Where Can I Get a Quick Degree in Film?

I can't send my six-year-old son to film school yet, but when he's about seventeen, I'm going to start filling out the applications myself. Every aspect of film making is fascinating to him - from editing to special effects. Every movie we watch creates a huge new batch of questions which I can't answer. I just can't stand to hear myself say, "I don't know," one more time. The problem is that no matter how quick the degree would be, I don't really have the desire to get one. He's the one with the passion for it.

Sure, we all have ideas and some basic knowledge about the making of movies, but could you explain to an inquisitive child how they filmed the lava scene of Revenge of the Sith in detail? Keep in mind that no quick answer will do. Right now I bet you're asking yourself why she let her son see it. Well, at least I've held off on introducing him to The Lord of the Rings (because of the orcs). My justification for letting him see the third Star Wars movie was that he had seen all of the other ones already. He needed to complete the series. Ok, I did, too. In fact, I cried at the end because Star Wars had been such a big part of my growing up.

So, back to film school. He has his theories, you know. It usually involves people really getting hurt, or very complicated procedures. But hey, at least he has ideas. I just watch them. My background with the film production pretty much ended with The Making of Thriller. I am interested in the "behind the scenes" aspects, but I've just got other stuff on my plate right now. If I'm not the reincarnation of Stanley Kubrick, then I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry.

You're going to have to be the one son. Film school here you come. Just a few years to go.

Everybody Must Get Socks

I think I need to buy some sock stocks, because it seems like everyone needs them all the time. What does so and so need for Christmas? Socks. Do you know if they prefer thick or dress socks. Both socks. Two socks of both kinds. I mean, many sets of both kinds of socks.

Socks were up by 30% last week when makers had to up their production.

"It's like, for everyone person that exists, they need like, all these pairs of socks," said Mike Knickers of Lottsa Socksas.

Maybe Bob Dylan could rewrite Rainy Day Woman #12 and 35. It could go something like this:

Well, you'll wear them when you're running down the street
You'll wear them when you've got someone to meet
You'll wear them when you're in the bed and snore
You'll wear them even when you feel so poor
But I would not wear them all alone
Everybody must get socks

Ok, has everyone had enough? This is really funny to me right now, so it socks, I mean, sucks for you, doesn't it?

Speaking of socks... I mean, doesn't anyone get them throughout the year? Does everyone just wait until Christmas to decide that they need them? You could be asking for DVDs, high def. TVs, fruit baskets and video games, but no, you just want socks.

And I'll admit it right here on the all night highway -- I want socks, too. I want them so bad. Although I'm tempted to bust out into She's So Heavy by The Beatles, I'll spare you. You probably have pies to bake, potatoes to mash, and socks to knit.

Blackeyedturpumpkinducken

The famous turducken - a turkey stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken was once all the rage for the semi-yuppy-try-something-different-non-vegetarian-meat-conscious crowd. It was the small, great crowd pleaser for circles of bird frenzyists and holiday feasters.

Now, an even more elaborate take on this multi-animal/food delight has emerged which can keep you eating the right holiday foods from Halloween to New Year's Eve, (if it doesn't rot first). It's the new "Blackeyedturpumpkinducken," which is a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken, stuffed with a pumpkin pie, stuffed with black-eyed peas, with layers of stuffing, candy corn, snickers bars, cranberry sauce and jellied champagne all wedged in between.

"So far, we haven't been able to keep them in the freezers," said local store owner Dan Owens. "Everyone wants the Blackeyedturpumpkinducken even if they don't know what it is exactly."

A survey of the average Joe on the street led us to believe that most people think that it is a special combo meal deal from Kentucky Fried Chicken or Boston Market. Basically, they think what they want, and what they want, is an ultimate selection of sides, too numerous to list without shortening up the words, and big hunks of every edible animal known to chefs.

Creators of the Blackeyedturpumpkinducken are already trying to take it to the next level for 2006 with test runs of the Blackhamturpumpkinduckendoginbearinburgeregg.

It's Happening Again!!!

Halloween is just getting started. . . The Presidential race of 2008 is fixing* to be just a couple years away. And who among us is ready to claim that it hasn't begun already?

Monday, several politicians of both popular denominations were seen trying on new faces, disguises, party-hats, clearances and overbearing wigs in this costume shop in Salem, MA.

*It takes less than two years displaced in the heart of the South for this term to seem normal, in fact, natural.

Just in case anyone needs some ideas on how to be a Pirate-Fortune-Telling-Gypsy-Wench next Halloween I put this picture up. If only I would have sewn that stuffed parakeet to my shoulder, then everyone would have known that my intention was to be a Pirate. See my understated sword and randomly placed bandanas? Don't be frightened by my eclectic booty. That's what pirates do. They collect random blankets from Mexico, Monkeys from South America and Lava Lamps from Spencer's. Gawd! Didn't anyone else see that Johnny Depp movie, "Pirates of the International Waters?"

The Chattanooga Air Show -- In the Wild, Parking Yonder

The Chattanooga Air Show, which came through on October 29 and 30, was a highly recommended event to attend, but all I could think of when I heard the words, "air show," was that I would get stuck in the environment of some kind of NASCAR event. I hadn’t been to one of those either, but I was sure that it would be overpriced, overpopulated and overrated. I imagined us not going, but knew deep down, that my preconceptions would not hold in lieu of my young son’s desire to see wild airplanes do flips at 750 mph.

