Therefore when people make grammatical or spelling mistakes, I’m usually like, “Maybe it was an Autocorrect error. That happens.” Or, “They were just trying to get their feelings and thoughts out in the moment. Didn’t want to interrupt the flow by stopping to ask if they correctly used the apostrophe in that ‘it’s.’ How very cinema verité of them.”

However, I do really like words. I like how many there are. And how they mean certain things. I even like how when you put certain words together people understand them to mean new things. Specific things. So when people can’t be bothered to use the very basis of the English language correctly (well, I guess letters are the most basisest, but you know), it gets under my skin. And even worse? When enough people use them incorrectly that generations are brought up thinking a phrase goes one way when IT MOST CERTAINLY DOES NOT.

For starters, true grammar Nazis should obviously visit The Oatmeal’s section of grammatical comics/posters. They will make you feel happy and you’ll be all, “I’m literally going to buy these and hang them up in my cubical.” And then you will literally click the ‘add to cart’ button, enter your payment and shipping information and receive those posters in a number of days or weeks.

For the purposes of my rant, I’ll choose this one as my fave:

You should also read this cute and funny post by Allie Brosch of Hyperbole and a Half about the alot:

And wouldn’t you know the latest edition of Mental Floss is just a Niagara Falls waterfall of grammar and spelling knowledge bombs.

But now let me add a few phrases and misused words I see alot (Hey! I see alot. Alot see me too.) that really get my goat:

All of the sudden

When people say things like, “All of the sudden there was a loud bang!” or “I was walking along, enjoying the sunshine when all of the sudden I shat myself!” it makes me shudder. I’m not going to try to draw some cute cartoon to illustrate this, because I’m well out of practice, but it makes me think people are telling these stories to some indigenous tribe named The Sudden.

“Listen here, all of The Sudden–a tiny squirrel jumped off the roof right into my coffee cup! Wait, this isn’t all of The Sudden, where’s Bartholomew?”

Once and a while

“All of the sudden” sounds ridiculous, but when you come down to it “all of a sudden” doesn’t technically make a lot of sense either. But “once and a while”? Really? What does that even mean? It just doesn’t make sense.

A list of other things that don’t make any sense:

These…previously noted with other baffling fashion choices

The popularity of this show. Why do people think this is funny?

This…guinea lion? Awesome, but, it doesn’t make sense.

The cancellation of this show. Do not understand.

These people. Stubbornly refusing to follow logic for over 20 years!

Me, after 3-4 drinks. “Woman, I just married you, but I have no idea what you’re saying.”

(Oh hey, there’s Adventures in Aubreyland in the background!)

The fact that I’m still woefully underemployed. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hire that guy?

This. WHO WOULD WEAR THIS?

This ice tsunami in Winnipeg. Ice. Tsunami. ICE TSUNAMI!!

Weary and wary

Perhaps most of all, this one really chafes my willy. “I’ve been burned by her before, so I’m just weary of letting her hold the glue gun during craft time.” Oh are you. You’re weary of letting her hold the glue gun? Are you holding her arm up while she holds the gun and now it’s making your arm physically tired? Are you emotionally exhausted of her? Or are you, maybe, a little hesitant to let her have the gun due to past experiences–are you wary?

This cat is likely weary of puppies

This cat seems wary of whatever’s going on here.

I have heard so, SO MANY people, intelligent people, people I call my friends, misuse weary this way. In fact I’ve rarely heard anyone use wary when that’s what they mean. It makes me think that maybe no one even knows about its existence. And I’ve seen people type it out too, so I can’t just chalk it up to weird accents. Where ‘a’ sounds come out as ‘ea’s, eand when your treactor tips over you get ean eassload of eapples eeeeeeaaaaall over yer fearm.

Interestingly there’s a website that will help you decide which phrase or words are correct by polling the Internet (and luckily it says that 90% of Internetters use “all of a sudden” while only 7% use “the”), but honestly I’m weary of people relying so much on majority Internet rule.

Like, it makes me wanna abandon humanity and just go take a nap.

Warning, there’s a lot of “there are more cool things to look at on these here links,” so, this post could be a serious time waster. Serious Time Waster band name I call it!

Magnetic Putty Magic

I mean. Really. At first I thought, 4 minutes of watching an inanimate object? But it’s pretty entrancing, weird, beautiful, and not a little uncomfortable.

