With all my griping about special effects taking the originality and complexity out of movies, even I know that sometimes it’s all about the lightsabers. Especially when it’s geeky fanboys in an empty parking garage, dorking out with a wickedly choreographed lightsaber duel.
Epic make-believe geekery, FTW.
I’m so glad that Hollywood is finally leaving behind all those sad, disturbing portrayals of Multiple Personality Disorder. You know, like Sally Field’s Sybil or Joanne Woodward’s Eve White…er Eve Black…Jane? Stop this crazy thing?
Anyway, now we’ve got a far funnier, far lighter take on this disease, now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder. You know, because a lot of the classic mental illnesses needed a bit of pizazz to liven them up a bit. It’s not manic depression! It’s bipolar disorder! Now, what can we call schizophrenia? How about “Can You Hear Us Now?” Syndrome?
Am I sounding a bit flippant? I do apologize. I think, however, that anyone who has lived with a severe mental illness in their life, whether their own or that of someone they love, develops a bit of a gallows humor when it comes to discussing such things. It’s been a part of my life since I was 10, and I have a wicked sense of humor about it, as does my family. It’s a coping mechanism, a way to process the fact that sometimes horrible things happen and there’s no real way to “fix” any of it. Just tame it with pills, temper it with therapy, and accept that it is what it is.
Besides, it makes for a great ice breaker when you can tell the story about how you spent part of your 16th birthday in a locked ward, sharing cake with schizophrenics.
Anywho. So this show, United States of Tara, is all about Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID. The titular Tara, played by Toni Collette, houses several distinct personalities within her: Alice, the hyper-happy housewife who’s like Donna Reed on Speed; Buck, the grizzly beer-bonged Vietnam vet; and T, the 16-year-old nympho-minx who gets away with a hella lot just because she happens to “look mature for her age.”
Here’s the happy “family” all together: Buck, Alice, Tara, and T.
Buck is Tara’s protector, the Alter meant to keep her safe from the memories of whatever trauma she survived in her adolescence that left her fractured into all these different personalities. He also keeps safe those Tara loves; he surfaces when there’s trouble in Tara’s life that she is simply ill-equipped to handle. He’s a lefty with a mean right hook, gruff and offensive, but secretly kind and caring. Alice is the Ladies Home Journal ideal of femininity and motherhood. She surfaces whenever Tara is unable to deal with her children or her marriage. She’ll bake you some muffins, mix you a martini, and wash your mouth out with public restroom liquid soap if you’re not careful. T, probably the most obnoxious of the Alters so far, is a foul-mouthed sex-crazed teen, possibly Tara’s exaggerated way of reclaiming her right to express herself freely, unshackled by the chains of whatever repressed trauma left her this way.
Just for the record, Buck is undeniably my favorite of the Alters.
It’s a delicate dance, this show, dealing with unfunny truths in a wickedly funny style. When I first heard about it, I was
On behalf of Lwaxana, Jean-Luc, and all the crews from all the ships, starbases, space stations, outposts, inposts, brigs, cargo bays, and all other reaches of the galaxy, I wish you all a very happy new year. Here’s to the surprises that are still to come.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8CkhiyoiOE&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6&border=1]
Yes, this is one of the several containers that my parents have in storage for me. Yes, every single bit of its contents could be tossed tomorrow with no serious repercussions…
…if having part of my soul recycled into dollar store toilet paper falls under the category, “no serious repercussions.”
Honestly, though, WTH am I ever going to do with calendars and TV Guides dating all the way back to 1995? Am I simply biding my time until I cross over into the age range in which it will not only become acceptable but expected for me to start decoupaging EVERYTHING in the house? I’ll just wile away my days, glugging sipping Captain Morgan and Dr. Pepper as I trim out Beverly Crushers and Dana Scullys for that extra special “Titian-Tressed Angels of Asclepius” medicine cabinet decoupage.
Okay, I need to stop, because that actually sounds fun…
I set out tonight, hoping to watch something with the parental units that was as un-Christmasy as you can imagine. Then I realized that TBS was yet again running their “24 Hours of A Christmas Story.”
Oh, how do you resist Ralphie? You simply can’t, can you? I think that A Christmas Story is to my generation what It’s A Wonderful Life was to its generation. Only A Christmas Story is actually enjoyable. 😉 So we watched it twice. And now the SyFy Channel’s Ghost Hunters marathon is playing. And I’m about to refill my wine glass.
Could this be a more perfect start to Christmas?
I wish for you all a wonderful day, regardless of what holiday or beliefs you may hold. In fact, I wish for you wonder and merriment every day. And I hope that 2010 holds amazements unimaginable for each one of you.
And here, before I depart, is a special holiday wish from my favorite dancing doctor. I designed this for two very special ImagiFriendsTM. I hope they don’t mind if I share it with all my denizens…but how can I resist?
That might possibly be one of my favorite song lyrics EVAR, from an artist who has somehow made her way very high on my list of music awesome: P!nk.
To be honest, I’m not really sure how this happened. I remember barely registering her arrival on the music scene back in…good grief! 2000? That long ago? “There You Go” was probably the only song I heard from her debut CD. It was okay, but I wasn’t really sure how to process her or her music. Honestly, I don’t really think her record label knew what to do with her then either.
