cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
Internets, I am pissed off.

Remember the game last year about what color bra you were wearing at the moment? The purpose was to increase awareness of October Breast Cancer Awareness month. It was a tremendous success and we had men wondering for days what was with the... colors and it made it to the news. This year's game has to do with your handbag/purse, where we put our handbag the moment we get home for example "I like it on the couch", "I like it on the kitchen counter", "I like it on the dresser" well you get the idea. Just put your answer as your status with nothing more than that and cut n paste this message and forward to all your FB female friends to their inbox. The bra game made it to the news. Let's see how powerful we women really are!!! REMEMBER - DO NOT PUT YOUR ANSWER AS A REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE- PUT IT IN YOUR STATUS!!! PASS THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW


@cleolinda: If you want to raise breast cancer awareness, coy references on Facebook to your bra color or purse aren't going to do shit.

@cleolinda: You know what might? Using your status update to list the people you've lost to breast cancer, or the dates you lost them.

@cleolinda: Not this coy "Let's get the boys to wonder what we're talking about" bullshit, which is THE OPPOSITE OF AWARENESS.

YEAH, I DID IT AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN )



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ANGRY

Jul. 22nd, 2010 10:46 pm
cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
Okay. I have never actually said which school I went to as an undergraduate, but I'm going to tell you that it was Birmingham-Southern, because they are pretty much dead to me now. My friend David on Twitter--well, one of my two friends David on Twitter--mentioned an email that BSC sent out, announcing some grade-A fuckery. I don't think they have my current address, because I didn't get it, or else they somehow sensed that it would make my head explode. But now David's forwarded it to me, so this is all straight from the school's mouth. You can read it here, if you scroll down.

Let me rewind a little for you here. Birmingham-Southern is--was--a wonderful little liberal arts school with great fine and performing arts programs and a really good basketball team. It had a small creative writing program that, when I was there, was trying to get more funding and do the best it could. I was in a couple of different editorial positions on the literary magazine while I was there. And one of the primary reasons I went to this school was because it did not have a football team. I had gone to a high school that was very focused on football, and quite honestly, I wanted to go to a school where someone would give a shit about arts and academics. I'm perfectly happy for people to go to football schools, but that's not where I wanted to go, and there are very few places in Alabama that aren't football schools. This was one of them.

WELL NOT ANYMORE, THAT IS. Shortly after I left, Dr. Neal Berte--the school's beloved president of many years--retired. And then this David Pollick person became the new president, and then This David Pollick Person took it upon himself to acquire us a football team and A STADIUM, and if that was someone else's call, tell me, so I can blow them up with the power of my mind instead. And now, NOW, the arts and academics are getting cut. BEHOLD:

A total of 29 faculty members were given notice that their positions would be eliminated within the next two years. Many of the faculty members cut today were tenured, but tenured and tenure-track faculty members will be given one-year contracts for the upcoming school year.

Altogether five majors were cut from the college’s offerings. Those majors included accounting, computer science, dance, French and German.

One non-tenured faculty member was cut from the math department and three non-tenured faculty were cut from the English department.

One of those, by the way, was a friend of mine. It also looks like one of my favorite professors may get cut next year. For the record, I was a double French/Spanish major, by which I mean FUCK YOU. Seriously, FUCK YOU.

Back to the article:

The cuts follow the discovery of deep and long-term financial problems at the college. In recent weeks, BSC faculty members have privately expressed frustration with the administration’s lack of transparency. In particular, faculty and staff were upset that when they had voiced concerns earlier in the fiscal year, they had been falsely assured the college’s financial condition was in good standing.

For the last several years, BSC has undertaken a series of expensive capital projects, including new dormitories, athletic fields and a welcome center. Few, if any, members of the campus community realized that the college was hemorrhaging cash at the same time these projects were underway.

I just--I would like to continue ranting and quoting fuckwittery at you, but I have a migraine now. I just. I can't. What. This school was a rescue for people, people who didn't fit in at schools that are all about sports (which, around here, is most of them). This school was a place to prove to people that there was, in fact, room in the world for them. And now that place is being taken away. Because God knows we don't have ENOUGH FOOTBALL TEAMS IN ALABAMA.

As a final note, please enjoy the BSC President David Pollick Must Go Facebook group.



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Let's chat

Jul. 16th, 2010 04:25 pm
cleolinda: (wtf)
Okay, we have a lot to talk about. First of all, I have a question, since I do talk about mental health and the treatment thereof pretty openly: have any of y'all had any problems with Zoloft withdrawal? I'm moving from a fairly low dose to an even lower one, and I'll probably stop taking it entirely after my next med check. (This is my doctor's idea, and I am on board with it; I am very vocal when something does not work for me, so it's a whole process, and it's professionally guided.) I just want to know if there's something I should look out for. Because we tried to increase it a couple of years ago, before eventually moving to Lamictal (which, after a bumpy adjustment period, has worked out really well), the Zoloft increase was... bad. It was bad. So I want to know what to look out for, so I can recognize it and go back and say "This isn't working" if I have to. (ETA: It may affect your answer to know that I'm going to try to taper entirely off Zoloft after twelve years of being on it.)

