Movie Review: The Robber (2010)

(*Mild Spoiler Warnings)

I've been watching kung-fu/chop-sockey movies for a long, looooong time. Since getting into karate years ago, I found that I could establish a new appreciation for how the respective martial art forms translate (usually into pretty s#itty movies) onto the big screen. Now if we wanted to strike up a parallel, you probably couldn't get me to draw the same conclusion about running movies. While running/distance running/recreational (and Olympic) racing can been found onscreen for years as a plot device ("Chariots of Fire", "Personal Best", both "Prefontaine" movies...including the one with Crudup and the other one with Jordan Catalano come to mind), those films tend to fall in the "dull" category of "sports films".

Then we have movies dealing with a character "running" running and...yeah, I've frassed about good running in movies before. (Franke Potente does it RIGHT in "Run Lola Run", Matt Damon in the "Bourne" movies, Daniel Craig as "Bond", the Mayan's in "Apocalypto"...say what you will about Mel, but he runs well in movies ala' "Lethal Weapon 2" and directs good running. The same, however, can not be said about Mr. Steven "Flippers" Seagal. It's true)

As another parallel, I didn't start noticing running (i.e. how people run) in movies universally until I started distance/race training. (See "Apocalypto") Because let's face it: A movie with people karate chopping people in the face to advance the plot is infinitely more rewarding than a movie about watching Marathon after Marathon. (Pleeeease, don't get me wrong- it's important to WATCH races live as I've already established. The cheering is brilliant. The concept of it onscreen, though is akin to watching "Manos" over and over.)

Since I 1st heard of this movie I was very curious, and it took me a while to get it in my queue line so that I could enjoy it on my big screen- And I was presented with a first: An enjoyable and wholly satisfying heist thriller that uses running as the through line. I just said that.

Based on the true life exploits of the Austrian Bank Robber "Shotgun Ronnie" aka Johann Kastenberger, it tells the tale of a marathon runner who is released from prison only to start back on a criminal path as soon as he's released. His M.O. includes wearing a Ronald Reagan mask and knocking over multiple banks at a time- by running from bank to bank. Yes. In the meantime, he keeps up his alibi by setting numerous Austrian marathon records including a mountain Mary.

There were quite a few things that endeared me to the movie from the start. When we first meet Johann, he's running circles in the prison courtyard wearing technical gear and a Garmin. (Nice prison, btw) When called back to his cell, he resumes running on a treadmill (REALLY Nice prison, btw.) Immediately after release and meeting w/his parole officer- he knocks over a bank. (This happens w/in the first 8 minutes). Eventually he hooks up with an old female friend and starts a romantic relationship with her, all while training, winning marathons, and knocking over multiple banks. As you can imagine, his world begins to squeeze in on him as soon as she finds out about his double-life.

Interspersed throughout the movie are wonderfully filmed running scenes. Whether it's an sprint to escape across a field/park, training in front of a running club, volunteering as a guinea pig for a shoe firm to test his stride/bloodwork for extra money, crossing numerous finish lines- it's a fairly accurate depiction of the life of a dedicated and serious distance runner. (A favorite scene is after robbing a bank he's removing his telemetry strap and plugs it into his laptop to gauge his heart rate before, during, and after the robbery to see if there were areas for improvement.)

Since this is a drama, it should be said that the ending is more "Heat" than "The Town" (although his mask evokes images from that similar film) but at a little over 90 minutes it clips along at a brisk pace (PUN!) without dragging out unnecessary exposition. He is who he is, and can't stop himself from being who he is as much as he wouldn't be able to stop himself from running.

Highly recommended thriller/heist movie, but especially to runners of anything ranging from a 5K to an Ultra.

(The Robber is currently available on Netflix Streaming)

4.5/5

Make your early heart-healthy resolution!

(Article attached below) When I'm treadmillin', if I'm not running lines or plugged into the local news/Jeopardy I'll occasionally grab a magazine from the gym courtesy shelf by the exercise bikes. Mostly it's to cover the 'mill monitor (I dislike constantly knowing my time/mileage if I'm doing a long-ish dreadmill run. I'll occasionally peek to see where I am, but mostly it's a better motivator for me to concentrate on running form or listen to "S-words for $400, Trebek!") Magazines just aren't easy to read on the 'mill...typically failing in staying open unless you're just walking.

I grabbed the most recent Musclemag International (One of the rags I used to subscribe to in my youth. This one had a vein-y moose-y guy on the cover advertising "bigger delts just by sitting down!!!") and after about 3 miles or so I decided to start flipping through the advertisments (of which, 3/4th's of the magazine is comprised) bodybuilding workouts (of which...okay, I confess I might try one starting in January. Details to follow.) And found a list of articles called "Muscle Bites" (whatever. I don't work creative for the rag, okay?) and in it, there were the monthly doses of wisdom/random fitness facts- one of which prompted me to bogart the article from the magazine, research some of the facts, and post it here today.

(Sources cited. I found this particular article fascinating since it falls within conversations I've had recently with some other gym-rat buddies- not necessarily argumentative, mind you. I just like the simple logic behind it. And the American Journal of Physiology. Natch. Enjoy.)

DUST OFF THE RUNNING SHOES (Musclemag Dec 2011 issue, in "Muscle Bites")

Although studies have shown weight training increases metabolism and therefore helps to burn calories longer after a workout, researchers at Duke University Medical Center (Durham, NC) conducted an 8-month study that found aerobic exercise (such as jogging) is better than resistance training for losing belly fat in particular. Aerobic training greatly reduce visceral and liver fat (found in the abdomen), improving risk factors for heart disease and other health problem, whereas weight training alone didn't.

Aerobic exercise burns 67% more calories than weight training.

Source: American Journal of Physiology , published 8/16/2011

Please note: This was included with other "bites" including "Daily Exercise Reduces the Risk of Death" and another article advising to speed your metabolism w/Hot Peppers.

Farewell to Grundlepusses...

Deuce Castle: The Punisher. (We watched "Punisher: War Zone" last night. A crazy, crazy movie- btw. Not "bad". Just..."Crank" level crazy. Also, my pacifist charge did not want to pose with said replica gun. Good boy.)

Today will mark the end of my dog-sitting posts. It's been a fun test-drive for a while, however I'm looking forward to getting back to routine over the Holidays with the last month or so having been a roller-coaster of sorts. It'll also serve as a explanation as to why I'm far from a suitable candidate for pet ownership of any sort. (Seriously? There seems to be this unspoken arbitrary concept that if you have a yard, and own a home? You need a pet. This, friends, is just not the case with me.)

So...did you guys know that I work out? Yeah yeah...so one of the dumb things I usually don't riff about here is the non-run/karate/weight-centric stuff that comprises my morning "routine". Almost every work day morning, in lieu of coffee I try and stretch out and do core work and push-ups. (Skipping the crunches/leg lifts at the gym saves time. And if you aren't doing your ab work- do. After 20 years, I figured out that I actually notice when I my "center" is getting weak...and not just "flabby")

Deuce...has hindered that a bit. By way of saying he lays across my chest or puts his paw on my forehead. Or tries to crawl under my body. And pushing him away actually encourages him. I'd like to think he's playing "personal trainer", but it's actually kind of a nuisance.

And that's...that's just a small part of it. It's "cute" when he sleeps in my bed but he's a hog. There's also the responsibility. I've been flying solo this last month and in getting used to being "alone" means I need to acclimate myself to the concept of what my day to day is going to be like. To "ride the waves" and just see how and where life carries me. Dig? Every day this week I've been scampering home like a wombat to let him out, getting up earlier to feed him, get him his specialty food. Oh, and the cost. I'm a floater with out a large amount of disposable income, and what income I do have? I want to/like to travel. (Have you any IDEA how expensive dog food is? Moda's cat food with the noble cougar on the bag was like taking out a 2nd mortgage whenever you had to hit Petsmart!) Not to mention vet visits, emergencies, shots, other pets, "walkies".

