Wait. Go up there, back to the beginning, and read that again, please. And again. And again. And again. And again. And over and over again until it’s the only thing you can hear inside your head or feel under your skin or understand. Read it until it’s ringing around in your bones like a tiny forgotten windchime hanging in the breezeway of a house where no one has lived for a long time. And then maybe you’ll understand, like, a tenth of what I’m feeling over here in my real life.

Isn’t that ridiculous? Isn’t that the most intense/tragic/pathetic thing you’ve EVER read regarding someone’s totally alive and healthy and communicative and loving parents? It’s SO ridiculous. But that doesn’t make it not true! ALL THIS SADNESS IS DOWN INSIDE MY BONE MARROW.

So, basically, the deal is that my dad got a “great opportunity” from his job and is going to open and manage their office in Williston, North Dakota where all that horrible environment-murdering oil drilling stuff is going on in the Bakken. YEAH, MAN. Opportunity 2k11.

But I won’t dwell on that because my parents are actually HAPPY about this move and they’ve spent the last six months verbally and emotionally shitting all over everything that has to do with California so — duh! — it will be easier to leave and basically if I have to hear anymore of it I am going to burn down the entire city of Williston myself, so I’ll leave it at. HOORAY FOR THEM. BOO FOR ME.

I am really close to my parents — my dad in particular — and this move will be REALLY HARD ON ME PERSONALLY. I am going to be emotionally devastated. I am going to cry a lot. I am going to cry A LOT. It’s going to be so bad bad bad and I am not looking forward to it. But there is Skype. And for now the girlfriend (FEEYAHNSAY) are keeping the dogs so NEENER NEENER MOM AND DAD THE DOGS LOVE US MORE GO TO HELL. I mean. Cough. We will survive.

When Crystal and I left for Kansas City last summer (nearly a year ago! look at that!) it was easy because my parents drove us to KC. Literally! And stayed for a night while we got kind of settled. And then they left. And we parted ways in a Ramada Inn parking lot on Shawnee Mission Parkway and we were so fucking devastated that we had to pull over in the nearby neighborhood and SOB. And call my parents to say goodbye again. While they cried. I had to listen to my dad cry. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW AWFUL THAT IS?! SO AWFUL. (PS: Don’t stay at that Ramada Inn. It is terrible.)

And that was only for three months! THIS IS FOR FOREVER. Mostly. I mean, all of me is hoping they come back pretty quick. (Like, in a year. A YEAR IS TOO LONG EVEN THOUGH.) But it’s a “PERMANENT MOVE” and I don’t like it and thinking about it makes me sick all the way to the bone and puts my stomach somewhere around the balls of my feet.

I love my parents. I have lived with them for 27 years minus a grand total of 21 months I have spent elsewhere. And Crystal has lived here for… almost four years now. And though that has largely been out of circumstance (NEWS ALERT: WE ARE POOR. SO POOR!) it has almost never been an unfortunate circumstance.

I not only love my parents, I like them. They have their faults — DUH — but they are kind, generous, funny, good people. They make me laugh all the time. They take care of me emotionally and financially. They laugh at my jokes. And they have supported me always 100% no matter how stupid my decisions have been. Dude, they encouraged my going to grad school. They’re clearly reckless and crazy people.

And now they’re abandoning me?! So entirely unacceptable that nothing can quell the rage and sadness hurricane in my heart.

Crystal and don’t know what we’re going to do either, really. We may have to move to North Dakota to mooch off the only adults in my life for a little bit longer — and maybe we’ll make some of that sweet-ass Bakkan CASH — or we may have to invade Crystal’s mother’s life for a while. Or we might have to do both, running this engagement shitshow as a long-distance deal for a while. But for now, we’re going to stay in my parents’ house and try to find a roommate and make this shit work. LIKE ADULTS. So that when North Dakota proves lame and cold, my parents can come back and resume taking care of me for the rest of my life. DUH.

Uncertainty messes with my bowels SO MUCH, you guys. Be so glad you haven’t had to share a bathroom with me these last few weeks.

So this posts exists for a few reasons:

1. To tell the internet at large that I love my parents a lot and will miss them heartily.
2. To make it perfectly clear that I am not nor probably ever will be an adult.
3. To reiterate that I am SO OPEN TO FREELANCE IT ISN’T EVEN FUNNY. (Peep that sidebar, son. Email me. I’m good.)
4. To use the verb “peep” in a public space because sometimes I say it in my head.
5. To reiterate that California is awesome and everywhere else sucks. BOOYAH.
6. To warn you that we will be doing some ~remodeling~ in order to get the master bedroom up to roommate snuff so that someone will want to live with us. And I will be blogging about it.
7. To entice you to want to live with me and Crystal maybe because we are awesome and will be looking for people in June/July and want to welcome some fucking weirdos on the internet into our home. Because we are also fucking weirdos.

Here are some pictures of me and my parents! They are pictures of pictures because I love my parents but am also the laziest. I cried a little though while my webcam went off, so there’s that. Call ‘em lo-fi or some shit.

Dear Momma and Poppa,

You are abandoning me. I am 27 and I can barely manage to do a load of laundry and, at 20, in one weekend where I was left alone in your house, I lit the toaster on fire and had to throw a flaming bag of popcorn into the front yard in order to extinguish it. What the hell are you thinking? I wasn’t even drinking.

Regardless, I love you both and I know that you’re doing this because you want to have an adventure and that is GREAT. Go have an adventure. And be safe. And meet people and look at some historic junk and throw some rocks over the border at Canadians and for GAWD’S SAKE please hire someone to shovel your walkway when it snows. We will hold the fort down until your return from the almost-Great White North. I love you. Thank you. We love you. Thank you.

