Why Don't Screenwriters Just Go on Damn Strike??

With all the remakes of old films in the last few years, it's a wonder that writers are getting any work these days. It's sad. And offensive. And the Grandaddy Offensive Never Should be Done Remake of Them All:

The Pink fucking Panther.

WHAT?

And Steve Martin. SHAME on you for even laying eyes and hands on this monstrosity of comedic abortion.

No one. And I mean NOT A ONE can even come close to Peter Sellers' genius in those films.

Hey, Hollywood! Get a goddamned original idea. Wait, here's a novel plan... HIRE WRITERS WHO WRITE THEIR OWN STUFF!

This whole situation makes me feel like art is dying.

Christmas Aftermath...

OK, so, this year was actually tolerable as far as the family went. My aunt made one comment about what I was wearing-again with the 7-11 comments even thought I was wearing something completely normal this year (see last year's Christmas Account). This time, however, I actually observed out loud that her comment was one of the most intolerant things I'd ever heard. She left me alone after that.

I figure, I've got enough to feel uncomfortable about these days. I don't need my aunt ripping on me anymore.

I'm starting to feel my age. Where it was once "you just haven't met the right person yet", now is being replaced by "you may never meet that person. So, get used to spoiling your nephew now and the future nieces and nephews to come." It's sad really because I really wanted to give my grandmother another great-grandchild that she can actually bond with. She didn't bond too much with my nephew because his mother is batshit insane and wouldn't let anyone hold him. My mother and I quickly decided that was unacceptable and just took him when we wanted to hold him. So, we bonded. Poor Maggie. I really don't want her turning out like my great-grandmother, smelling old and sitting in a corner not saying anything and then just fading away. So, it would have been nice to have some babies of my own for her to spoil. Oh well. i've only got 9 years of viable baby-making before my ovaries dry up...so I suppose it'll be up to my brothers.

In the grand tradition of the Cistine (wait..Sistine? ...fuck) Chapel, I've had some tattoos restored. Thank you LK!!!

God I wish I could think of something to humorously bitch about. I'm just too tired these days. I feel like I've lost some of my edge. Maybe I'm softening. Which is nice, but it sure as hell doesn't make for good writing. Or reading for that matter.

Disney on Ice. Does anybody actually go to that? And how do those people skate in those big ass costumes? And you know how I feel about the fact that they don't talk.

New Year's Eve. I am very curious to see what will happen in the New Year. I'll tell you one thing though. This exchange really sucks:
"I think 2005 went pretty well, don't you?"
Me: "Yeah, actually, I had a pretty good ye...waaaaaiiiit. I can't SAY that because if I do then I have to feel sad about how it goddamned ended. I've only had 2 months to turn things around. My cycle is completely off. Fuck."

However, I vow that 2006 is going to be a self actualizing year. My trip to London BY MYSELF is going to change me in a lot of ways.

I wonder how I'm gonna turn out.

Merry Christmas Emporium!!!

Well, here we are. Christmas Eve. Where was I last year at this time?
Let's take a look:

Well, upon review of last year's blog, I was in a pretty decent mood...even after someone bitched at me for beng negative. The Boy was home (as he is this year) and I had just spent the night with someone who would become special. Little did I know what a douche he'd turn out to be. Oh Hindsight you 20/20 bitch!

Anyway, this year, I'm home by 11. Haven't had a drop to drink all day, (last night, however... totally different story), and now I'm gonna go see what's on my mom's billion channel cable.

I feel I've actaully been a little remiss in the format of the Xanax Files of late. They've been more journal-like than anything else, and to me, rather boring. I just haven't had much to rant about these days. I suppose my balls are still in my purse, as it were.

However, one things needs announcing: I will be getting another tattoo in 06 as Artgirl has once again proved to be the master of gift giving. Gift Certificate for the Tattoo Factory, kids.

It is so fuckin' on.

Peace on Earth and hug your parents and your siblings and your pets.
jingle.

An Anniversary of Sorts

Tomorrow will be 2 down and 2 more to go.

It's funny how after a break up we feel the need to erase everything that happened with that person. Any concerts, trips, movies...forget about any gifts you received. I was thinking about this phenomenon (menomena) this week and realized that this time, if I do that, then I lose 10 months. 10 months. Almost a year of my life that by that logic is now a waste. When I think about it that way it seems insane to try and erase the relationship from my brain. But if i don't forget it, then I have to remember that I lost it.

Some would argue...most in fact, including myself most of the time, that I am better off. And yes. I am. I just need to figure out a way to store things so that when I'm ready I can take them out again and not lose too many specifics. Like my 30th birthday. And New Orleans.

Uck. That's it. From now on, no more significant others at personal benchmark events. God. When I turn 40, I don't care if I'm married, he's not allowed anywhere near the big celebration.

Why am I so Bitter?