Lastly...'nother little known fact? I'm a neatnik. Ever since first setting out on my own it's been my "thing". Make the bed. Hang up the clothes. Vacuum/Dust regularly. Make sure the sinks empty at night etc. (RECESSIVE GENE? RECESSIVE GENE!!!) And the things that I've never been a huge fan of regarding pets involve de-linting, de-pooping (either the backyard or a cat box) and trying to keep foul smells to a minimum. So I guess that goes for both pets and babies. ZING!

See, outside of girlfriends/roommates? I've never "owned" a pet of my own. With Georgie Teh Kitteh, I had a Jellybean roommate who was (if you can believe it) more obsessive with the maintenance of the beast than even I could ever be. (If you ever saw his daily morning routine...of how he fed him. Cleaned the box daily, including getting down on his hands and knees to hand-sweep into a dustbin any residual litter...well it's actually fairly inspired.) And with the Deuce, while it's nice that the Bean has volunteered daily to be on dog-walking detail for both of their benefit? It's not something I can rely on the day-to-day. Nor would I impose that on him. Without the Bean, I'd have been running home over lunch to let him out.

Soooo...yeah. The few benefits I've glommed this week are that he's a low-key dog who doesn't bark and has good fur...and my roommate likes taking him for the occasional walk to meet chicks. My dressing him in funny poses makes me a weirdo versus a quality pet owner.

So that's that. I'm good for pet-sitting, to be sure. And I'm good with animals. But like with babies, I like to be able to give them back and return to my peaceful albeit frassy day-to-day. Couple that with a streak of worry-wortness. Mea Culpa, yo.

For your benefit, and for those aminal (sp?) lovers out there who've enjoyed seeing the hootenanny hijinks of one Mssr. Deucalion, I leave you with photos my roommate took of him frolicking at the dog park. Say buh-bye, Deuce-y! Hep Hep Hep Hep HEP!!!


This is my stick. There are many other sticks like it, but this one is mine.

Frolic and romp. The Jellybean was a little nonplussed with the park, citing that it was a "sausage-fest". I don't get it? Doggeh's love snausages. (I told him to try a Saturday or Sunday if he wishes to see the lovelies...or drive him to Minnehaha)

The Bean mentioned a brief panicky stare down when the pointer down there gave in to his baser instincts and growled at the Deuce. An intervention occurred.

King of the Hill?

King. Of. The. M##herF##king Hill. Beeeeeeyotch.

Come back! Come BACK, Deuce!!! Deuce...Don't GO!!!

Au Revoir, pal. See you on Adam's couch. Or when he goes out of town and doesn't want to pay for a pet hotel. ; )

Deuce Bigelow

Deuce Hefner, in robe and 1974 Pl'boy..."Well hello, young lady. You look very lovely tonight and- say...are you over 18 and want to get into modelling?" Sorry ladies. He's a eunuch, but a helluva cuddler.

Tonight was another gym procrastinator while I scampered home to inspect my charge. The roommate was home and homeworkin' but informed me they went on an "Epic" walk and made an impromptu visit to Redwright before heading home. We discussed a potential dog-park visit on the weekend during the daylight hours, both of us still holding on to our reservations about it not being our dog and what would happen if "something" were to happen... (It was here that he gave me another tip that if he was out on a walk? And it was a female dog-walker? He'd stop and chat. If it they were male? He'd scamper across the street or turn around. He's a scoundrel.)

In lieu of a gym visit and to tucker him out I went on a 2 mile jaunt myself around the parkway. My original intent was a dog-park visit-swear- but it's been dipping down in the single-digits and frankly? My hairy step-brother was having a better time of it than I was. I considered taking him on a run, but chickened out. Sue.

And when we got home, it was treats and cuddlin to the Robert Altman classic "McCabe and Mrs. Miller". (A movie where prostitution is a theme. Hence the jerry-rigged pimp outfit on the Deuce) The film, I have nothing to say about since we both started falling asleep about an hour in. Better than NyQuil, that Altman. To all my insomniatic friends? You're welcome.

My dinner with Deuce're...

Pictured: The grundler keeps the backyard varmint-free. He also piddled in the area where I planted asparagus...which, for some reason, I find ironic and hilarious.

Fact the first: In the winter time I bring my gym bag with me to work so that it doesn't freeze in my car. (Anyone dressing at the gym after their gear has spent 8 hours in a subzero car knows how much trying to put on frozen clothing sucks) The logic is that I can go from work to the gym and BOOM done. Workout accomplished.

Fact the second: I suck at this and invariably wind up going home. In the sweeter months it's fine- I usually can just run early in the a.m. or after work on a beautiful day. Or both. I'm easy. But after a long-ass day I tend to drift toward finding excuses to go straight home. (Not to be too self-loathing, the excuses are easier when I have a gig or event to attend. Or karate. Natch. Or...)

I HAVE A DEUCE-EXCUSE! Yes, I found myself barrelling home and bypassing the gymnasium in order to attend his Grundlyness. Fortunately, my roommate has taken on the task of being the daytime sitter- I fielded a remarkable number of texts from him over lunch letting me know that he has time to come home between work and school and take him for a walk. (His alterior motive was admitted in his last text, whereas he said that maybe he'll meet another single female dog-walker out in the world...and I'm fine with that. Go get'em!)

It's pretty amazing how low-key this guy is. AL told me that he's low-maintenance and he wasn't kidding. Treats and snoozin'? Snoozin' and treats...and he's good. No chewing shoes. No piddlin/poopin in the house when left alone. No barkin'. The only concession is that he knows "out" and where "out" is. (At his home at the lofts, "out" time means crossing through the building to the common dog area. At the casa, he's very aware that the back door is the out door. And he'll sit and look frassy at the door, tail a-wagging...and he just came in 2 minutes previously)

Still, he loves the backyard. Plenty of smells, plenty of sticks, and plenty of squirrels. If I wasn't such a chicken shit (of other dogs, not him) I'd meander down to the St. Anthony dog park. Except...see the aforementioned laziness. AND the fact that it was MOVIE NIGHT!

And today's episode ends on the couch with Smashburger black bean burger (soooo good), shared sweet potato fries (wow. wow wow wow.) and "Conan the Barbarian". (1981. Deuce really loved the score.) Also...we've discovered the bed. Just...just see below.

Black bean burger- not a reconstituted patty, mind- and sweet tater fries. Notice half the cup is missing? That was NOT me. You're welcome, Grundlepuss.

I'm in ur bedz! Sleepin' on the diagonal! (Taken in pitch black. Surprise!)

I will NO be moved...oh, wait...did you say O-U-T? If I must...but I can't...the bed...she is too warm.

Waitaminnit...you said this movie was in 3D? You sleep on a bed of LIES, sir!

Squirrels? Not on my watch...

Oh...hello Doggie.

Hey. Hey! This rope ain't gonna tug itself!

A conversation from back in September:

"You need a dog"

"What?"

"You need an old jazz dog"

"I don't need a dog"

"Dude. You have a yard"

"That I don't want filled with dogshit"

"Whatever. You need a dog"

Sighs...

Meet "Deuce". He isn't mine. He belongs to a jazz musician. However, while said musician is doing musical things in NYC this week I will be cataloging our time together for lack of any other blogworthy material. (I've begun hunker-down mode for the winter, and if I bore your teets off with karate/work-out kerfluffles I fear that my 2 readers would bail) This may or may not include some fanTAStic pictures...he very much likes to wear hats. So:

Deuce-bag was dropped off with instructions. He's been fed. Acclimated to the backyard. And snuffled my bed to claim his spot. However, I was abandoned around 11pm when my roommate came home and he had a new hand to pet him. Then I found out he's staked a claim on the loveseat in the TV room. Which means my previously imagined scenario of he and I being BFF's for the next 4 nights...watching "Sex in the City" and eating tacos? Nope.

He does like sweet potato fries. And ice cream. HEP HEP HEP HEPPPP!!!