- Ash and also Crystal and also everyone who has ever met you probably.

THE HUNGER GAMES!! SPOILERS, OBVIOUSLY!!

Yo, if you are looking for a thoughtful or coherent review this is not the place. Lots of other smart people have written about it and I didn’t give a fuck about those reviews, so if that’s your bag, go forth and seek! If, instead, you want mostly capslocked and partially incoherent babble, I AM TOTES YOUR WOMAN.

OH MY GOD I LOVED IT SO MUCH.

I read the trilogy over the course of two days (Actually about 12 hours if I remember correctly) at the end of October last year and, though I found plenty problematic things to bitch about with my girlfriend, I generally loved them. I read WAY more YA books than books marketed towards adults (11 of the 16 books I read last year were YA — wow I need to read more this year! — and all but one of the 26 books I read in 2010 was not YA or a comic trade) and I tend to read them and love them with reckless abandon. I try to always read critically, but I have two English degrees and that shit gets tiresome. I mostly read for pleasure and I am not going to beat myself up if I don’t think about what I’m reading hard enough. And you shouldn’t either! But you should also be willing to listen when people raise good critical points!

ANYWAY. I loved the movie and though I agree with the criticism that choosing her white-washed the character Jennifer Lawrence was really, really good. I mean, unbelievably good. I mean, OUTSTANDING at being empathetic and pained and open and restrained in all the right places.

Also, I love Josh Hutcherson as Peeta. And his Peeta is SO GOOD. The sniffing! The sweet earnest confession of love! HIS BEAUTIFUL BREAD ARMS! That little, “WE ARE GONNA DIE SO AT LEAST COME LAY NEAR MY GENITALS WHILE INFECTION LEECHES INTO MY BRAIN AND MURDERS ME”. So charming! The gentle EROTIC SALVING OF WOUNDS!! Also, good job cutting to Gale’s face every single time Peeta and Katniss were together. SO GREAT AND HILARIOUS. Gale’s facial expressions are perfect forever.

And whatever to Gale and Prim and Katniss’ mother. These are characters IDGAF about. I hate Prim in the books and I didn’t like her in the movie but that’s because she was being the Prim in the books, so good job on that I guess?

I really loved all the tributes, ESPECIALLY RUE who is my second favorite character in the books (um, after no one? I guess after Katniss, but actually probably Cinna who I will discuss MOMENTARILY) and especially when she stole the knife from the other tribute and was hanging up above them GIGGLING because she is 12 and that is what 12-year-olds do even when they are in a scary-ass situation. Her bonding with Katniss and them cuddling up together for warmth/safety and her helping Katniss attack the volunteer squad with the tracker jackers was all perfect and beautiful and I just LOST IT TOTALLY when she died.

[ALSO, fuck racist idiots who fail at reading comprehension and HUMAN DECENCY. End of story.]

I mean, you guys, let’s talk about my track record for crying here. I AM A MESS as a human being. I cry at EVERYTHING. I cry at Parks and Recreation FREQUENTLY because I can’t deal with Ron Swanson being a good friend. SERIOSULY. TEARS ACTUALLY COME OUT OF MY FACE. And I get choked up at trailers all the time and also, I am just generally a person that cries. And I cried SO HARD when Rue died in the book, sitting up at my desk at like four in the morning with my Kindle in my left hand and my face on my desk, just WEEPING tears onto the floor and my legs and everywhere. And then Amandla Stenberg and that sad, perfectly shocked face and Katniss being like, “YOU ARE GOING TO BE OKAY IT’S ALL OKAY EVERYTHING IS OKAY OH GOD”.

I am not emotionally equipped to deal with that. And then JUST LIKE IN THE BOOKS, I sobbed even harder while she was laying the flowers around Rue’s body and THEN when she kissed her fingers and then District 11 did it back and then started rioting I was just like, FULLY SOBBING LOUDLY in the theater doing that WUH WUH WUH WUH WUH WUH noise?! And it was horrible. MY NECK GOT ALL SLIMY FROM TEARS AND THAT IS DISGUSTING.

When the movie was over my gf was like, “Dude, you were totally crying in sync with the twelve year old girl next to me.” And I’m a little proud.

I LOVED CINNA. Lenny Kravitz is a beautiful, gentle man and he and Jennifer Lawrence EFFORTLESSLY brought to life one of the most dynamic and interesting and painful and perfect relationships in the entire series and I CANNOT WAIT to see how it develops in the next one. Because Cinna is THE BEST and they are so beautiful together. CINNA AND KATNISS BFFFFF FOREVER.

I also loved all of the CAPITOL FASHUNZ and EFFIE! I have loved Elizabeth Banks approximately forever and such perfect casting! So many ridiculous fashunz I would love to wear! And all the posh accommodations and futuristic buildings and stuff. So good and great to watch.

I loved the way they brought everything to life, especially the stuff in the arena control room because it was really cool and such a good way of seeing how that stuff works and how they’re responding in real time to the whims of the Capitol.

And yes, some of the weight of the books is lost in taking it to screen, some of the story and some of the heart and some of the political commentary is buried or skipped. But if you come out of that movie thinking anything other than “The Capitol is dangerous and the Hunger Games are terrible and life in Panem is oppressive and awful” you weren’t watching the same movie. And yes, that applies to the teenagers that adults continue to underestimate.

GREAT MOVIE, GREAT TIME.

Dear AMC Theatres,

You and I have a longstanding relationship. A long, longstanding relationship. I’ve been dedicated to your company since the AMC 30 in Covina opened when I was twelve.

Though I had long been a loyal customer of the Edwards West Covina, I abandoned them rapidly after watching my first movie in your new multiplex. Though I was young and subject to the the whims of my peers and caregivers, I always requested shows in your theaters whenever possible and lamented those rare times I did not win.