Second: I have been sick the last two or three days. Not too badly, but a low fever, some sinus drainage, a sore throat, and I've had a cough for a while. So I've been dozing on the couch a lot. I would hate to think that I am such a ~delicate blossom~ that the anxiety of posting a new Fifteen Minutes--let's face it, I only do this 2-3 times a year, so there's kind of a psychological build-up to it--did me in, or smacked my immune system upside the head, or what. But it's possible. I'm usually a bit done in for a day or two after these things, after all. Because I am, apparently, a fragile little e-flower. Who knows.

Third: Let's have some linkspam. Read more... )


Meanwhile--bear with me, I'm going somewhere with this--this is my new favorite thing. Yes, it's actually a "mystical eye" design.

And there is a reason I am showing you this, because: Read more... )


Meanwhile-meanwhile, YA Highway has linked to me a couple of times this month---first to the "Twilight and the female gaze" entry, now to Eclipse in Fifteen Minutes--which is nice.

What I saw while I was over there was... not so nice. YOU GAVE YOUR BABY A PUNNY TWILIGHT TRAMP STAMP? )

I'm going to go lie down again.



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cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
Oh my sweet God have mercy. I decided that I would rather not go to prison )

By the way, remember this story?

Meanwhile, on the way home from our last excursion of the day, we dropped by my grandmother's to bring her some more ornaments. On the way out, I stopped to play with a--I don't know, I guess you'd call it a banner? It kind of looks like a long flat bell pull? I don't know. She has it hanging on her front door, and it's this tan-colored strip of fabric with little decorated felt Christmas trees, edged with shiny gold rickrack. "I loved this when I was a kid," I told her, shaking it a little so the bells would jingle. "Ruth made that," my grandmother said warmly. "She really liked arts and crafts. She made all of this herself, every bit of it. Even the tassels. She sewed everything on it there--the sequins, the little ornaments, she even put the pearls on the trees. She's dead now."

I managed not to crack up until I got to the car. My mother couldn't understand why I was doubled up in the passenger seat crying with laughter. I'm not sure I understand it myself.

This year, I got pictures of it:


 


And now, I flop.

P.S. I still want a foot massage really, really badly.



(Zomg e-book! The Annotated Movies in Fifteen Minutes: Wizards!)

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ARGH

Nov. 9th, 2009 11:13 am
cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
Okay, you know what? I've held out for nearly three and a half months now, but I am nearly at my breaking point (even though we are now in the home stretch). I am SICK of not having my own computer to work on. There are huge disadvantages to sharing a computer that you just really don't even think of until you have to do it yourself. I HATE logging out of everything every time I walk away from the computer, because the hell I'm leaving my email accounts vulnerable to prying eyes. And on your average day? I need to be logged into LJ, JournalFen, Yahoo email, Gmail (with Reader and Documents), Twitter, Delicious for bookmarks, Pandora, a couple of message boards, and my file storage account; my life would be infinitely easier if I could just stay logged in. So I HATE dumping the cache and the cookies and the browsing history and even the SEARCH history if I so much as duck out for a glass of tea, and I HAVE to do it, because you know why? You know why? Researching the @#$%*&@ e-book footnotes, that's why. If I didn't, you'd go to the Google drop-down search box and get "bella's felted womb," "dead from coke," "edward lipstick," "gq motherfucker," "total eclipse sex scene," 5000 Twilight articles, and "twincest." And there is NO WAY I am letting my family know I spent that much time looking up shit about Twilight.

I can't do a whole hell of a lot on this computer either, since it's like eight years old as it is--in excellent condition, but it's only got 30GB storage, you know? You can infer from that what the processor thingamawhatever speed must be like. It just can't do a lot. It can't handle Skype, for example. And I don't have any of my pet programs (Semagic for LJ, TweetDeck, ACDSee photo organizing, and probably a ton of others I've forgotten because IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE USED THEM), because the computer either can't handle a given program or it can't handle them all together. And we THOUGHT it had Photoshop, but apparently not, and while I'm pretty handy on that, I apparently am too stupid to operate MS Paint. People keep telling me how to crop and I just. can't. manage it. And then I go back to Firefox and accidentally hit "home" instead of "new tab" and I lose my entire LJ entry draft, because whenever it tries to recover a "saved" draft, it gives me the previous entry I already posted. HATRED.

And then I can't really save images (no room, plus other people looking at my shit) or watch videos (I hate being walked in on while I'm trying to watch whatever weird-ass thing someone just linked on Twitter. Mostly I just don't have time because I'm under the gun to get anything done before someone else needs the computer), assuming I could get the video to work at all. Because I physically can't get time at the computer as much as I'd like, my Google Reader news items just sit and pile up, so every morning I have "1000+," and one day I cleared 600 items and STILL had 1000+. I keep having to star things I want to go back and use in the footnotes or save pictures from, and I am TIRED OF IT.

If I didn't have the iBella--which at least has a camera, an mp3 player, and apps for Twitter, Pandora and my email that I DON'T HAVE TO LOG OUT OF--I would have gone insane by now. The day I figured out how to copy-paste links on my phone, I nearly wept for joy. Even there, I can't really answer emails or LJ comments at any length--if it's going to be a short reply, I can tap it out with a minimum of head-meeting-wall, but y'all know how wordy I am. We get to more than two sentences and I just can't manage it; I have to wait to answer until I get to the (shared) (family) computer. And then I have to log into umpteen thousand things all over again but then someone else needs the computer RIGHT NOW and I have to dump everything and hope no one noticed that I was at that moment searching "vampire sex toys." Oh, and blip.fm just doesn't work on the iPhone at all. RAAAAAAAGE.