Title Wave

I really had to write something about this movie. It wouldn't go away, it's simply that affecting. And unless you missed the class on sarcasm in junior high, the reason I viewed this trainwreck of a movie- streaming..and in fast-forward- was because my friend D-Gangs made a comment regarding a streaming snafu he experienced: "I was trying to watch the 90's action flick 'Blown Away' starring Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee Jones on Netflix instant last night, Instead I got a Corey's soft core flick."

What Davey's error meant, was that he sat through some of this:


Nicole Eggert, channeling pre-"Clueless" Alicia Silverstone in 1992. Haim just looks plain stoned.

With this:

In 1994, it was okay to believe that Tommy Lee Jones could passably play an IRA bomber, complete with Irish accent...that he ordered from a box of Lucky Charms. To be fair, Bridges tries to affect his own later in the movie, but it's so bad. Not even "good" bad. SUCKS! Of course, the similarity in the box art could be confusing. Could have been worse...could have been a remake of "Blow Dry"...

I had to...had to write an article

Can you believe we live in a world that shakes it's head collectively when LiLo gets sent to jail for 5 hours? Harder still to believe that, with audiences salivating over the closing saga of "Twilight" and who's team would you be on, young performers were generally relegated to the kind of passing interest that we save for Victoria's Secret ads on the side of a moving bus. Which is to say, rarely were the teens in these movies hung with the microscopic fascination we do these days.

Because for the kajillion boyfriends/best friends in the back ground of a 80's/90's feature film who get quickly forgotten (where- if fate allows- they can reinvent themselves on a successful sit-com television in the 2000's...maybe even an Oscar!) we had a handful of teen heartthrob actrons that spent weeks on the covers of teeny-bopper magazines and seemed, you could believe, that they'd be on top of the world forever! Riding trends, fads, clothing styles, haircuts like they were a luck-dragon...befriending famous pop music stars or professional athletes and directors. Drugged and drunken Tomfoolery was passed off as "exhaustion" and could quickly be glossed over for bigger grown-up stars problems, while Drew Barrymore was posing for Playboy to restore her "cred". (And let's not forget the perpetual f#ck up, Robert D Jr. He had yet to prove his talent and become the shining example of talent and redemption he went on to embody 2, 3, 5 x's over until he was almost washed up. Even River Phoenix had another year left in him)

And then we have the Corey's...His Haimliness and Feldman. And folks, for someone who has a HUGE soft spot for "The Lost Boys", "The Goonies", and even to a lesser extent "License to Drive" and "Dream A Little Dream" (if only because the latter was on HBO in rotation every two hours, you just couldn't get away from it, or from the stupid "James Dean" song from the soundtrack. Or that could just be foreshadowing. Annnnyway)

It's not every day we get a movie that will capture the hubris and downfall of a pair of, if not talented, at least popular actors of their day. If you think about it, the balancing act of hopefulness and reality was petering out at the end of the 80's. The 90's pushed in a major event during the time of this film's release: Sharon Stone's pubic hair. By presenting audiences with hard, violent crime films (not gritty, mind you, unless we're still talking about her merkin) we were shuffling off the teen heart throb image that was so popular in the 80's and looking for real people. (And many of these heart throbs were heading to the small screen anyway.) And let's face it...The Corey's were getting older. And since we were still a minute or two away from the mid-90's that would usher in the quiet "Independent Film Drama" that allowed many "stars" to pursue projects that challenged them as actors, and hopefully created a renaissance for audiences to accept that they could move past their old images.

Except I'm pretty sure these two burn boys just read a draft from their agent which made them think it was all going to be love scenes and 8-balls...Hoooooeeeee. Poor bastards. Where to begin? (It's here that I need to point out that I barely made it past the opening credits before realizing I made a horrible mistake. Since I had a real acting event to attend...you know...a "play"? I ended up fast forwarding it so that it pretty much lasted all of 22 minutes. Still. Too long)

The problem isn't the plot, which is stupid. (17 year old rich girl seduces Haim in order to convince him to kill her dad...when it's implied that her dad may have killed her mom. Feldman is around to trade name-calling with Haim. Nicknames like "clown nuts" and "dick nose". Honestly, this was the dialogue that spoke to me the most, since it's the way I talk to my best friend. Except...you know...we didn't go scouting high school chicks parties when we were 24 years old- I mean did I mention she's supposed to be under-age? And that's a good thing?)

Anyway, what acts as a depressing time-capsule is how both of those dudes, who're at the ripe age of 21 in 1993 (or 1992 when they might've filmed it) looked like 37 year old burn-outs. It doesn't look it...in their body language, interacting with each other as "buds", or when they take their clothes off (which they both do. A lot. As does Ms. Eggert. Which makes it difficult at times to differentiate during the awkward writhing love scenes between she and "The Haim", since he still has that downy physique of a 14 year old anorexic. Here's a hint- she's wearing a gallon of spray tan.) It's just when we first see them try to play themselves out at a party, they invariably do look like the sad older dudes who get up at weddings to dance along with the hip cool sounds of the early 80's while the younger crew waits at the corner of the dance floor staring stupidly while THEY wait to hear Ke$ha.

Wait.

Oh...and writhe they do. Their first coupling is an exercise in awkward groping, with Haim undressing her with the zeal and confusion of someone recently released from EST. Eggert looks mildly put upon. And...I'm sorry, she's supposed to be 17 years old. I don't know why this bothered me so much when I can watch a Larry Clark movie and "get it". Oh wait. Yes I do. It's because his face STILL looks like a 37-year-old burn out! Feldman delivers his lines with the same forced gravelly growl he gave his Frog brother back in 1987's "The Lost Boys" but with his lame pony tail, effeminate way of cupping his cigarette "European" style, and posturing...it doesn't reeeeeeeally shriek "I'm a badass! Quiet! Dangerous!"

And then...they fight. Yes, the Corey's (clearly not emulating their "real-life" relationship) get into a knock-down drag'em out fight...that has the force, swagger, and gusto that you'd see between two kittens in a slap fest. I actually got angry at this point and sped up the film to the end. Bad fight choreography can suck, even if they aren't "fighters", per se. But when it hurts...then you pray for their ruination.

Anyway, Eggert did it. And at the bitter end we have a protracted show down scene between the three of them and some cops which wins the award for the lamest death scene by a character when Eggert FINALLY bites it...in fact, it's either king-sized lame or needs to be in a hall-of-fame somewhere next to the awful death's Schwarzenegger bestowed in "Raw Deal" and "Commando" combined.

Anyway, you have three actors...one of whom (Eggert) would stay on and retain notoriety on "Baywatch" for the next few years and doing another couple of Straight-To-Video starkers. The Corey's would have to wait for their time to rise again, and even then it'd be really to parody themselves. Haim wasn't able to bring himself back...he just kept on spiraling.

Anyway...this movie depressed the shit out of me, and then made me feel a little better about my talent as an actor while I was at it.

Another quick sabbatical

Hello, readers. Just wanted to give you a quick heads up that I'll be engaging in another brief blogging sabbatical. I shall return. And happy trails.

In which we close down the marathon season...

...for now. I guess Team Ortho added a half-Marathon this coming January to the Polar Dash and...I'm sorry. That should be renamed the Frostbite 13. Not worth the commemorative medal, nuh-uh...

Pictured: The author, pre-Monster Dash on 10/29/2011. Temperatures at approximately 7:30 a.m. were hovering in the high 20's. Yes. Feeling was lost in our extremities.

Well I survived the final half-marathon of 2011 and I'm pleased to say my easy-going gameplan entering the race paid off in the form of shaving 14 minutes off of my previous half-marathon PR. Pip.

And it was cold, too. Lord. Frosty ground. Knee-rattling weather. It seemed (as we pulled up next to the cathedral in a rock-star space) that the rock-star space was going to be the only respite. Thankfully, there's a church nearby! They'll take in the tired and poor huddled runners! Right? Kind of. The interior temperature wasn't much warmer than outside. The bishops were crusting out (mildly) the runners who were posing for pictures and fouling their restroom with their pre-race constitutionals while they tried to perform their Saturday morning service.