I have been brand loyal to AMC Theatres for almost fifteen years and I have always been happy with not only the service of your employees but the entire moviegoing experience in your establishment. Your sound is excellent, your screens are large and well-kept, projection was great even before the switch to digital, and your theatres have always been generally well maintained, clean, and comfortable.

When my partner and I moved to Kansas City this summer, we were wildly excited to try out both the Fork and Screen and Cinema Suites viewing experiences you are testing there. They were FABULOUS and those KCMO theaters, even the regular ones, were one of the things we’ve missed most since returning to L.A. They were so well staffed and never failed to give us the perfect movie experience. And we were thrilled to be paying into a local company! And even to see your offices downtown. It’s a JOY to get to support and interact with a company that you love. Especially one with such a solid ranking with the Human Rights Campaign.

While in KCMO people were often aghast that we would pay the high ticket prices for your theatres but my partner and I espoused, time and time again, the merits of the AMC moviegoing experience and the value we saw in it. We hope, often, that the Cinema Suites experience (and the theater quality in general) that we saw in KC will come our way in SoCal.

My partner and I even joined your Stubs program almost immediately after its inception and have found it to be an exceptional deal and have recommended it to all of our friends with similar moviegoing appetites. And though we recently lost ten dollars in rewards due to our forgetfulness, we still renewed today and not just for the free popcorn.

But, guys, you are not without faults. First, you stopped using two of the three concession stands in the theater, but that was okay! It was an understandable cut and never a big deal. Lines weren’t bad, after all.

But then you took away your lax policy on outside food as the country stumbled into the recession. And even though you were attempting to maximize profits on the backs of your consumers and even though it made your one concession line unbearably long, I forgave you anyway because times were hard for your company and I liked you.

Then, you added an IMAX theater! Which seemed great! Except for how it’s a fake one, which, granted, isn’t entirely your fault, but is shitty anyway. And you don’t even tell your customers!

Then you closed more than a third of my theater. MORE THAN A THIRD. You reduced the number of showings in general and began ushering movies out of the theater faster to make room for new releases in your newly limited theaters. This is the very same multiplex that was the 28th most visited in the entire United States in 1999. One of the largest, one of thirteen you list at that size in your entire chain.

When the walls first appeared, we got excited because our theater was edging toward fifteen years old and it was starting to look shabby and tired and we thought it was getting a refresh! And it would be shiny and new. But no, we asked and were told that it just closed. And yet it retains it’s status as AMC 30, when it isn’t at all. And again, you balanced your budget on the backs of your customers.

And then service started to get shitty. Theaters weren’t cleaned and when they were, it was only because someone stood at the base of the stairs trying to rush us out before the credits had rolled. I always sit through the credits, AMC. I haven’t walked out before the absolute end of a movie since I got my license. And your staff have repeatedly attempted to ruin this ritual for me. If it isn’t that, it’s projection errors or doors left open or lights left up well into the start of the movie. And all of these little things continue to degrade the moviegoing experience.

But through all this, we have returned. The prices have risen and risen and risen for both tickets and concessions. And yet we persist. We save, we SCROUNGE so that we can still go to the movies. So that we can SPECIFICALLY go to the AMC where the sound and projection are still usually solid. Where the staff are still relatively competent. We have done Gold Class. We have done ArcLight. But we keep coming back here, not only because it’s close to home, but because it is consistent. But consistency is meaningless when it’s consistently shitty.

This last Sunday, my partner and I got up to go to the earliest show of Wanderlust. We renewed our Stubs membership even though money is tight. And we bought some concessions so that we could have the whole experience. We used to go every Sunday morning as our form of church, but we hadn’t been in quite a long while and we’d really missed it.

My partner stopped at the concession stand while I headed into the theater to grab us seats. It was early in the morning and there was still lots of time before the show, so unlikely to be crowded, but I think this letter is evidence enough that I’m a reasonably particular moviegoer and wanted to make sure we got the right seats. I paused as I walked into the theater and blinked several times because it was so dark I could hardly see where I was going. It was so dim, I even checked to see if I had forgotten to switch my sunglasses for my regular glasses, but I had not. It was just that dark in the theater. It was still playing the pre-movie trivia, but I tripped as I headed up the stairs. The rope lights weren’t even lit.

I found our spot, settled in, and waited for my partner to arrive. She did, also remarking on the dimness of the theater.

Then, you guys played a trailer for that bigot piece of shit Kirk Cameron’s documentary Monumental. And look, I know you play what advertisers pay for. And I get that. And I know that Fathom Events are a thing that AMC does. I’ve gone to a few over the years! But you can’t pride yourself on having that 90 HRC score and then let some bigot piece of shit sell me his stuff. That’s not okay. But I let it go, AMC, because I love you. And our relationship is important to me.

Despite Kirk Cameron’s foul existence, we enjoyed the show and left happy that we’d made the trip. So far so good, AMC.

That’s where it ends though, AMC. Unfortunately, I’d spent the morning with a pretty bad headache and it was 90 degrees out when we got to our car and I was grouchy, GROUCHY. We tried to go get food, but everywhere we wanted to eat was either closed or ridiculously crowded. So, grumpy and dejected, we headed to the pet store to visit some animals up for adoption.

You have to understand me, AMC, we were desperate to cheer up and these puppies were going to help! And this might seem like a tangent, but I hope you’ll soon understand why it’s here.

We got out of the car, SUPER EXCITED to pet some strange dogs, and I turn back to grab my bag and I see, immediately, a HUGE RED SMEAR OF FUCKING CHEWING GUM ON MY SEAT. The beautiful, clean beige cloth seat of my 2010 Honda Insight. Has an enormous smear of someone else’s fucking gum on it. And you know what that means, AMC? MY ASS ALSO HAS AN ENORMOUS SMEAR OF SOMEONE ELSE’S GERMY DISGUSTING CHEWED GUM ON IT.