Only one more week until [New Computer's Name] arrives. I will console myself with a peppermint chocolate chip milkshake from Chick-fil-A, I think.


ETA: THE MILKSHAKE MACHINE IS DOWN

WHY GOD WHY


(Zomg e-book! The Annotated Movies in Fifteen Minutes: Wizards!)

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HEY GUYS

Dec. 5th, 2008 01:18 pm
cleolinda: (galadriel)
Okay. I know that putting your shit out onto the internet means that you essentially can't control what people do with it, even if YOU DO HAVE THE RIGHT TO TELL THEM TO STOP, BY THE WAY. But "Twilight in Fifteen Minutes" is now floating around on MySpace without my name on it, which I should have expected, quite honestly, but putting in "© 2008 Cleolinda Jones" invisitext is a pain in the ass and it annoys people, so I didn't do it this time. Well, I've gone back and put it in. So if you read Tw/15M now and highlight something and see the invisitext and it annoys you, well, this is why we can't have nice things.

It's also really, really funny when someone copypastes it and runs off all like, "HAI GUYZ I FOUND THIS THING DONT KNO WHERE IT CAME FROM HOPE U LIEK IT" and posts something like this without paying attention:
EDWARD: I AM VAMPIRE. HEAR ME TWINKLE.
© 2008 Cleolinda Jones. Please quote or link back, do not repost. m15m.livejournal.com
BELLA: Oh, wow, I spent like $60 at Sephora trying to get sparkle like that. What is that, Urban Decay?
I've actually seen that with a couple of the Harry Potter 15Ms, in fact.

(You know what makes me mad? Not that they made off with my shit, because that's what people do and it's not really very surprising. It makes me mad because it's like, come on, I know you know better. I've made it abundantly clear that I am politely asking you not to do that. And if you got it from someone else who didn't credit me, well, they should have known better. You wouldn't want someone to do that with your shit, so why would you do it with my shit? I just really have not wrapped my mind around the notion that people on the intertubes do not have any common sense, I guess, and you'd think that after ten years I would have come to terms with that, but no.)

(Oh, and by the way? There was a Creative Commons graphic/license on that thing from the moment I posted it. See how very terribly effective they are?)

(MySpace. Why did it have to be MySpace? Of course it was MySpace.)


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cleolinda: (twilight)
The continued adventures of sparkly vampires and the emoteens who love them. (See also: Twilight; New Moon.) By the way, for anyone who was having trouble with the video the other day, [livejournal.com profile] trailer_spot has fixed us up a direct download of the five-minute Robert Pattinson interview where he politely, respectfully, Britishfully talks about how ridiculous Edward and Bella are.

Oh, and I was psychic, as I so often am, in bringing up Wuthering Heights the other day, because it's apparently a big plot point in Eclipse. Maybe Alice will let me hang out with her now? So that's what I'll be listening to while reading this time; for the first book I put the David Cook stalker-rock cover of "Hello" on repeat ("I've been alone with you inside my mind..."), and for the second, Dido's "Here with Me," because it seemed like the angstiest thing I had on hand. Although I guess I could also go with Evanescence's "My Tourniquet," complete with the Romeo + Juliet sample of Claire Danes screaming "I LONG TO DIE!!!" Why can't you just date the werewolf next door? He's practically family! )


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cleolinda: (twilight)
Very brief notes I took as I read New Moon (well, I took notes chapter by chapter, but they're... relatively... brief. And... angry): And here is a picture of my vampire boyfriend watching ESPN )

I swear the next entry will be linkspam of some sort. After I pick the bits of my brain off the walls and shove them back in through my ears.

(More Twilight recaps.)


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cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
Oh my God, that was horrible. You know what? It doesn't even bother me that the movie wasn't like history, because movies so rarely are, and the book wasn't either. And it doesn't bother me that the movie wasn't like the book, because--well, movies so rarely are, and the book wasn't like history anyway, and also, I'm usually the first one up at bat to defend movie adaptations, particularly the Harry Potter movies. You know why it was horrible? Because it didn't make any damn sense. Spoilers )

Okay. Whew. Now that I've got that out of my system, there's pretty much only one way to recoup two hours watching that clusterfuck. I don't know how long it'll take me, but you'll be the first to know when I'm done.


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cleolinda: (Default)
More Oscar coverage, with particular regard to the hijinx of Dame Helen: Read more... )

Linkspam proper: Read more... )



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cleolinda: (Default)
What with this being my third entry of the day, and all.

Maggie has all 65 Marie Antoinette dress pages up! And we're still looking for that pink dress with the bow at the bottom of the page--we haven't seen it anywhere in the movie. Meanwhile, I went through some Eragon DVD caps last night (wait a minute... that isn't out on DVD yet, is it? And yet somehow, there were 7700 caps), and I may actually do a costume feature here like the one I did for MA, except the focus of this one would be how the elf chick's costumes make no sense. You know how Lovecraft writes about how mortals get a glimpse into the Elder Gods' realm and go mad from all the non-Euclidean geometry? The Elder Gods are wearing Elf Chick's costumes, is all I'm saying. You'll see what I mean, if/when I put pictures up.