I was too busy mentally wondering how I'd manage getting in and out of my Spidey-suit in order to pee a second time with fingers that were numb if I was separated from Moda. (For a funnier story about that and her own reflections, go here.) By the time we decided to head outside to see if it had warmed up (It hadn't) the grounds and streets around cathedral hill were now swarming with runners- from the meticulously planned and hilariously costumed (There were Q-Tips, Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding, generic "kitty-cats", plenty of "Where's Waldos", Animals, Aliens, Produce ala' "banana-man", cave people, and in our group: The game "Operation", Audrey Hepburn, Spider-Mikey, and an overworked and exhausted writer/actress) to the hard core runners...in their technical tops, wraparound shades, fleece hoodies, gobs of body glide for their nips and anti-glare for under their eyes.

In other words, those who looked warm, comfortable, and ready...and the rest of use be-lycra'ed idiots.

Pictured: Be-lycra'ed idiot #7365. Does my choice of super-hero make me look fat? Or the oft-commented superfluous short-shorts? Whatever. It cut out the wind-chill to the little web-shooter if you know what I mean.

After a freezing stand-around waiting in front of the Biffies while the pre-gun countdown was announced, we managed to dress (I did, anyway) and do a fast trot to find the 2:00 pace group. (Our only "real" strategery was to hang out with that particular group and see how we were feeling periodically on the course.) We found our way to an empty pocket. Did some quick hammy and quad stretches while making small talk around us (met a guy who had just ran his first ultra) and then "Boom". Go time.

After the 1st 2 miles or so Moda asked to hang back a little to have a comfortable and enjoyable run while I attempted my due diligence by standing next to the lady with the time-stick. After engaging with small chit-chat with some other runners we came to our first down hill and I got all excited for the burst of speed. So looking down at my little scamper steps I motored, only looking up when the road started even-ing out and the cop cars started bottle necking us in...and realized I had promptly lost my pacer. Fudge.

Thankfully, I still saw some costumed butts up ahead that were originally in my line of vision so I hung with them. And if I passed'em, I'd find new butts to stare at. Isn't racing fun? Occasionally I'd do the doofy thing and blather lines in the "voice" of whatever costume I'd pass next to. (Count von Count for example was "6! 6, magical miles remaining...Ah. Ha. Ha. Haaa!" Ron Burgundy got "ST.PAUL! Founded by the Aztecs in the 16th century, it's Spanish for 'WHALE'S VAGINA'...!" Stuff like that) I checked in with Garmin'd people to get a rough sense of pace and chatted with some older folks- with a second agenda to make sure they were doing okay. (Mile 7 tends to be the pain-in-the-ass wall during Half-Mary's that can be hard to overcome with out a little motivation, IMO.)

And I guess that was it, too. I kind of felt what Moda told me about when she did Grandma's and there were long stretches with no friends/cheerleaders/run-buddies keeping you company. Just you and the chilly and bright fall parkway. Which wasn't bad. Just, soul-searingly desolate. It was here I sort of missed my Ipod, actually. (To be fair, A/D + Henry were on the course...and I'm pretty sure I scared the shit out of the people around me when- at mile 10- I screamed this!)

To wrap up...I had a little cutie pie catch up with me yelling "Spider-Man! I've been using you to keep pace!" and so we kept each other company until around mile 11.5. Her first half-Mary with a similar goal of finishing sub-2:00, I gave what meager pointers I felt weren't insulting or intrusive ("Let's work those downhills!"/"Looking great!"/"I hit 'reset' when we got to mile 10...so we just have a lil' old 5K race left!" and that sort of frassy ilk.) And with the city and the thickening crowds indicating the end was near I put on the best burst of speed I could muster. (It was here that I realized I should have been wearing a Spidey suit for every race with the number of people screaming "Go Spidey GO!" towards the end.)

I eyeballed the clock and was painfully satisfied that I actually was able to make it back in sub-2:00 with some change...(The clock reading 2:06 as I hit the medal line.) and it wasn't until my friends came over the line and were able to check the times on the website that Moda pats my arm and said "Holy shit, Mikey...1:53:02?!?"

14 minutes better than my last PR at the Boom.

40 minutes faster than my first half in 2010 at the Mpls Marathon.

I barely registered this b/c I was too busy laughing at the banana-suited guy trying to get his medal over the top of his costume which was about 2 feet higher than his actual head.

So yes. I'm really pleased. This was a big-frassy accomplishment for me that I can honestly say one year ago I'd have never completed. (Moreover, I've a better understanding of how proud Moda was last year during the same race when she PR'd with her best at sub-two. It's a great feeling. Until you can barely find yourself standing upright waiting for your mylar cape.)

Good job, Team Awesome!

Pictured: Proud Monster Dashers, racing and running friends, trail and course Ipod lip-synchers/air-guitarists, and on the far right...naked clowns.

In which we run "scary" far...

Pictured...part of my Monster Dash ensemBLAH! "Spider-Mike and his AMAZING Friends!" Convenient that I had it sittin' in storage, more importantly when I dug it up I still had the stretchy winter gloves I had originally used back in 1998 or so. (Nice for a chilly morning trot) The puff paint was a spur-of-the-moment piece of artistic improvisation that I immediately regretted when I proceeded to get it all over my hands, forearms, legs, and yes...my face. And it stains.

Also...wrist-shooter wrist bands? Hello? Geek? Or CREATIVE MISUNDERSTOOD GENIUS?!?!

The Monster Dash marks my LAST race of the season in 2011- a season marked with fairly dramatic personal improvement, IMO, as well as a new found sense of camaraderie with my friends and new runners who've decided to brave the pavement in pursuit of logging ridiculous weekly distances. I've approached my last two Half-Mar's without gunning for PR's or other lofty goals and I found myself actually planning out and setting up a training plan for this one
in the interest of (hopefully) finishing it Sub-Two. Which over the last two weeks...I more or less dropped.


Rock N' Roll, Spider Nike Mikey. Not pictured: Where'll the Garmin live?

It's not that I don't want to finish sub-two or attempt to use this race as my first attempt to really push the shit out of myself...I just got into my head a liiiiittle too much. I started getting pings and pains here and there. Then the last few weeks of October got themself good and filled from morning to night with work, rehearsal, tours, etc...not to mention I was racing the clock with house projects, the garden, the lawn...MN pre-winter prep...I felt up to my eyeballs in stuff...and by last week or so my lofty race goals just kind of started to... drift a bit.

That said, I performed a mental Etch-A-Sketch shake and reset my brain to "simplify", and made a new game plan which is simply to do my best to run a good race. Go the distance running. To push myself (and hang with the 2:00 hr pace group for as long as possible). To finish strong. And most importantly to have fun with my friends who have been (whether aware or not) a source of pride, support, and joy since we started our outdoor trots together back in April. (Remember the picture FeeJ snapped?)

And seriously? A body suit that can effectively serve as cold-weather technical gear? I pity anyone trying to run in those stupid "Sexy" costumes. (And for people who use face paint make-up. Man. If I tried to be a Zombie Runner? Besides looking like a douchebag? My face would be a gray and red runny mess by mile 3). I think that my being dressed as Die Spinne will be much easier to spot than when I'm wearing super high modesty-proof shorts. Possibly.

I'm not gonna lie- I'm insanely happy to be done with the distance running for 2011. It'll be nice to get back into a routine where I'm runnin' shorties without worrying about tempo/hill/speed work. I'm excited to get back to the karate studio to work on "different" muscles and to start sparring again. To go to the gym to "only" lift weights...yeah. For a while, anyway. Or until I get a bug up my ass to do a full Mary. One day at a time, Michael. Please.

Lastly- I'm starting to write an article that I hope to submit to Runner's World for their blog, or even for their magazine. I can't stress enough that the 12 months have been both a hard and yet wonderfully transformative time for me while I wear this strange distance "running" persona I've adopted. I'd like to think the story I tell (One that isn't relegated to my frassy blog soundbites) is one that might provide runners- new or old- with the kind of support and insight that I've found on my distance trots. It's been a trip.