The only places I had sat down all day, AMC, were my couch at home, my car, and YOUR THEATER SEATS. And one of those places covered me with gum. The USED, CHEWED, GERMY GUM FROM SOME OTHER PERSON’S MOUTH. GUESS WHICH SEAT IT WAS? GO AHEAD, GUESS!

And, okay, AMC, I am SO MAD at the gross person that would do that. I am HORRIFIED that people stick their gum places other than their mouth or a trash can. I DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND GUM. It absolutely is one of the grossest things we do as humans! HOORAY I WILL CHEW THIS WAD OF RUBBERY STUFF FOR A TOO LONG AMOUNT OF TIME. AWESOME. But I still do it, AMC, and I don’t begrudge my fellow gum-chewers their gum. I begrudge them the desire to stick gum where it doesn’t belong and I know that isn’t your fault, AMC. I know that. You can’t control people or what they do with their nasty wads of mouth filth.

But you know what you can control? You can control how fucking clean your theaters are, AMC. You can control how well-lit they are before a show. You can control the environment that you provide to your patrons. Not just your patrons, YOUR CUSTOMERS. The people who pay your bills and pad your profits.

Had the house lights been at the level they were supposed to be, I probably would have seen the HORRIBLE WAD OF GUM awaiting my ass. If your staff had done their job, it wouldn’t have been there in the first place. IF ANYONE WAS DOING THEIR JOB I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO SIT IN GUM AND RUIN MY ONLY PAIR OF JEANS. I AM A VERY FAT PERSON, AMC, DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW EXPENSIVE JEANS ARE?!

So, AMC, what do you think happened after I discovered a wad of red gum smeared all over my butt and my previously pristine car seat? I YELLED. I sweared the fuck out of EVERYTHING in the parking lot of that PetSmart. And I got SO ANGRY. And I closed my eyes and I tried not to cry. Because, AMC, do you know how hard it is to get gum out of stuff? Out of anything? Do you understand how expensive it is to get a car detailed? And how you just have to HOPE that gum comes out? Because it doesn’t, not really, not totally ever.

Then I didn’t get to go pet strange puppies and kitties, AMC. You know why? BECAUSE I HAD GUM ALL OVER MY ASS. And not only is that gross and inconvenient and sort of embarrassing if I had any sense of dignity, but also, I had to rush home so I could TRY — let me emphasize that again — TRY to get gum out of my god damn car seat.

So, let’s recap. I am grumpy because I haven’t eaten anything but popcorn. I have a terrible headache. It is 90 degrees in early March. I have GUM ON MY ASS. I have GUM ON MY CAR SEAT. I don’t get to pet puppies or kitties. And now I have to go home and sit on my knees with ice and a butter knife trying to get gum out of my car seat. Then I have to try to do it to my jeans. MY ONLY PAIR OF JEANS.

And AMC, man, I want to blame the person that put the gum there. I do. That person is a big ol’ asshole, plain and simple. And you know what, it’s not your fault at all that I had a headache or that it was hot or that I was in a bad mood and couldn’t get food. Those things are not your problem. But a poorly lit, dirty theater is your fault. My ruined car seat and ruined jeans ARE your fault, AMC, and I blame you wholeheartedly for it. Also, by extension, it is TOTALLY YOUR FAULT, that I didn’t get to hang out with some puppies and kitties. Not cool, AMC, not cool.

I know you had record losses last year, guys. I know. I know the theater business is suffering and suffering badly. There are all these new ways to watch movies at home and it’s hard to compete. But cutting corners and making the moviegoing experience some kind of stripped down joke isn’t the way to win. If I’m going to sit in a filthy pit staffed with people who can’t be fucking bothered to do their jobs? I’d rather stay home. I’d rather wait for stuff to come out on DVD or Blu-Ray or On Demand or HBO or WHATEVER.

This isn’t just about the gum, AMC. (But oh man, is it a LOT about the gum.) It’s about the EXPERIENCE. The service and quality of show we saw in Kansas City was unbelievable. Cinema Suites service was out of this world and we SPENT MONEY because of it. Even the regular shows were wildly enjoyable which meant we went to more shows and were less hesitant about spending money on concessions. I saw ONE cell phone in use in KCMO and an usher was there and telling them to put it away within a minute or so. Here? I have to yell at people. AND I DON’T WANT TO. (I might enjoy it, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it.)

This is about the consistent degradation of a brand I not only respect, but WANT to remain loyal to. A brand I LIKE. AMC, you are making me believe in the idea of brand responsibility and shit! Because the AMC of today is a straight up EMBARRASSMENT to the one I frequented from 1998 to 2005.

This isn’t about free stuff or a wrecked seat or my ONLY PAIR OF JEANS. This is about feeling like I am losing one of my favorite activities in the entire world. I love the moviegoing experience. I LOVE IT. And I think I don’t want to lose the one place that has served it so well for most of my life. My partner and I might be joking when we talk about going to a Sunday morning movie as church, but the metaphor is apt. Your movie houses have been holy places for us. But now I’m starting to worry that we’d be better off worshipping at the altar of our flat screen.

Save our sacred place, AMC. Treat your theaters like the temples they should be and people will want to spend their time and money in them. Save yourselves, AMC. Before it’s too late.