This video is just one of many amazing ones from (young! dammit!) filmmaker Joey Shanks, who created the science-fiction film Sci-Fly as an experiment in practical effects. Practical effects as in, not computer-generated visual effects–everything in the film, from galaxies to hyperspace to alien planets and black holes (made of magnetic putty, above) was created using only in-camera effects and shifted perspectives of neat objects. Watch more, like creating misty alien planets with dry ice bubbles and warp speed with steel wool en flambe! http://vimeo.com/joeyshanks

Liquids and Bubbles

I really love when humble objects, like the common soap bubble, for instance, are given the chance to be art forms and media. SO many lovely and interesting images by photographer Jane Waters on her photo stream here: Liquids & Bubbles

Music from non-musical crap

Diego Stocco is some kinda audio genius. Or nutjob. That’s usually a good combo to have. This is one of my favorite videos, mostly because of how darn happy he looks while making it. Also, the song’s got some good beats. Check out his Vimeo page for more jams, like Music from a Tree, Music from a Bonsai, Duet for Leaves and Turntable, and Improv on a Plate.

You know what? If he released an album with those song titles I bet the hipsters would be all over it. It’s got that sort of ironic-earnestness, hip yet weird quality–they’d buy the shit out of that. On vinyl of course. Maybe made out of sustainable hemp.

Rube Goldberg Machine with a twist

So, this one doesn’t seem that interesting until you get about halfway through it. More info here: Watch: A Baffling, Deviously Clever Rube Goldberg Machine

It’s Saturday afternoon, we’ve returned from a day of hiking various strenuous and easy trails, well soaked by a thunderstorm. I mean soaked, all of my waterproofing efforts were for naught. All I want is to be in dry clothes.

I head to the dresser, where we’d put away our clothes (it was a short trip, but, hey, let’s get settled in), peel my Moisty McMoisterson pants off, pull my jeans out of this drawer, slip a foot in when–

YOWZA! EEGAD! ZUT! (pardon my French). I rip my foot back out because of the sharp, shooting pain suddenly imparted upon it (I assure you no curse words were uttered even in my time of distress).

My first thought is a wasp or bee has stung me right on my damn foot, but I see the thing fall to the floor and crawl under my pants. It was dark. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t move like any wasp I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen my fair share. I think I’ve been stung two or three times, but my clearest memory was in grade school, during gym class (reason number 312 why I hated gym class), and my teacher’s honest-to-Catholic-God remedy was to apply meat tenderizer to it. I know you’re probably thinking of the scary mallet,  but I actually mean the Lawry’s or McCormick’s version.

I have no idea if this helped or is even a real home remedy (ok, apparently it is), but it certainly left an impression as even a 10-year-old thought that applying spices to a child’s fresh bee sting was a little odd.

Anyway, back to the scene of the crime, where I’ve hobbled over to the couch. Richard emerges from the bathroom to see me, pantsless, on the couch, clutching my foot and hyperventilating a little from pain and shock. I explain very calmly to him that I’ve been stung by some creature which has crawled under the pants that are now on the floor, and could he please be a dear and pick them up to see what it was?

Me: I–something–stung–pants *gasp gasp* look!

Richard: What? Wait, what’s happening now?

Me: Something stung me *gasp gasp* went under pants *pants pants* see what it *heave heave* EFFING IS!

Richard gets the memo, grabs a shoe, lifts the pants off the floor and flattens whatever it was.

Richard: Yeah, that was definitely a tiny scorpion.

…

… …

…

… … …

A SCORPION??

REALLY?

Really? Here? Of all the times I’ve been warned to look out for scorpions, in the middle of the forest on a mountain was not one of them.

This is not that scorpion. He died before his closeup. This is one we met in Costa Rica, who lived peacefully on our bathroom wall and whom I considered a friend.

I sighed anyway, because in the back of my mind I had wondered if that’s what it was and how big it might be and do I need to go to the hospital and OH GOD MY PRETTY, PRETTY FOOT I CAN’T LOSE IT IT’S MY FAVORITE ONE!

But. It was a tiny scorpion. The sting didn’t hurt very long, and after running it under some cold water, applying some sting/itch first aid goo, and shedding some tears of pain and shock and relief, it was fine. You can hardly see it after three and a half weeks. Okay, actually, you can totally see it and I showed it to my parents via Skype, but I’m not putting up a pic here because feet don’t photograph well.

Some of the pain was honestly emotional, I mean, I am a Scorpio. I thought we were brothers! How could you do me so cold, hermano?

We shook the shit out of all of our clothes, repacked them in our safe, zippered bag, and had a drink at the hotel bar to recover. It did the trick.

