Leading Ladies and Best Friends

In the movie "The Holiday" there are many great quotes. It's one of my personal favorites, to tell you the truth. I really identify with the character of Iris particularly -- she's such a real and earthy character and I LOVE Kate Winslet's on screen chemistry with Jack Black. However, the lines that have always haunted me the most have been during Iris' conversation with aged Hollywood writer Arthur Abbot:

Arthur Abbott: He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.
Iris: You're so right. You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for god's sake! Arthur, I've been going to a therapist for three years, and she's never explained anything to me that well. That was brilliant. Brutal, but brilliant.

I tend to share Iris' trouble; I don't see myself as being a leading lady. This has already bothered me fundamentally. I tell myself, "You need to be more assertive!" or "You always let people run right over you!" Then, the other night, a thought occurred to me.

So what?

Let's examine the quintessential leading lady role for a moment, shall we? In the movies, the leading lady typically follows these rules:

1.) She likes an amazing guy, but...
2.) ...there is always some sort of problem with her relationship with said amazing guy.
3.) She goes through an incredibly rough period, generally towards the end of the film just before the happy ending. This can involve heartbreak, the loss of a job, the death of a dear friend/family member, jail time, ect.
4.) She goes through a TON of drama and sad music before she finally manages to land aforementioned amazing guy.
5.) She can be somewhat of a drama queen and thinks that the entire world revolves around her.

Some examples of this kind of leading lady would be: Bella Swan in "Twilight," Jane in "27 Dresses," Cameron Diaz in "The Holiday," Mary Fiori in "The Wedding Planner," and Rose in "Titanic."

Now, let's examine the quintessential best friend role. In the movies, the best friend typically follows THESE rules:

1.) She is very often the comic relief, meaning she gets the wittiest lines.
2.) Most of the time, she is either married or in a stable relationship with an amazing guy. Usually the best friend's amazing guy isn't quite as handsome or as witty as the leading lady's amazing guy, but I reiterate, STABLE RELATIONSHIP. Low drama, and he's home at night when she gets there.
3.) She doesn't usually go through a really sad time just before the ending. Instead, she is there for her best friend, the leading lady, through thick and thin, further endearing her to the audience because of her selflessness and comic relief.
4.) She is allowed to have a quirky sense of fashion.
5.) She is often exceptional in some way, like as a fashion maven or a cook or having superior guy crushing skills.

Some examples of this kind of best friend would be: the girls in P.S. I Love You, particularly Lisa Kudrow's character, Sookie in "Gilmore Girls," Angela Weber in "Twilight, Paulette in "Legally Blonde," and Penelope Garcia in "Criminal Minds."

So, let's review, shall we? Drama vs. no-drama, steady relationship vs. trials and tribulations, and quirky fashion sense vs. classic yet all too often drab?

Yeah. No brainer.

Thoughts?

Tadpole Baptismal

He is pruning the rose bushes, like he’s supposed to.
Homework has been done, like it’s supposed to be.
Everything is as it is supposed to be,
and yet he jabs savagely with the scissors.
The sky is gray, the thorns are sharp, and the roses are dull.

Mosquitoes buzz above the pool while spiders lounge on forgotten floats.
The sand filter is broken, and the water is stagnant,
the perfect incubator for bellowing toads and brown water insects
that buzz busily on the seedy skim of their biohazard kingdom.
He snips above the grouping of five leaves, as he is supposed to.

Then he hears a voice from heaven, just as he’d always imagined it,
and he sees an ordinary looking man, dressed in blue shirt and jeans.
The man’s face is blurry in its plainness, and the man’s head reflects the sun.
He drops the scissors, dead rose petals pelting the hot concrete.
The toads are silent, and then begin to complain.

Kneel the man says, and he does what he is told,
on the white plastic side of the teeming pool.
The man does the same on the opposite side of the pool,
looking at him across rotting water noodles and skating bugs.
He finds himself rolling up his sleeves for some reason.

The man begins to splash his lower arms and face with the lukewarm water
and he does the same, washing himself with the filth of the broken pool.
I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Where the disgusting water has touched him, he feels clean.
The sky is still gray, the roses still dull, but he is new.

With no theatrical flash of light or even a dove, the man disappears.
He stares down at the same old pool, noting with interest
the plethora of tadpoles and brown crawling spiders.
He picks up the scissors and keeps clipping above the clusters of five leaves.
He has been baptized in tadpoles and filth, so different from the “supposed to” and is cleansed.

Ghosts

She drives down the I-40, going too fast and not caring
when out of the darkness, something catches and sends back the glow
cast by her car’s headlights.
Something about the tree on the side of the road makes her whip her neck around,
trying to keep it in sight as long as possible.
It’s difficult to notice detail when going eighty miles an hour,
but the impression of that tree stood out in sharpest detail,
the high definition of the natural world.

It is a dogwood tree, the blooms still present and capable of reflecting high beams
even now as spring is marching unsympathetically on.
The season has already forced itself upon the grass; green superimposing itself on brown
and birds trespassing on bushes and telephone poles.
She sees the white religious blooms and is struck at how they linger in the air,
the brown in the tree branches the same color as the night, and so remains unrepresented.
The blooms are the specters, leering at the cars as they pass,
and remain unaffected by observation as the girl’s neck creaks ominously.

She is uneasy about those blooms as she hurtles past, pushed forward by
plodding truckers and the impatient rat race of the weekday’s end.
The buds continue to float before her eyes,
and she is suddenly in other memories that are always before her,
forever ready and willing to present themselves if they are given but half a chance:
a snowman on a tissue box, a slice of pizza going uneaten, and another car’s headlights disappearing into the night. The suspended buds become those headlights,
and she turns up the music, drowning out the cries of the haunted.