Tonight: the sorting of Prestige caps, because [livejournal.com profile] oh_cap is awesome. (DVD release tomorrow, whee!) Also, I'm thinking of making actual Heroine Addict icons for movies that have come out... well, since V for Vendetta, which I think was when I did the last batch.

Linkspam )


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cleolinda: (Default)
Friday: Dandelions on the lawn. Tuesday: Siberian tundra. It was actually 46 degrees this morning, and now it's 34. It's actually gotten colder as the day progressed, rather than warming up with the sun. Damn.

("Feels Like: 25°." WHAT THE HELL.)

Also, and I am asking y'all's advice on this, Bad Cat bit me early Monday morning. S/he got a good mouthful of the side of the hand, so now I have two deep punctures--one kind of where my thumb joins my wrist, and one on the back of my hand at the wrist. The thumbish one hurts, and it's a teensy bit red, but it's okay. The back of my hand has a giant inflamed patch around the puncture. Like, larger than a fifty-cent piece. And it hurts. Is it just because the cat-mouth-bacteria is spreading out over the back of my hand, or do I need to see a doctor about this? It's my right hand, and I kind of don't want to lose it.

Golden Globes: updates, rants, and unanswered questions )

Normal linkspam )


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CLEO SMASH

Jul. 12th, 2006 05:40 pm
cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)

Man... I have been cranky the last few days. Not in real life--just online. It culminated yesterday with someone sending me his version of "X-Men 3 in Fifteen Minutes," since he knew I "would never write that one," except for the fact that I saw it specifically to write it up for a book. I can't even tell you what his version was like, because I CAN'T LOOK AT IT. You know, the legal ramifications jazz and all that. I just--okay, this is me being completely ranty and irrational, but why do people send me these things? Why would I be happy that someone's horning in on my schtick? I'm not saying that I necessarily have the right to stop anyone, nor do I go around regulating on people, but--why would you send it to me and expect me to be happy about it? Would you send Coke executives red-and-white swirl cans of your new soda, Cuca-Cola? Would you expect them to be happy about it? I mean, I understand the imitation = flattery thing, and there is a point where I can tell people are genuinely trying to express that they like something I've written so much that they want to try it themselves. This is, in fact, flattering. But--and I admit this freely--the "Movies in Fifteen Minutes" name and format is a schtick, the way that "[Whatever] for Dummies" or "Chicken Soup for the [Impressionable Demographic]'s Soul" is a schtick. It's an organizational scheme that, in my case, prevents a piece from just being "random, sporadically amusing ramblings about movies," which you get on this journal all the time, but also creates a brand name, which sounds excessively mercenary, but is really just shorthand for "If you liked that, you'll like this, because it's the same format and the same creator." If you use the name "Movies in Fifteen Minutes," you are confusing people as to what they're getting and from whom, which is not to my benefit. I understand why you want to try your own hand at it; I just don't understand why you think I would be pleased that you're sending it to me, possibly exposing me to legal issues, and posting it all over the place online. I mean, "This is going to piss Cleo off, but screw her, this is a free internet" is an attitude I can at least understand. "I'm sending you this because I think you'll enjoy reading a bunch of jokes you can now no longer use yourself, whether you had thought of them already or not, so just go ahead and change your name to Kaavya now" or "I'm sending you this and you can use it if you want, you don't even have to write your own" (which, yes, someone actually said to me) just baffle me.

So... I'm just saying. I'm getting cranky on Snarkfest, I'm getting irritable here on the journal, I'm this close to bitching random strangers out. No, it's not PMS. Yes, I need to get out of the house. I did meet up with college friends for Mexican last night, although I had forgotten that tequila really, really does not like me. I was okay, if a bit loopy, for most of the evening, but after I got home, I'm sitting at my computer, checking email and hydrating, it's nearly midnight, and I'm soulfully mouthing along to Cher ("Sooooonuh or laaaaaaaaatahhhhhh, we aaawwwwwwwll sleeeEEEeeep alooooooooowooooooone") and feeling sorry for myself for no particular reason. Maybe because I haven't been able to sleep through the night for a week solid.

Random things:

First two installments of Nightmares and Dreamscapes on TNT tonight--I think they're only running eight episodes total, over the next four weeks, but I love King's short stories far more than any of his novels, so I'm there.

Set pics from Elizabeth: The Golden Age, or whatever they're calling it now. Her Cateness has a formidable headdress somewhere in there, and there's also a couple of pics of Clive Owen. Meanwhile, Anne Hathaway is Becoming Jane.

Meanwhile, I'm going to go fix some Tahitian tea and try to get some more writing done. That was actually going pretty well last week--2400 words one night and about 4,000 words the next, but that was more freewriting about the hero's journey, which is less mental effort than actually writing-writing, so it's not as much as it sounds. Maybe I'll feel less stabby if I've gotten something accomplished.



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cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)

Quick linkspam:

Dominic Monaghan in Rolling Stone:

Monaghan knows the events in store for Charlie this season -- he wanted to make sure he could modulate his characterization properly -- but the cast is kept in the dark about the show's big mysteries. "It would be interesting for us to have dinner with a bunch of fans," he says. "They'd realize we talk about the same shit they do: Who's going to die next? What do you think the monster is? When are we going to cook the dog?"

