OakMonster's Den

Today, the Universe decided that it hates people in my life.

1. Brandon tore his calf muscle

As he changed the oil on his car on Friday, Brandon discovered some coolant leakage. Upon further inspection by the auto shop, there are more than just that. We think the Anniversary accident knocked things loose. So, this morning, instead of waking up to drive me to my stop, the Mister decided to sleep in a little. I left my car 5 blocks down at my bus stop.

As he was walking over to the car, Brandon stepped off the curb and, according to his ER doctor, probably landed wrong on his heel. He heard something popped and he was in excruciating pain and couldn’t put his foot down. Being a Marine, dude sucked it up, hobbled across the 6 lanes to the other side, then his body went into a bit of shock and he sat down and passed out for a second. He then proceeded to hobble some more to the car, got in, calmly called me, and drove himself to the ER about 8 blocks down.

I received the call around 8:30.  By the way, I’m in Downtown LA, 25 miles away, with no easy way to get home at that time.  You see, my special commuter bus runs 3 times into town and twice out in the evening.  If you need to get back any other time, you’ll have to take the Disneyland bus to Norwalk Station and either catch 2 more buses to get to my house or someone else have to come get you from the station.

Thank GOD for my former bus buddy Patty who retired about a month ago.  I called her asked for a ride and she was available.  Now, skip to read #2 and come back to read the rest of this.

Patty dropped me off at the ER and I waited for a good hour before Brandon hobbled out on crutches.  Torn calf muscle, he said, and possible torn tendon but they don’t know that yet.  And now we were off to his physician to get a referral to see a specialist and get an MRI or something else.  His doctor gave him a shot of stuff and sent us home with vicodin.

2. Patty’s car died on the way to rescue me

After she hung up with me, my friend Patty went to finish her errands.  Her car sputtered and died on the way home.  Thank GOD her sister was home, so she drove over to sit with Patty’s car until AAA arrives so Patty could use her car to come get me.

3. A coworker had to go to the hospital

Meanwhile, as I ran from work to come home to take care of Brandon, a coworker apparently got ill enough to need to be rushed to the hospital.

4. Burbank DMV’s computer system went down

My boss took the morning off to go to her DMV appointment.  System was down so no appointment could be kept.  She pretty much wasted her morning.

5. The bus before my usual home bound bus broke down

Ana took the bus into town with me this morning.  She usually takes a different bus or she would drive.  However, she was getting on the earliest bus home.  She waited, and waited, and started to get panicky about the bus home.  As she found out later, when my usual bus showed up, the one she was waiting for has broken down.  So she was on a super crowded bus back, behind her usual schedule.

I’m telling you. Cosmic Fuckery.

After the Golden Globes, I was really, REALLY afraid Avatar was going to take the Oscars.  Yes, I like the movie. It was an incredible escape, an experience you wish every movie could provide.

But the Globes gave Avatar Best Picture?  What were they smoking?  I mean, it’s a fantastic technological leap forward in movie re-making for Pocahontas/Fern Gully/Dances with Wolves.  That doesn’t deserve Best Picture.  That kind of voting usually we leave for the Academy of the Easily Persuaded.

Well, this time, the Academy is also easily persuaded but not by the biggest movie of the year but by the most critically-hyped film which the Globes ignored.

Topsy turvy, my little world of Pop Culture has become.  I blame it on the global warming.  Or dying bees. Or something.

But anyway. Hooray for The Hurt Locker!

Not sure if it “deserves” the award yet, but having the first female director winning as Oscar totally kicks ass.

It is odd to go into the Oscars and not having seen the Best Pictures films because I didn’t do the AMC marathon this year.  2 Saturdays of 5 movies? I just couldn’t do it.  I managed to have seen 4 out of 10–Avatar, Inglorious Basterds, Up, and District 9–which will be 5 out of 10 as soon as I pop The Hurt Locker in to the DVD player.  It’s been sitting here by TV  for the past 2 weeks. (Sorry, Netflix!)

So I go back to my method of buzz judging.  And boy, my buzz meter still works beautifully.  As a matter of fact, it works so well that I’m starting to think that my personal judgment is obviously flawed.  If you look at my recent years of prediction when I actually saw all Best Picture nominees and a few other, I’ve been horribly wrong.

This year, going in half blind, I only missed 5 out of 24.  Back to the 79.17% accuracy of 2007, baby!  (2008 was the most disastrous at 50% and 2009 was 58%)

I was on the spot guessing The Cove over Food Inc. for Best Doc–despite my strong feelings for Food Inc.–and Young Victoria over Nine for Costume Design.  It usually doesn’t fail to bet on a lavish period pieces for Costume Design.  And, of course, the luckiest guess of Music by Prudence for Short Doc.

