11/23/99
Movie Weekend

Monday Afternoon, 22 November 1999

It was the Weekend Of Movies.

Friday night the Wife and I took off (in the pouring rain, I might add - we passed several horendous accidents) for the Wolfchase Galleria for a double feature of Being John Malkovich and Sleepy Hollow. We decided to grab some food in the food court before the films began.

Fuckin' kids! I mean, when I was teenager, yes, we did frequent the mall. But we were usually going to buy something, you know? Wolfchase was packed, stuffed full of teenagers, all doing the defensive/offensive preening mating dance thing they do. It tickled me when some little monkeyfuck would try to look at me hard, as he'd undoubtedly seen one of his gangsta idols do on the MTV.

"Listen, kid," I said, "I'm a foot taller and I've got eighty pounds on you. The Wife here could squash you like a grape, and she's a frail little woman! And FYI, Snoop Dogg doesn't wear a lot of clothes from Old Navy. I know you want to be authentic."

And my god, those little girls wear too much perfume! I thought I was going to gag in line at the Chick-Fil-A. Spray it in the air, girls, and walk through it. Maybe a dab on the wrist. You want people to have to get close to you to smell you.

So, the movies:

Being John Malkovich: Very funny, but very weird. Peter Greenaway weird. Orson Bean discussing his scatological sexual fantasies was a scream, and Malkovich in his own head was worth the price of admission. Cusack was an object of hate, and Cameron Diaz was so homely she was hard to recognize.

Twice during the movie the lights flickered. This made the film stop and the house lights come on. Both times I thought it was part of the movie. It was that strange. Go see it, but don't expect anything like standard linear storytelling.

Sleepy Hollow: I've been excited about this one since I saw the previews back in June in front of South Park. It was worth the wait. It was a joy, a total dream come to life. It was the best recognized Tim Burton movie ever - this is the one he's been wanting to make all along. And Lisa Marie, Burton's girlfriend, is so incredibly beautiful. Salon called Johnny Depp a "gothic dreamboat," and it's true. Everyone was good. It sucked me in from beginning to end. A must-see.



Saturday Sonya went to get her nails done. I got up, intending to get out of the house and do a great many things, but I failed. I sat in front of the stereo all afternoon, making a mix tape filled with songs from our ignored cassette collection, vinyl tunes and soundbites from movies and TV. It's very entertaining, I assure you.

Then I took a shower and we went to the movies again. Sonya wanted to see Sugar Town, an indie flick about a group of friends and family involved in the Hollywood scene. It stars John Taylor, who some of you may remember as the bass player of Duran Duran. It was a light, crisp little movie, and the former musician acquitted himself well.

We also stopped by a used CD place while we were in Bartlett to look at their large selection of gothic CDs. It looks to me like a lot of parents made their kids dump their music collections after the teenagers started shooting each other up this spring.

Dinner at Mojo's followed. There was a belly dancer there, but she was a much more visually pleasing one than the last time we were there. She really had her bellybutton pierced, too.

Then it was off on something of a scavenger hunt. If you're here in Memphis and you're in the market for adult novelties, Christal's is the place for dildos, gag gifts and lingerie, while Fantasy Warehouse has a huge selection of movies. Now you know.

Then we went home and did some painting. It is uplifting and inspiring to be a part of the arts.



Sunday, around noonish, I declared myself hungry. Sonya agreed that she, too, was hungry, so we left the house, heading vaguely in the direction of IHOP.

There was a line at IHOP, though, so we had to rethink our options. The Arcade was considered, but Sonya reminded me that Zinnie's has a brunch on Sundays and would I care to check it out? I thought it would be a fine thing.

Again for the Memphis readers: you got to have brunch at Zinnie's one Sunday. We sat out on their patio (in the middle of November, I might add - I love this climate) and had omelettes and hash browns and muffins and poached eggs with hollandaise and fried tomatoes and you must go there. Mimosas are $2.50 and I believe it lasts 'til two or so if you can't get up too terribly early.

And we were sittin' next to some money, y'all. After we'd sat down and placed an order a bunch of healthy looking middle-agers came biking up. They proceeded to chat about the difficulties of building a house in Florida, where to store your classic car collection and what to do when money literally fall out of your asshole 'cause you got so much.

Well, maybe they didn't discuss that last part. They should have, though.

At one point, this guy was telling his friend about how he had restored a Model T. I should add they weren't doing all this talking in an ostentatious or showy way - they weren't at all worried about us. This was the confident, matter-of-fact talk the rich share with the rich when they discuss the disposal of their spare income. Anyway, he was talking about his Model T and I was tempted to lean over and say, "well, then, you should pick up the check for our breakfast, shouldn't you?"