This is not of the Lord, y'all. What happens if they add too many human cells and we end up with another Island of Dr. Moreau on our hands?


ETA: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Merchandise?



More rants while I take a break from Titanic: Cut for discussions of porn, childbirth, and Angelina Jolie's sex life )

cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)
For [livejournal.com profile] emilytarot: Mmmm, if you're not already loaded down with ze rant, the tendency of actresses in movies and TV-shows to go to bed and sleep with and wake-up with BLOODY PERFECT MAKEUP. Even in the middle of the Jungle! Or Translyvania! would be one I'd love to hear. ^^

For [livejournal.com profile] junipersgame: I would love you until the end of time if you would do a rant on the heroines in EVERY FREAKING ACTION MOVIE fighting and running like hell in high heels and not breaking their ankles in the process >.< Ooohh... and if you could include something in the above rant about the rediculous 'sex me!' clothes they wear while they kick ass, that would be fantastic, too =D

For [livejournal.com profile] librisia: Would you please rant about how girl heroes never get to be as fearless/competent/badass as boy heroes?

A Tale of Two Kates (somewhat graphics intensive) )
cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)

For [livejournal.com profile] beau_wolff: Might I request, then, a rant on the evils of allowing children in movie theatres?

Ah, a request close to my heart. Dear Parents: If you DARE take a two-year-old to any movie rated higher than PG and I happen to be there, I will introduce you to a brave new world of PAIN. It's bad enough that I ended up seeing King Arthur with my mother, but it is absolutely INSUPPORTABLE that I was already sitting next to her during the oh-so-not-PG-13 sex scene and then we both hear from the front of theater, clear as day, "Momma, why is he hurting her?" NO NO NO. NOOOOOOOOOOO. And if you bring your blessed sprog to Phantom of the Opera and I happen to be there, I will SLAY. YOU. You don't even want to know the things I heard come out of the mouth of a wee innocent child--again, in the front row! what is with the front row?!--all throughout that movie. Okay, so you do want to know. Let's just say that it started off with, "Momma, where is he taking her? Momma, why is he touching her? Does she like that, Momma?" and it just went wayyyyyy the fuck downhill from there.


For [livejournal.com profile] shoiryu: Rant for me about THOSE DAMMED DIRTY FURRIES.

"Hi, I'm a damned dirty furry. No, not one of those furries who just likes to draw anthropomorphic animals. Or even anthropomorphic animals doing the freaknasty. Or who think they themselves are or were in a previous life anthropomorphic animals (freaknasty optional but preferred). No, I'm one of those furries who gets his jollies inside a mascot fursuit. I particularly freaked Cleo out at that basketball game where I kept rubbing up against people surreptitiously in a panther suit. Or maybe I was just trying to push through the crowd to get back to my post before the end of halftime. She's not sure. All she knows is that it freaked her out because she'd just read that infamous Vanity Fair article, and she's pretty sure that I went home afterwards and opened the secret hole in the front of my fursuit and proceeded to violate several stuffed animals. Don't lie, you know Wish Bear was asking for it with that pretty mouth of his."


For [livejournal.com profile] telesillaIf you still have a rant in you, could you share your feelings on fangirls who dis their favorite actors' female co-stars?

"Hi! I'm a fangirl! Like most of you, I love a lot of different movies, but right now I'm all up in Phantom of the Opera, so I have to say: Isn't Emmy Rossum just the most vapid talentless WHORE of all time? I mean, look at the way she sluts around in that movie in all those corsets all over my boyfriend Gerard Butler! I mean, never mind that there wouldn't be any sexing up to watch in the first place if she weren't there to be sexed up... upon... and... stuff. I was clearly available to film this movie and yet, somehow, no one ever got in touch with me. I'm sure Emmy stole my number out of the director's Filofax. It's awful and terrible and she should DIE. P.S. The bitch thinks she can sing but she totally can't.

"Oh, you think you've got it bad? At least they're just pretending! I'm a Lost fangirl, and my heart was broken last week when Dom and that SLUTBITCH WHORETRAMP EVANGELINE LILLY revealed backstage at the Golden Globes that they are totally in wuv. I mean, not that they actually came out and said so like it was any of our business, but it was OBVIOUS. I mean, she was letting him kiss on her all night! How dare she! And they look really happy together, too! The NERVE of that bitch, having a relationship with another consenting adult to their mutual happiness and satisfaction! Why can't she just LEAVE HIM ALONE so he can tape my favorite TV show by day and lie awake at night and dream of me Elijah Wood his adoring fans? ISN'T THAT FULFILLING ENOUGH?"


For [livejournal.com profile] t4_flirt: Nick Carter, on his once having dated Paris Hilton.

"Damn, what was I thinking? Multiple STD medications are expensive, yo."


For [livejournal.com profile] lezopez: I would love to see a rant on the absurdness of Botox, which pisses me off to no end (Nicole Kidman, darling, you used to be beautiful. WTF?).