Richard even humored me by stopping at the hotel gift shop for some souvenirs, but to my dismay it was a pretty crap gift shop (and I am a connoissieur)–they had some fake turquoise and gold-mining junk, but not even any candy beans shaped and colored like rocks. Those were my favorite as a kid, I loved bringing them back to share with my friends, taking a big honking bite out of one before letting them know they were edible.

We moved on to a relaxing dinner at The Ahwahnee, and on our way out we noticed they had a pretty nice gift shop of their own.

Pretty successful trip after all.

Saturday

We woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for a day of good ol’ fashioned outdoorsy adventure. Serious nature and shit. We loaded up on the predictably sad, yet somehow overpriced hotel breakfast, packed up our packs and hit the road. We started back in the Yosemite Valley, and asked for recommendations on hikes from the nice ladies at the visitor’s center. We wanted something challenging, but not, like, too challenging, cuz…look at me. Look at this. Not hardcore.

So we decided on a short but ‘strenuous’ hike to start, the Vernal Fall footbridge (1.6 miles with 400 ft elevation) with the option to continue on all the way up to Vernal Fall (another 0.8 miles and another 600 ft elevation). Guess who continued all the way up? Not this guy. Look again at that face.

It was a nice hike, all in all, lots of great views and the footbridge was real pretty. Less misty that the last waterfall we met, which was appreciated. It’s the elevation that does me in, especially when there aren’t any flat landings on the way up. But at least we stopped short of the “steep granite stairway of over 600 steps.” Because in my opinion, there is NO PLACE for stairs in hiking. What is this, Rocky? No thanks.

Anyway here are some nice vistas and whatnot.

That’s my man. Eatin’ jerky on the side of a mountain. In chambray.

That’s like a damn Ralph Lauren ad right there. Also I paid this ground squirrel to pose for us. Aren’t they weird looking? There are a bunch by the bay where we live, and the first time we saw them we were all, “What? Are those…what? They’re kind of like, but no. I mean, what?”

On our way up to Vernal Fall, we saw a sign that pointed to a sneaky trail that connected with our second destination, Mirror Lake (2 miles, no elevation), a trail marked ‘easy.’ It was a cute bit of trail that was significantly more populated, but the lake area was much quieter. We had lunch, then decided to try continuing around the lake for the extra 3 miles rather than scooting on back.

Looks like he wants to conquer those peaks.

It was a really nice hike past the lake, with very few people, until it started sprinkling. And then drizzling. And then proper raining, with some classic bursts of thunder that rolled right around all those mountains. Note: it does not storm here in the Bay Area. It rains, but we haven’t once heard thunder or seen lighting since we lived in Indiana.

We kept going for awhile, but then decided to head back since it was really coming down. And then I noticed that my arms felt a little wet, despite my trusty Columbia jacket shell. And then, at approximately the same time, we both noticed that the waterproofing on our shoes gave way. We made it to a shuttle stop (they conveniently have them all around the valley), but it was as crowded as a herd of ground squirrels in…some sort of crowded scenario, and the first shuttle that passed kept right on going because it was full. So we walked back to where we parked, and by the time we got there I was not such a happy camper (not unlike those campers at risk of catching Hantavirus in Yosemite). My feet were soaked, my pants were waterlogged and weighing me down, and the rain made it through all four layers on my upper half.

The car ride back to the hotel was…soggy. Imagine a large, slobbery dog gently licking you for an hour, and you just can’t get him to stop, and then you do get him to stop but you have to sit in your moist, unpleasantly warm and yet somehow chilly clothes for another hour while traffic is backlogged and DEAR GOD WHY AREN’T WE MOVING??

Finally we get back to the hotel when something really unforeseen happens.

FORESHADOWING.

But that’s in another post.

We changed, then decided to have dinner at The Ahwahnee again because why not? On the way we grabbed a few more pics as the day’s rain turned into a lovely, ethereal mist through the valley.

Upper Yosemite Falls

It was real purty. Also, I want to note for my fellow Midwesterners that there were some deer all up ins the valley, and lots of people were stopping their cars and gathering around for some ogling and photo ops. I mean, they were regular old, American deer. I’ve had those in my backyard, dudes. Move along.

And the rest of the evening was pretty uneventful.

Sunday

Sunday morning we were out pretty early, and decided to skip sad hotel breakfast figuring we’d find something on the way down. We crossed a road that was temporarily redirected due to THE MOUNTAIN COLLAPSING AND COVERING THE ROAD, which was a fun surprise. Also? We found a nice little town but everything happened to be closed because it was Easter. Oh right.

