Wednesday, August 27, 2008

this video sends me into fits of laughter every single time i watch it

Talking Stain

The ad was created by Saatchi & Saatchi of New York. This was Tide's first attempt at a Superbowl commercial and the first in four years for Proctor and Gamble. The ad shows a man with a stain on his shirt being interviewed. The stain begins talking and overshadows the whole interview. The ad received a Cannes Silver Lion award in 2007.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


The title of this clip baffles me, but then again, it doesn't.

No 'Credible' Threat

And then there are times like the one shown here and you are reminded in the midst of hope for every single American, immigrants and all, that----change may never come.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

follow up : things done : read The Tenth Circle and The House on Fortune Street

Read both Jodi Picoult's The Tenth Circle and Margot Livesey's The House on Fortune Street. Can't say nothing but wow about the latter. TTC was good, but was a bit too CSIish for me. The plot was predictable: mom's having an affair with one of her college students, dad is a stay home graphic artist with a mysterious past, rebellious teen, somebody gets killed. who dun'nit? I did enjoy the use of second person--very clever--and the characters were developed with such ease it seems.

THOFS was out of sight! It, in my Auntie's words, "raised hell." Characters were so interesting and intriguing you just wanted to stay that fly on the wall and see what happens. Beautifully rendered with craft and wit. Lots of visits and modern perspective on classics. Characters are artists: writers, photographers, dramatists. Male characters are unbelievebly believable, female friendship written with depth. Jaw dropping passages that keep you mesmerized.

Favorite passages from The House:

"I had no idea," said Dara. "From the outside you always seemed so sure you were destined to be together."
"One of us had to be." She gave the frying pan a shake. "I know this sounds arrogant but I used to think there were special cases, and that I was one of them. I'm attractive and I have an interesting life. Sean changed that. Over and over he said one thing and did another. People may make extravagant claims when they first start fucking, but once the novelty wears off, they pretty much revert to type."
"But so you still love him," said Dara, "don't you?" She was startled by the bitterness in Abigail's voice, and by how much she sounded like her old, pre-Sean self.
"Yes, but not in an 'I will go to the ends of the earth, die without you' way. I was right when I thought that was all an illusion, a nice, big middle-class illusion. For a year I woke up most mornings with a quote from Keats running through my head: 'Life must be undergone.' According to Sean" --she stepped back from the stove-- "he believed that suffering is what gives us souls."


People couldn't live without food and air and shelter and money. Romantic love was an extra, nice if it came along, but definitely superfluous to the main requirements of existence.


That evening, she told Abigail that her own despair had helped her to understand that of other people. "It doesn't matter how stupid the reasons are, if you're in the grip of a feeling it isn't stupid. You can't imagine it will ever change."


"One day you can see that someone is perfectly ordinary and the next the same person is brilliant, unique, amazing. Then, if things don't work out, they go back to being ordinary and you can't even remember what made them so special."


Very super-duper-ly recommended: The House on Fortune Street


living the rural--what's a neighbor to do?

The not so great reason to live in a rural area. A water duct underneath the narrow street burst this past weekend. Water was shut off in the middle of the afternoon, hot and humid. Luckily, we had had a morning-shower and a frig full of bottled water.

But then came a Bang-Bang-Bang! at our front door. A lady stood breathless and in panic. She wore terri-cloth light blue house shoes, the kind with the flimsy would-be rubber soles. Her arms flailed and beads of sweat had gathered above her top lip giving her a wet mustache. She didn’t have on a bra, so her D-sized breasts ran down her stomach underneath a yellow and red stripe tank and knee-length peddle pushers. She stomped and pleaded, “Water! Is yal’s water off too?”
Highly unconcerned and accustomed, I said “yea.”
She said, “Oh Gawd no! I got perm in my hair and it’s gon burn if I don’t take it out! Oh Gawd!”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I asked if she could drive to a nearby relative’s house because I was sure the water was only shut off on our street. The panic grew stronger across her face. She looked over to a neighbor’s, then yelled at someone further on down the street, “Ey! Roscoe! Ey! Yal got water?!” He yelled back “Nawl!”
“Damn! My hair gon fall out! This shit is startin to sting already!” She stomped then began shaking her hands (sort of like when you miss the nail and hit your finger--reflex). She dashed off the lawn past the gate, never looking back at me. I followed with a “sor-ry.” She didn’t respond. I closed the door. Just then Gera came from the kitchen with a big bottle of cold Aquafina. “Que paso?”

follow up : things to do

Didn’t get to take Ruby for ice cream, but she did spend two weekends with us. We rented Bee Movie and Spiderwick—the former was absolutely a riot! we watched it 3 times! – we bought her fried shrimp and french fries instead. She was soooo happy and didn’t want to go home. It’s funny how adults lie to children to keep them from crying. Ruby has caught on to her grandparents (Gera’s brother and sister-in-law); they can’t trick her like they used to. She’s smart enough now to know when they are being manipulative. When we take her back home, she holds on to my hand and will not let it go. She tugs me to her room and wants to play; she slams her door, shutting everyone else out. She follows me to the bathroom and when her grandparents say “Okay, Ruby, Nae-Nae and Tio have to go,” she wails! This is the sad part about loving her. The physical pauses until we steal her again.

wrestling with death

For my daughter’s death anniversary (7.31), Gera took me to a live wrestling match in Dallas. Two adult guys sitting in front of us were extremely serious about their favorite wrestlers. For each fav, they wore a representing head mask and yelled at the enemy. Beer and nachos! Aside from living on our street, it was one of the most hick-ish things we’ve ever done and such a blast. What a metaphor!

cell phone quality--