Sincerely,

Ash Russell

ETA: After mentioning this post on my Twitter (and a couple of helpful retweets from people I looooooove) I was contacted by Jordan Laine from AMC who put me in contact with Bob Garcia, the GM of my particular AMC. They were apologetic and helpful, though not WILDLY ENTHUSED about helping a bitching customer (which I don’t really blame them for, I guess?!) and Bob offered to pay to have my jeans dry-cleaned, but I declined. (I don’t like dry-cleaning chemicals and my pants were already clean-ish, so.) He tossed me a couple free passes and popcorns, which I GREATLY appreciate even though that’s not at all why I went to the trouble of writing all this. 2500 words and the time it takes to produce them are obviously worth more than $30.

I am amazed by the power of social media in all this. My girlfriend really only uses her Twitter to bitch at brands. It is a thing she enjoys and it works. We’ve had a lot of issues settled because of something she posted online. And this AMC thing was no different. Nothing grabs a brand’s attention more efficiently than bad PR, even on a small scale.

Gratitude for passes and the power of social media aside, I hope AMC considers the greater message here because it’s serious. Because when I posted, I got several @-replies expressing similar sentiments. Because people are not going to go to the movies if the experience isn’t worth it. And because the people that love that experience don’t want to lose it.

Do you? I mean do you really understand what it’s like to try to put FEELINGS and STUFF into WORDS when you can’t actually talk about the things that are causing the FEELINGS and the STUFF?! Because it sucks. IT SUCKS A LOT. And it turns the thing that you do to feel better (ie: writing) into a thing you never ever want to do because it’s TOO HARD.

(This is why there was no Movie Monday this week. SORRY.)

I am waiting on some things right now. Two pretty big things that are sort of complicated to talk about. Things that I and other people involved aren’t particularly ready to articulate. For good reasons and stuff! But those things are DEEPLY impacting the life I’m leading right now because they’re trapping me and they’re making me unstable and they’re causing all this FLUX.

And because I have anxiety and a variety of other issues, they are REALLY stressing me out. And I’m caving to my anxiety. And I’m keeping terrible hours. And I’m doing all this while trying to freelance (and find freelance) and blog and twitter and tumblr and keep up with my 366 projects and look for a full-time job and not be a terrible girlfriend/daughter/friend/sister/housewife. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but HO BOY. It is.

It is also deeply impacting my ability to be funny/insightful/creative/awesome. And, like, do you understand what that means? It means I’m BORING. It means I feel broken. My humor is SUCH an important part of who I am and what I think of myself and the only laughing I’ve been causing lately has been because I have a tendency to fart at really delightful/inopportune moments. JOKES WHAT ARE JOKES?!

Like, I spent ten minutes with my girlfriend tonight RELIVING DUMB JOKES I TOLD A YEAR AGO because I haven’t said anything funny in MONTHS, it feels like. She would argue otherwise (because she’s a good girlfriend) but she would also be HARD FUCKING PRESSED to remember something hilarious I’ve said recently.

I’m not the kind of person that’s hilarious on my own. Like, I am never going to be a stand-up. I am never going to stand somewhere and just BE FUNNY. I don’t tell jokes. I’m funny when I’m responding to things around me. I’m hilarious in conversation. And the reason it’s not happening is because I haven’t SEEN anyone since basically December 10th.

December 10th! One outing aside, I’ve been devoid of non-girlfriend or familial companionship and I think it’s finally starting to destroy me. I feed off of my friends. And they’re not around for me to feed on! And that’s not all my fault and it’s certainly not all their fault. I mean, I don’t get out of my pajamas. Do you know what that’s like? (No… probably because you’re, like, a functional human being with a job.) It’s gross. And it’s weird. And sometimes the thought of even TRYING to get dressed and leave the house is so daunting it’s embarrassing.

But I’ve gotten comfortable in my pajama cocoon. I feel safe. And neither my parents nor m girlfriend judges me. And so I let it feed itself. And the other day I found myself stretched out in bed, petting a dog, and watching one of those Kardashian shows.

I want the gravity of that to really resonate for a moment. I HATE REALITY TV. I hate it. I sometimes go off in this awful diatribes that basically destroy anyone who likes reality tv just because it makes me THAT angry and I am that bad at controlling my mouth. And I was watching it willfully. I WAS ENGAGED. I actually said aloud, to myself obviously, “Damn, I like that Scott Disick kid.”

In the last few months, I have sunk so low into my own personal misery that I had not only voluntarily watched a Kardashian on the television, but I was DELIGHTED and FORMED AN OPINION about it. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME.

And it’s been BUGGING me. Because I don’t even feel that bad about it? This is the EPITOME of what I hate about reality tv. These people are famous because they’re famous. It’s recursive. There was a sex tape and someone got some sense of celebrity tacked on them and their already well-known last name and then they continue to be famous BECAUSE THEY’RE FAMOUS and SO WEALTHY. It makes me crazy. It’s so scripted and phony and stupid and ugh. I JUST HATE IT.

But the more I think about it (and, OH MAN, have I thought about it) I don’t even hate myself for liking Scott Disick. Or for enjoying watching the show. Or for laughing and having opinions about it. Or, okay, I kind of do, but I often hate myself so it’s not really that big of a deal. And the more I think about it (and I do, I really continue to) the more I think of it as a revelation.

I used to LOVE pop culture. I used to watch tv and movies like my life depended on it. I’ve never gotten the celebrity worship thing, but the product itself, oh man, I LOVED IT. Somewhere along the line though, I lost that. And I stopped understanding why it was fun. I lost my enthusiasm for it even though I’ve never stopped considering myself a pop culture enthusiast. I got too “good” for the kinds of things I loved. And no, reality tv was never one of those things, but Scott Disick reminded me of how satisfying it is to love a character.

And what a COOL fucking thing to remember. That there are all these awesome THINGS in the world created by awesome, talented people for you to just DIVE INTO and experience and love. Isn’t that COOL? It’s so cool! MY ENTHUSIASM, I HAVE FOUND IT.