How to Give a Cat a Pill

1. Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby. Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat's mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand. As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.

2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa. Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.

3. Retrieve cat from bedroom, and throw soggy pill away.

4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm, holding rear paws tightly with left hand. Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.

5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe. Call spouse from garden.

6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws. Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat's throat vigorously.

7. Retrieve cat from curtain rail, get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.

8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit. Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw.

9. Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans, drink 1 beer to take taste away. Apply Band-Aid to spouse's forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.

10. Retrieve cat from neighbor's shed. Get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard, and close door onto neck, to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.

11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Drink beer. Fetch bottle of scotch. Pour shot, drink. Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect. Toss back another shot. Throw tee shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.

12. Call fire department to retrieve the damn cat from across the road. Apologize to neighbor who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat. Take last pill from foil wrap.

13. Tie the little *&#%^'s front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table, find heavy-duty pruning gloves from shed. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of filet steak. Be rough about it. Hold head vertically and pour 2 pints of water down throat to wash pill down.

14. Consume remainder of scotch. Get spouse to drive you to the emergency room, sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.

15. Arrange for RSPCA to collect mutant cat from hell and call local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.


How To Give A Dog A Pill

1. Wrap it in bacon.

2. Toss it in the air.

Beowulf vs. Godsylla

Of all my classes, History of the English Language (appropriately nicknamed HEL) is probably my least favorite. It's an exceedingly difficult subject to grasp.

However, sometimes showing up can be worth it. Today, for example. Dr. Richardson brought up on a powerpoint slide this joke about Beowulf, and my immediate thought was, "BLOG!!!!"

So here it is. It's a little difficult to read because it's written in Old English style, but try to go by phonetics. You'll at least be able to get the gist.

Have fun!

Beowulf vs. Godsylla
(By Tom Weller, from Cvltvre Made Stvpid)

Meanehwæl, baccat meaddehæle,.....monstær lurccen;
Fulle few too many drincce,.....hie luccen for fyht.
Ðen Hreorfneorhtðhwr,.....son of Hrwærowþheororthwl,
Æsccen æwful jeork.....to steop outsyd.
Þhud! Bashe! Crasch! Beoom!.....Ðe bigge gye
Eallum his bon brak,.....byt his nose offe;
Wicced Godsylla.....wæld on his asse.
Monstær moppe fleor wyþ.....eallum men in hælle.
Beowulf in bacceroome.....fonecall bamaccen wæs;
Hearen sond of ruccus.....sæd, "Hwæt ðe helle?"
Graben sheold strang.....ond swich-blæd scharp
Stond feorth to fyht.....ðe grimlic foe.
"Me," Godsylla sæd,....."mac ðe minsemete."
Heoro cwyc geten heold.....wiþ fæmed half-nelson
Ond flyng him lic frisbe.....bac to fen
Beowulf belly up.....to meaddehæle bar,
Sæd, "Ne foe beaten.....mie færsom cung-fu."
Eorderen cocca-cohla......yce-coeld, ðe reol þyng.

Tune In

It is a winter day, sunny for once.
You go to stand in front of the window,
A dog rubbing at your ankles, wanting attention.
You look outside; the trees are bare.
Everything is lit up from the exterior, and it is far too clear.
It is painful. The world is quiet.
You can almost hear the hum of the silence in the air; it’s like another person,
But you know you are alone.

Is the world supposed to look like that?
No leaves on the trees,
No color in the grass, no birds in the nests?
You can see everything for what it is, but that is no comfort.
On days like this, he would putter around the house,
His back like a question mark, whistling.
He would kiss you softly as he passed,
And tell you that you were beautiful,
Even though you knew you weren’t.
The memory burns you,
Scarring your retinas,
Burning after images on your eyelids and on the window and on the dog on the floor.
Everywhere you look you see,
And you long for darkness,
But you know that you are alone in the light.

You turn off the lights, but it does no good.
You can still see him,
But he does not see you.
Is a mother bird sad when life goes as it so often does
And she is left alone in a nest in a naked tree?
It is a winter day, sunny for once,
And you hate it…
Because you know you are alone in the bareness.

Fade Out

An excited call from the door –

Someone wants you to come see something.

It’s something odd…snow?

You shuffle towards the window, hands clasped behind your back,

Still the soldier.

You look out –

Is the world supposed to look like that?

You have a funny feeling it isn’t, but you keep looking anyway.

Nothing better to do.

Inside, even behind the glass, cold wetness fills your eyes and ears –

Makes you blind and deaf.

Fuzzy things from the sky fall down towards you and blur away all the lines

No shapes, just vague impressions of what used to be.

She would like this, you think.

She used to make homemade doughnuts whenever this…stuff…came.

Snow…that’s what it’s called, right?...

You think that it’s kinda like what happens when you wake up in the middle of the night

And walk into the bathroom and flip on the switch –

And suddenly you see only swirls of colors,

Meteor tails and galaxies of times past,

Places far away and iced over.

Everything’s fuzzy.

You crinkle your nose, reaching for the meteor tail –

But it slips away, out of reach, just like always.

White stuff…white stuff everywhere…

Outside and in your mind and in your feet.

Someone leads you away, puts warmer socks on your feet.

You sit down, because that’s all you know to do.

Nothing better to do.

She’s like a picture on the wall…

Within reach, but behind the glass.

She’s a vague impression –

But once she made you homemade doughnuts.

So you keep trying to break the glass, knowing all the time that you never will.

That fuzzy white stuff keeps getting in your way,

Snow…

You smile. Your eyes are empty.

And you try, once more, to reach her…that picture on the wall…