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Monthly Archives: July 2012

That was good, this was better. –By Jill

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I guess I’m on some sort of luck streak. I thought the garbage bag of was a freakin’ God sent, that’s nothing compared to what happened at JFK. (I’m flying home to Seattle to see some wonderful friends.)

As I wait through the gargantuan security line ahead of me there seems to be an express line which is only available to people who waited to arrive at the airport 2 minutes before their plane started boarding. I got to JFK mega crazy early. I don’t miss plane flights and am content playing my 3DS for hours at the gate. But my fellow passengers aren’t so content seeing foreigners in broken English plead with the TSA agent that they’re going to miss their flight. Tensions rise and for some reason a 10 year-old throws up.

Eventually one of the TSA agents cave (something I’ve never seen) and switches one of the two check points over to the express line. Meaning that gargantuan line I’m in now only has one person processing boarding passes. I continue to watch tension around me approach a boiling point. The newly cordoned off check point finally lightens the load leaving my line still congested but an otherwise unused station for metal detector preparation wide open.

Maybe it was my relaxed demeanor (brought on by that bottle of wine I finished before my shuttle) or just my cute smile, but I politely asked the TSA agent if it mattered which metal detector line I went though. He unclasped the elastic barrier and ushered me into the empty line. Booya!

But it didn’t stop there. Flash forward a few hours. I’m in my row 28 C seat (that’s back of the plane by the bathroom/aisle seat) when the drink cart pulls out. Now my favorite drink in the world is club soda/seltzer and for some reason air plane drink carts tend to have only 2 the whole flight. So by the time they get to me I’m S.O.L. With the cart pushed all the way passed me to the front of the cabin, one of the flight attendants, (middle aged, but not yet bitter by old age, she could have been my 3rd grade teacher) walks to the back towards me. I grab her attention and ask her if she’d save me one of the limited club sodas. I know she heard me, but this request seemed to be out of her realm of possibility. She doesn’t respond so much, as she turns away and returns to the cart.

I figure “oh well” and return to my Kindle. About 2 minutes later, she comes back with a full can of club soda and a cup of ice. I feel guilty as the looks of the other passengers glare at me (the drink cart is still about a dozen rows ahead of us).

When the drink cart finally does get to us. Said same flight attendant inquires to my English limited row mates about what condiments they’d like in their coffee/tea. After that debacle of misunderstanding, I ask how much one of the liquor bottles are. Her reply, “how many do you want?” She and I exchange a spark of a glance. I’m about to become a partner in crime and I have no idea why. I simply respond “Two. Jack,” and she slips two bottles of Jack Daniels into my front seat pocket and moves on. “Let me know if you need ice or some more later.” She winks and moves on and I’m dumbfounded.

I’ve had guys buy me drinks and honestly I’ve never felt guilty not even talking to them afterwards. It’s their job to charm or whatever me. If I’m not in the mood to put up with their pick up shit, that’s their sleazy fault. But this…I was confused. What did she want? Did she like me? Was she just being nice? Is the cosmic balance of the universe simply rewarding me for putting up with a year of shit in New York? Or did she want something? I’m sure many guys have lesbian stewardess fantasies and even a few girls like myself. But I’m not the type.

In the end I figured fuck it. If she liked me, let her make her case. There was always the thank you but no thank you, response. I was going to just leave the bottles in the seat pocket, but then I figured if someone found it she might get in trouble. I took them with me and so far on this awesome Seattle trip they’re still in my bag. As for the somewhat sexy cougar lesbian flight attendant? I simply got a wink and an enjoy your stay on the way out.

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Posted by on July 29, 2012 in By Jill

 

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All I wanna do is to thank you even though I don’t know who you are…–By Jill

So wet. And not the good kind.

The other day it poured rain like a mother fucker. And not just any old mother fucker, but a mother fucker awakened by a rape horn at 4 in the morning.   If the metaphor is lost on you, I’m saying it rained really hard. Hail in some parts of the city, but thunder and lightening throughout. And of course it’s the one day I don’t have my umbrella because I left it at the bar last night.

As I creep out of the subway tunnel, hoping over puddles already pooling on the stairs, a crowd of stranded subway commuters awaits me at the entrance.  They stare at the sky hoping for reprieve while I’m wondering if the rain will seep though my bag and ruin my iPad if I run three blocks. A woman sitting on the floor among the captives intermittently shakes her cup of change like heavy maraca. Da-du-DAH, Da-du-DAH. I give her what change I have to which she responds with a polite “Thank ya kindly, and God bless.”

The instant she finishes her blessing, a man shuffles down the stairs with a garbage bag for protection. He disrobes his disposable poncho, gives me one look and says, “You want this?” “Damn, skippy. ” I reply (I’ve become very fond of that phrase) then take out my wallet and give the maraca lady another buck. I thank the gentleman and head on home looking like white trash (literally).

As I navigate the drenched streets through a severely limited peripheral vision, three things strike me. 1) This is what Harry Potter must feel like when he wears the Cloak of Invisibility. 2) I’ve never had the sensation of getting wet, i.e. pelted with rain, without actually getting wet. It’s sorta trippy. And finally 3) I would have Geggy Tah’s Whoever You Are stuck in my head the rest of the day. Granted I wasn’t driving, but I think the spirit hold true.

–Damn Skippy!

 
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Posted by on July 20, 2012 in By Jill

 

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In spite of itself. –By Mack

It’s 3am when my phone wakes me up with the ringtone…

Your skin, oh yea your skin and bones
turn into something beautiful
D’you know , you know I love you so.

A dangerous precedent has been set. This phone call makes me think I have access to something, or that I am something to someone that no one else is. And even though I know it won’t last. This phone call makes me believe something lost might grow back in spite of itself.