So, thanks, Scott Disick. I probably won’t watch your show again, but maybe I’ll remember to be a little nicer to the people who do.

And maybe, soon, I’ll get dressed and leave the house. Maybe. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll laugh my way through the rest of this waiting. And eventually have some HILARIOUS stories to tell. Maybe.

I’m writing to you today out of desperation.

No, that’s not right. Out of hope. Hope and desperation are so close, you know, so close. They are opposite sides of the same coin.

I am writing to you today in hope. In the most faithful, hungry hope. I am writing to you because I need to know that you’re okay. I need to know that you’re making it through. That this part that I’m in right now is over.

I know you can’t respond and that’s okay. You’re only a sparkle right now, a glimmer, a figment of desperate need, but that’s all you need to be.

For you, it’s somewhere in the second half of 2012. Not too far from now. It’s easier to see you that way. We’ve probably got a lot of the same clothes still and the beaten and loved 3GS you’re reading this on and the same girlfriend snoring behind nearby in bed. (Or maybe in your time she’s awake because you’re awake at a reasonable hour instead of three am and you’re having mutual internet time and it’s lovely.) I know you’re still making the same dumb fart jokes on the internet that I’m making now.

I hope you have a job, Future Ash. One that doesn’t make you miserable and that respects your ideas and efforts. I hope it makes you happy or at least doesn’t make you crazy. I hope you life is settled because right now… it’s not. It’s really not. I hope that everyone is settled. And wherever, however, that works out is good and safe.

I hope you’re comfortable. I hope you’re cooking more and taking your iron and eating more greens and remembering to take your pictures every day. I hope you’re sticking to the posts you want to make here and that you’re reading and writing more. I hope you’re still throwing yourself into pop culture things enthusiastically and with joy because I’ve just rediscovered how wonderful that can be and how much I’ve missed it. I hope you’re sticking out all this hard work I’ve been doing to Unfuck Our Habitat and that it’s making you feel like a grown-up still and giving you a sense of control.

Future Ash, I hope you’re happier than I am. I hope you’re less anxiety-stricken. I hope you’ve embraced change and banished the word FLUX from your experience. I can say I hope you’ve got it all figured out, but it’s the middle of January and even if I’m talking to the Future Ash of December 2012, that’s a hell of a lot to ask.

I hope you’re hugging people more. And spending time with them. And reaching out to them even when they’re not reaching out to you. I hope you’re asking for help when you need it. I hope you’re still not giving up. I hope you remember how bad it is right now and appreciate how good I hope it is for you then.

Future Ash, it’s not all doom and gloom here now. I don’t want you to think that or think your memories are tainted. There are wonderful things, even if they’re small and hard to remember — forgettable — from where you are now. There’s Sherlock and friends that want to hang out with you even though you’re having a hard time leaving the house. There’s a wonderful, supportive, incredible partner who respects and loves and treats you so much better than you deserve. (I hope you’re paying her back tenfold for these hard times, Future Ash. She deserves so, so much.) There are parents who you not only love, but LIKE, a sister who’s also one of your most important friends. There’s Disneyland. And pets. And a bed that comforts you in a visceral way that makes your heart feel less brittle and your bones feel a little bit more brave.

Future Ash, I’ve got a lot to live for right now, but the glue holding it together is hope. Hope that 27 is better. Hope that your life is different than mine. Hope that next Christmas won’t feel like the last. Hope that you are where you want to be.

So keep this letter for me, Future Ash, and when we meet we can talk it over. You can tell me which bits I got right and I can remind you why you should be grateful even when I got it all wrong.

Here’s hoping. See you soon.

- Ash

My girlfriend and I stopped at the 711 closest to our house on Sunday night in a mild panic that we hadn’t watched anything for me to write about today. We’d been gone all weekend (Disneyland! Then pulling the Christmas lights down at her mom’s house because we are Good People Who Are Helpful.) and she didn’t want me to go to the movies without her on Monday PLUS there is NOTHING out right now. Dead zone misery. So we stopped at the 711 and I gave her three options: Apollo 18, Cowboys and Aliens, and Warrior. Desired in that order. And they had Cowboys and Aliens, so that’s what we ended up with. [Spoilers!]

I… was expecting this to be super terrible. And it wasn’t. But it was reeeeeeally racist. And sexist. But since I am still not as equipped to talk about those things as I wish I were, I will leave you to Google: Cowboys and Aliens racism. Take your pick.

That being said and keeping in mind that it’s okay to like things that are problematic, this was… okay? Crystal and I talked about it a lot afterward just trying to figure out how we felt about it, racism and weak female characters aside, and we never made any real headway. I know it got really mixed reviews and that the people who hated it seemed to REALLY hate it, but we sort of decided that we felt very little about it. It was a buck well-spent (I mean, it’s a BUCK.) and we don’t think we would’ve been that disappointed/angry had we paid to see it in the theater. But we weren’t even really excited once it was over and that’s sad.

Olivia Wilde’s character was vaguely interesting, but ended up being fodder for Daniel Craig’s brooding. Daniel Craig brooded prettily and I actually liked him, mostly for popping Paul Dano’s dickbag character who TOTALLY DESERVED TO BE EATEN BY ALIENS. And that brooding thing gets OLD.

Harrison Ford’s character was HIDEOUSLY TERRIBLE IN SO MANY WAYS. HERE IS A KNIFE, BE A MAN. And the RACISM and just. Harrison Ford you are a weirdo stoner old babe in real life, get it together in the movies! And stop emulating Christian Bale as Batman when you talk!