Foreign-language film, as of recent years, has always been a wild guess.  I went with A Prophet. I blame Entertainment Weekly for that one.  The sound awards, usually go to the big bang/boom movies so naturally I picked Star Trek (editing) and Transformers (mixing) and missed on both account.  I guess there are more bombs in The Hurt Locker than I thought.  And of course, a big fan of Wallace & Gromit, I cheered for them and was wrong.  The surprise miss was Best Actress.  I thought for sure Gabourey would go home with the Oscars.

Oh, and I don’t know who else was offended by the Orchestra’s choice to play “I am woman” when Kathryn Bigelow exited the stage for Best Director.  I mean, it is definitely a “You go, girl!” moment, but “I am woman”?!?  Really???

However, watching the reaction shot of Jim Cameron after losing both Best Director and Best Picture to his ex-wife is priceless. Heehee…

Final note:

Dear Sam Worthington,

You know I love you. I’m absolutely, hopelessly charmed by your toothy smile which you seem to have forgotten to do when a non-movie camera is pointed at you.  You know I adore your accent and your gentle eyes.  Did I mention your pretty, pretty mouth…yeah…

However, sweetie, you were up in the stage presenting the Academy Awards chewing gum.

First you stop smiling.  And now you can’t stop chewing gum.

My fantasy life with you crumbles to the floor under the weight of reality.  What a shame.

Love.

- OakMonster

I’m no literacy scholar. Nor am I someone who’d go through 100 books a year.

So when I say I hate a book, you don’t have to agree with me.  I don’t expect you to.

I have a policy when it comes to reading a book.  Once I start, I must finish even if I don’t enjoy it all that much.  You know, the whole finish what you’ve started thing.

There have been occasions, however, when I just couldn’t go through with it.  Sometimes it was because it was boring. Sorry, Dickens. The Great Expectation will be read someday…as soon as I can stop falling asleep every 5 pages.  Like Reading Lolita in Tehran. I didn’t even get to actually reading Lolita, I don’t think.  About the 5th time it was complained about the horrible situation for women, I was done.  We got nowhere for 1/3 of the book already.  Sheesh.

Sometimes it’s the writing style…which you’ll read about later on.

At least with these that I quit early, I didn’t feel like I wasted my time.  You know, it’s like tasting something you weren’t sure you’d like. If you throw it away now, then you only have a little bad taste in your mouth.  But if you go finish it, you will suffer the pain and hate yourself for having gone through with it.

And that is exactly what happened with the first book of 2010, Anne Rice’s Angel Time.

It was one of those that I was hooked into the story and the characters just to get let down at the end.  Those that I really want my time AND money back after I finished.  I am so angry and disappointed to have invested my emotions and time (and money!) into it that I do want to burn that fucking book down so nobody else has to suffer the same fate.

First on the burn list, Angel Time.

From the cover, Angel Time showed some promises. The jacket grabbed my attention while I browsed through limited new fictions in Asia Books in Bangkok.  I grabbed this from Anne Rice’s website.

The novel opens in the present. At its center: Toby O’Dare—a contract killer of underground fame on assignment to kill once again. A soulless soul, a dead man walking, he lives under a series of aliases—just now: Lucky the Fox—and takes his orders from “The Right Man.”

Into O’Dare’s nightmarish world of lone and lethal missions comes a mysterious stranger, a seraph, who offers him a chance to save rather than destroy lives. O’Dare, who long ago dreamt of being a priest but instead came to embody danger and violence, seizes his chance. Now he is carried back through the ages to thirteenth-century England, to dark realms where accusations of ritual murder have been made against Jews, where children suddenly die or disappear . . . In this primitive setting, O’Dare begins his perilous quest for salvation, a journey of danger and flight, loyalty and betrayal, selflessness and love.

Intriguing, right?  So naturally, I ordered it when I came back. Amazon ratings gave it 4 stars.  Brandon was also interested to read it.  Today’s Assassin in 13th century? Yep, we’d really like to know how he’d pull that off.

Brandon got no more than a few chapters in when he gave up.  Now, you have to understand the the Mister is an avid sci-fi reader.  He’s willing to suspend disbelief for the fully fabricated story. However, the inaccuracy of something we know as true will drive him bonkers. One point he couldn’t get over is how Anne Rice would say that the Mission Inn in Riverside is “a couple of hours away” from Beverly Hills and San Juan Capistrano.  Seriously, lady. Have you actually DRIVEN in Southern California?  It definitely takes more than 2 hours from 90210 to the 909. Ditto to SJC.

