grrgoyl

I don't have a lot to say, but a week without updating is like a week without showering (which has been known to happen rarely, and doesn't do much to endear me to the ladies, if you know what I mean).  And since my readership appears to have dwindled again, the beauty of talking to yourself is you don't get tired of listening.

I think I can finally put a period on the iClone.  The auction ended at $113, a satisfactory increase from the starting price of $70 (which one joker stopped by and offered me on the spot, hinting that it would be the best I could expect since the phone was used.  As the saying goes, I was born on a Monday, but not LAST Monday). 

For the longest time my winning bidder was a guy in Germany, which kind of sucked considering I offered free worldwide shipping to entice buyers.  Fortunately he was outbid by a guy in New York, whose Asian name, right or wrong, set my mind at rest about his ability to deal with the bizarre Korean programming the device features. 

I had intended to ship it First Class, but didn't take into account that the package size fell outside the parameters.  The clerk, accustomed to my normally rushed attitude (I typically pop in there before starting work in the mornings), didn't really make my options clear, and before I knew it I had paid $9 to send the thing Parcel Post, the most agonizingly slow shipping method.

I left, but couldn't stop thinking about it.  I thought about how much I hate waiting for my stuff.  I thought about how sometimes I'm willing to overlook small flaws in my purchases if the seller is friendly and it comes quickly, and as far as I'm concerned this phone, practically new or not, is one of the most flawed pieces of engineering I've ever seen.  Sure, I can't be blamed for how it's made, but unlike ccslickscompany, I wasn't willing to leave anything to chance.

So I went back to the post office and I upgraded to Priority, a difference of only $1.65.  Which I would've done in a heartbeat the first time if I'd known.  He received it yesterday and left me positive feedback, so I think I can finally move on.  I'm sure that's a relief to all of us.  See, ccslickscompany?  Was that so hard??

~*~

A bit of a PS to Mr. Tony from the party, the fanboy psychostalker. 

Deb and I had retreated upstairs to look something up on the computer.  Tony followed us up and, as is his way, totally took over the conversation.  I showed Deb my spiffy Rickman mousepad and he exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, I love that guy!"  Surprised, I of course concurred.  "Have you ever seen him in that movie when he plays Jack the Ripper?"    I had not, and Deb and I both looked at each other quizzically.    "It's AWESOME!" he enthused.

At this point I've seen just about every second of Rickman that's been committed to celluloid, with the exception of Michael Collins (don't know what I'm waiting for) and of course his more obscure BBC stuff.  I think, in all my covetous drooling over his filmography, I would have heard of him playing Jack the Ripper. 

The answer of course is that he never did.  Tony was thinking of David Warner, who played Saucy Jack in a sci-fi flick called Time After Time (I like David Warner fine, though thank god it isn't an obsession.  The man's resumé is longer than my whole body).  Based on Tony's exuberant description -- something about Jack discovering a time machine and being chased by HG Wells across time -- it sounds unbearably cheesy and silly, and lord knows my cheese tolerance is pretty high.  Plus, how do you confuse Alan Rickman with David Warner?   

Then as Tony was exiting the loft area, he stopped long enough to feign shock and outrage over my Snarry display (see icon), which from there was a natural progression to the rampant homophobia we saw downstairs.  Just get back into your closet, you self-hating homo.

~*~

Now, for some ( ::quickie movie reviews!!:: )

The iClone saga continues:

Feb 13:  Tery sends me a video of Criss Angel performing at a grocery store:  he cuts open a normal-appearing lemon to reveal an egg, inside of which is a live baby chick.  "Terrific," I grumped.  "He can get livestock inside fruit.  I can't even get one fucking phone shipped from eBay." 

Feb 14: According to the USPS website my Motorola phone was processed at their Denver facility.  It didn't arrive here though, which means it spends the weekend (Monday's Presidents' Day holiday included.  Damn you, Presidents) tooling around in the back of a delivery truck, I assume.  Or sitting on an outbound loading dock.  Either way, Tery had yet another occasion to roll her eyes at me.  "A control freak like you shouldn't spend so much time dealing with the Post Office," she said.  Don't I know it.

Feb 15:  iClone seller magically appears out of the woodwork to decline my request for a refund.  Oh, THERE you are, Mr. Man.  "Please cancel dispute.  Replacement phone shipped."  Yes, well, please forgive me if I don't hold my breath waiting for it, since this would be the third time you've claimed such a thing.  I'm amassing quite a collection of emails from this guy saying "replacement phone shipped."  I said "If/when I ever get the phone, I'll think about cancelling the dispute, but you haven't given me much reason to trust you."  Fool me once, shame on you... 

Feb 16:  Presidents' Day.  I don't want to talk about it.

Feb 17:  I spend the morning positioning my security camera (bought for spying on the crankwhore, equally useful for watching for mail delivery truck) on the balcony, so WHEN my phone arrives I can retrieve it and charge it up for playing later.  Tery says from the couch without opening her eyes, "I don't know why you're bothering.  It's not coming today."  (The nickname "joy-sucking robot" isn't casually bestowed)  She later changes to "It won't work properly even if it does get here," which I have to begrudgingly grant is a possibility.  Camera turns out to be unnecessary, since oversized package is delivered straight to doorstep along with everything else, including phone.  Phone already charged so I start playing immediately (not a good thing, have to work).  After fifteen minutes can tell it's better than iClone.  Texting quick and fun, video files play without a hitch, better camera, call quality is excellent.  Only bad is apparently not able to text photos, but again nothing compared to horrible iClone. 

