do the hustle

X and I saw Kung Fu Hustle last night, and it's great. It's like if you mixed Kill Bill with West Side Story and Who Framed Roger Rabbit - really really fun. It's basically an homage to the genre that also spoofs some big American films, like Spider-Man and The Matrix.

The basic story takes place in a filthy Shanghai slum called Pig Sty Alley. The residents are being menaced by the Axe Gang after they successfully fought off a shakedown attempt. It turns out that Pig Sty is full of retired martial arts legends, including a noodle maker who is an expert pole fighter and a gay tailor who dons iron wristbands to administer a serious ass-whipping.

The best, though, are the Landlady and her hen-pecked husband. The Landlady is a foul-mouthed, chain-smoking harridan with ever-present curlers in her hair. In addition to being a Kung Fu master, she also uses the Lions Roar, a sonic scream that can shatter concrete. Her husband, in a really clever bit on how he has survived his wife's abuse, can evade or deflect almost any blow - and those that connect usually bounce off.

The rest of the plot is mostly senseless - it involves an unexpected savior called "The One" and an insane assassin called "The Beast" in a final showdown. But the whole film is handled with such glee and style that you won't stop grinning the whole time.

In other news, my friend Lorne is about to graduate UNT's art program, and he had several pieces in a watercolor show that we saw last night. In all, something like twelve students had pieces on display. His were, by far, the best. I'm no art critic, but in both subject and technique, there was nothing better. Woo, Lorne!

the one about the car

I bought a new car a few weeks ago, and like all new car owners, I'm a little overprotective. You know how the first time you see a ding in the otherwise immaculate paint and you pee yourself in rage? Yeah, like that.

Anyhow, it was the first week I had it, and I had some new CDs in the car. X got home from a trip and asked if he could go get them out of my car and rip them onto the computer. I said sure.

A little later, we were getting ready to go out to dinner. I drove, because - you know - showing off and all. I get in, he gets in. I stick the key in the ignition, and it won't turn.

I look over at him in the passenger seat. "What did you do to my car?"

"Nothing, why?"

"The key won't turn."

"Is the steering wheel locked?"

"If it is, I didn't lock it." I looked at him suspiciously.

He laughed. "I didn't lock it either."

I start turning the wheel back and forth while trying to turn the ignition. No dice. "Well, clearly you did something. It was working fine an hour ago when I got home from work, and now it isn't, and you're the only person who's been out here screwing around."

"Screwing around?"

"Well, what would you call it? Fuck this. I'm calling Bob." (Bob is the guy at the dealership who sold me the car.) I get out my cell phone and dial.

"Well, hi, how are you liking the new car?" Bob said, after I identified myself.

"It's great, Bob, but I've hit my first hiccup. The key won't turn in the ignition."

"Is the steering wheel locked?"

What is this, fucking Groundhog Day? "No, it isn't."

"Okay, this is probably a stupid question, but do you have the right key?"

That made me mad. "OF COURSE I HAVE THE RI...oh...wait a...minute. I have the wrong key. Goodbye now."

It turns out that each of our key fobs and car keys are the exact same size and shape (the same company makes both cars). X has been mocking me ever since.

the finger

This was on the front page of the Dallas Morning News this morning. I was hoping the two stories were related somehow. But they weren't.


In other news, Harmony called me a couple of nights ago and left a voicemail. In her most adorable peremptory tone, she demanded to know the best way to roast walnuts. Do you think that's a sign of excess gay? I think so too.

ready?

Sorry for the long delay. Among other things, X got into a fight with Verizon DSL that ended with hurt feelings all around. So we've been without internet access for several days. In fact, it was just this morning that the hairy dwarf from the cable company came bearing high-speed goodness. Anyway - there's a lot to catch you up on, and I'll get started later today. First, though, I have to go get a haircut because I'm starting to look like a goddamn hippie.

Toodles,
dV

still nothing

For god's sake, if something interesting doesn't happen soon I'm going to go fucking apeshit.

buttermilk

I took my grandmother to lunch at Guapo's today for some carnitas. ¡Ay, qué bueno gusto!

At one point during the meal, I glanced over at the family at the next table. All of them were heads-down; mom hunkered over the chips basket, dad bent over the queso, and a fat kid of indeterminate gender - before pubery, a fat boy looks a lot like a fat girl, and vice versa - playing one of those new Playstation Portables. At the table. During the meal.

One of the many, many reasons that I wouldn't make a good parent - you know, aside from hating children and all - is that if a kid of mine brought one of those things to the table I'd have whipped him until his nose bled buttermilk. And then immediately after that, CPS would have come and thrown me in the slammer.

excellent band names

X asked me the other day why I hadn't written anything lately. Easy: nothing to say. It's been an ordinary week at work, and current events, which I've been able to mine fairly regularly in the past, have been completely sucked up by L'affaire Schiavo and the Impending Pope Death. And although both of those would make excellent band names, everything that can be said, has been said. Sorry. Maybe something interesting will happen this weekend.