Brandon also warned me that the writing is very tedious.  Apparently Anne is spending time describing every crack in the beams on the high dome ceiling held together by 18th century glue made out of prized race horses. Or something like that.

Having more tolerance to narrative than the hubby does, I was determined not to let the book defeat me.

Yep. Tedious is correct.  I even caught Anne rice using the same phrase twice within a few paragraphs from each other a few times.  Still I soldiered on.  A quarter of a book in and he still hasn’t killed anyone yet, but he’s getting to it.  Okay fine.  I’ll read a little more.  And then the Angel showed up and we were introduced to how Toby came to be Lucky the Fox, the lute playing, history book reading, mission visiting, quietly praying assassin.

THAT was the part that got me very interested.  Cutting through the tedious tiny details were action, tension, and drama.  Fantastic fun!  Now I know all of Toby’s skills, I was actually excited to see what he’d do in the 13th century.  Oh boy!  It’s going to be worth trudging through the first half the book!

Not so much.  Actually, it’s the second half of the book I want to burn.  Talk about TEDIOUS!  Do you really need 3 chapters to tell a back story? SERIOUSLY? And predictable. I mean at some point you can tell how it’s going to end. I skimmed through the second half because I already know how it is going to end.

The first kicker.  All the stuff you’ve learned about Toby before, what he could do, none was used here.  He didn’t play the lute.  He didn’t use his master of disguise skills since the Angel provides him with magical assistance whenever it is convenient.  He didn’t kill anyone.  All he did was, well, a Lord of the Rings journey: go here to get the story which will lead you to over there which you will have to bring something back here etc.  WTF?!?

The final kicker. One thing I didn’t see coming happened. And dude woke up in present time with a few pages left in the back. If that was all dream, I will send a VERY angry letter to Anne Rice.  It wasn’t all a dream though, I have to say.  But there’s a bombshell.  And the bombshell is contrite as hell and I kind of already guessed that too.

I truly hate it when I was strung along for the ride and there was nothing at the end. No resolution. No answers. Not even a fucking t-shirt.

Yeah, I’m talking to you too, Dean Koontz. *mumblegrumble* Never explain that stupid slow room in Odd Thomas. Don’t tell me it’s in the sequel because you already lost me there, sir. And that slipping through the slot in time thing in From the Corner of His Eyes wins shark jumping medal. *mumblegrumble*

In case of Angel Time, I’ve been strung along and driven off the cliff a long time ago–I just didn’t know when I was going to hit the ground.

Now, back to the fact that I also have books I couldn’t get through because of writing styles.

I must be truly too dumb to appreciate the Pulitzer Prize winning The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz.

Again hooked by the glowing review everywhere for the young writer and the premise of a multicultural sci-fi nerd teen.  The writing style is what gets me. I know it was supposed to be the point of view of Oscar with all of his Spanglish etc. Then there’s some Spanish thrown in for good measures without any translation.  But my GOD it was really hard to read, disruptive and frustrating.

I wanted to give it another try after I was done with Angel Time but of course only a few pages in and I was reminded once again why I didn’t get through it in the first place.

There’s another critical acclaimed book like that that I bought years ago–it was a HUGE volume too–that I didn’t event get past a 1/4 of it.  It was supposed to be about wizards in 18/19th century England that were going to war. Or something like that. I don’t even remember the title. Nor whom I given the book too.  The book was written like a term paper. TONS of footnotes and even more notes in the footnotes.  Disruptive as hell and just wayyyy too much information.

Would I toss that Oscar Wao into the fire with Angel Time?  I might as well. The fire’s already roaring.

And I think Brandon would throw Michael Crichton’s Timeline in after that.  He’s STILL pissed off about the cop-out ending even now.

I’m sure Kuri would add Twilight to the fire too.

Now, your turn! You tell me what book(s) you wish you haven’t wasted time on?  Which book you haven’t gotten through?

I’ve been pushing through work and juggling my social life through February.  It seems I’m making new friends and reconnecting with old ones all the time.  Weekends and evenings were no longer just the quiet moments but full of activities.

