saturday, January 10
I don't even want to talk about it
BC 66, Miami 70. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to be a sports fan. I think the Pats game tonight might just kill me if it gets close.
Update: I'm still here. Barely.
posted @ 1:05 PM |
Friday, January 9
I know certain things are bad for me: Drinking, smoking, cheeseburgers, spending too much time on the internet, spending too much time with certain people who I love anyway, bananas, costume jewelry, etc. I'm always convinced, however, that I can escape harm if I limit myself to small quantities of these things. I'm just going to quickly check my e-mail. Maybe if I only eat half a banana, I won't have an allergic reaction. I can have dinner with X, because I'm over it. Really, two margaritas never killed anyone.
Except, I never want just a bite, or just one drink, or just dinner. I want everything super-sized, with a pitcher of margaritas to wash it down, and a lifetime of dinners and lunches and breakfasts. And sometimes, I think that's okay. It's who I am; it's part of my charm. But maybe I could be happier if I learned to enjoy moderation. To savor the little things I have, instead of the big things I want.
posted @ 8:01 AM |
Thursday, January 8
Did I mention it's all about me?
Because I saw it over at Jeff's blog, I had to make one for myself: How well do you know Jennifer Garrett? Yes, I really am this self-absorbed. Test your JenGarrett knowledge, people!
(Be warned: The site can take a while to load, but it's well worth the wait.)
posted @ 9:47 AM |
Word of the day
fungible: 1: of such a kind or nature that one specimen or part may be used in place of another specimen or equal part in the satisfaction of an obligation 2: interchangeable
posted @ 7:58 AM |
I cannot be trusted alone with Showtime. Last night, I watched two episodes of Freshman Diaries -- I couldn't even pull myself away for the start of The West Wing. That's just sick, people. There was something so oddly compelling about these 18-year-olds, all young and stupid at UT (several scenes made me oh, so glad to have attended a women's college). I think my favorite was the gay boy with a Texas drawl; it was so freakishly cute. (Of course, my predilection for just a hint of a Southern accent is well documented.)
I really got to get out more.
posted @ 7:26 AM |
Wednesday, January 7
Everybody's doing it
Rebecca Lobo has a blog. That's fucking cool, even if she did go to UConn. (This news via Women's Hoops, the best basketball blog ever.)
posted @ 7:33 AM |
Yesterday, I called to have Showtime added to my cable line-up (as if I didn't already have too many channels to watch). The L-Word is set to premiere in a little over a week, and I am not missing a minute of that show. (In other parenthetical citations, Katherine Moennig is hot and I used to watch Young Americans just because of her. And because I love bad teen TV, okay?)
I was excited to see that Showtime was already up and running on my TV by the time I got home from work -- digital cable is a good time. I had to upgrade my cable package to "gold" in order to add Showtime, so I was excited to check out the random-ass channels I'd gotten in addition to the movie station. Flipping around I noticed that my Oxygen was no longer working. Now, it's not like I spend all day glued to Oh! but I do watch it from time to time, and it usually has WNBA games on in the summer. So I crankily dial my cable provider to tell them to fix it. Now.
The very nice customer service guy informed me, however, that I had lost channels with my upgrade. That's right, I was paying more and losing channels ... and if I wanted Oxygen back, I had to buy a special "Premier Pack" in addition to my "gold" package. Now, this didn't make any sense to me, but extensive use of the phrase "grandfather package" confused me enough that I told him just to add it on to my damn bill. The L-Word better be worth all this, because I was also informed that I couldn't go back to my old package, as it is no longer available.
posted @ 6:38 AM |
Tuesday, January 6
I'm not really one for making resolutions, as I tend to be fairly honest with myself and I know I won't keep the damn things. (For instance, I've been resolving to cut down on my swearing since I was 12.) That doesn't keep me from making resolutions in the shower, however. I'm always so optimistic in the shower; I make lists of things I'm going to do and other stupid things like that. This morning, I decided I was going to "enjoy life more." Then I drove to work. My good mood ended somewhere on Rt. 9 while the crazy biddy in the Crowne Victoria was driving slower than a turtle walking through molasses.
Where was I? Oh, yes, resolutions. I'm going to try to break my usual patterns; it'll be good for me and it will challenge me to like, think and stuff. Which, blogospherically speaking, means I need to find new blogs to read. Suggestions, anyone?
Update: Self-promotion is actively encouraged at being jennifer garrett, so please feel free to leave a link to yourself.
posted @ 6:31 AM |
Monday, January 5
The surreal life
It's so odd to be back at work today. Everything just seems a little off. My monitor suddenly seems huge after weeks with my laptop. And, strangely enough, I'm expected to work instead of watching hours of bad TV. I don't understand. Is this all a horrible dream or is it really my life?
posted @ 10:39 AM |
Sunday, January 4
I've spent the weekend, basically, watching basketball. Friday night was the killer BC-Villanova game (which I got to see in person), and yesterday saw the nationally televised glorious defeat of UConn by Duke. I also snuck in the Minnesota game (goddamn, Lindsay Whalen is good), and this morning I watched the Fighting Illini take on Mississippi State (and beat them, 75-72). It's rare that they show a lot of good women's basketball on television, so I have to take advantage of it when I can. But I will say this: Fighting Illini? What the hell?
posted @ 12:45 PM |
Friday, January 2
I drink from the keg of glory
BC faced Villanova in its first real test of the season (sure, we lost to George Washington already, but we shouldn't have). Jen couldn't take the pressure as the two teams traded baskets and I practically hyperventillated throughout the second half. She suggested that perhaps I needed to be slightly less invested in the game when I mentioned that I couldn't feel my hands anymore. (I don't really need to worry until I can no longer feel my feet.)
BC took the lead for good after a 3-pointer from Jacobs with a little over three minutes left in the second half. Though Jacobs lead in scoring, it was really a team effort: Deveny grabbed 11 boards, Aja Parham came up big with 4 steals, and Droesch provided a much-needed defensive spark off the bench. It was a great game to watch. (Even if I almost lost it several times.) Was my favorite moment when Jacobs nailed the desperation 3-pointer with the shot clock winding down? Or was it the "I'm going to do this just because I can" 3-pointer that she floated in as the clock wound down on the game? Tough to say.
posted @ 7:08 PM |
Thursday, January 1
To start at the very beginning
I decided not to blog today. I didn't have anything to write about; I've been sick, and thusly spent most of my day in bed, either sleeping or watching my new West Wing DVDs. Watching them reminds me what a mad genius Aaron Sorkin is and that I can never really hope to write anything half as good. Such observations tend to make me more than reluctant to write anything -- birthday message or blog -- let alone publish it for the world (or my handful of readers) to see.
I surfed as usual, though, and I realized I wanted a post stamped with today's date. I wanted to be able to look back a year from now and read what I was thinking about today. Which made me question how I use my blog -- is it becoming more journal-like than I originally intended? Is that okay? Do I need to define my blog better? Do I need to shut the hell up?
I really don't know. Luckily, I'm okay with lingering questions. It's a quirk of mine.
posted @ 8:56 PM |
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