But we made it back eventually, and have some good photos and only a few scars to remember the trip by. Overall, pretty awesome, Yosemite. Well done you.

*Most photos by Richard. Who’s the bomb.

So off we went on one such long weekend, which happened to be Easter! Here’s a quick recap for posterity.

Friday

After about 3 and half hours driving through some interesting scenery (miles and miles of orchards and industrial wine processing), we climbed up the mountains and into the park. The drive up was pretty awe-inspiring; it was a great introduction to the grandness that we were about to be a part of for a short time.

Grand vistas bring out the explorer in me.

We even had our fuzziest wildlife encounter on the drive up. Unfortunately we didn’t see any bears, although there were lots of warnings errvrywhere about them.

Coyote!

Once we checked into our hotel (and found an awesome river view right out the back porch. Seriously it was right there. Super loud once you opened that door), we just had time to make a quick hike to Bridalveil Fall on the way dinner at the Ahwahnee Hotel.

Excuse me, there’s a river in my room.

Our cozy if dated room. Site of FUTURE CRIME SCENE (dun dun dunhhh).

Our little map told us that Bridalveil Fall is a great tall ol’ waterfall, made famous by its misty misty mist that mists out around its misty falls. Also, it was noted that you may get quite misted on the hike over, so we prepared ourselves for a good ol’ fashioned misting.

This picture does not adequately show how soaking wet I was, despite how far away that waterfall looks.

This picture better shows how very very moist it was. We were not prepared.

We dried off in the car on the way to The Ahwahnee, a hotel built right in the middle of the Yosemite Valley in the 1920s. It is lovely and awesome. Like, imagine a gigantic hunting lodge built by robber barons in the roaring ’20s. Are you imagining it? Oh my gosh, you totally nailed it! We didn’t want to blow our budget in the fancy-shmancy dining room (they had a dress code, anyway), so we headed over to the bar for drinks and a light dinner. It was a great atmosphere, with a pianist who was playing exactly what I would play if I were a lounge pianist. Seriously, I was calling that shit left and right. I always wanted to be a pianist in a hazy bar, or in a Nordstroms. Because you really only need like an hour, two tops of solid music and then you can just repeat. And everyone will think you’re a God of piano because they’ll either be drunk or bored as shit waiting for their partner to finish shopping I MEAN HOW MANY WINGTIP BROGUES DO YOU NEED, ALBERTO? Anyway this place was friendly, if still pricey, and we liked it so much (Richard especially, just look at that face) we had dinner here Saturday night too.

He might’ve been playing Pocahontas at this point, which, I mean, how appro, amirite?

My drink on Saturday night, the El Capitini. With hiker’s knot of orange peel and keepsake carabiner.

We vowed to stay here one day. In the winter. It’d be so damn cozy. Once we can afford the luxury of bringing high heels to a hiking trip just so you can get into the dining room. OH and the $500+/night room rates.

At any rate *PUN EFFING INTENDED* we called it an early night in preparation for a full day of hiking on Saturday. Which shall be in a new post, because this one is already too long. But stay tuned, because it includes: Hiking! More waterfalls! Bears!  More hiking! A thunderstorm! Someone falling to their doom! Snacks! And an attack by a wild animal! Read part 2.

*Most photos by Richard, who is awesome.

You know the broadcast model, right? The one where a broadcasting channel (your ABCs, CBSs, etc) gives you something to do for free (like watch The Big Bang Theory or Monday Night Football), and then they charge advertisers for your eyeballs (gross). And the more eyeballs they can get to hang out with their channel for extended periods of time, the more advertisers will pay them. …profit.

This means that they’ve got to provide programs that will attract as many people as possible, despite the lovely diverse patchwork, and sometimes clashtastic, quilt that is the American people. Or the French people. Or even, I guess, the Canadian people. Whatever people you’re trying to reach, it’s bound to be diverse–so how do we get everyone to tune in? We find the most basic (often the basest) thing they have in common and go with it: they’re a family that has issues. They’re middle class. They like mysteries and a sense of justice. They like to dream about winning something (with or without any particular talents).

Nielson top 10 ratings for broadcast, via Nielsen.com

Nielsen top 10 ratings for cable, via Nielsen.com

So we get sitcoms about middle class families in various mundane situations. Maybe families who are a little more diverse or educated than they used to be. Or ‘families’ of quirky friends we all wish we were a part of. We get competitions that require no real talent, and ones that do require talent–but the best parts are obviously when we get to make fun of those who don’t have talent. Like we don’t. We get the lowest common denominator TV.