There have also been changes at my work.  We have created a new department which roped my marketing team of 2 in with 2 other departments to pursue new directions.  The new Boss Man is first a friend.  Much like my relationship with my boss Nhien, because we are friends first, communications are open in both directions.  It makes for very successful partnership I think, but yet also frustrating.  You see, the new department is like new found toy.  There are constantly “Oooh! I want to do THIS!” and “Yeah, let’s do THAT!” which tend to throw a wrench at both us and another department.

The perfect analogy for my current work situation, which my colleagues agreed on, is that the New Department is like a box of marbles spilled across the floor.  Your day-to-day responsibility is like the door you’re trying to reach.  You want to get to the door but you keep tripping on the marbles and falling down.  You pick up the marble and put it back in the box and keep going toward the door but there will be another marble to trip you up.  You eventually get to the door but you’re now all banged up. AND you’re late.  Eventually, we will all learn to navigate the marbles and manage to pick them all up AND get to the door gracefully.  In the meantime, put on your helmet, kids–it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

Now, the Big Event just wrapped up without much of  hitch on Wednesday.  So a huge weight has been lifted but yet more are on the way.  In all of this, I’m trying to squeeze in an hour here and there to study Italian.  I’ve been neglecting homework because I thought I can totally do this without much help, but every week I fall further and further behind.  I’m realizing the reason why I struggle so much with it is because I’m learning a third language on my second language.

To use Hugh Laurie’s analogy of going to the set of House being the only one who has to add an accent, it’s like going to a battle with a fish when everyone else has a sword.  Almost everyone in class is a native English speaker.  Most also speak Spanish even a little bit.  I’m there with Thai being my native tongue and here I am learning a new language on my second language.  My head is translating it front and back and left and right before I come to some conclusions.  However, the benefit of my Thai tongue is that I can roll the R’s and sound the hard T’s better than anyone.

So here I am, trying to be a better student and put in some homework time.  On top of that, I still have to find time to cook–which, sadly, I’ve been able to do strictly on the weekends, to keep the blogs up to date, and to wrap up my tax paperwork.  Hey, at least the office is in order now.  I just have to comb through the pre-sorted bill and reconcile everything.

Oh, and today I had Italian class in the morning, was supposed to be at a salsa workshop at noon, bake a cake, then off to a baby shower at 4 and a birthday dinner at 7.  Thankfully the last 2 parties are at the same place.

At this level, I thought for sure I would go down with a cold after the Big Event.  I ended up with massive allergies starting at the event.  My stomach has been warring with me pretty much for 2 weeks.  And then my back decided to throw a coup as I was having a nice relaxing dinner with Brandon.

It’s like my brain knows of the maddening schedule I have ahead of me today.  So last night on behalf of the entire body, my back muscles decided to throw a tantrum and seized up.

So, no salsa today.  And up until now, I’ve been laying flat on the couch, nursing the stout left in the bottle from making my chocolate Guinness cake with some Ibuprofen.

I don’t know if having been a better eater helps stemmed the physical meltdown I usually have after a stressful period of time.  You know, my usual 24 hour of low fever and energy zap?  Not happening this time.  So the body just went for the most recent injury, my back, and uses THAT to punish me.

Well, I’m soldiering on anyway.  At least tomorrow all I have to do is type up notes for Thrill the World and go to the meeting at 7 p.m.

But then there’s the farmers market I want to get to, dinner I want to make, and the paperwork…FUCKIN’ PAPERWORK!!!

*sigh*

So, how is your week/weekend?

Well crap. I’ve been so busy that this blog is slowly becoming all about my Meatless Tuesday.  Sorry guys!

Just to catch you up, last Wednesday was our 8th wedding anniversary.  On our way to our tradition dinner at Benihana through the infamous SoCal rainstorm, we were rear-ended.

As we crested over the 405 close to Fairview exit, we got out of the carpool lane to get to the 73.  Suddenly in front of us, a black sedan was sideway on the #1 lane.  Its visibly damaged trunk was partly in the carpool lane and the hood in #2 lane.  Unable to swerve around, Brandon slammed the brakes.  We stopped many cars length from the black sedan.  Far enough distance to be safe but yet close enough to see the people in the car trying to get out of their vehicle.

See?  Driving at speed limit, leaving plenty of room in front of you in a torrential rain actually works. Unfortunately, the guy behind us didn’t follow the same rule.

All we could see out the rear view mirror was a smaller car than our Santa Fe disappearing behind us.  And *CRUNCH*.  We bounced around in our seats.  Not too badly, but enough to know we would be in pain the next day.

