We're all going to fall to our deaths. Basically.

For Christsakes.

It's been fairly discouraging at work lately. We're working on a big project and everywhere we turn there's a new fucking pothole in our way. "Can't go over it, can't go under it, gotta go through it."

So we patch up the potholes, or we find a way around, or we curse until we feel better and try to move on.

But sometimes they aren't just potholes. Sometimes they are giant fucking caverns and caves and mystery mad hatter rabbit holes that lead us to hell in a goddam coffin masquerading as a hand basket.

So it's frustrating.

To say the least.

And then tonight, I was pretty pleased with myself. I tolerated my day and managed to work EXACTLY eight hours. I arrived at 9:40 and then I was perfectly ready to leave at 5:40.

So I did.

I walked in the rain to the bus stop, waited, got onto a damp and smelly bus, opened my book, and tried to tune out the world for my next 45 to 50 minutes of peace.

And then, 5 minutes from my last stop, the bus just. stopped. moving. It just stopped.

Now. In a city of expert bus designers, our buses never just stop. There are bus lanes and terminals and all forms of this-isn't-a-subway-but-it's-almost-the-same-we-swear tactics that keep our buses running smoothly.

Sometimes.

Kind of.

Probably.

So when my bus came to a dead halt in the highway bus lane, my confusion slowly turned to frustration, which in my case usually leads to homicidal tendencies.

As you can surely imagine, my murderous rage didn't improve much as we sat there FOR 25 MINUTES. 

And do you care to know WHY this injustice was brought upon me?

Behold:

POTHOLE.

It was a fucking pothole, people.

No. Not a pothole. A SINKHOLE.

That's a car. IN A SINKHOLE.

That car there - the one with its ass end sticking out of the highway - is not hunting for buried treasure; it is not pretending it is a cartoon ostrich; it is not digging a fort.

No.

That car GOT SUCKED INTO THE EARTH BY THE COMMUTING DEMON WHO IS SET ON RUINING MY LIFE.

Don't worry. The guy got out ok. He just crawled out (wtf) and now he has a great story for dinner parties. 

As for me, not only did I get home an hour late, but now I'm terrified that the ground is just going to open up randomly under my feet like those apocalypse movies when the earth cracks and all the people try to run but the crack spreads and they all get sucked in and I'm obviously going to fall miles and miles to my eventual painful demise.

Or worse, I might get trapped in a muddy pit.

Either way, it ain't pretty.

Long weekend movie mayhem

I've watched a couple of movies this weekend.  Ok, like, several movies. 

I think movies were specifically designed for long weekends - because with one extra day, it's easier to justify two-hour increments of sitting in front of a screen. 

As we speak, I'm watching Inception.  It hurts my brain to follow the detailed plot of dreams, within dreams, within dreams... but the cast is pretty awesome.  And Leo is so delicious that I barely care about the plot.

I'm actually a very skilled dreamer.  Or a bad sleeper.  I'm not sure which.  In any case, I seem to be able to direct my dreams like they were movies.  Sometimes they have elaborate characters and story lines.  I think I'm some sort of supernatural dream wizard.  Or I'm psychotic.  It isn't clear.  Of course, if I were a dream wizard, I think Leo would appear more often. 

Speaking of Leo, last night's movie choice was a good one.  Hubby and I watched The Departed.

I like this movie.  It's damn violent, but Jack Nicholson, Martin Sheen, and Alec Baldwin are pretty excellent. I don't love Matt Damon's performance, but that's ok. He's still cute. And his Boston accent reminds me of Good Will Hunting, which can never be a bad thing.  But I dare say, Marky Mark is the highlight:  "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe fuck yourself."






Yesterday was also a day for love stories. 

First I watched Cold Mountain.  This is certainly one of the most beautiful movies ever made.  I've loved it for years.  Since before Jude Law became a bit of a wiener. 

I also watched The Lucky One.

Although I generally dislike Nicholas Sparks, I have read a few of his books (hoping for something romantic). Sadly, they're all mediocre. I've since decided to stick to his movies, because the books are not only a bit blah, but they're lacking certain gorgeous men such as my boyfriend Ryan Gosling, the handsome Channing Tatum, and the surprisingly yummy adult Zac Efron.

The last on my list of recently watched is Jurassic Park. 

Now.  Please do me a favour and acknowledge that this film represents one of the most terrifying concepts of all time.  I mean, LARGE, SCARY LIZARDS ARE CHASING AND BITING PEOPLE.  A circumstance of which I'm quite certain none of you can deny the sheer terror.   


Naturally, when it ended, I was happy to see that Jurassic Park 2 The Lost World was set to follow.  Which I watched in full, despite the fact that I think Jeff Goldblum puts on a pretty rough performance.  I have to admit though, his whole style is pretty hilarious.  I'll always like his appearance in Friends the best.