But cable channels are different: they get paid by cable providers (Comcast, Uverse), in addition to advertisers. So they’re able to have a smaller target audience that is a little more homogenous, as long as that audience is one that some advertisers, somewhere, are interested in. And interested in paying a premium for. And now you have channels full of programming just for science nerds, and people who are into the paranormal, people who would watch stand-up comedy specials, music lovers, heck, even people who want to watch college sports–but only like, 11 or 12 specific colleges (I’m looking at you, Big Ten Network. Also, thank you.).

Most movies you can see in theaters are pretty crap too. And probably most things you can find in a bookstore.

And ABSOLUTELY most things on the Internet are crap. A lot of it is totally illegible, and if you try to use it to fertilize your crops or something–GUESS WHAT? Come fall, you’re looking at a sticky, disgusting harvest of pictures of peoples’ meals, sad attempts at soapbox journalism and DEAR GOD the bales and bales of YouTube comments calling you a damn Nazi, sooner or later.

But as it became cheaper to produce and distribute content (and therefore less people need to buy into it in order to make a profit for the creators)–as it becomes less and less necessary to pander to the widest audience–good content has been allowed to thrive in the niches that want it. As popular as it is, a very expensive period drama about exorbitantly handsome men and women in the 60s would probably not have survived on the broadcast model. OH WAIT it didn’t.

A show about four middle-aged female friends who talk about, and often show, sex a lot wouldn’t cut it on a channel that was trying to get everyone to tune it. OH WAIT when syndicated on broadcast and even most cable channels they cut all the naughty bits out (ouch!), don’t they.

A quirky, smart serial comedy with lots of inside jokes that’s chock-full of some amazing weirdos would maybe get a few seasons on a broadcast network, but would likely not bring in enough regular weirdo viewers to keep it on air. OH WAIT that happened, and finally it’s coming back on another network! NO WAIT it’s coming back on 21st century Blockbuster. And the Internet shat itself with joy at the news.

And that delicious, delicious darling of a turn-of-the-century soap opera…well it probably would still be on PBS, as it’s always been. Support PBS.

I guess my point is…I find myself gravitating more and more towards shows that appear outside of the broadcasters. And the few shows I do like get canceled before I’m ready (I’m looking at you, 30 Rock and Parks & Rec, and I was looking at you, The Sing Off, but you’re coming back to us). It seems like the few I give a chance continually disappoint me by treating their audiences like idiots (now I’m giving you my evil stare, Smash).

And I just. can’t. stand. being treated like an idiot. WHERE DID THAT GOSPEL CHOIR COME FROM?? There are only three people on stage. Oh Ellis meddled in this dumb plot about mobster money and you’re not bothering to even show him this season? WHO CARES ANYMORE. OMG that little twig is caught in a lust triangle with Commodore Norrington and the new, straight Jonathon Larson? HE’S A FREAKING COMMODORE, HAVE YOU SEEN HIS AMAZING WIGS? And I know that not every “musical” can record the songs “live” à la Les Mis, but butterface McPhee, you have to make a goddamn expression with your face once in awhile. I’M BEGGING YOU. It’s starting to rub off on the other actors. I mean look at these guys belting out this emotional song at the top of their voices with nary a straining neck tendon. STRAIN THOSE TENDONS, KIDS. It’ll make it look like you’re maybe actually singing and not like you’re timidly mouthing the words to grocery store Musak so no one will hear you and think you’re a nutjob.

Just produce Hit List in one grand finale and cancel the damn thing.

A few weeks ago I actually did get myself showered and dressed early so I could make an early-morning trip to our nearby Safeway and it was another interesting lesson in things I say out loud and things I keep to myself.

As I walked into the store, I passed a friendly delivery-truck man.

FRIENDLY DELIVERY TRUCK MAN: How you doing?
OUT LOUD: Hi.

FRIENDLY DELIVERY TRUCK MAN: (as I’ve pretty much fully passed him) How you doing?
IN MY HEAD:

OUT LOUD: Hi.

So this sets the scene for a pretty great grocery trip. I treat myself to a Cinnamon Dolce Latte from the nested Starbucks, you know, so I can feel even more like a yuppie (this Safeway is unreasonably huge and thinks a little too highly of itself, à la the East side Kroger for you B-towners). Next up, around the bakery the muzak system hits me with some Sara Bareilles and, in my head, I’m all:

This my jaaaams.