Some folks had questioned me why we moved from the crash site.  Well, among the many unwise reasons to get out of our vehicle or stay stalled in this lane–oh, I don’t know.  It’s dark.  It’s rainy. We are in the fast lanes with fast cars whizzed recklessly by each side of us? Um. No. We were not sitting out here to cause MORE accidents.

So we started to pull over to the shoulder.  The car that hit us started to follow.  Oh, goodie.  However, by the time we got to the shoulder, there was nobody behind us.

That motherfucker was GONE.

We called 911 and waited for the CHP to show up.  We couldn’t see what became of that black sedan either.

The tow truck showed up first and he told us that he was here for the black sedan that was reported by several people to be blocking the #1 lane.  But there was nobody out there except us, he said.

Soon after that, CHP pulled up and got us off the freeway to file report and talk about the incident.

In short, somebody hit the black sedan and left the scene.  The black sedan, having caused our accident, left the scene.  The guy who crashed into us also left the scene.  If it wasn’t for decent people calling that black sedan in to 911, it would’ve sounded like we made the whole thing up.   I am forever grateful to those good Samaritans who called that in, by the way.

Back to us, with fading adrenaline rush, Brandon and I continued onto Benihana to make the best out of the rest of the evening.  We popped some ibuprofen and went in to enjoy our dinner.  Our necks were tensed but we didn’t quite feel the impact yet.  I tried to dull it with a sample flight of sake…which didn’t really work.

The kicker of it all is that we had just finished fixing up the Santa Fe from Brandon’s day-before-Thanksgiving rear-ending.  (That one was paid for fully by the lady who hit him.)

AND we now found out our insurance apparently only cover physical injury from a hit-and-run/uninsured motorists but NOT the damage to the car.

Then again, this is now a week after the incident, my lower back still is  VERY tensed.  Brandon has been doing well so far but, true to what our doctor told us, sometime the muscles don’t react to the impact until many days later, now the Mister also has the problem.

Now, to top off the cake that was yesterday in the Kingdom of Crazy (aka the office), my back was so tensed I had to go get a massage.  The journey home on the bus took FOREVER as the jackasses, trying to creep up to the congested freeway entrances, blocked intersections all over Downtown LA.  Seriously, if you set LAPD out to ticket all of those bastards blocking traffic, endangering pedestrians as well as impeding traffic, City of LA would totally pull out of the financial shithole they’re in.  But I digress.

The massage part of Meatless Tuesday was nice, but not so much the rest of the day.

It all started at breakfast…

Breakfast

• Half of the Honey Nut Cheerios I originally intended to eat.  I tripped and spilled most of the bowl full of cereal and milk onto my cubicle floor.  *sigh*
• Snack: a slice of lemon poppy seed cake someone brought in.

.

Lunch

• Veggie burger at Rowdy Red with only half of the buns.  A bit of the sweet potato fries with ranch dressing. It was really tasty and I personally liked it.  However my guts didn’t want any of that.

.

Dinner

• 2 slices of Pizza Hut Veggie Lover pizza.
• A general scoop of Ben & Jerry’s Neopolitan Dynamite.

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Satisfaction Level: I WANT A FUCKING MEATY CHEESEBURGER NOW level.  I was hungry all day.  And cranky because of that.  Well, the botched attempt at breakfast got me nice and hungry through lunch.  I have to give the veggie burger credit for being thoroughly satisfying.  But then it acted up, leaving me miserable and quite literally drained for the rest of the afternoon.  I was so busy I didn’t get to snack before the evening massage either.

Thoughts: Yesterday just sucked in general. *sigh*

I must’ve been bad last year as Santa brought me the flu for Christmas.

I had a fabulous Christmas Eve dinner with Nora’s family. Great time. Tons of presents.  Hope you and yours had a fabulous time as well!

Christmas morning, I woke up with pain in my ear and swollen glands. By noon I was running fevers averaging to about 101. By 2 p.m. I called my cousin to excuse myself from family dinner. By 2:05 p.m. I downed first of many shot of Nyquil of the next 5 days.  By 2:30 p.m. I fell asleep on the couch hugging a pack of blue ice for comfort.  The rest was very much a blur.

Saturday morning, I woke up to 103 fever. Fortunately, the fever stayed put, back down to the 100. No emergency room visit for me.  Yay.  But the date between me, the couch, the ice pack, and body pillow (aka Jerry) continued.  I regrettably had to cancel my appearance at a Tweet Up the following day which I organized a month earlier.  Fooey!  Fever broke once over night.