"Hi, I'm Baz Luhrmann. I hate it when actresses Botoxify themselves, because while it smoothes out fine wrinkles, it also smoothes out ANY SEMBLANCE OF EXPRESSION WHATSOEVER. Also, several crewmembers were blinded after the beams from a Klieg light struck a certain overshiny forehead too directly... what? Oh, no, I'm just talking about actresses in general. You know. That I've directed. Like... lots of them. What? Oh... well... I directed Romeo + Juliet... yeah, Claire Danes was really young. Yeah, I'm pretty sure she wasn't Botoxing. So there was that, and Moulin Rouge... No! No! I've directed other stuff, too! Like, you know, that "Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen" thing that didn't actually have any people in it, and that Chanel commercial with...

...I have to go now."

cleolinda: (GALADRIEL SMASH!)

For [livejournal.com profile] theatre_angel: Oh, Paris Hilton. Please. :-)

"Hi, I'm Paris Hilton. I first became famous for being rich, and then used my wealth to become more famous, which in turn... well, it didn't really make me richer, because my perfume sucks, my single tanked, and I spend most of what I earn on nose candy and tiny dog sweaters. As for my acting career, I am best known for 1) amateur porn and 2) a reality series in which my best friend and I desperately compete to see who can out-stupid and out-asshole the other. Not for money or anything--just to see if we can. I don't wear underwear, and I let the paparazzi know it when at all possible. [Editor's note: MY EYES!] I am selfishly hoarding massive amounts of fame that could be given to vastly more deserving people, such as that American Idol contestant who got booted in the first thirty seconds for being 1) tone deaf and 2) mildly retarded. No, the other one. No, the other one."


For [livejournal.com profile] robyn_ma: Cheese sculpted in the shape of Paris Hilton. :)

Only Paris Hilton would be so megalomaniacal as to order a cheese statue of herself. Even Michael Jackson stopped at giant metallic alloys. And what poor cheese would have to suffer such an indignity? Would we make one cheese bear the burden? Could you ask such a sacrifice of the noble cheddar? Would you so offend the delicate sensibilities of the sensitive Brie? Or would this atrocity be shared among many? And if you sculpted Paris Hilton piecemeal out of many cheeses, what raunchy Cheese of Disease would you possibly choose for her... You know what? Don't answer that. I don't even want to know. Jesus, people, what did cheese ever do to you? Cheese just wants to love you.


For [livejournal.com profile] luna_k: Give me a rant on the most overrated (in your opinion) Academy Awards nominee. Can be an actor, director, or movie.

"Hi, I'm Clint Eastwood. I make Very Serious American Movies About Very Serious American Things, including but not limited to murder, death, wrongful death, homicide, and old guys in space. Who probably die. And while that's great and all, this year I was nominated not just for Best Director for Million Dollar Baby, but also for Best Actor, knocking out either Liam Neeson or Paul Giamatti. (Look, you can't blame me for both of 'em. Cheadle's gotta take some responsibility here--hey! What do you mean, "He actually does more than squint gruffly"?) But you should vote for me because--hey, I've been squinting gruffly for something like two hundred years now, and I'm not gonna stop until I get an acting award. And while we're at it, I should clearly win Best Director (again), because I managed to pull a Best Actor performance from myself."


For [livejournal.com profile] peloquyn: Please rant for me about "netspeak."

[Adapted from something I said on the matter way back on... OMG, January 23rd of last year. That's three days away from being rilly, rilly freaky.]

Okay, look. I don't know why this is so hard for people to understand, so I'm going to speak slowly and make handpuppet motions in the hope that you will get it this time. On the internet, people cannot see you. Even if you post a picture, no one can prove that's actually you and really, I don't give a shit what you look like anyway. So, in lieu of a visual, your words stand in for your face. In a text-based medium, you are what you write. Typing like the syphilitic spawn of ee cummings and a crack monkey (omG im not a monk3y u r a stoop1d hw0re lOL!!!111!) is the visual equivalent of showing up for your school picture in red leather chaps, a dirty bikini, and a dozen infected piercings. So basically, like Xtina. You don't want that, do you?


For [livejournal.com profile] the_wanlorn: May I request a rant on... Computer speakers. Specifically, the cloth-covered ones (as opposed to the hard ones with little holes poked in the... hard stuff).

I dunno, man. I usually wear headphones, so I don't really know anyway. Well, I do have the hard hole-poky speakers now, on a bar mounted on my new flat screen (*cuddles*). My old speakers were cloth-covered, and... actually, they were punk-ass little bitches. By the end, they were shorting out all the time, and they took up too much space, and they were falling over and off the desk all the time, and--you know, you're totally right. DEATH TO CLOTH-COVERED SPEAKERS! FUCK Y'ALL AND THE CORDS YOU'RE ATTACHED TO! TO HELL WITH YOUR CLOTH AND THE STARVING INDONESIAN CHILDREN WHO WOVE IT! BITCHES. *spits*

cleolinda: (Default)

Would you mind if I ranted for a moment? Thanks.

All right. Once my children's lit workshop got over the initial shock of actually having to do work (see also: "I AM ANGRY AT THIS PROCESS!!"), people settled down and got to work and were generally quite creative and had a lot of fun. But. BUT.