~*~

As if I don't have enough to annoy me, this past weekend at the kennels when I arrived Friday night Dr. E. was still there.  She's my least favorite of the doctors because she's kind of stiff and aloof, and has the bedside manner of a store mannequin.  As evidenced by this particular incident, where I was on the complete opposite side of the room from where she was checking a wee puppy on fluids.  I barely caught the phrase "down to 5."  Slowly I deduced she wanted the fluid rate lowered from 10 down to 5, and furthermore she expected me to do it, despite her being several feet closer to the machine than me.  I crossed the room and did it, wondering why she didn't just do it herself.  Dr. N., for instance, had a much more hands-on approach, I knew.

Later I bitched to Tery about it.  I thought she was testing me or something.  She sighed heavily, "You're just the latest to complain about her.  That's her way.  She's the medical director.  She doesn't do anything herself, she just barks orders from across the room."  Yeah, if you call muttering under your breath "barking."  I understand superiority and all that, I just don't think there's much place for it in a small practice like Tery's where everyone is needed to lend a hand.  Mostly I wondered why, in one of very few professions where clear and concise communication can sometimes mean life or death, a lot of doctors seem so uniquely and absurdly incapable of expressing themselves.

Then as I was letting her out she asked if I wanted her to lock the door (note: I was standing right there at the door).  Did she honestly think I didn't know how to lock the door?  That would certainly be something to get away with for two years without anyone noticing.

Tery also later told me how she had asked if I should call her if I had any problems with one of the hospitalized dogs (actually my Beowulf, wasn't doing so well. He's better now). He's officially a patient of Dr. L, who had the day off and therefore wasn't up-to-date on the status. Dr. E. looked at Tery like she'd just asked her to land on the moon.

I call other doctors regarding Dr. E's patients all the time, because I HATE calling her, so Tery really needn't have bothered asking. I said to Tery, "Tell her I'd rather watch an animal die than call her in the middle of the night," which isn't far from the truth. Because I HAVE called her in the middle of the night and the animal died anyway, while I was waiting for her to slur out instructions in the middle of a drunken stupor. I'd much rather call Dr. N., who sounds wide awake even at 3 a.m. THAT'S a professional.

~*~

Enough of that.  Monday I went to see Coraline in 3D with Ryan and HIS BOYFRIEND JOHN (okay, John's not that big a deal anymore).  Again almost a near-miss, I don't know why it's so hard to organize anything with that boy. 

Original plan was a 7 pm show after they got out of work.  I of course have the entire day off on Mondays.  I text Ryan to ask if we're riding together or meeting.  He returns text at 11:30, but I don't check phone until 1:05.  "We called out from work.  Is there an earlier show?"  Well yeah, there's an earlier show.  At 1:00, which we obviously just missed.  Grrr.  I call him and gently chastise him for not calling me instead. 

Then he texted me again at 3:00, saying there was a 4:00 show we could make.  Again I barely caught this text in time, and silently growled again that he didn't just call me.  Long story short, we caught this show, but almost didn't. 

My review is pretty short and sweet, unlike the movie.  It's fairly faithful to the book, with the exception of an extraneous and annoying added character, the boy Wybie (who is fairly instrumental in the end with helping Coraline defeat the evil, which I took exception to.  As if Coraline wasn't capable of doing it alone, as she is in the book). 

Simple story:  Coraline is bored out of her mind in the new house her parents have moved into.  Mom and dad are too busy to entertain her.  The eccentric neighbors are marginally better at it.  Then Coraline discovers a mysterious passageway leading to what appears to be a replica of her world, except more fun and more Coraline-centric.  Except Other Mom and Other Dad have black, dead button eyes.  Eventually Coraline realizes there's a dark side to this world, namely her Other Mother is hell-bent on keeping her and traps her.  Coraline needs to outwit her and escape.

The book is pretty damn creepy, and moves a lot faster than the movie.  The first half hour or so moved at a snail's crawl for me, once the wondrous stop-motion 3D novelty wore off.  It seemed like a lot of nothing happening, then WHAM!  it turns a corner and is suddenly very fast and very scary.  There must have been some way to even it out a little.

The one thing I loved was the cat, who in classic Gaiman style is a free, semi-supernatural agent able to move between worlds with hidden powers.  A little like real cats. 

I begrudgingly agree with some of the reviews I read, it might have been TOO scary for small kids.  One mother commented on "What a sad moment it is when a movie like this is marketed to children so misleadingly."  What a sad moment it is when parents take commercials at face value and don't bother doing any further research.  That Neil Gaiman seems like such a nice young man, doesn't he?  Eh, we had The Wizard of Oz (Tery is still afraid of flying monkeys to this day), I think the kiddies will survive.

It is pretty amazing to think how some scenes of the movie took months to shoot (stop-motion takes days to film just a few seconds sometimes), not to mention the "microknitter" woman who hand knits all the clothing on leeetle teeny tiny knitting needles.  But apart from the art direction, I think it moved too slowly to keep either children or adults entertained.  Which isn't to say I won't be buying the DVD.