Sunday morning, ear ache was gone. Things started to drain down the back of my throat, but I wasn’t all that stuffed up. Fever was still with me although a lot less probably it was trumped by fatigue. So Jerry the Pillow and I continued our date on the couch, thinking all the while that I wanted to be at the Tweet Up, playing Rock Band, having Hooters wings and presenting my friend with his Guinness Chocolate Birthday Cake.  By 5 p.m. it was clear I wasn’t at the party nor in any condition to go to work the next day. I had one sweaty night that night, not in a good way but definitely was better for me.

Monday morning came the onslaught of ick.  Things were still draining but I also started the drippy goodness. Fever was starting to subside, though.  I got an appointment with my substitute doctor as my current one is pregnant. The sub swabbed me and cleared me for strep throat (duh, I could’ve told her that…wait, I *did*!), and concluded that I was at the tail end of the flu. She told me to keep up with the Mucinex and plenty of liquid, to call in sick the next day, and sent me home.  I coughed and hacked through the afternoon, feeling worse as I went.  Piles upon piles of tissues were bulldozed scooped into the trash can when I went to bed at 7 p.m. Ah. Another sweaty night guarantee the morning victory!

Alas, a glorious morning without any drippy goodness!  I felt great!  But then my vocalizing “Yey” came out more like a weezy whistle.  With all the hacking yesterday, it seeemed my voice ran away from home.  A few minutes later, the mucus all came back and good feelings proved to be just a flash in the pan.  I cuddled back up to Jerry the Pillow, the second box of Puff with Lotion, and my pot of tea.

I have lost count as to how many pots of tea there have been through these past 5 days.  From PG Tips English Breakfast with sugar and milk on Christmas morning, to the rotation of Yogi Echinacea Immune Support with honey, just hot water and honey, lemongrass and pandan tea from Thailand, and TenRen Chrysanthemum tea with a touch of brown sugar. Something in these teas definitely makes it all better faster. I personally think it’s the REAL honey, avocado honey no less, I got from the farmer’s market. But I digress.

Many, er, “hairballs” later, I started to feel better. By 5 p.m. I actually wanted real food and Brandon, bless his heart for having taken care of me all week, fetched me the patty melt I craved.  Everything stayed down this time.

Hopefully, that was the last shot of Nyquil I will need for a while.

Dances with Wolves in space, James Cameron even admitted that in his interviews.  And Avatar was exactly that.

And I love every moment of it.

Sure. The story is predictable.  And a little sappy.  And had been told many times before.

But it was told with a completely different visual representation.  A seamless integration of digital animation and live action.  For the first time, the CG characters don’t look like they were fresh out of a botox clinic.  Their big yellow eyes say something.  Their blue faces had nuances that the entire train full of Polar Express or (from what I saw in the trailer) A Christmas Carol didn’t have.

I mean, I *love* Sam Worthington going in.  But who knew I would also fall for his big blue avatar too!  I mean, the Na’Vi were ALIVE.  It’s so totally awesome!

Some critics have issues with the movie’s mix of live action and computer animation.  They said it felt like they were watching someone else playing video game for 2 hours.

Maybe because I am also used to the game graphics, and many of us are, we didn’t have the problem with the blending of digital and live action.

Also, surely, those critics do not play video games.  I mean, seriously, gamers (and game spectators like myself) wish our video games look as good the as Avatar all the way through,  not only just during the cut scenes.

Can you imagine how great Mass Effect, Halo, or even Final Fantasy would have been with Avatar level of facial movements and overall animation?  But I digress.

Most importantly, Avatar is one of the movies in a very long time that I got lost in. I was willing to overlook all sorts of discrepancies and cheesiness so I can stay on that planet with them.  Get lost in the adventure.  Fall in love along side Jake and Neytiri.  And root for the home team.

Okay, fine.  I did crack up when Neytiri told Jake that “You have a strong heart”.  But I guess nobody else got the Terminator accidental reference.

But the rest was pure escape. I would see this over and over again, the way I do with Dances with Wolves.

For almost 3 hours, I was running around Pandora.  And I don’t care about anything else.

I did get my $10 worth.  That is a LOT to say about movies these days.

Is it Oscar Best Picture worthy?  Nah, I don’t think so. But did it steal my heart?  Yes, it did.

Will Avatar make a pop culture impact like Titanic or Star Wars?  I don’t know.  The “I see you” thing is going to make it, I’m sure of that.  But the rest, I don’t know.  Will people take up learning Na’Vi (which, by the way, according to Professor Paul Frommer, a USC professor (Go! Trojans!) is being developed further)?  I definitely see blue, scantily clad bodies showing up at Comic Con though.