Thankfully, someone let her evolve naturally, and what she’s been coming out with in recent years has grabbed me in ways that most mainstream music simply doesn’t anymore. What really rocketed her into my consciousness was her video for “Stupid Girls,” which, simply put, is exactly how I feel about what’s happening with girls today. When did it become law that girls had to sacrifice their intelligence and their dignity in order to be popular? Oh. Never mind.
I’m so glad that I’ll never fit in
That will never be me
Outcasts and girls with ambition
That’s what I wanna see
So, yeah, P!nk. Let me say here that it should drive me crazy that she spells her nom de musique with an exclamation point, which is a bit too cutesy for her own damn good. But she’s just so adorably bad-ass that I can let this one slide. I love her voice as well. It’s got a Janis Joplin-esque rawness that she can temper into a surprising tenderness. Plus, she rocks the catchy hook like no one’s business.
And her music videos are fun. I find videos in which all they do is show nutrient-deprived, lethargic pretty people pouting their way through a bunch of boring undulations and lip-syncing….well, boring. P!nk is definitely not boring. Her latest video to make the OnDemand rounds is for “Funhouse,” the song from which the eponymous lyrics of this post come. Watch her bounce and kick her way through the remnants of a burned-down relationship. Watch her hair. Watch out for the evil clowns.
Actually, most of her videos are fun to watch. I’d highly recommend heading over to YouTube and checking out some of her others, like “So What” or “Sober,” which puts a whole different spin on the familiar message that you can’t really find true happiness unless you, um, love yourself.
And there you go. To quote Aerosmith, “P!nk is my new obsession.”
Heh. 😉
So I griped and complained about the snow all Saturday. Then Sunday came and went, and nothing. Why? Because I spent a large portion of that day, digging out from under all that you see to your right. When all was said and done, we got a little more than 2 feet. That might have just been the final measurements due to drifting, though. The numbers people on the telly were saying more along the lines of 16 inches. My arm muscles disagree…but that’s okay.
When all was said and done, I felt much better once Sammy was no longer being held prisoner by the snow. So Sunday evening was spent relaxing and being in a far more agreeable mood.
Then the news came from WaPo: All federal agencies will be closed on Monday.
I’m not a federal employee, but I help make federal employees look spiffy. So if they’re not there, we’re not really needed. Which meant that my company closed for the day as well. And the silver lining shone through brightly.
So where the heck was I all day? At the movie theater. Watching Dances with Na’vi Avatar. For 3 hours. My butt still hasn’t woken up. Which is why I’m getting ready to go exercise…and maybe even attempt to process how I feel about this movie. I’m still not sure. I did, however, make sure this was available as soon as I got back online. Seriously, Sigourney Weaver as a feline alien must become part of my collection. As soon as possible.
Oh, one more thing. Expect some serious 50BC09 posting in a little while. Maybe not now. But soon. And for the rest of…er…the year?
Someone from Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio visited the lair. Spent half an hour here.
Cuyahoga Falls, denizens. You know who comes from Cuyahoga Falls, right?
Right?
Osmotic squee!
[Yes, I’m such a dork that even seeing that someone from her hometown has visited me here has the power to make me squee. STFU.]
End of the year. My brain is all over the place. Forgive me, denizens, if I fail to make sense.
Lots of flotsam, pushing at the edges of my noodly noggin, clawing for the chance to see the light of the lair.
If Scooby Doo had a sister, would her name be “Booby Doo”?
See that? That’s the kind of shiznit I would post if I had a Twitter account. Kind of makes you glad I don’t, eh?
My ImagiFriendsTM tweet. They tweet lovely, silly geekery that makes me giggle gloriously while glugging raktajinos spiked with rum. Don’t follow? Don’t worry. Spliff on this tweet:
Most people don’t realize Janeway’s voice is pure molten sex.
Oh HELLS yeah.
Award for most awesomest tweet of the year? Make it so. Even if tweeted in jest, it makes me that much prouder of my Janeway impersonation. Not that I do such a thing. Or would ever record doing such a thing for others to hear.
Heh.
Do any of you ever get the feeling that you’re only getting part of the picture when you come here to the lair? Like it’s a little window that doesn’t show you even half of what’s going on. In the night. In the dark. There’s a whole lot more going on in the shadows…you just have to wait for me to invite you deeper.
I’m not feeling fa-la-la-festive just yet. Where’s Dr. Noel when I need a little injection of holiday cheer? Oh yeah. Kirk found her under the mistletoe. Guess he’s decorating her Jefferies tube now. Where does he store that photon torpedo?
OMG, Trexual innuendo!
I’m usually surly around this time of year. I don’t know why. I suppose I’m an emotional Scrooge in some ways. Mmm, portmanteau: Scrooge = Screw + Gouge. Did I impress anyone with my word nerdery just then? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?
I used to decorate my door here at work. Truth? I only did it for the Benjamins. Well, the door prize, really. I only won once though. Want to see the sexy that won?
He’s R