I would like to think that I am not speaking as an elitist snob here. I would like to think that I'm not getting holier-than-thou, because while I've published a few things, they were in teensy little magazines that no one, including the editors, read (I know, because I edited a few of those, too). I would like to think that, once you are in a graduate-level creative writing program, there are a few things you can assume about the quality of your classmates and their writing, even if the primary qualification for the class was "getting accepted to the program and maintaining a pulse."

For example: I assumed that, in a writing workshop, all of the participants would be aware of 1) the presence of and 2) the means of using spellcheck. I assumed that we would all know that new speakers are given new paragraphs in dialogue, and that quotation marks are, in fact, used. However, "they are not" used at liberty "and sprinkled" throughout" the "paragraph like typo"graphical confetti." In fact, I was under the impression that workshop students would be aware of the location of the enter key and would use it as necessary to indicate paragraph breaks, and not run an entire story together like one of Toohey's hellish five-page diatribes in The Fountainhead. I was such a fool, you see. I had this naive, optimistic idea that I would not have to critique stories that set up Jane as a first-person narrator and then say, "Jane walked in the room," and before that feature scenes that Jane is not present to witness. All on the same page. With no transition between perspectives at all. And Jane spelled "Jaen" a couple of times. Oh, and forget your typical your/you're it's/its there/their problems--we moved way past that into barley/barely and passed/past territory. Into "she been lookin" and "he did said" territory. And, such an innocent am I, I assumed we would actually capitalize occasionally. Oh, verily, what an ingénue I was!

And if I sound bitter, here's why: I'm not describing a particular writer or a single story. I'm describing half the stories I had to read--hell, I couldn't read them, much less critique them.

Look. When I go into a workshop, I expect that people will often have great ideas but trouble expressing them. But by "trouble expressing them" I mean "trouble deciding which POV to use, how to develop the character, how to pace the story, how to balance description and exposition with plot," even if people can't walk in and articulate what the problem is up front. I don't even mind a few scattered typos. And one poor girl had plunked her story out on a manual typewriter, and all her contractions had commas instead of apostrophes--no one does that unless they're working around a broken key. So that's cool. It's not even like we have brave, half-literate grandmothers riding the bus in from the sticks to take a class and learn how to Put Their Stories of Wisdom and Experience on Paper. These are all people who have passed through public school systems and at least two years of college. All I expect, really, is that YOU PASSED HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH, HOR. PUNCTUATE WORTH THREE-QUARTERS OF A DAMN OR I KEEL YOU.

All right. I feel better now.


Have been useless today. Updated SAST, updated Trailer Park. Caught up on my f-list reading. Pretended that I don't have a massive paper due Thursday night.

Oh, and in the spirit of procrastination--I don't watch American Idol anymore, but my parents are just glued to it, and they are still aghast about the Jennifer Hudson thing last week. So what I want to know is this: y'all watch AI, right? What do you think happened with the voting? Is it just totally a John Stevens teeny-voters thing (my theory)? Who do you think should win? And since John Stevens and his voters seem to be getting most of the heat/blame in the media, how are actual John Stevens fans reacting to this? I'm really curious to see if people are going to feel chastened and start voting for the "talent," or (more likely) rally around Stevens because OMG HE IZ SO KEWT & TALNETED U HOW CAN U B SO MEEEEEN?

(Wow, I am really coming off like a snob today, aren't I?)

(P.S. I'm also an idiot. This initially got posted to lotr_news for... karmic snob retribution, I guess. I don't know. I R stupid. Carry on.)

cleolinda: (Default)
I have something to editorialize about, here on the eve of the Oscars, and it involves this Oscar Watch article (by "Jeff," not Sasha the editor):

I am also making plans for how I will handle the Lord of the Rings sweep. A straightjacket may be necessary. For the sake of my blood pressure, I might just grab the clicker whenever it wins something, which is what I did the other night when Rings won the SAG ensemble award; apparently, however, Sean Astin made quite the ass of himself while accepting the prize, and that I am truly sorry to have missed. Maybe I will just tell myself that this is the end of the Rings Oscar madness, and we can all go back to normal next year. However, it wouldn't surprise me if the Rings fans attempt a write-in campaign for Peter Jackson next year as well, even without a new film. Of course, he deserves it, don't you see? It was such a massive undertaking, don't you know?

I don't deny the skill and craftsmanship that has gone into these films; they are indeed incredible technical achievements. Those who have read and loved the books obviously have more invested in these films and apply Tolkien's philosophies and perspective to them, adding a dimension and depth to them that I just don't see. They work fine as escapist entertainment; anything more than that, and I'm at a loss to explain. But these are just my bitter sour grapes here on Oscar Eve; two further ranting and raving paragraphs on the Rings have been deleted, because at this moment, what really is the point to continue the fight? Sunday's results are a foregone conclusion.



Jeff can bite my ass. Not because Lord of the Rings is so almighty fine and perfect. Jeff can bite my ass because watching a movie you loathe sweep the Oscars is sometimes part of the Oscar-watching experience. I hated Titanic. Vladimir and I were discussing this--he was surprised to find that I saw it once in the theater and instantly did not like it. It was not some "Ewww, everyone else likes it!" backlash; I didn't get around to seeing it three months after I'd decided to hate it. I saw it in December, the first or second week it came out, with half my entire family and a row of wailing DiCaprio fangirls behind us. ("Leeeeeoh!" they squealed woefully as he hung onto that debris with ice in his hair. Not even "Jaaaaack!," mind you. You know, if you're so worried about Leeeoh, I can assure you: they pulled him out of the water after the scene was finished, dried him off, and he was fine.)