Finally, don’t get me started on a waste of Leona Lewis’ voice on that theme song.  My heart cannot go on with that gimmick.  Sorry.

Oh, and final note here for Sam Worthington.

Dear Sam,

Please show some teeth when you smile at movie premieres.  You smile a plenty in the movie and light up the screen with your cute dimples and lovely teeth.

But all the pictures I managed to find from your premieres, you only grinned…and smirked.  I don’t know if you were going for the Russell Crowe tough guy look, or you were trying to keep that piece of gum you were chewing in check.  But I must say that just doesn’t work for you quite as well.  Trust me, we are not going to complain if you break our hearts a little more by flashing us your full smile.  We’d actually enjoy that.  Very much.

Yes. YES. YES!!!

No. Not so much.

Please don’t pull a Posh.  Your mouth is too pretty not smile.

Hope to see you soon on my DreamBoat(tm).

Love,

Oakley

P.S. I watched the LA Times interview of you with gum in your mouth. Sweetie, lose the gum too while you’re at it. Okay?

Well, this post started after I watched the latest episode of “Sood Sanaeha”, the Thai soap I’m following.  Long story short, she finally sees what has been in front of her this whole time, and decides to nab the Chef.  The Chef walks away after her big scheme to apologize to him.

I was actually cheering for the Chef.  Good for you for leaving that manipulative, selfish, whiny bitch!

(Well, this is not the finale. Although to me, it’s a perfect ending right there!  Karma is a bitch, bitch!  But this is Thailand, expect a few more episodes of  the scheming to get him back.)

It then dawns on me, oh my god. There is NO MAN on the planet like that guy!  I mean, he actually tells this bitch he thinks she’s perfect to him despite all of her flaws?  He actually LOVES this narcissistic, kniving crybaby?!?!  Seriously!?!?

I love the lovey-dovey thing he’s been doing since he realizes he had fallen for her while she floats around completely oblivious to his suddenly undivided attention.  I hate the fact that we are now fed the image of a perfect man…who doesn’t exist at all.

Hi. I’m Oakley. I am a romantic comedy addict. AND a romantic comedy hater. All at the same time.

I love a good romantic comedy once in a while.  Some of them I can watch over and over again. Even Brandon starts to recognize them because I would stop and watch whenever they are on TV.

Part of me still wants a tall sexy French man to tell me I don’t have to fly anywhere and take me back to the stone cottage on a vineyard.

To go to a pub after a break up and get pissed on Grolsch and meet a funny bloke who quotes Monty Python…then chop off my hair and start my own company, all the while getting over the break up and learning to enjoy life and love again with said funny bloke.

To follow all the signs that lead to that one true love I met randomly a long time ago on one spectacular evening in New York City.

To be loved by a boy for who I truly am despite the fact that I’m a major movie star.

To have a hunky roommate who actually has been trying to show me what the world is really like while I hide behind a theory of why some men are jerks, but yet he is there to catch me when I come to my senses.

To have someone who manages to fall in love with me just by talking to me on the phone and still love me despite the fact that I am not the gorgeous tall blond he thought I was but a nerdy short brunette.

To meet some guy by random chance who adores me even though I seem to be making all the mistakes like breaking his Rayban and his camera, AND still has feelings for me after 2 years of being abroad.

And to realize that what I want for Christmas is, well, you.

[ Oh yeah, name those movies, get some kudos. Leave your answers in the comments.  (Hint: One of these you may find some clues in recent posts.) ]

In other word, deep down inside I still want to dream that big crazy romantic dream of getting swept off my feet and living happily ever after.

But then again, reality is different than fiction.

I guess–no, I know–I am bitter that romantic comedy doesn’t work in real life.  And then I hate romantic comedy for putting a veil over the eyes of young girls everywhere about what love should be like, setting all of us up for disappointment later on.

Hey, I was once the citizen of Planet RomCom too.  It took many years, several heart breaks, and lord knows how many gallons of tears to realize that life and relationship is NOTHING like the movies.

I know a few people who still wait for Mr. Darcy (both Jane Austen’s and Bridget Jones’) and keep throwing away opportunies or perfectly good relationships because it didn’t fit what they have in mind.  You know, how it should be on Planet RomCom.  They’re miserable for that.

It’s back to that Team Jacob v.s. Team Edward conversation we had recently.  Do you want something real or do you want something to swoon to?  I chose the practical love I can rely on with not a lot of swoon factor.  Hence, the stack of romantic comedy I have around the house.