I leave y'all with my umpteenth plea to come out and support the Monster Dash 2011. The adoration and cheers of the crowds are one of the most appreciated parts of the experience. And I hope to see you out there. Oh, and this guy? This guy stays clean until Halloween. Or maybe brunch after the race. See you on the course...

Closing up Horror-thon 2011

To recap: I've been trying to get through my Netflixed list of Horror themed movies in October. I've got a small amount of recapping to do, as I've been posting mini-reviews on another site...and to be fair the movie "Zombi" could warrant a 42 page thesis in and of itself. That said, this will be partly compartmentalized since I've made some headway since my last review...AND the Monster Dash is coming up...much more entertaining things to frass about.

So.

I made it through a film series in its entirety. I made it through some 70's genre. A remake. An indie surprise. And...my most regrettable decisions...the "controversial/banned" horror genre. I'll be focusing on the franchise piece today and offering up morsels about the remaining films by way of thumbs upping/downing their respective worths IMNSHO. Let's just say, to rip off about 87 different horror film taglines...sometimes the past should stay dead and buried. Esp. one particularly stupid street in Ohio and the homeless kobold in a Christmas sweater with a bag ladies fingernails...

Pictured: Video World in Brooklyn Park had a small garbage can full of "used" movie posters that I'd appropriate from time to time- mostly...always... from the "horror" section. The above repro was from around 1987...or when Freddy started to be "funny". More on that in a tic.

The Franchise: A Nightmare on Elm Street
# of movies: 6 in the franchise "proper". 1 meta in-joke. 1 crossover. 1 remake. (I stuck with the franchise "proper", more or less. Watched in order. Here we go.)

Part #'s:
1- The first. Arguably the best. Scary. Defining. Dark ending.
2- I skipped it. What? It had almost nothing to do with the rest except Freddy and the house. And jokey homo-erotic undertones all over.
3- Fun. Okay special effects and creative deaths. Freddy gets "funny". Wouldn't have hurt to stop the series here. By far, the 2nd best of the lot.
4- Getting dumber.
5- Good effects. Still dumb. The high school kids are really looking old. They're really over-explaining his backstory now. A major horror film no-no.
6- It was in 3D. And does NOT translate well. Not only should the series have been buried, but it should have had concrete poured over it. Then a fake grave marker in a completely different cemetery to appeal to tourists. So. Freaking. Dumb. It hurt.

-A New Nightmare. 1994. In jokes and audience "winks"/Easter Eggs were really far and few between. This movie was almost ALL meta. Before meta was meta. Still, probably my 3rd favorite in the series...if anything for the 25 lb cell phones.

The whole series? 2.5/5

The rest:

Trollhunter- Awesome. And funny. And really, really well done for a "low budget" film.
Stakeland- Not as awesome. Not as fun. And I got kind of bored. It was like "The Road" meets "30 Days of Night".
Martin- Non-Zombie Romero Vampire Film. Better than I thought. Weird at first, but if you go with it it won't let you down. The "is he" or "isn't he"? Is part of the charm.
Dawn of the Dead (2004)- Very good. Intense. Frightening. Takes a little from every piece of "Z" genre films including the original source material to make a quality "scary" movie.
The Cell- Okay, so it's a little unfair since I'd seen it already. That said, you can't go wrong with what you know and what you know is thrilling. And it's a beautifully rendered movie to boot. ("Nightmare" series, take note- THIS is how you create a dream landscape. Not by retreading a boiler room or smelly asylum.)

The very...very bad. Like, 0/5 stars would be polite. We're talking the "banned/controversial" horror films...


Salo'- So f#cking gross. I can divorce myself from what I know is "fake" or an "effect". And this movie about fascist Italy toward the end of WW II dealing with some very perverse and twisted people...defenders of this film? Have fun. It was absolutely putrid and disgusting.

Cannibal Holocaust- Fine. One of the 1st "found film" scary movies...it's just kind of gross and little disturbing. And not necessarily the simulated pygmy rape...they butcher live animals on film. Dumb N' Gross...

Zombi- Will get a blog unto itself. A zombie dry-humps a shark underwater. 'Nuff said.


That's where I am. I have "Macbeth" (1971), "Braindead", and "The Last Circus" on the queue- not to mention there are about 6 on the Instant backburner. Besides that, I was preparing to ready myself for a few of the specific "Friday the 13th" movies (namely, 1-6...skipping part V since it wasn't SPOILER Jason) It'll be mid-November by this point, and with needing to decorate for Halloween, run a half-Mary in costume, rehearse, do 4-5 Ghost Tours, and get my overall house ready for winter...I might just get a little tired of "Horror" and go back to streaming the latest "Dr. Who" series or "Friday Night Lights"....(Sighs)

Pictured: The other poster I bought with the one above. I believe it was one of them that my grandma...when she came up to stay with us in 1988/1989 or so and was going to sleep in my bedroom...made me take them down before she could sleep...MuhwahHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Vegas Wrap Up...(pt 5)

Time to end this un-interesting clap trap...





I really, really wanted to stay in and watch movies. My co-worker had other plans.





Again, I was asked what I wanted for dinner (specifically. She was displeased with my response "I don't really care. Go ahead and pick something") We settled on "seafood" and my promise that I'd google some places before freshening up. One jarring phone call later (Seriously? Why do hotels have their phone ringers set to Defcon 5?) we were headed down to do the strip. We parked at NY, NY where the parking gods were again in our favor and didn't get charged. (Really. For some reason I recalled that we were able to park anywhere for free) and we meandered around before settling on the Luxor buffet. (Kind of underwhelming. And by kind of- there was nary a piece of seafood with the exception of some cod in a soupy tomato melange)





Then we walked. We putzed through MGM (NO LIONS?!?! WHERE WERE THEY? SMOKING?) Mandalay, and New York before hitting the street to check out the new City Center compound. On the way, we were accosted by MORE street performers. (More aggravating than the porn-fwappers, IMO. Catwoman? Peter Griffith? Bumblebee from the Transformers? What the shit?) At City Center, we finally got around to gambling a little bit before making our way back home.





Oh. The changes. City Center is vast. While a majority of it is comprised of meeting/conference centers- it does have it's fair share of casinos and funky Gehry inspired hotels. And standing out on the open air skyways and taking it all in, I'm just amazed at how much the place has changed in the nearly 20 years since I first visited Vegas. And I'm guessing it was around here that I lost my driver's license. A little nugget I wouldn't discover until I was emptying my pockets at the hotel.





fuck





The next morning after a phone call to the airport and LVPD I was assured that I'd be fine, and that if I was overseas I'd be really fucked (their words, not mine) and once I was politely admitted to the airport "proper"...it was off to home sweet home. It was at this point that I really wondered if I p#ssed someone off karmically (again) because the family in front of me had a crying pampie and the dude next to me was coughing like he had the plague...and apparently had never heard of covering his mouth. Gross.





I may end up getting sent back in a quarter or two. I think I'll listen to my gut and stay in the hotel room. And for your pleasure...a timeline:





1992- The last great family road trip, we visit Vegas for a night on our way home. Having camped the last 5 nights, dad ponies up and gets us a big room at the Lady Luck. He gives me a pocket ful of dimes and tells me to "look 21". I manage to spend it all, and get one of those stupid post-cards that superimposes your picture over the old downtown strip. On our way out of town, we see the big ass "new" casino being built in the distance called "Excalibur".





2004- Stayed at the Westin behind the Barbary Coast. Find out how much Vegas has changed. Rented a convertable with leather seats which we learn is a terrible idea when it's 90 degrees and sunny. Saw a nudie Cirque show and Celene Dion. I did.





2005- Stayed at the Golden Nugget. Did NOT rent a car which was a terrible idea, and spent nearly $150 on cab fare over 3 days. DID visit Red Rock and fell in love a little more with the desert. Tried the buffet at the Flamingo and my life was changed. DID see "Mama Mia"...and why? Learn that the Lady Luck has been demolished.





2007- Stayed at the Strat w/Moda for my birthday. Saw the vampire titty show, and the best Cirque show in memory- Also had a gallon sized gin + tonic for $9 and we managed to get lost on a chilly hike. We are officially demoted to B-squad hikers.