I happily go about my shopping, now mouthing along and singing a bit, and my mood is so elevated that I make some good/bad purchase decisions like this:

This is not jams. But it is shelved there, if you’re looking.

And then around yogurt I hear the incomparable Mr. Phillip Collins, reaching ever so softly into my soul with One More Night. Which made me say in my head:

THIS my jams!

and reminded me of that time some of my work friends were really crazy about Phil Collins and we decided to get a cake for his birthday with his face on it and then my company had a round of layoffs that morning and it was really depressing but we still had a Phil Collins cake at least.

It’s a pretty stellar grocery trip so far, obviously, but when I get to the coffee aisle I’m absolutely blown away by the next song that comes on. It is SO AMAZING it almost knocks me over, breaks right through my filters and causes me to say, right out loud:

MY JAAAAAAAAAAAMS!!!

And then I decided we should bring this song back as the new Rick Rolling. We could call it Bolton Bowling. It totally has the same immediate “EW!” followed by “Allllright” reaction for me as Rick Astley does. Who’s game?

Finally I make it to the cash register, with hardly any more outbursts after I finished singing along with that sexy Samson of soft rock up there. A few people are already in line, and the lady right in front of me is messing about with a produce baggie, apparently unable to open it.

LADY AHEAD OF ME: Is there a trick to this?
IN MY HEAD: Really? Really? How old are you, 45? How have you come this far without understanding produce bags?
OUT LOUD: Oh, sometimes if you lick your fingers it helps.
IN MY HEAD: That’s kind of a weird sentence to say to a stranger.
IN LADY’S HEAD: That’s a weird sentence to hear from a stranger, it surely won’t—OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THIS MAGIC?
IN MY HEAD: It’s called friction, lady.

Another lady comes up behind me, and we three give eachother the HeyHow’sItGoinFellowShopper nod. Shortly thereafter,

LADY BEHIND ME: Seriously? There’s like two people working. This is going to take forever.
IN MY HEAD: Seriously? There’s like five people shopping.
LADY IN FRONT OF ME: I know, I hate coming here, it’s always like this.
IN MY HEAD: I’m in a lady sandwich!
LADY BEHIND ME: Yeah, you know I called the Safeway management about it and they said it shouldn’t be like this. They gave me a gift card and apologized, but nothing’s changed.
ME, OUT LOUD: Mmmm.
LADY IN FRONT OF ME: Well sometimes I ask if they can get more people…(to cashier) Can you get anyone else on the lanes?
CASHIER: There’s just one other person, Tony, but he had an emergency.
IN MY HEAD: What kind of emergency? A family emergency? A medical emergency? A grocery emergency? Were the plantains trying to intermingle with the bananas??
LADY IN FRONT OF ME: Oh, well.
IN MY HEAD: Get out of there you plantains! YOU’RE NOT BANANAS!
LADY BEHIND ME: This is just ridiculous.
IN MY HEAD: This is just BANANAS. No plantains allowed.

LADY BEHIND ME: If there were any other stores nearby I would never come here. We’re going to be here forever.
IN MY HEAD: Oh, and do we have somewhere to be, ladies who shop at 10am of a Tuesday? Gonna be late to pick up the kids in 5 hours? Gotta run off to your smoothie date with other ladies of leisure? Guess what, now you’ll have something to talk about.
WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID: Well, they probably don’t staff up at this hour because there aren’t too many of us, but it’s nice to shop when it’s not so crowded, isn’t it?
WHAT I DID SAID: Mmmm.
LADY BEHIND ME: Thank God, another lane.
IN LADY’S HEAD: Peace, bitches.
IN MY HEAD: I think I was actually in a bitch sandwich.

CASHIER: (As I finally, finally, reach the cash register forever later (or maybe, like, 15 minutes after getting in line)) How’re you today?
ME, OUT LOUD: HOW’RE TONY’S BANANAS??

And the moral of the story:

…

On an unrelated note, THIS LINK is really worth clicking on and sharing.

It’s an interesting concept, kind of like, “We know you’re too lazy to actually get involved and too cheap to just donate, so how about you buy stuff you’d normally want to buy but we’ll just sneak in some philanthropy and you’ll barely feel a thing. Plus you can brag to your friends about it later.” I’m not against it, and if it works, then hey–keep it right up.

Follow the Frog – Rainforest Alliance

This is an awesome campaign promo, watch it even if you really don’t care about buying non-rainforest-destroying goods.

The Union Co.