I guess swooning is like a drug.  Once in a while you need a fix. And since we can’t be 16 again to get the full effect of raging love hormones, we go to our “dealer” and get a romantic comedy.

So, scoot on over, darling.  Tonight, I need me a little “Pretty in Pink”.

As previously stated, I am not a Twi-hard. I haven’t read the books, and I haven’t even watch Twilight until a few days ago on Thai cable at the urging of my sister-in-law who insisted that I knew the story before we see New Moon.

Being a pop culture fiend, I did know that story. Going straight into New Moon wouldn’t be a problem. I mean, Kuri’s attempt at reading Twilight for the rest of us got me to know enough of the sap involve that I personally don’t want to get in on that crap.  (Thanks again, Kuri for taking one for the team!)

But hey, I know how night time Thai TV could be. Twilight was a better choice.

As I mentioned in the other post, my interst in New Moon was purely out of lust.  Helllooooo Jacob!  I actually wanted to see it more after having seen Twilight because of the adorableness of Taylor Lautner even before the beefyness.

From both movies, I learned to really dispise Edward and Bella and for the lessons they are teaching teenage girls everywhere.

• You should love your stalker because he cares so much.
• It’s okay for him to sneak into your bedroom while you slept and watch you sleep.
• He confesses that he could physically hurt you and possibly kill you and he can barely restrain himself when he’s around you, BUT he loves you too much to go away. And you should love him back because that’s all about love.
• You should hide your boyfriend from your dad.
• Because your first (and who you think is your true) love moves away, you should be depressed and want to risk your life so you can just get a hallucination of him (aka your conscience…and probably your guts) telling you NOT TO DO THE STUPID SHIT.
• Your boyfriend should want to kill himself if you were to die.
• You also should leave your parent worried to go save said dumbass boyfriend.
• You should take advantage of another boy who also likes you, leading him on so he could fix your bike and run to you to protect you at will. But you will drop his ass the moment the “true love” is back in town. (…what a whore…)

I also found myself giggling in the theater every time Edward uttered the “You’re my only reason to live” crap.  Not swoony giggle but give me a fuckin’ break giggle.  Well, I guess if he’s over 100 years old, you get that right to use that type of language.  But still, hot dang.  I haven’t seen that much cheese since what was on Brenda’s Oktoberfest platter.

Now, you turn around and take a look at Jacob.  He is her friend first. They share laughs. They had a great time. He actually runs off when he finds out he’s not good for her…unlike Edward who keeps it going and going…Jackass.  He actually stays and fights to protect her instead of throwing her in a car so they could run away.  Even when she denies him, he still hangs around the make sure she’s okay.  A much healthier relationship over here than oh my god I’ll throw myself over a cliff because he’s not here kind of thoughts.

I guess I am too practical for that romantic notion of love.  Dont’ get me wrong, I still swoon over romantic comedy.  A few days ago I watched a Thai romcom, “Bangkok Traffic (Love) Story” (Rod Faifa Ma Ha Na Tuh) and came out of the theater starry eyed.  (Then again, it did end in the planetarium…)  I appreciate the sweet story however the sap I can no longer handle.

Call me jaded, but I’d take the more practical application of love than the swoony kind.  No bullshit kind of love.

Hence, Team Jacob here.  Straight up I love you and I’m here for you.  I could be a little nutty so back the hell off or you’ll get hurt…which is every dude when they’re angry anyway.  But I’m here for you.

Pretty much the love Brandon and I have. No sugar coating type of love.  I love you.  Here it is.  So Team Jacob = Team Brandon too.

And he definitely doesn’t sparkle in sunlight…albeit occasionally I think he glows in the dark.  Heehee.

The Trojans escaped again last night from the grip of the Sun Devils.

Gridiron Goddess said on her FB status: “thinks USC is TRYING to lose this game”.

It sure looked like it.

It seemed every time I blinked we would be 1st and 10. Blinked and it’s 3rd and long and there went the punt. Same thing coming back from Arizona State.  It started to resemble a tennis match.

Our ball. Their ball. Our ball. Their ball. Oh hey, a score here and there.

Actually, I watched quite a bit of in on Catalina Express on my way back from my friends Zak & Alex’s wedding there.  My friend Irena woke me up just in time to witness the spectacular interception which was returned for an awesome dive for a touch town.

Another couple of chickens were sacrificed for yet another narrow escape.

Can hardly wait until next season so we can get past this one. *sigh*