As I move through my days as I always do, I am aware of the large chip I carry on my shoulder. It's always been there. Much like a backpack, purse, or any other satchel I happen to be schlepping around with me at any given time. I'm pretty used to it, however it occurs to me that to some it might be off-putting. People may take my cynicism and quickness to jump to the negativity as having something to do with them...and then they take offense. And 90% of the time, I'm not yelling at a specific person. I'm yelling at the Universe at Large. And then asked myself... "why am I always yelling at the Universe? How come I can't be more positive, or why aren't I most of the time?" and then my therapist hit it:

"Well, your upbringing caused you disappointments very early in your development. So, consequently, you pretty much expect to be disappointed and that's cynicism."

Think about that for a second. When I was a child, I learned that disappointment and mistrust are normal and often. and I thought to myself, well, that's just not right. No WONDER I'm so pissed. I've been dissollusioned since I was 2 years old! That's 28 years! Most people don't start hating the world until their 20's when they figure out that reality really does bite and they're never going to be a pro-ball player, an astronaut or a princess.

This, I've decided is why I feel so old all the time. I have a 50 year old outlook on the world.

Well, the bright side: There's not too much more that can faze me.

Except death of a loved one. That's the one thing I haven't been through yet.

Stand By For Action!

I woke up this morning and felt a whole lot lighter.
That haze is lifting and they way seems much clearer now.
Nothing like action to propell one forward.

So, now I'm really ready to have some damn fun. Not that I wasn't before, but now I'm freer.

And remember.

Rex Dart IS Eskimo Spy!

An Interesting Feeling

Clausterphobic and utterly alone all at the same time.

This Time Next Month...

I will have landed in London. Well, actually, it will be around 5PM right now there, so I will have landed about 8 hours before that here...which would make that...ok, I can't wrap my brain around any of that.

Math is hard.

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...

This is what I get for skipping therapy a couple weeks ago. A rabid case of PMS wherein nothing is good, everything sucks, and Christmas makes me want to choke someone.

I hate snow. HATE it. When I was a kid, I loved it. I couldn't get enough of it. Now, I want to pick up and relocate to a snow-free zone. Seriously. Aside from the fact that everyone can tell you're wearing the same jeans you wore yesterday because of the fucking salt stains on the cuffs, snow just makes me tired.
It's hard to walk in and it gets dirty.
And when it snows... when it gently drifts from the sky among all the twinkle lights, bringing with it that crisp smell of winter...that just makes you want to get home and cuddle up with your sweetheart, well...Fuck snow.

I used to love Christmas so much. Last year was pretty depressing as I was still trying to get over someone...and this year, what do you know? I think I need to make this an official holiday tradition.
Christmas tree (with kick ass ornaments, I do love one thing about this season) Check.
Nativity scene with the baby jesus secreted away until Christmas morning.... cuz he's not damn born yet...Check.
Smelly candles to offset the crudity of an artificial tree... Check.
Enormous sense of lonliness served with a side of despair that rears it's ugly head every 20 minutes. Check.

Fabulous. The Christmas can now begin.

I'll start feeling better when I get all my shopping done. I do get very excited about being with my family and friends and giving them stuff...

Here's what I've been up to...

for those still reading.

I'm working
I'm doing a show
I've been out with new boys.
I've been missing my ex.
I've been not missing my ex.
I've been planning a trip to London.
I've reconnected with old friends with boxer shorts. Because he's my friend.
I've been playing guitar again.
I'll be taking a class in January.
I've been considering buying a home.
I've been figuring out ways to stay in my apartment for a little longer.
I've been putting Christmas stuff up...probably driving my poor rooommates crazy as every day it seems I'm bringing home something new because... "It's Christmas!"
I've been spending time with my nephew because i love him more than anyone can ever imagine loving someone. His smiles make me smile.
I've been drinking
I've been smoking
I've been laughing
I've been listening to sage advice from best friends
I 've been ignoring sage advice from best friends.
I've been singing to myself.
I've been angry and sad all at the same time which is ok.
I've been up til 5.
I've been hungover.
I've been to the movies. Harry Potter kicks so much ass.
I've been doing things that certain people disapprove of.
I've been to karaoke.


I've been being me.

I'm falling apart.

My back is still out.
Now my sternum injury is acting up and my knee hurts.

So. old.


Also, after today's trip to my mother's via Union Station and the 5 Billion Children encountered due to some Christmas mayhem geared towards making parents miserable complete with face painting and balloon animals,

All maternal desire:
Fucking Gone.

But, Mom's tree is up and done. 13 feet of spectacular Christmas Glory.

K, well, time to go do my damn hair and get ready for my damn show.
Christ. This is way too diary-like tonight.
"Dear Blog Readers..."

Seriously Tom. Fuck You.

OOOOOOHHHHH!!! I have been WAITING for this carton of shitnog* to ooze back out of the woodwork. Seems Tom has gone out and bought himself a sonogram machine so he can keep tabs on the development of his unborn child. Ok, the AMA is up in arms as untrained use of the machine can possibly cause risks to the mother and child. But that doens't apply here because we all know that Tom has a PhD in psychiatry. And BATSHIT INSANITY.

That's it. If Scientology is to be believed, then Tom is actually the reincarnated Xenu awaiting the arrival of the anti-christ.