This company works to bring a whole bunch of different causes together to sell you some pretty interesting stuff. I really like some of the jewelry MADE FROM BOMBS. It helps to clear bomb fields in Laos. So that’s a good story when someone compliments you on your necklace. I also would consider getting one of these backpacks that help provide educational opportunities to children in India. You can even order fresh flowers to help support sustainable farmers who create jobs and support their employees.

Epiphany onE Puck

So I first clicked on a link to explore this product because it just sounded SO AWESOME. It charges up your phone just by placing a hot or cold beverage on it. How great would this be during travel, at airports or in transit before you can get into a hotel? Turns out, incidentally, they’re using this product to fund a larger project to help provide more clean water and energy in developing countries. Bonus! It’s still Kickstarting, so you can get one for $115 now or $150 when it retails.

So there’s a smattering of products that will do good in the world in your stead. I guess it’s like when I discovered eBates last week–you might be buying these things anyway, might as well make them work for you.

My picks

These are the kinds of docs that might make you change your mind about the genre, if your mind was, like mine, made up that documentaries are boring and sad.

1. Circus. This is a 6 part miniseries about the Big Apple Circus. So. Fascinating. The characters! The stunts! The animals! The artistry! The financial precarity! I’ve watched the whole series at least twice. These filmmakers also made a series aboard a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier called…Carrier…which is also great. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
2. Exit Through The Gift Shop. The un-documentary. Maybe. Maybe not? But probably. Who knows. It follows one man’s discovery of street art (graffiti), and one deviant-turned-well-respected-artist-turned-art-community-snubber named Banksy. Stay tuned, at the end something happens. What a twist! (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
3. The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. Weird story of domestic parrots that somehow live wild in San Francisco, and the quasi-homeless eccentric man who takes care of them. Bonus: another twist at the end. One I promise you will NOT see coming. I’ve searched for the birds at Telegraph Hill but am as of yet unsuccessful at spotting them. (Watch on Amazon)
4. Marwencol. So this guy gets beat up at a bar and ends up severely brain-damaged. He begins building models of his home town and enacts elaborate storylines featuring the people in his real world and in his imagination, as a way to understand what happened to him and as rehabilitation. (Watch on Netflix)
5. Being Elmo. Ok, this is such a fantastic one about a man with a passion and a calling and Sesame Street, but now, unfortunately it has to come with a caveat if you’ve heard anything about the star in the news this year. Hopefully you don’t know anything about it and you can just watch and enjoy. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
6. The Thin Blue Line. This could go on the next list too, as the director, Errol Morris, is very important to the genre. The style makes it feel more like a cop show, or a 48 Hours Mystery (done well). Classic whodunit mystery. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)

Documentaries 101

Watch these to feel highly superior to non-documentary-watchers. These will give you a good grounding in the ‘important’ docs, and are the ones most programs will force you to watch.

1. Hoop Dreams. Kind of interesting story about two kids from inner-city Chicago who are given the chance to raise themselves up through basketball. One of my professors worked on this doc so I feel special by the transitive property. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
2. Nanook of the North. I’ve only seen clips, but this is one of the first real film documentaries (which may have been staged in parts), set in the arctic North. (Watch on Amazon)
3. Man with a Movie Camera, a weird, montagey, Russiantastic early early film. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
4. Gimme Shelter. I’ve only seen a few sections of this, but I’d watch more. About the Rolling Stones, and it starts with their 1969 concert in San Francisco where someone had the brilliant idea to let the Oakland chapter of Hell’s Angels run security for a bunch of hippies, and someone gets stabbed. To death. On camera. (Watch free in Russian!) Other great music docs: No Direction Home (Dylan), Trouble No More (Mellencamp–also director by another professor!)
5. Probably something Michael Moore-ish. They’re good if you want to feel simultaneously justified as a liberal (if you happen to be one) AND rubbed the wrong way by a raging, unapologetic liberal. I’ve seen Bowling for Columbine and Roger & Me and am kind of all set, thanks. Oh my gosh, I didn’t know he directed & wrote Canadian Bacon! Damn, I kind of liked that one.

Sad but true

Ok, so these are the hard, heavy ones that I said I hated. But whatever.