Off Site "Work" (pt 4)

Work is one thing. Working off site? Another. "Working" out of state? Can get to you.

I managed a speedy scramble in the hotel gym, growing flustered when the built in TV doesn't seem to pick up any reception and I'm forced to listen to the grind of the track instead of tuning out to whatever is playing. (Eventually, 2.5 miles into 3 I find a channel...Stock Reports. Fun.) I'm running late as usual and I'm supposed to meet my co-worker in the lobby in 15 minutes. I make it back to the room swilling coffee and water before taking a very fast shower and heading down to the lobby. It's here, where I should mention the travel hairspray I purchased works very well- by which I mean to say it kept my hair pasted down and immobile in spite of my attempts to "floompf" it out. And I was still sweating profusely when we got to the office. It would be the 2nd time in my working life when co-worker looked at me to see if I'm okay when it's just "I was doing speed-work an hour ago!" Frass.

We attend a few meetings before performing some "shadowing" and...it's here I need to derail for a sec:

1) It's interesting to interact with Vegas "residents" proper. The one's who avoid the strip, the tourons. That go to work, then the grocery store, then home. Nevada is their home. Not that this is a huge deal. Just worth noting that most folks dealing with Vegas only tend to know the strip. They're people. And...

2) It struck me that, in a state that can provide outdoor type activities- year round- in a 4 state area? It seemed that a lot of them weren't very active. It was qualified to me that most people can only manage 1.5 mile walks at a time 9 months out of the year...still. We don't like going outside 6 months out of the year...and we seem kind of. I don't know. More active? Ambulatory? Willing to get outside to enjoy nature?

Through happenstance, I shadowed with a dude who was a runner and heading to Long Beach for a 1/2 Mary and he made these comments to me. (He lives 1/2 mile away but biking was out of the question, stating he'd be sweaty- then inside the blasting a.c. and miserable for the rest of the day while he dried) The guy was cool, and actually invited me to the UNLV track to do hill work with the running club he was a part of. Tempting. But we had plans. Next time, I exclaimed. *

After lunch at Super-Tex and a few more meetings (Whyyyy? Corporations, hear me. Do NOT schedule meetings right after lunch. During? Sure. The rest of us will be propping our eyelids open with paper clips) we finally made it back to the hotel after a very long day. My reward for this productivity: My co-worker wanting to meet in the lobby at 5pm to figure out dinner. (I balked and said 6. And that if we weren't getting sushi- my first choice- then we were getting seafood.)

And finally...your buddy gets his hot tub. In the rain. And I didn't care.

I don't remember those people...(pt 3)

I like to nap. A lot. And after a mildly stressful day, I felt it my civic duty as a resident of the state of MN to diplomatically bring the nap to the Southwest. (And really...it was an attractively large bed.) We had agreed to meet up and make a plan for dinner and after I had tucked myself in and checked my online business- I got busy burying myself in the sheets...

Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.

And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.

I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.

And WTF...

Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:

The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)

It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.

Vega...wow...it's still hot. pt 2

(Part two)

So in spite of being violated, spilled-on (a woman dropped her latte' in the terminal and it ran down the back of my leg) and wedged in a teeny seat, the flight was on-time and underwhelming. I ended up making small talk with the woman next to me. (Nursing doctorate that works at Mayo in the pediatric ward, attending a convention at the Hilton. For five days. My idea of hell, but that's just my opinion...man) I gave her some show ideas that I'd enjoyed in the past (gently advising against "Thunder from Down Under"), talked business "self-help" books (She was reading "Who moved my Cheese" and I said that- for my money- "Gung Ho" was both satisfying and helpful without being too cloying)

I did get up to make potty once on the trip. I didn't really have to go, mind you, but I was itching to see what was in that envelope that had (clearly) been stashed since 2006 or so. So locked in the Delta flight 1517 toilet I ended up making the "discovered cash in a pocket" discovery of the year. I rarely get to brag, and am frequently poor- having just spent $450 on my car before I left...and while it wasn't close to that, it gave me enough folding money to cover meals on my own, and even a show/craps table if I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and thought a very sincere "thanks, dad" before returning to my seat.

When we landed, we hit a 'Bucks for some wake-up juice and both were lamenting that we were both sweating balls. Big-time. I had spent the first hour of the flight leaning forward in my seat while back-swass ran down and pinching open my shirt front to let the cabin fan do some work. We booked it to our rental place where we waited in line for nearly an hour- joking with other patrons, making fun of the Vegas Plastic Surgery commercial on the TV hawking ass implants ("Sometimes...you want to take the wallet OUT of the jeans and set it on top...") We then hurriedly sent to the garage...where we proceeded to wait. Some more. ("There's the GD Hyundai right there. Right. There. What exactly are we waiting for?" Please note, we both were getting more and more surly the more we had to wait. It was nearing 1pm and neither of us had eaten anything since before 7am) Sure enough, after group upon group had been given their chariots, someone finally looked at our receipt and was all like "Ohhhh. That silver Hyundai over there is yours!" No. F#cking. Shit. Vegas, you were winning at this point. I admit.

We ended up getting lost (her GPS on her phone sent us in the opposite direction of our office. This did, however, get me re-acclimated with the streets again. Nothing says helping your "internal GPS" like getting lost in a town and being forced to find the right way again. Did I mention I was playing Maverick to her Goose because, and I quote: "My husband thinks it's a good idea if you drive. I'd get way too mad. At everyone"

We finally found our office. We finally found the restaurant. The weather was cooling off from the high-80's (when we left home, it was 50 degrees at the airport) and...wait. Why does it smell rainy?

Kaboom. You know in Minnie when we have a thunder boomie storm? Sure it'll like up the sky. Sure it'll wake you up sometimes when it's right over head. In Vegas? It's like you stare right into a camera flash while someone hits a pair of cymbals behind your head...and then? It rains.

A lot. And the rain has no where to go. In Minnie, we freak out a lot when underpasses are submerged. We saw pics of NE Minneapolis and Uptown where cars were submerged up to their wheel wells and thought "Whoa!" And if you've been here, or heard stories about Vegas rainstorms then you know they're rare and only last for a few minutes. Well here now, at 6pm Pacific time...it's dumping rain. And driving in it? Peeps, there are NO streets that AREN'T submerged. At one point we both looked around for parking lots that might be on a hill. I even started frassin' about my brakes.

Eventually, we made it to Albertsons (think "Kowalskis"). And I procured hairspray. We're nearing civilization, now. And it's here I should mention that, in going through my packing I packed more running/gym clothes than I did work clothes.

VEGAS BABY!!! Zzzzzzzz (pt 1)

(Author's note: The good managers at my office determined that my co-worker and I should visit our Las Vegas headquarters for a company kick-off/HOO-rah party. Since being hired, it'd been intimated that there may be some offsite travel- however as we fleshed out the capacities of our position we both realized that any reason for us to visit Vegas didn't seem to make a lot of sense. (We kinda stay in our own world here.) Then, a month ago, our friendly COO came over to describe an upcoming deal that we should "definitely be in Vegas to check out". Swell. After a few conference calls with our manager, her visiting our MN office for a week, we were sent an itinerary and flight confirmation. Vegas, it would seem, would once again be patronized by yours truly...my first trip back since late 2007 or so...

Thing is, would it be fun for a business trip?)

Soooo...I usually overpack, is my first problem. Scratch that. My first problem is that I usually have a problem asking for a ride to the LRT until the last minute. (Knowing my roommate seems to genuinely like to help out in that respect.) No, in having conversations with my co-worker- I realized that since this is an actual business trip that would last (technically) 2 days- I had no business bringing a duffel bag or the oversized "dead-hooker deluxe" model. I challenged myself to see about cramming my crap into a small suitcase, and playing business-traveler like a grown up. Which turned out to be fortuitous, since I'd returned all oversized luggage to their rightful owners (family) and the only thing I had left was an overhead bag.

