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So I went to hang out with my friend Becky for Single Awareness Day.

We had a great time.
Cebolla's for Dinner, although the Elvis impersonator made conversation difficult. [1]
Then Slumdog Millionaire.

Let me just say, this is now in my top 10 movies of all time.
I think it was beautiful.
Harsh.
Painful.
Precious.

I really loved it. 
I think that you should all go out and watch it now.

I especially loved that it was filmed in the slums of Mumbai. It had such a level of realism and brought out both the beauty and the chaos that is in this city. The progression of the lives of the three main characters was interesting, how one hardened himself, one held on to a dream, and one sold herself.  All of them to survive. 

And then, the host of Millionaire.  Yikes. A more smarmy bastard you couldn't find.
The sound track was lovely and I think I'm going to go hunt it down too.

We also then had Starbuck's and conversation with Fiona.
And Texas Roadhouse half off courtesy of a former long term guest at My hotel.
Then Yummy Pepperoni/Cream cheese/pickle treats and Girl Scout Cookies with Roger and Fiona over Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog.

Overarching theme of conversation between Becky and myself throughout the weekend was why Becky and Kelly would or would not be great friends. [2][3]
(pros being deep love of Buffy and being on Team Angel, Veronica Mars appreciation, the respect for the urban cave, scary movies, the importance of a good read,  Heartbreakers, and sharing a deep love of Playing by Heart, Obama, anti-Sarah Palin sentiments, Great use of sarcasm, and a mutual understanding of my awesomeness :), Cons (on Becky's side) Kelly's not having seen Firefly, and the dismissal of Wonderfall's greatness) Kelly, Becky would like to know your stance on a) Moulin Rouge and b) Ben Affleck.

Anyway, enough of this random silliness. It was a good weekend, despite having to go to walmart, and spending way to much at World Market, and not getting to go to the Ft Wayne Art Museum.  That will have to be next time.
I'll blog about my great reading stretch later.

1.  My brother called while I was in dinner to debrief after watching the Meh Vicky Christina Barcelona.  It was so loud, Elvis wannabe crooning "It's now or Never" and he asked " Are you in your car?"  I was much offended to think that he had such a low opinion of my music tastes.  Egads.

2. I go through life on a daily basis reading or talking with either Becky or Kelly and think (depending on whom I'm talking to) that it sounds just like something the other would say.  I'm constantly saying to myself  "self, you should introduce the two." Then I'm worried about what might happen to the universe if they did ever meet.

3. She was convinced until I happend to mention that Kelly did not appreciate Wonderfalls, which was a deal breaker, until I mentioned that Kelly had read a book that seemed like Heartbreakers, and had a quoting knoledge of the same movie and it's random Jason Lee-ness.

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that when it rains…it pours.  That has pretty much been my life over the last month.
I moved…packed up my stuff…schlepped it 5 miles and am in the process of unpacking it again.  It is not the easiest process, and especially when it represents a lack of movement in the direction I really want, well it's rough.  My room is getting to be more of what I want it to be.  And it should be completely ready soon.

I went to Wisconsin for a few days over Christmas, and got to hang out with my extended family again, and it really was rough.  I love the family, and had a good time hanging out, but felt like the majority of my time was spent with my cousins kids, who are swell and I enjoy them, and they taught me fun card games, but I felt regulated to the Kiddie Table.  I didn't have the history that the rest of the family had, and therefore I was consistently on the outside. God, sometimes I really hate being single. Especially single without my own family. I got to hear about their Christmas via phone and Vox, and therefore feel like I was on the outside for not one but two christmases.  OK  Enough winging.

I read.  I have another mass of books to evaluate:

Anansi Boys
Neil Gaiman

I've read Coraline, and Good Omens, so I was prepared for Gaiman to be clever and witty, but I was unprepared for the depth of intelligence and history that I found in Anansi Boys.  I've been in conversations with one of my employees who just wrote a big research paper on the Trickster in Slave culture, i.e. Brer Rabbit, and the stories told about him. We've been having very deep moments debating the need for such stories in that culture, and then I pick kup this book.  Not only did Lenny Henry (of Chef) do a fabulous job narrating this book, weaving the lilting accents of the afro-carribian culture, with the smarminess of Fat Charlie's London boss Graham, to the story of creation being sung, but he brought out the way the story was woven, like a complex spider's web. I loved this book.  Neil Gaman has spun a mondern day tale of folk lore that breaths life into the genre without loosing the depth of the history.  He's very adept with words, and with the lives he created.  I ended up giving this as a gift this year as well.  Very good book.

I also got a lovely package from my friend Kelly which contained some good reads, the first of which I attempted Christmas week. I started A Great and Terrible Beauty Tuesday Evening and finished it yesterday.  Gemma Doyle is a

young girl in the Victorian Era.  She has lost her mother to a mysterious suicide in a marketplace in India, and now finds herself in a bording school in London. In the process she's finding interesting things about herself, including the ability to transcend this plane and enter the Realms, the world between worlds, and begins to experiment with magic.  All this while dealing with a Laudinum addicted father, overbearing grandmother, and self satisfied older brother.  Throw in a little sexual tension and this is a recepie for ensuing Mayhem, death, and deception.  Kelly texted me and told me she thinks Gemma kicks Bella's (of the uber famous Twilight) ass, and for the most part I'm forced to agree. Libba Bray (the author) is much more deft with words and takes herself far less seriously then Stephanie Meyers. The best place to tell this is in the remarkably witty "About the Author" blurb at the end of the book.  However, I think Gemma and Bella have one thing in common: their remarkably self centered impulsivity.  Seriously NEITHER GIRL knows the first thing about Prudence or Temperance.  When you're faced with life changing and serious things, about which there is much portentiousness and warning, it behoves you to tread with caution.  I know it wouldn't be quite as fun a book, but it drives me nuts none the less. All things considered, it was an enjoyable read, and I'm already embarking on the second in the series….Thank You Kelly 🙂

Small Gods
Terry Pratchett

Thief of Time
Terry Pratchett

Then I had two more in the Discworld series that I got under my belt.  Small Gods was an irreverent, yet reverent (go ponder that for a while) look at organized religion, and the rules, and the prophets that come along for the ride.  It was laugh out loud in some parts, and insightful in others.  You never know when the turtle you set on it's back in the sun could be the God you proport to worship.  What you do to the least of these…and all that.  Theif of Time was priceless.  It was a mixture of Monty Python, Steven Hawkins, Poor Richards Almanack, and the Book of Revelations, with the Dali Lama thrown in for good measure.  Again Pratchett impresses me with the depth of his knowledge by being able to discuss something as  complex as the nature of time, while quoting pop philosophy and showing how the ultimate horseman of hte apocalypse is most definately Chaos.  Especially when Pestulence was hanging out in a hospital, and War was about the most henpecked man in history.  Pratchett explained dinosaur fossils, reemergance of long extinct species, and why no one has ever bagged a Yeti.  Good stuff, although the reading took something out of me.  One of the multiple narrators (some of which I swear narrated the Ender's series I listened to a while back) had an atrocious cockney accent.  Seriously worse than Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.

What am I reading at the moment?

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