We're doomed unless this man is stopped.

Here's an article sent to me courtesy of Artgirl:

Cruise's Sonogram Scrap

For those out there who feared Tom Cruise's new publicist would rein him in and spoil all your fun, you can quit worrying. The future baby daddy of Katie Holmes has been in fine form lately with his non-stop chatter about the at-home sonogram he's using to personally track his spawn's development, a purchase that has some medical professionals all riled up.

"I went out and bought the newest sonogram machine," Cruise told "Extra" this week while promoting "Mission: Impossible III" in China (he also recently talked up his new toy with Barbara Walters). "I'm a filmmaker, so I've got the see the dailies."

And how do the pictures of the littlest member of the Church of Scientology look? "They're beautiful," he enthuses. "They're spectacular."

Cruise, who has repeatedly mentioned how he plans to donate the device (estimated cost: anywhere from $15,000 to $200,000) to a hospital, also discussed it during a China-set sit-down with "Entertainment Tonight."

"I actually went out and bought my own sonogram machine," offered the toothy A-lister, who says he was a quick study on the medical appliance. "You just read the instructions, kind of play with it a little bit and see the baby dancing around! It's amazing."

While it's unclear whether Holmes, who is said to be about six months along (the gender remains unknown), finds it "amazing" to have her belly repeatedly smeared with goop so her overly involved fiancé can watch their TomKitten boogie in-utero, the American College of Radiology is less than thrilled with his home movies.

"The ACR is concerned that Tom Cruise has been badly advised regarding the use and potential abuse of ultrasound," a doctor affiliated with the organization said in a statement. "This is a patient safety issue. Untrained people, even if they have the financial means, should not buy, or be allowed to buy and operate, ultrasound machines which are, in fact, medical devices and should not be used without a medical indication."

Also weighing in on the issue is the American Institute of Ultrasound in Medicine, which points out that Cruise's "recent purchase of an ultrasound machine for personal use at home is both inappropriate and in violation of FDA rules addressing the sale of medical equipment."

None of this is likely to deter the control-craving Cruise, who, in addition to taking an active interest in the day-to-day happenings in Katie's womb, will also have a say in what she'll wear when she pledges to stay with him forever, in sickness and in health, in e-meters and Thetans, as long as they both shall live.

When asked by "ET" whether he plans to go the traditional route and not see the bride in all her sartorial splendor before the aisle walk, Tom is adamant: "I want to see the dress."

And when will the nuptials take place? A suddenly pokey Tom says there's no date yet set, but predicts it'll happen sometime next summer or fall (and don't believe the Oct. 21 date on a faux but highly entertaining registry posted at Neiman-Marcus, which has the cringe-inducing couple coveting a $140 gravy boat and a $430 coffee pot, among other items).

"I just want it to be a celebration of love and our relationship and how beautiful relationships are," Cruise tells "ET." "It's a time to really recognize the importance of family and trust and friendship and I just want it to be a great day."

God I hate him.
Flames out of the sides of my face.

*thank you to Cubicle for bringing that colloquiolism into my life.

Are You Out There... By Dar Williams

More Lyrics kids... by my favorite folky lady Dar Williams...
It's a song about old AM radio and late night radio shows...and I think our blogs are a little like them now.

Perhaps I am a miscreation,
No one knows the truth,
There is no future here.
And you're the deejay speaks to my insomnia
And laughs at all I have to fear,
Laughs at all I had to fear.
You always play the madmen poets,
Vinyl vision grungy bands,
You never know who's still awake,
You never know who understands and

Are you out there, can you hear this,
Jimmy Olsen, Johnny Memphis
I was out here listening all the time,
And though the static walls surround me
You were out there, and you found me,
I was out here listening all the time.

Last night we drank in parking lots,
And why do we drink, I guess we do it cause.
And when I turned your station on,
You sounded more familiar than that party was,
You were more familiar than that party,
It's the first time I stayed up all night,
It's getting light, I hear the birds,
I'm driving home on empty streets,
I think I put my shirt on backwards,

Are you out there, can you hear this,
Jimmy Olsen, Johnny Memphis
I was out here listening all the time,
And though the static walls surround me
You were out there, and you found me,
I was out here listening all the time.

What's the future, who will choose it,
Politics of love and music,
Underdogs who turn the table,
Indie verus major labels,
There's so much to see through,
Like our parents do more drugs than we do.

Corporate parents, corporate town,
I know every TV set that has them lit.
They preach that I should save the world
They pray that I won't do a better job of it,
Pray that I won't do a better job,
So tonight I turn your station on,
Just so I'd be understood,
Instead another voice said I was just too late and just no good.

Calling Olsen, calling Memphis,
I am calling, can you hear this?
I was out here listening all the time.
And I will write this down and then
I will not be alone again, yeah,
I was out here listening,
I was out here listening,
I am out here listening all the time.

I did it.

I booked my flight and my accommodations.
I'm going to London.
I'm freaked as hell, but I can't wait.

All by myself.

Oh what adventures I will have!

In other news...
It's getting a little better everyday.