I wonder what he would have done? If I had said, "excuse me, sir, but it seems you've got so much money that you can swim around in your vaults like fucking Scrooge McDuck. The least you can do is buy my breakfast," what do you think he would have said? Would politeness have inclined him to pay, or would he have thrashed me for my impudence? I wonder.

Then to Garden Ridge, to look at some Christmas-y Christmas stuff. Then over to the Majestic to see Dogma again (my earlier review is located here - I caught several new things this time and laughed loudly; I think Sonya was a little embarassed) and do a little shopping at CompUSA and Best Buy. We got a black ink cartridge for the printer, and then at Best Buy we started looking through the DVD section and seeing all the neato extras our favorite movies come with in DVD format.

We ended up buying one of the damned things. Funny, huh?

We also got some movies:

I thought that was an interesting mix, you know?



On the "Now Playing" marquee at the Majestic yesterday:

SLEEPY DOGMA

Sonya noted that the Wolfchase theater could show Sleepy Malkovich.



It came as no surprise to me that my current TV/VCR system was incompatible with the new DVD player, though. I need more cables and wires, and James and I will go this evening to find the requisite equipment. James is tech support, I'm finance. Wish us luck.



Tuesday Afternoon, 23 November 1999

Well, that didn't work.

So James didn't get off work when he thought he would. No problem! He told me to go to Radio Shack and, using cellular phone technology, he could talk me through the buying of the equipment to make the DVD player work.

While the staff at the Radio Shack was not helpful (ignoring me when I stood at the counter, looking helpless - that kind of not helpful) I managed to find the parts that James and I believed to be the right ones for the job.

Next stop: Piggly Wiggly (a grocery store, for you non-locals. The Piggly Wiggly, first opened by Clarence Sanders many years ago, was the first working self-service grocery store. Now it's a local grocery chain. Memphis: Where History Happens First!).

I had to get six or seven things. No big deal, right? I even managed to get in a short line. This was no ordinary short line, though. The checker was named Kim, and Kim had a hugely black eye. After she'd scanned a few of my items she looked behind me at the rapidly growing line of baskets.

"It's so busy," she said to no one in particular, "there's so many customers." And then she put her head down on her cash register for, like, thirty seconds. I was about to say, "hey! Get through with my stuff, then take a break, okay?" butshe managed to wake up and finish checking me out. I was amazed.

After that I went to the Wendy's to grab some dinner for the wife and I. This was actually a convenient trip to Midtown - Radio Shack, Piggly Wiggly and Wendy's are all within a few blocks of each other. Anyway, the guy who took my order (inside - the driv-thru line wrapped around the building) didn't have his register code yet, and the manager on duty didn't seem to know how to give him one. This meant my order was ready and the two of them were standing and staring dumbly at the cash register.

I took my food and walked right out. The Lord loves me!

I got home, though, and received some discouraging news. The parts James and I had decided to buy were incorrect. Jen had talked to her dad (a video guru if ever there was one) and he said I needed an RF Modulator.

Damn.

So I tossed my food down my throat, went back to Radio Shack and returned that stuff and headed out to Best Buy, where I'd originally purchased the DVD player.

"You need an RF Modulator," the spotty kid in video accessories said, "you can get those at Radio Shack."

So by this time I'm pushing nine o'clock and stores are starting to close. I haul ass down Winchester to the Hickory Ridge Mall and manage to make in and out of their Radio Shack before they lock the doors.

After making a deposit at the bank I finally got back home, some three hours after setting out on that particular quest. Those DVD movies, though, they look and sound fine. We watched all the extras and trailers and what-not and then I made some cheese balls.



So I made this mix tape the other day, right? And one of the songs on this tape is I Won't Forget You, the 1987 hit power ballad by Poison. Anyway, this song reminded me of one my high school transgressions:

During my senior year in high school Mr. Dixon, the English teacher, would frequently assign us the task of writing poems for class. During my senior year I didn't have much free time, what with working late at Baskin-Robbins and hanging out with my buds and what not, so frequently my homework would have to wait until the class before it was due. Especially poetry writing.

Stick with me for a second.

Now, hair-metal lyrics from that period were frequently corny and usually stupid, but the rhymes were usually true and the rhythm was dead accurate. That kind of four/four beat doesn't tolerate a lot of futzing around with song structure.

So, nine times out of ten, I'd end up scribbling down three or four verses from three or four different songs and passing it off as my work. When it was read aloud in class the other students would laugh but I don't think anyone ever gave me away. Plagiarism, kids, is easy and fun.

Speaking of hair metal, a local radio station (92.9, WMFS) has a nightly show called Aquanet Theater. Last night they played Parental Guidance by Judas Priest. I laughed like a loon when I heard the song start, and then I sang every single word.




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