It’s been months since this scenario.  I promise I’ll write Qunatum Entropy part three soon. But I felt the need to express a certain sentiment that struck me.

We’ll call her Yellow. Not because of any distinguishing characteristic or fondness for a certain colored clothing, but simply because when I was with her Coldplay’s song Yellow would play over and over in my head. Not the whole song, just the stanza quoted above. I learned long ago to trust the songs in my head. A girl broke up with me in college and the whole day before she did it Death Cab’s I Was a Kaleidoscope was on continuous repeat. Back to Yellow. I trimmed that part of the song for her ringtone. Obviously things didn’t work out and we went out separate ways. But we had grown close enough that a clean break wasn’t going to happen. We dabbled in that residual lingering friendship and when crisis happened, I was there for her.

That’s when the 3am phone calls started. She would always apologize for them later, but to be honest I really miss them. I miss being woken up by Chris Martin’s voice cracking like prepubescent teenager. I’d listen to that ringtone for almost the entire 20 second cut every time. Then I’d answer and hear that half apologetic but longing voice. I was something someone very beautiful inside and out needed. It felt good. Sadistic. But good.

Though I haven’t thought about Yellow terribly much recently I did lose my phone yesterday. Our pictures, her number, that perfectly trimmed ringtone. And of course the backlog of text message. Gone.  It’s probably for the best, in the spirit of moving on and such. But I had always hoped I’d get one more 3am serenade.

–Big Mack Attack

 
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Posted by on July 18, 2012 in By Mack, Dating

 

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Not so Amazing Spider-Man — By Jack

Once a generation a Spider – Man is rebooted.

It’s a shame our cinema blockbusters have come to this. The mass rebooting of franchises and poor ones at that.  The newest victim Spider-Man–

That’s it! I’m not letting your poo-poo another awesome summer movie. First Prometheus, then Ted, which was freakin’ hilarious! Now–
This is my blog post, Jill. Why don’t you bitch about the subway or something?

It’s coming. And I can’t have you crap over every fun action film. No one’s trying to win an Oscar this season! Are we really doing this? You’re going to argue with me as I review Amazing Spider-Man?

Damn skippy!

***Word of warning – this is no longer a review, Jill and Jack are going to bitch about this movie with the assumption you’ve seen the film. MAJOR SPOILERS!***
Shut up Mack! Go write about Quantum Entropy!

Okay…let’s start again. Throwing out the baby with the bathwater this reboot–Looks amazing. From the first person web slinging, to the darkness of Manhattan at night–
Yes it looks good. The action is fast. This Spider-Man is lankier than the Tobey Maguire Spider-Man which is true to the comic.  But let’s talk about the plot–

Okaaaay. Peter Parker is a bullied and likes Gwen Stacy. He gets bitten by a genetic spider. Becomes Spider-Man. Bada-bing! Bada-boom web-slinging action! But this movie is desperately trying to follow the Christopher Nolan-make-a-dark-and-compelling-superhero-story-so-we-can-be-taken-seriously approach. It casts Sally Field and Martin Sheen in the smaller parts (ala Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman.) Even its opening screams Batman Begins. Hell, I thought little Peter Parker was going to fall down a well and get covered in spiders. 

So? What’s wrong with that? It doesn’t pull it off. It has plot holes you can drive a truck through (Spider-Man just gives up looking for the guy who killed Uncle Ben)  and forced emotional moments that make you want to laugh. (cough cough the construction crane scene, anyone?) 

They’re just so good together.

Those didn’t bother me. I got to see a romance blossom that was miles deeper than anything Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst were ever capable of having. Jesus, did Peter have to reveal his identity to everyone in the film? We’ve seen three movies of Peter Parker keeping his identity secret. It really struck me to see him come to Gwen’s window, bruised and beaten, to be cradled in her arms. Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone had great chemistry. They’re dating you know. Duh!

So many elements just felt left out there waiting be developed but instead were forgotten while other moments felt forced. The lizard cops, Ben’s killer, the true nature of how Peter got his powers. Hell, even the tower falling from the top of Oscorp felt superfluous. Once again! Summer action film! If you want to see character development go see Moonrise Kingdom.

There is an important distinction between action sequences and explosions for the sake of explosions. One moment that did work for me was when Spider-Man was on the bridge, webbing the cars to stop them from falling. He finds the one kid trapped in the car and goes to pull him out before the car infernos. You’re really going to use inferno as a verb? The point is in that scene, Spider-Man’s holding the car with one hand, the webbing with the other and doing everything thing he can to get the kid to climb. He’s being pushed to his super hero limits and he still might fail. That what I want to see in my summer action sequences. Not a giant skyscraper antenna falling after the villain of the film has been defeated which it doesn’t affecting anything except to give the unsuccessful justification of the  3D glasses upcharge.  

I thought that was awesome. Except that I saw it in the trailer a dozen times. Okay, point blank question; were you bored?
 
No. But counter point blank. Were you satisfied?
Sure.
Really? The way you were with The Dark Knight, The Crow, and The Incredibles?
Yes. Yes I was.
I can’t believe that. 

Maybe it’s because I’m a Spider-Man fan and have been since I was 4. The movie just got what I’ve always loved about him so much more than the Sam Raimi films did. The web-shooters, the wise-cracking, and of course the sewer scene.  This was a film for Spider-Fans. 

Okay this was pretty cool.

We’ll just have to agree to disagree. I don’t agree with that.

Addendum: Jack, Jill, and I all agree, The Amazing Spider-Man has the best Stan Lee cameo ever. Period. 

This isn’t the cameo.

 

 
 

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