That was a tough year, moviewise, because I felt like everyone I knew had been swallowed up by pod people. Everyone loved it, everyone saw it sixteen times, and I thought it was badly written and cheesy and melodramatic. I mean, sure, the effects were great, but I couldn't see them because the first half of the movie had caused my eyes to roll out of my head. And it's funny to me now that most people I talk to are sort of ashamed they liked Titanic, or deny they ever did; here's an Ananova poll, for example:

Titanic has been voted the least deserving Oscar winning film of all time in a new poll. And Titanic director James Cameron was voted least deserving recipient of the Oscar for best director. Russell Crowe, for Gladiator, and Gwyneth Paltrow, Shakespeare in Love, were voted the least deserving best actor and actress winners.

(Favorites, in case you're wondering, are The Godfather, Spielberg for Schindler's list, DeNiro for Raging Bull, and Jodie Foster for Silence of the Lambs. What, no Meryl Streep?)

So I'm sorry I was so bitter about it now--not because I feel justified, but because I've come to realize that it's just part of the process as an Oscar watcher. I'd started really watching the Oscars when I was thirteen (1992), and that (1998) was the first year I'd had to watch as a movie I hated took the gold. It's happened again since then, of course, and I didn't even handle it all that well the second time around. What I've finally learned from the whole thing, particularly from running the Digest, is that really good movies and actors survive, Oscars or no. No movie has been ever obliterated from the collective public memory just because it didn't win; in fact, a lot of "losers" become even more fixed in the mind than the movies that actually won. Quality is quality, and if the movie you love is really all that great, you have nothing to fear if it loses.

My point is, maybe you hate a movie now. Maybe you'll be vindicated later, and maybe you won't. But them's the breaks in the Oscar race, sport. Another year will come when I'll have to sit and watch some movie I loathe make a sweep. But I'll handle it a lot better, I think, because I've seen the cycle through a few times now (turn, turn, turn) and I know, in terms of being a fan, that a victory year will come back around. So you can just get over the condescending attitude towards Lord of the Rings fans, pal, because someday you're going to be them, crowing over your favorite nominee finally winning. Not only that, but we Lord of the Rings fans have had to watch the movies lose for two years in a row. And if you're upset that the race is "a foregone conclusion" this year, imagine how everyone felt the year that Schindler's List, a movie so important that it should have just been given its own platinum Oscar and moved out of the race, came out! It's someone else's year to win the ball game, and your turn as a fan will come back around soon. So until then, kindly stuff a sock in it.

Ti. Red.

Feb. 10th, 2004 12:06 am
cleolinda: (key to the kingdom)
Am the tired. Wrote sixteen pages (typed) for my children's book assignment--all freewriting/developmental work. Hope prof is happy. Head hurts--tension headache centering on jaw. Maybe my wisdom teeth are crowding after all.

Came home to the new Hollywood Vanity Fair issue. Flipped through the Hollywood portfolio section (eh. They've had more creative shoots. Alan Cumming made up like an albino satyr comes to mind) and went straight to the "Michael Jackson Is Batshit Crazy" story. You know, the one with the revelations about the Jesus juice. (Shudder.) Was interrupted, and--hey, I never did finish reading that. I'd try to now, but I really think I'm going to flop at any moment.

Class was hilarious.* ) Problem is, there's this idea that any idiot can write a children's book--easy to read = easy to write. Except totally, totally not. Half my workshop was in for a nasty surprise this week... well, Crunk really did go a bit overboard on the assignment, I'll admit that. It was all "Freewrite two pages for this and one page for this and four pages for this and another page for this... now do it all over again for a second story idea." I mean--sixteen pages typed, and I stopped before I'd finished the whole thing on the grounds that it was beyond the limits of human endurance at that point. Turns out everyone else handwrote theirs, but I type faster than I write, so I would have chosen that option anyway. My point is, these pussies had to write two pages on their main character and they crumbled.

"How do you feel about this process?" was his question. "I am ANGRY at this process," was one of the answers. I am not kidding. Neither was the girl speaking. "I'm angry because it's just such a lot of work and--I thought we'd just come in here and turn in a story and... y'know... pass that around or something."

One guy even said that he only writes "to enjoy the act of writing," and not for anyone else, especially not for publishers. Meanwhile, we've been learning the constraints and formulae of the children's book market (32 pages, or at least multiples of four; problem introduced early in the story; general plot consisting of a series of problems and responses; the ending is always happy, although there can be sort of an ironic punchline on the last page). WHY IS THIS GUY IN A WORKSHOP CLASS AT ALL?

Afterwards, Clifton and I were talking, and all I could say was, "Have these people never done anything? Were they born today? This morning? Have they never had to do any work for anything, ever? GOD." I've never had a professor focus so much on pre-writing before, but even though the page requirements were a bit excessive, I found it helpful. I just can't believe--"I am ANGRY at this process," y'all. I am using that in conversation ASAP.

The funniest part was how several people kept saying that they'd developed characters "too complex" for a children's book. You know, considering that these people can't freewrite for two pages without whining, I highly doubt that.
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