My co-worker asked me if I wanted to watch any movies on the flight, which I mistook for in-flight movies and made to condescendingly correct her that we didn't have that- to which she condescendingly responded we'd watch it on her Ipad. I told her I was fine with a book- which only harbored a stare...which was lifted upon my response "Um. A movie'd be great. What did you have in mind?" We settled on "Transformers 3", and said our weekend good-byes.

Insomnia kept me awake most of the night after 3am, along with nightmares about crashing into the ocean...many of these were assuaged only by the fact that we wouldn't actually be flying over the ocean. (I blame the Chinese take-out before bed and the movie "Con-Air"...which was on TBS that afternoon) When I finally got up to do my pre-luggage check (the 4th of such "checks") I realized that I actually had less time to get ready and go then I had originally thought- knowing the LRT would take at least 35 minutes to get from downtown to MSP int'l. My roommate, the acme of calm (that morning, anyway) told me he'd rather take me to the gate anyway. Score. So we beat ass to get there and I still wound up with less than two hours to kill.

My panic resurfaced when I realized that in spite of having the under-sized package (snerk), it still didn't seem to fit in those measure-box deals that tell you if it's cool for the overhead compartments. I sat on it. Looked around plaintively until a friendly airport employee told me if I could move some stuff from the front pockets into the main compartment, I'd be sound as a pound. Except, as I knelt in front of her while she rustled up my boarding pass, those compartments contained all of my underwear. So, there I was...bleary eyed, and surrounded by Hanes like some crop-circle consisting of my balled-up unmentionables.

I was busy re-arranging everything when she caught sight of a bottle of hairspray next to my leg, also to go in the box. "You can't bring that, hon." (Mind, my hair is still wet...pretty long for my standards, and pasted to my head with the grace of God. I had planned on my last-minute gussying in the terminal bathroom) "Oh. Why is that?" "It's a big bottle. It exceeds the limit on liquids you can carry on". Great. Not even through the x-ray and I'm already a flight risk named "Pantene Pro-Hold". So...I chuck it. She smiled and told me that Vegas has drug stores I could patronize. ("Really? Just like MN? That is sooooo weird!")

So I do the obligatory shoe-shucking and toss my stuff in my pockets in the X-ray bins. They ask me 4 times (Yes) if there is ANYthing in my pockets to which I respond in the negative. And then...I enter the thing. I hope the beaming process is painless and where ever I land is a class "M" Planet. No dice. I stand there with my feet apart and my hands over my head like I'm about to perform the kata Kil-Sim (eh? Eh? Karate reference? Anyone?) and it's done. I exit the booth. Annnnnd...

Minor pandemonium. I'm told to turn around and face the read-out machine which shows a vague, blobby outline which (I guess) is me (Did I gain weight? Jesus) and has a glowing red-spot on my leg that looks like the kind of graphic you'd see on an anti-itch commercial. I'm asked another 3 times (yes) if I had anything in my pockets because the MACHINE showed I DEFINITELY HAD SOMETHING IN MY POCKET!!! And that's when the guy walked over to me with the nitrile gloves and a smirk. Folks. I got the frisk. And it wasn't even as exciting as I thought. And the fucker didn't even acknowledge that there was still. Nothing. In. My. Pocket.

Right. (Note- There have been peoples, stories, of those wrongly imprisoned, taken off of their flight, held under interrogation for hours without explanation- all because they tripped the profile. And I think it's horrible and wrong and makes my experience look like a handshake at vespers. I just want you to know, that if they fuck it up with a cherry like me? Well...you've been warned.)

So I'm digging through the suitcase to retrieve keys, wallet, gum, et.al. when I see a green envelope that says "Mikey. Merry X-Mas. Love, Mom and Dad." (Swallows hard. Folds it. And keeps it in his pocket...and it still feels thick. Oh...btw...think about that one if you're wondering how long it's been since I last used that suitcase.)

I manage to grab a Starbucks, grab a Men's Health magazine, and chill for the next 90 minutes until my co-worker shows up...only to discover that we weren't even sitting next to each other. No movies for buddies. More over, I'm in the center seat...on an over booked flight. And stuck for 3.5 hours with nothing but my magazine, the Sky Mall Catalogue, and "The Help"...So far, this trip wasn't too peachy.

DVD Reviews: Altered Scans

As I did last year, for the month of October, I'll be focusing on watching movies from the Horror/Thriller/"Skeery Movie" genre. Sure, there'll be other kerflufflins but I've some lofty goals. For example, I'll be checking out some of the Hammer Horror cannon and also re-visiting some of the dreck from my youth. Namely, the complete "Nightmare on Elm Street" and "Friday the 13th" series from beginning to end (No remakes/reimaginings) to see how they hold up and compare between my 13 year old eyes- when I was neck-deep in horror movies-and my jaded thirty (mumble) something something year old eyes. Pip. Growl. Howl. To start, however, let's take a trip to 1980...

We were on the cusp of the great invention of the "serial" horror films ala' "Friday the 13th". The world wasn't really digging the "slasher" genre (meaning it wasn't as popular as it was these days) As such, the films trying to be scary movies typically more "artsy", and less a pulpit to showcase the talent of a makeup artist or FX team (Popularized in the 80's after Rick Baker won a damn Oscar for "American Werewolf in London". Dick Smith had made a name for himself doing make-up jobbies on "The Godfather" and "Taxi Driver", and it's interesting to note that the films I'll be discussing today both have his stamp on them. Another interesting note, is this is also around the time when you started taking notice of the "genre director" (Carpenter, Cronenberg, Craven, etc.).



Altered States


Director Ken Russell was already famous for his B-Movie/Sexploitation flicks , so this "mainstream" film can be seen as somewhat of a departure for him. Especially since it was nominated for a couple of Academy Awards.

Brilliant Psychologist/Professor (William Hurt) floats in a tank, takes drugs, and devolves into a monkey-man (first) then the Michelin Man (I think...) then a hot tub (last) while his wife and co-worker (The accompanist from "Guffman") watch in horror. Hijinks ensue.

It's a solid films that is just the right amount of weird. It straddles the line of "is it all in his head" or "is he really turning primative"? And the decline in his sanity, and how it affects his relationships is played straight- which I felt helped keep the film afloat for what otherwise would be an incredibly stupid and boring premise. (A product of the time, it deals with sensory deprivation...hallucinogens to assist finding the "true self" etc. All you need is a crystal, chanting, a hemp blouse with friends and you're in therapy. I mean this, it a guy floating in a tank. This should not be eerie or scary.) The special effects are great, the visuals are trippy, and it uses thoughtfulness in lieu of jump scares or a terrifying antagonist. My one gripe is a doctor who almost always shouts his lines. "I WILL NOT CONDONE THESE EXPERIMENTS!"/ "YOU DID NOT TURN INTO A MONKEY!!!" You know.

3.5/5

Scanners

Ugh. Considered Cronenberg's mainstream "break through" piece which led to his directing future mindf#ck/bodyf#ck films like "Videodrome" and "The Fly". I only knew the plot, the fantastic box art, and that a guys head essplodes. Great fun!

Some no name homeless dude discovers he has some of the strongest psychic powers (telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinesis et.al) and is one of many who have the same abilities called "Scanners". He and his ilk are being hunted by that dude who seems angry in most movies he'd done like "Total Recall" and "Highlander II" and it's only a matter of time before the eventual showdown. Hijinks ensue.

Slow. That's how my roommate described it, and I have to agree. The biggest gripe I have is the same dang problem I have with almost all films that deal with "mind" powers- The actor looks constipated, shake their head a lot, touch their temple occasionally, bug their eyes out, and something happens. It just looks kind of goofy. (And anyone who watched Matt Parkman on "Heroes" knows what I'm talking about) Now, there are some interesting elements in the story (pregnant women took an experimental drug which caused the Scanners to begin with, a Doctor who helps train the lead to "scan", and a brief plot twist at the end. And of course...the aforementioned head explosion.) But invariably it plods along, using lead actors who are about as charismatic as cotton balls. Probably not worth the time to even rent unless you're into the SFX.

I was bored.

1.5/5

Autumnal Harvest

I was right...