So, the goal was to park as close as possible to the airport, walk, and then get tickets. Once we had the airstrip of Lovell Field Airport in view, we thought we could just join the line of cars that had parked on the decently sized shoulder. After I parked, I unfortunately made the mistake of asking the busy cop, who was directing traffic, if it was all right to park there. It seemed that all of the regular cars sprinkled among the cop cars also belonged to cops. Because I could not bring myself to lie and say, "Yes, I am a police officer, Officer," to his question of whether or not I was authorized to park on the shoulder, I had to move on. It was just another perk of being a cop that I would never get to experience, like severe discounts at stores and free tickets.

After we left, I tried some of the maneuvers I had learned from my father as a young girl for dealing with high volume crowds. There’s the old, park-at-the-DMV method, and hope that the jerk, who is illegally charging people $5 to park, doesn’t see you drive in. Then there’s the try-to-park-in-the-V.I.P.-lot trick, even though you’re not a pilot, or a V.I.P. ticket holder, as if you have some kind of Obi-Wan mind control, which is going to let you breeze in, unlike the 5,000 people before you.

Luckily, I remained out of jail and unticketed the entire day. My son even got to see for himself that he really would get out of the car. I owed our success to my friend, who called back at the right moment revealing that she was also hesitant to pay the $18 to stand in the line of fire of F/A-18 Hornets being flown by the U.S. Navy’s Blue Angels. She suggested that we just park at the nearby, industrial/business parking lot, across the highway from the airport, that was full of tailgaters, and other non-V.I.P., ticket dodgers.

As it often happens, I went from being the most skeptical, to the most impressed. I even got over the whole fuel wasting by the air show hang-up I had, although the entire sky over Chattanooga had indeed become a haze of exhaust. I’m sure that I was, "oohing," and, "aweing," along with the other spectators, because it was truly overwhelming to watch them negotiate gravity oddities like flying straight up and down. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. Because the sound came after, you would just be sitting there, and the next thing you knew, there were jets right above your head.

Retribution for not buying tickets was nearly paid to us when my son had to be driven immediately to a fast food restroom just at the start of the grand finale. We still got to see the six-jet, Delta Formation, but not without some initial moments of panic. As soon as my son disappeared into the restroom, all six jets flew right over Hardees, where my son was taking his sweet time. I screamed into the men’s room, "They’re here! Right over our heads! Hurry!" We had no idea how long the finale would last, but we had to drive the few blocks back to our free spot, because we wanted to enjoy the end with our friend. In addition, even though we had to do a bit of driving ourselves during The Blue Angels’ display of wondrous aero-activity, it was apparently, nothing like trying to do so on the highway. From our crowd-light location, we saw cars instantaneously breaking as the drivers tried to absorb the visual overload of jets shooting back and forth across the highway at what seemed like only one-hundred feet up.

I know that we missed out on some treats by not buying our way into the real deal. From our brief adventures spent trying to get closer to the airport, we had seen all kinds of aircraft on the airstrip, along with giant bungee contraptions, which were letting people jump twenty feet into the air. Well, who knows? Next time, maybe we’ll splurge for a V.I.P., or specially marked cop spot so we too, can get the ultimate, completely-not-NASCAR, air show experience.

Each Day is Better with Barnacle's Sardines!

"It's the right time to have a sardine!"

We just don't know how to sell sardines anymore. When is the last time you saw a commercial for them? Can you even picture it? ...wavy screen, wavy screen...

[Boy sits at clean kitchen table after school - school bus driving away in the window.]

Boy: Mom?-
Mom: Yes, Honey?
Boy: I'm huungryyyy.
Mom [big, knowing smile]: I know just the thing...

[Cut to boy with sardine innards just dotting the corner of his mouth.]

Boy: Mmmm! Mom, these sardines are delicious!

We've seen this style work for thousands of other items -- pudding, fruit snacks, pizza bagels, combos, pastry streudals... But sardines? I just don't see it.

Who is eating sardines? Ok, I'll admit it. My family is, but it is by no means linked to any advertising whatsoever. In fact, it's kind of difficult to buy them at all. We have to reach up to the top shelf at the grocery store to get them like they are some kind of noodee mag, and sometimes, they hardly have any in stock. [I misspelled the magazine genre on purpose - spammers are getting really clever. We'll know tomorrow if they saw through that one.] Sardines are nasty, but no worse really, than what you see when you eat a roasted chicken or a steak.

Alright, who is with me here? What does the RSS feed say about the word on the street over sardines? Tell it to me like it is. Don't hold back.

Beyond Shoe Dome

What is it with shoes lately? Keep in mind, that I am picky and cheap about shoes, therefore, never satisfied, but really, has anyone seen these shoes!? They seem to be everywhere. All strappy and criss-crossy. Every single time that I see them I think, "Beyond Thunderdome, the Shoes," or "There's those Mad Max shoes again." I guess I'm going to have to go back and watch these again to see exactly what this strong association has to do with...

Oh yeah, maybe it is the totally whacked out Mad Max attire, which looks much like these shoes being offered by Sketchers and plenty of other makers.

If that isn't enough, there are also these really flat, sequined, completely impractical dress-flats which are seeping into shoe stores as well. I've actually considered buying the Mad Max shoes, but then realized that I would feel like I needed to go siphon off someone's gas tank when I was wearing them. These little fairy, witch, torture shoes though? No way. I'd probably be more comfortable going in socks and nothing else (besides clothes, of course).

I'm probably going to breakdown and get those slip-on mocs from Land's End or L.L.Bean. At least they will be comfortable and non-obtrusive under jeans. Oh yeah, and I won't have to get hijacked by a roving band of Australian, post-nuclear bandits if I wear them.