I love Sam Rockwell and thought he and his wife had a lot of really interesting potential that never delivered. And I don’t even want to talk about the Native American characters because I will just get angry about how racist it all was and I’m sick and my heart can’t take anymore. It could’ve been great! And about cooperation and learning! It could’ve been done well and sensitively and smartly. But it wasn’t. And it’s irritating/infuriating/gross/awful.

I liked the alien design! Kind of. I don’t know how to feel about those weird little secondary, internal baby hands. Like, who thought that was a good/feasible idea? It would’ve made sense had they displayed some kind of telepathic abilities, so you’d know the small motor skill hands were rarely used. But they don’t. They use their exterior hands! And then, especially apparently when another life-form is particularly close by, they open up their chests to use their baby hands and EXPOSE THEIR INTERNAL ORGANS?! ARE YOU HIGH?!

(My ideal job at this point in life is being a logic consultant for all media entities. There is nothing I bitch about more than when stuff doesn’t follow through. Like the Cheerios commercial where the waitress incorrectly distributes the bowls of cereal? DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON IT.)

But I liked their mouths and bite-y-ness and locomotion. I like a swiftly moving alien.

So basically, at the end, I was like, “Yeah, alright.” And I probably won’t spend any additional money or time or thought-space on it because it just wasn’t good enough to deserve it. I’d rather watch Super 8 or Attack the Block or even Independence Day (for the… 5,000th time…)

Almost Done with Christmas and Christmas Day (Rae Hartsock @ Say It Ain’t So) — Those decorations! The pups! My dream home!

Ranked: Every Saturday Night Live Cast Member Ever, From Worst to Best (Phil Nugent @ Nerve) — MOST of these are WILDLY WRONG, but I still enjoyed reading it a lot and it brought on a lively debate on my Facebook.

Hard to Find Week Pre-Party: Cover Girl Crackle Laquer (The Polish Addict) — This one is hard to explain kind of. This blog is defunct and the post is from 2008, but I was looking for a swatch of some nail polish and I somehow ended up on a road ending at this post. A post where crackle finish polish was hard to find because it hadn’t been rebirthed. And where it apparently used to crackle way damn cooler than it does now. I JUST THOUGHT IT WAS A WEIRD TIME CAPSULE MOMENT OKAY, GOD.

It’s Okay to Be Neither (Melissa Bollow Tempel, via Together For Jackson County Kids) — Fantastic. Enough said.

Anne’s Things (Ranch Dressing with Eartha Kitsch) — This was so moving/beautiful! The relics of our lives are so small and powerful.

20 Dated Celebrity Endorsements from Over a Decade Ago (BuzzFeed — These are just the BEST. The late 90s and early 00s were so ugly and metallic and just awful. So great.

Louis CK’s Shameful Dirty Comedy (Frank Chimero) — This is ridiculous on point. And it’s exactly why I love Louis CK so so much.

MOVIE MONDAY! The gf (CRYSTAL. I think y’all can probs remember that by now.) will be going to/deliberately watching a movie every week so that I can write about it! 31 Days of Festive-Ass Flicks (Don’t worry! There are fascinating wrap up posts in the works still.) just wasn’t enough and I have to keep doing it. Every week. All year.

We saw Young Adult today at the resident crappy theater (It was an Edwards and is now a Regal and we don’t even GO there, but my aunt gave me a Fandango gift card… two or three years ago? And I figured we should probably finally use it. Only to get there and have them be like… “You have to use this on the website,” which it doesn’t even SAY ON THE CARD. [Seriously, it was like, USE AT ANY REGAL, EDWARDS BLALLRGAJDJKF ETC.] And so we had to download the app and order the tickets and then shove the phone at the cashier. And they are SO LUCKY I always show up 45 minutes early, I SWEAR I WOULD’VE JUMPED SOMEONE.)

Uh, spoilers. BIG ONES.

SO OKAY. The thing is: I like Diablo Cody. I liked Juno! I willingly watch it when it comes on the TV. I saw it twice in the theaters! It was something different-ish when it came out and that was nice. There are things that are terrible/annoying about it, duh, but it’s still an enjoyable movie. I am particularly fond of the family dynamics and the friendship between Juno and that girl that isn’t Anna Kendrick but probably would have been if the timing had been different. And I sort of liked Jennifer’s Body! And I loved the first season of United States of Tara. But I know that she isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and that she can be SO IRRITATING and grating and stuff.

But that’s not her problem. Diablo Cody’s problem is that it always has to be SOMETHING. There has to be something that makes it not what she sees as a “typical” movie. And that something is usually irritating. In Juno it was the cutesy/unrealistic/”whimsical” language in the dialogue. In Jennifer’s Body it was… well, it was kind of everything. BUT. In Young Adult it was that fucking HEINOUS ending.

I’m not going to break down this whole movie, but Crystal and I were FULLY, 100% invested in the path of this character. We were excited! We wanted things to get better for her! We wanted her to figure out what she wanted and then get it! And the entire, ENTIRE movie points toward her getting there. That she is going to fuck up and fuck up and fuck up and hurt people and hurt herself, but in the end, she is going to figure out what she NEEDS to do with herself to find peace/joy/contentment/WHATEVER.

And then. That something. That Something. That SOMETHING.

Diablo Cody decides that, NO NO, THIS MOVIE MUSTN’T BE LIKE OTHER MOVIES! IT MUSN’T! Instead of having sex with the best character in the movie and then figuring out her alcoholism and her pain and her misery, she sits down for a three minute conversation in which Patton Oswalt’s sad, pathetic sister says, “Everyone here is fat and dumb. You’re great. Don’t change.” And then asks Charlize Theron to take her away to Minneapolis. And Charlize Theron is like, LOL NO. And leaves. And finishes her book about how that character AKA SHE is great and better than everyone in her small town and how she has so many better things to do.