1. Born into Brothels. A great and terrible story about the children born in the red light district of Calcutta and the filmmaker’s quest to help them get a good education. Heavy but hopeful. Winner of best documentary Oscar in 2005. (Watch on YouTube)
2. Restrepo. Also known as Hard to Watch. Really. And I watched it in a movie theater, there was no escape. But really worthwhile, if you can get up the nerve. (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
3. Jesus Camp. Interesting and TERRIFYING look into the world of Evangelical Christians, how they indoctrinate their children so efficiently and how they might just take over America. (Watch on Amazon)

In my Queue

No spoilers, please:

1. Jiro Dreams of Sushi. Like 8 different people have told me to watch this. It’s about a sushi-master, I think? (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
2. Paris is Burning. Ball culture (drag queen runway?) in new York City in the 1980s. How can you not want to watch that? (Watch on Netflix)
3. Nostalgia for the Light. Astronomers hang out in the clearest spot in the world in Chile, in the same desert where people look for the remains of their loved ones who were taken by the Chilean army decades ago. A-wha? (Watch on Netflix, Amazon)
4. Searching for Sugar Man. Oscar winner for Best Documentary Feature this year. A nobody rock-n-roller from Detroit is more famous than Elvis in South Africa and the voice of the Apartheid resistance. They had no idea who he was and he had no idea he was famous. Also the first Oscar-winning documentary funded on Kickstarter! And a lot of it was shot with an iPhone and a Super-8 camera. (Watch on Amazon)

It was made more awesome by the fact that as I walked up to the theater, there were a ton of supportive people waiting for me, and I kept saying to myself, “Oh, I know them!” as people continued to trickle in (forgetting that I had, in fact, sent tickets to most of those people and begged them to come). It was seriously the greatest feeling.

My crew is the cute one. (Photo by Todd Chen)

After the three docs from my class ended, all of the crews went on stage for a short Q&A session. One precocious young attendee asked, “Why do you like making movies?”

I have no idea what my answer was, or if I even answered (we took turns), but now–after some reflection–I can firmly say: I have no idea.

Movies are goddamn magical. Who doesn’t love getting swept up in the sounds and images of a great Western, or an epic period drama, or a sparkly vampire romance (kidding! kind of!)? Even more than I love escaping into a movie for a few hours, I love thinking about, knowing about–and above all being a part of–what goes on under the top hat to make that movie magic.

It takes a group of people (sometimes a HUGE GROUP) of extremely talented, very specialized people, coordinated over months, years, and sometimes countries to pull that bunny out (I’m sticking with this magic theme, deal with it.). There is some serious craftsmanship put into a movie, and usually (hopefully, in the best cases) some serious love and passion. It’s one industry totally insulated from our robot overlords–you can’t automate and take the human out of movie-making.

PRODUCING (Photo by Lindsey Wilder)

And the more I learned about making movies as a kid, the more I knew it was what I wanted to do. I started making photo essays during sleepovers, usurping my friends’ camcorders, and directing all of our school projects. I convinced my dad that we toootally needed one of our own like, NOW. For my education. Which I did totally use for more school projects, but also for numerous music videos starring Beanie Babies and divers other now-embarrassing projects.

And while I always imagined myself growing up to work on huge feature films, or on the set of a popular scripted TV show, I never thought about nonfiction. Documentaries are boring, often heavy, depressing, and just so much. I didn’t want to waste my time watching that nonsense, much less waste exponentially more of my time making it. And then forcing others to watch it. WATCH IT. Watch my documentary film. You will be greatly saddened and exhausted by its gravitas and you with feel guilty for not doing anything about that thing I made a documentary about and not using words like gravitas more often.

Documentaries were a little bit like jazz to me: no one really liked them, and those who claimed they did were just pretentious snobs and absolutely the worst kind of people.

But, gradually, I came to appreciate documentaries for the tremendous amount of work that goes into them and for the incredible stories they tell. You know that saying, “Truth is greater than fiction”? I have so much respect for people who can find those fascinating stories that just couldn’t be made up.

My crew in the edit room

And the work. Oh the work. So much time spent researching, working with your subjects, asking the right questions, being there at the right time to catch that one thing that will make the whole movie (which usually means being there all the time always just in case). And then taking the mountain of footage you have, sifting through it and creating a cohesive, interesting story out of basically nothing? Major, serious, the utmost props, man. It’s an incredible feat and when it’s done right, I’ll wager there’s no fictional story that can top it.

Ermahgerd transcripts.

So now, yes, I like making documentaries and hope to continue to do so. I’d still like to make some narrative pieces too, if you’re asking. Please hire me. But I would be proud to make a career out of making documentaries that are entertaining while they secretly, sneakily teach you about something you didn’t know or make you think about something you hadn’t before. Ninja reflection and personal growth. You’ll never see it coming and then IT WILL BE TOO LATE.