It has been a s#itty growing season. To be fair, there are probably a lot of factors involved and the fact is that since starting the garden we've had a couple of wimby-wimby harvests. Still, I've been as diligent as I can be and so far it's been a mild disappointment. Not huge. Just the"Awwww. Shoot" kind.

In the interest of focusing on the positive, the cherry heirlooms have been a steady source of produce and support, and the herbs have consistently stayed fruitful. We've had a few heirlooms come out (however there are still about 20 or so on the vine that are still GREEN!) I think the squash is almost ready, but outside of a few gardening websites I researched, I can't be sure if they're good to go. The jalapenos and zukes finally produced, and one (pictured below) made it's way into a nice grilled mess, but the 2nd (and last one I had) I dropped on the ground on my way out to the car and BOOM it exploded. (Not, like, "broken and bruised"...it flat out exploded) On another positive note, the flowers in the front planter have remained bright and thick. I may stick with them again next year after the initial tulip burst dies out.


I'm hoping to have some more pictures and produce as the season changes, but I'm thinking that I'm going to write off 2011 as a "bad growing season". Moda picked up some special grass to plant once the garden is torn up, and with the roommate diligently turning the composter I think we'll have a nice fertile area to play with in 2012. Fingers crossed that we don't get gobsmacked with snow so we can get the leaf covering down. Bon Appetit...



Inexplicable. I've barely watered these and they were nigh on overrun with weeds until I took care of business. And they done blown up!


I'll let you pretend that that doesn't look delicious. With goat cheese, a little balsamic vinegar and basil? Yum.

Broccoli, heirlooms/cherry heirlooms, and the zuke.

JALAPENOS!!! I gave one to my co-worker, and so she can make "an" popper. (I'm betting these guys'll be hot. The banana peppers have face-melting properties...)

Two Fairs, back to back= Insanity

What...what the natural heck was I thinking? I'm really not into masochistic acts perpetrated on my self, so in what parallel world did the "Evil" Mikey think hitting two crowded ass MN past times over Labor Day weekend was a good idea? I just hope that twin has a Van Dyke mustache, leers a lot, and is thinner. Probably huffs spray paint.

Annnnyway. This is what happens when you wait until the closing end of the State Fair, I guess. Well, that and the fact that my #1 companion Momo doesn't like to Gogo to the Fair and has been eyes deep in Tech/Rehearsal. #2 companion (Mom) wasn't too interested. And a few of my other buddies w/o day jobs had already gone during the weekdays leaving me, and my ridiculous need to get my annual mega-crowd fix on. (And really, I start to really yearn for the deep-fried turkey sammich by June...and since the dumb thing is now at the Twins Stadium I can get that craving out of the way any old time. What I'm saying is, my reasons for actually fighting the unwashed masses diminished significantly...And also...finding out you can get most Fair Food pretty much year round. Which I knew. But still...)

I put the call out on FB for a Fair Date, and had a few nibbles but was prepared to retire the notion of tandem/group Fair visits and see how I'd do flying solo. And when mentioning it the night before, my roommate started grilling me as to the "what time I was leaving" etc. before asking if it was okay if he tagged along. And I said "Okay".

And for folks who know the Bean, and his peccadilloes regarding crowds of more than 4-5 people? Please know that this is pretty amazing.


Pictured. Apparently the 3rd most crowded/highest attended Fair day. Also, see those deep fried pickles? Longest damn line, ever.


Of course I did the smart thing and rousted my ass up for a nice 7 mile trot before we left to get the metabolism moving in preparation, and then Bean and I found the closest park and ride to our house & began our adventure. Sufficed to say...we had a really nice time. He was a capable companion, nimbly navigating the crowds and "keeping up" with Mikey Longshanks. He didn't judge me for wanting a 10am beer with my Pronto Pup. We picked opportune times to find shady areas to rest/get away from the crowds. We shared all sharable dishes. Took pictures when asked. Let me make juvenile dick jokes when we visited the poultry barn. And was trying to be helpful in finding the Surly Booth, even though we couldn't find it. All told, we managed to stay for nearly 4-5 hours before hitting a wall and skiddadling.

Unfortunately, my camera died before I could document a lions share of the insanity that was milling about Falcon Heights that day (Or the dishes we enjoyed.) So I hope the list and these few will give you a taste...a taste of that dirty, dirty Fair. See you next year.

We et/drunk:
Pronto Pup, Elk Burger, Deep Fried Turkey Sammich, New Zealand King Potatoes, Deep Fried Crab Fritters (New, and a winner), 2 Nordeasters, and a Summit. Urp.

Not often you find an adult with the Fraggle Hair. Pictured with 10am beer. And easily-identifiable bandana of strength.

Bean found a quiet corner to recharge in Heritage Square. Mom told me it looks like he's having a time out. Which to be fair, he kinda is.

Camera p#ssed out before I could get a ton of the obnoxious novelty t-shirts. And what better statement at an event that revels in Bacchanalian amounts of excess...

The MN Renaissance Festival... (Monday, September 5th)
Hoping to capitalize on her brief days off during tech, I was able to corral Companion #1 for a Labor Day Renaissance Festival Jaunt. (FYI- Sign up for Groupon/Star Tribune Steals...etc. We snagged a sweet discount on two-fer tickets. Very cost effective)

Hipster T-Shirts never say die...


The metabolism revver wound up being our hauling our buns up and early for a festive jaunt to the Victory 10K to support D-Gangs and FeeJ, before cleaning up and heading to Shack-of-Pee...and eagerly anticipated 16th Century Shenanigans. While the Belly-Dancing weekend isn't my tip-top fave (and my partiality to the cooler late-Autumn weather) we managed to get a beautiful sunny day...and Mo full of mischief. ("If they're going to heckle me? I'll see their heckle and raise!") Said mischief wasn't too bad, and was usually relegated to finding people who made good photo-ops, and my standing next to them as she pretended to take my picture while covertly snapping them.

We were joined by Davey and KT, and had another really wonderful day. (And we stayed 3 x's the amount of time we were out there last year!) We ended up running into a gaggle of friends who decided that Monday was also their day of Renning- And later on left tired, with sore and dirty feet... full, and happy that we all took turns petting a python. (No Jon Voight's were harmed during the day, I hear)

The end of day nibble tally: Chindian food (Curry chicken and Veggie Samosas), shared Turkey leg, Chicken Wild Rice Soup in a bread bowl, Apple pie ala mode, Sweet Potato Fries, Egyptian/Raspberry Mead...and many, many beers. (Not Root Beer. "What?!? Are you on your PERIOD!?!?" That's my girl.) Anyway, if you need me I'll be in the corner popping Prilosec with a Pepto chaser...

I have now entered the pantheon of d-bags who make stupid jokes regarding their biceps around signs that say "Blah de blah bans guns on the premises." I make no apologies. We were having fun.

Meal #1- Veggie Samosas (a little dry and lacking veggies), Curry chicken (delightful), Schell's Oktoberfest and a Guiness. What did you think we were having for breakfast?

Honestly...I don't know why this was an important picture. I just thought Mo asking me to pose by it and "look serious" to be hilarious.

Oh...what? Look similar to the one I snapped at the State Fair? And they are evvvverywhere at Fest.

Pictured: Microencephalitic finally finds a hat that makes my head look normal, albeit mildly double-chinned. And it sorted me into "Sandwichdor" or "Gryffinbeer" or some stuff.

Here's the thing...coming in costume is encouraged. KT told me that when she was working out there people wouldn't just try and keep it within the time period...but that people would show up dressed as Darth Vader...a Storm Trooper. (My roommate told me that, long ago, he went in drag as a Geisha. Don't ask, because I didn't) And hey, more power to them. This guy? We called him "Sir Menards from Pressed Tinsville"...based solely on the location of where he acquired his materials. I know, right? It's 85 degrees, btw...and I was swassing like mad.

Aren't we fun? We hug. We love. We huzzah. And we-meaning the royal "me"- still stands by my (appropriated) opinion that Mead tastes like a drunken-diabetics p#ss...no matter if it's iced or not.