bad metaphor

Ahh, knitting: a centuries old tradition of forming strands of fiber into serviceable garments. Sometimes, these creations can be astonishingly beautiful.

Sometimes these constructions are highly practical and tasteful.

Sometimes they are elegant and flattering to a potential wearer’s figure.

Sometimes, the designer’s vision does not make children terrified enough to run into rush hour freeway traffic.

I would talk about the highly professional and technically up-to-date web design, or the model’s superfantastic Michael Jacksonesque visage. Yet, somehow I feel that no layout, no matter how slick or strictly valid XHTML, and no model, not even Gisele Bundchen, could elevate any of these designs beyond the ninth circle of knitting hell.

Thanks to You Knit What??…I think!

We hadn’t seen a movie in a bona-fide, overpriced, sticky-gummy-floor theater since the last millenium, so the boy and I went along with a group of people last night to see Superman Returns. I didn’t have very high expectations for this movie, seeing as I didn’t like any of the Spiderman movies, or for that matter, any comic book movie I’ve seen (except for V for Vendetta, which, as any uppity nerd will inform you, is a “graphic novel”). Plus, what vague snippets I remembered from the old Christopher Reeve movie include the scene when they fly above the Earth (so romantic) and Lois Lane serenades him with MySpace poetry (so technologically forward for the seventies!). I’m also picky about movies, not because I am some know-it-all film snob or anything, but because they involve sitting still for a number of hours. Plus, in theaters, you can’t knit unless there are constant explosions providing you light to see by. And I hate Michael Bay movies.

Superman Returns turned out to be pretty entertaining. I was a little uncertain about Brandon Routh as Superman, at first. At the beginning, when Clark Kent is reunited with his mother (Eva Marie Saint, who I thought was dead but is just ninety million years old and still making films), the delivery of his lines just made me want to cringe, it felt so Keanu Reeves: “Hello mother. I’m back. Whooa.” Also, the guy looks like a living Photoshop. Seriously:

I couldn’t stand to look at him at first. He just looked too fake-real, and I guess my reaction would fall under Uncanny Valley response. But I got used to his goofy mug, after a good while into the movie. Also, there’s no denying that his cartoonish look fit the part of Superman nicely; he looked even more Supermannish than Reeve (imo. My memories of the old Superman are pretty fuzzy). I could stand to look at him more when he was the goofy, running-into-things Clark Kent; then my brain could process him as human.

Also on actors’ appearances, is it just me or does Kate Bosworth look like ten different people? People who don’t necessarily look alike themselves? I thought I saw Nicole Kidman, Thora Birch, Christina Ricci, and at one point she even looked kind of like Jessica Simpson. What is she, some pretty celebrity doppelganger?

Nicole Kidman?

The woman from I Dream of Jeannie?

Sydney??

After seeing this movie, I think Lois Lane ought to be billed as the next Superwoman. She only got slammed into walls, conked by solid metal doors, and hit over the head with various flying objects including luggage and expensive pottery about, oh, five thousand times during the whole movie, with nary a bruise or scratch marring her perfect makeup. Her powers could consist of invincibility and ability to replace other actresses in case shit goes down on the set, like they break a nail (Superwoman never breaks a nail).

What made the movie for me was the cast of bad guys. Kevin Spacey plays Lex Luthor, and he does a fabulous job at being hilarious but also convincingly evil. Yeah, he’s deadpan in practically every movie he’s in, but he’s so good at it, I hope he never stops. Parker Posey also adds a nice touch as the mistress (though she does get a bit whiny towards the end). I did like the good guys, bizarro looks notwithstanding, but I definitely rooted for the villains for most of the movie. Really, Lex Luthor isn’t that evil, he just wants to make a buck; not his problem if that buck comes from a ridiculous plan to take over the world

Verdict: Super entertaining, a bit cheesy at times – yet a vast improvement on previous cheesy movies / TV shows, and awesome villain and co. Also, there is definitely a hilarious Jesus-figure bent to the movie, as the NYT review points out.

So Sonic Youth was in town last night. Of course I went. I failed to take my concert camera (my busted one, the one I have to smack a couple of times before it works), so words and crappy photoshop drawings from poor memory will have to suffice.