And it’s like…

Dude, I don’t need redemption. I didn’t need a ten minute montage of MAVIS GARY THE SAINT, crying and apologizing and throwing away bottles of alcohol etc etc. I don’t need her to fall in love with the Nerdy Awesome Disabled Guy and talk to a therapist about compulsively pulling her hair out. But when you spend an ENTIRE movie showing how wrong and how fucked up and how cruel and shitty a character is and setting them up for their self-realization, DON’T LET THEM FUCKING WALK AWAY THINKING THEY’RE JUST GREAT AND FINE AND WONDERFUL.

I loved this movie up until then. I loved the characterization of Mavis and Matt and Buddy and Beth. I loved it. Seriously. I loved Mavis’s meltdown at the naming ceremony. I loved the palpable pain on her face through almost every minute of the entire movie. I loved how complex she was and how easy it was to read her unhappiness, even when she was playing perfect. I LOVED the sex scene between Mavis and Matt! I LOVED THE WHOLE MOVIE until those last few minutes. I was already writing my thoughts in my head about how seriously perfectly Diablo Cody understands and articulates writing and trying to be a writer and completely inexplicable and crushing misery and how I like that this isn’t a romantic comedy and that Mavis isn’t a heroine that falls down and cries and how we NEED those women in movies and how wonderful she is for being SO COMPLEX.

And then that god damn Something.

And I’m bummed. Because it ruined the movie. Letting your unlikable character off the hook isn’t clever or new or skillful. It’s fine! If the rest of the movie dictates that kind of ending. But this one didn’t. And sadly, it isn’t a case of “SURPRISE, HE WAS DEAD THE WHOLE TIME.” but instead just one of failed follow-through.

Mavis doesn’t deserve to be let off the hook. And it would’ve taken so little to fix it. She could’ve walked away like that at the end! She could’ve thought she was perfect! All of that could’ve happened in a way that was true to the story if the conversation with Sandra had just been a little different. If Mavis had realized that Sandra was just telling her what she wanted to hear and accepted it or if it had been a matter of “Who cares if you’re fucked up?” or “Is anyone happy?” or ” Who knows what happy is?” or ANYTHING. It could’ve worked. But no.

God damn it, Diablo Cody. I thought we were FRIENDS. I DEFEND YOU TO PEOPLE SO MUCH. I love you! I admire you! I sometimes hope to be like you! And you do this to me?

Okay, I won’t keep shouting so that we may both preserve our respective sanities, even though I super love capslock because CAPSLOCK FOREVER.

A Christmas Story is great, so great. And sweet and beautiful and warm and hilarious and kind and nostalgic and GREAT. I’ve talked about this one before here, but I mean. This is a classic. DUH.

Ralphie! Randy! Mom and the Old Man! HOW DOES A PIGGY EAT? Scut Farkus and getting your tongue stuck to a pole and Peter Billingsley’s adorable expressive face!

And that feeling of wishing you could pull the words that just fell out of your mouth back in PHYSICALLY.

And OH FUDGE and the leg lamp and its “soft glow of electric sex” and such a good mom and soap in the mouth and the best siblings that grab your glasses for you while you’re kicking someone’s ass and mom’s putting cold washcloths on your neck/face to calm you down when you’re crying AND AND AND just excellence all around.

My only issues with this are, like, dumb ones? Like, WHY DOES NO ONE KNOW HOW TO HANDLE A BODY PART STUCK TO ICY METAL? Get some warm water and call that shit a day. Or How the mom is, like, WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT TERRIBLE WORD and Ralphie EXPLICITLY thinks, “Well I can’t say DAD…” and she doesn’t get there on her own?! Dood is a MASTER OF SWEARING. And you’re going to buy that your kid learned “fuck” from a FRIEND. ARE YOU HIGH, MELINDA DILLON?! Also, super racist Asian stereotypes at the end, UGH. What was wrong with movies in the 80s?!

Anyway, that last shot of Mom and Dad sitting by the tree and watching the snow. UGH. It kills me. I feel all choked up and it’s so beautiful and simple and. UGH. It’s just a lovely story about a family and their Christmas and being lucky enough to get that one thing you really want that you never thought you’d actually end up with. SO BEAUTIFUL, SO MAGICAL.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANUKKAH, JOYOUS SOLSTICE, PEACEFUL SATURNALIA, RESPECTFUL KWANZAA, SEASON’S GREETINGS, HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR.

PROJECT OVER. THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME, GUYS.

I really love Christmas Vacation because the Griswolds remind me of my family. I already talked a little about it here, but it’s really that simple. These people argue and they yell and they screw up and they have family members they they’re embarrassed of and they do stupid things because they love each other. And it’s really warm and happy and hilarious and ridiculous and excellent.

Clark and Ellen are good parents that love their kids and their family. I love when Audrey is begging her mom to not make her sleep with Rusty and Ellen’s like, “I have to sleep with your father!” and it’s so good and such a real mom thing but funnier because movies have to be funnier than real life. Which is a thing that John Hughes does really, really well. Duh.

I love the Ordeal of the Lights and what it means to Clark to make them work. I LOVE THEM. I love the lights.

I also love the shitty yuppie 80s neighbors and they yuppie 80s LIFE.

LOOK AT THOSE TRACK SUITS! LOOK AT THOSE SHELVES!

Basically, at this point in this project (THIRTY! THIRTY! ONE MORE TO GO!) I have run out of things to say. Christmas Vacation makes me feel EXTREMELY FESTIVE. I was super done with Christmas this year basically the moment is was over, but when I put this on a couple days late I felt warm and fuzzy and festive and joyful again even though it was like three in the morning and I was all alone. It’s a good one and if you don’t love it, I probably don’t have room for you in my life. SORRY.

Also, I love the credits sequence.

Poor Santa.