Now, I love rock concerts, especially ones that involve ear-bleeding, inner-organ-vibrating noise levels, but my favorite part of concert-going is people watching. While we were waiting for the opening band to play, the boy and I stood there, sipping beer and snarkily commenting on the fashion of the concert-going populace, funny looking people, and molestaches.

Such a serious mug on such an overall goofy ensemble. I hope the 3D glasses weren’t just for show. The back of his shirt read “young, rich, and beautiful.” Indeed.

We couldn’t decide if that was a wig, or if she had just deep-fried her hair. I felt sorry for her scalp. Also, I wanted to buy her a sandwich.

AMBER ALERT

I feel bad laughing at this guy, because he cannot help that he has a protruding jaw, but every time I looked in his general direction, he was making this face, and I couldn’t stop laughing. I kept picturing his jaw unhinging itself from his face and going to town on all the hipsters down in front.

Also, about 1/3 of the people in the crowd were over eight feet tall.

Now onto the bands:

My friend Indie Dan mentioned that SY have a tendency to tour with unknown and generally crappy noise bands. Since we’d never heard of Awesome Color, I was a bit concerned. Yet they were generally all right, not too bad, and some of their songs were kind of catchy. I did wonder about their sometime-lead-singer, who came out for a couple of songs and had an okay voice, accompanied with T-rex gestures:

The style of music is kind of garage-grungish stuff, nothing terribly out there – certainly not as bad as I was expecting, from Indie Dan’s dire predictions.

Sonic Youth, as expected, were amazing. Since my last experience in a Sonic Youth concert, I decided to stand towards the back, so I could a) see better, and b) not get trampled by rampaging assholes. I wouldn’t get to touch Thurston Moore’s hand this time, but that was okay. He started the set by holding up his cup and announcing, “let me down this velvety cote du rhone here,” doing so, and then proceeding to wail on the guitar.

He is forty eight, according to Wikipedia, but still looks like he’s eighteen. Botox, maybe? He also appears to be over eight feet tall, or everyone else next to him are midgets.

I love when she screams. They closed with “Shaking Hell,” from “Confusion is Sex.” Joy! I definitely prefer this to when she sings slower songs (see: “Turquoise Boy”).

He’s got such an awesome voice. Also, he looks very happy and friendly.

Also, I am too lazy to draw them, but I think Steve Shelley was playing the drums (though I thought he quit after Sonic Nurse?) and some other random dude was up there playing bass.

Overall the show was awesome, and my ears are still recovering. I hope they come again. Next time I will bring a camera, to spare you all the PS drawings with my crappy mouse!

“Stand up for your man,” said the grandmother of a friend of mine. This was at the bridal shower of said friend, and everyone present was asked to offer some words of wisdom for the bride. “No matter what happens, you’ve got to stick up for ‘im.”

My friend’s mother had been squirming during most of the advice-giving session, and now spoke up. “I’m from the seventies, and I just can’t get behind that last one!”

The grandmother ignored her and continued on. “Your first year is going to be the hardest.” A couple of the other older women nodded and “mm hmm”-ed. “Living with him is a very different thing from dating him. You’ll learn all sorts of things, like he’ll wake up in the morning kind of sweaty and gross, and sometimes he farts. They hide that sort of thing from you when dating.” Laughter and more nodding. Thereafter followed more advice, such as “don’t let him touch your laundry” and “enthusiastically please him, and he’ll be sure to reciprocate.” All innocent, well-meaning, almost-joking offerings with troublesome subtext and implications.

During the shower, I realized two things: 1) that I’ve managed to grow up being a girl in this society and completely miss out on wedding know-how and etiquette, and 2) gender-role communication plays a large part in the wedding-planning process. Weddings are the time when the older women step in and carefully instruct the younger generation on how to be good wives and mothers. I guess I knew that from before, but it was a tad creepy watching how blatantly the process took place at that particular shower. They were all very nice ladies, but I do kind of wish there was some way I could have spoken up and said “but my boyfriend is perfectly capable of doing laundry!” or “what if he beats her? Should she stand up for him then?” without sounding like a total bridal-shower-spoiling tool.

Instead I just sat there and ate my scone and mused on the absurdity of weddings.