stinky pugs, “slumdog,” and straights against prop. 8!

exclamation points elude to excitement or something interesting, but i’m sorry to disappoint you all because this particular exclamation point is misleading. don’t stop reading, i’m just trying to be honest about the content of this posting.

my dad fed my dog something that is making him fart a lot and really stink-ily. they are of the “silent but deadly” variety. so basically every few minutes the odor of rotten eggs wafts up to my nose with no noise to announce its imminent attack. i literally do not want to bring him to bed with me. the farting in itself is normal; he’s a very gassy dog owing to his random diet of organic dog food + whatever people feed him off their plates (i am just as guilty of this as anyone, i just tend not to feed him things that i think will contribute to his fart-iness). he also snores, so the farting and the snoring make for one very unpleasant bedmate. well, it’s not his fault so i will not force him to sleep alone, even if it smells like he rolled in a vat of egg salad.

i’m just catching the beginning of the coverage of the academy awards. i didn’t actually watch the award show this year, but i’m thrilled to see that “slumdog millionaire” won best picture because i was lucky enough to see it in class this past tuesday (in my class there’s a girl whose parent are members of the academy and get early dvd screeners of all the nominated films, so she brought the movie to class) and it was amay-zing. it is brutally honest, violent, cruel, and horrific– but you never feel sad for the character because they aren’t sad about their lives. i am a complete cry baby, like my mother, but this film just didn’t make me cry. it’s an examination of the brutality of the slums in india and the shit and torture the orphans endure, but they overcome, they learn to live any way they can and even though that often involves stepping on others or selling themselves or killing those who stand in the way of their destiny, then so be it. i will never forget the scene where jamal, the main character, as a child is spared from being drugged and then blinded with acid and a hot spoon by men who use the orphans to beg for them (“the blind earn double, you know”) by his brother who saves him by throwing acid in a man’s face so they can escape together. it seems like life will never be kind to jamal. but he isn’t concerned with money or anything like that, he just cares about latika, the love of his life, and how he can be with her. it’s bittersweet, it’s horrific, it’s emotional, but never sappy or overdone. i urge anyone with $10 to go see “slumdog millionaire” because you will come away a different person with a different outlook on life. seriously. and kudos to sean penn who portrayed harvey milk and gave life to a man long dead, a man who was martyred just like mlk jr., jfk, rfk, or malcom x, but who never got the credit he deserved because he was gay. growing up mormon has caught up with me lately with all the prop. 8 talk because i’m being lumped with the conservative, close-minded, and confused mormons who think that homosexuality is something to be campaigned against, something to be shunned. all i know is that god made us in his image and god made us as we are and loves us just that way. god is infallible, so to say that being gay is wrong or a sin is to accuse god of making a mistake. he didn’t. gay people are just like anyone else, they just have one more obstacle in their lives. not to say that it’s a handicap, but it’s a struggle and it sets you apart from the crowd which is never easy. but it doesn’t make it wrong. i hope that someday the church will change its stance on homosexuality and its denouncement of gay marriage. i believe that if they don’t that it will be something they will regret in the future. hate. it’s so easy to feel and so hard to erase.

i guess i truly am my mother’s daughter.

p.s.  i watched the acceptance speech for the guy who adapted the screenplay for “milk” and was moved to tears.  he said he grew up mormon and had to learn to be okay with himself, he had to learn that god didn’t hate him for being gay, and that he was lucky enough to have a mother who loved him, even when it wasn’t popular or considered acceptable.  if you haven’t seen it you might want to look it up on you tube.  you don’t want to miss it.

at least i only have one!

mom’s advice

so, my sister m.k. married d.k. and when she did my parents inherited a new handyman. before a.c. married j.c., d.k. was the guy you called about computer malfunctions and whatnot. now he is simply called on whenever someone in my house breaks something. cait pulled the cord out of the attic fan? call d. dad thinks house needs new copper pipes? call d. somebody needs to go under the house for some godforsaken reason, but nobody will? call d.

today the dilemma was as i have dubbed it: “the mystery of the running toilet.” for several weeks now the hall toilet can be heard running about every 10 minutes non-stop. you really only notice it when it’s nighttime and the rest of the house is still, the only other sounds being the snores emanating from charlie the pug in my bed and the usual creaks of an older house. that running toilet reduced my mother to a regular plumbing mcguyver the other day when she couldn’t sleep and the sound was driving her nuts. i, too, was up one night, victim to insomnia, when i was tortured by the constant running. only i don’t possess any mcguyver-like qualities and thus popped some more diphenhydramine (benadryl to you) and forced my mind to sleep. but a string tied to the inside of the tank on one end and to the flusher/handle on the other will not a functional toilet make. so it was time to call in reinforcement: call d.

d. came promptly as per usual (he never says no and he never says tomorrow) and knocked on the door. charlie did not like this. charlie went into hysterics, a tantrum i chose to listen to from my bedroom rather than go attempt to stop him (it wouldn’t have worked anyway). d. entered and not only diagnosed the problem within a few minutes, but ran out to get the necessary part immediately and returned triumphantly soon after to put an end to “the mystery of the running toilet.” no nancy drew skills required, just a bmw mechanic.

this whole saga reminded me of something my mom said at thanksgiving dinner this year. she pointed out that my sister a. had married j.c. who is super helpful with anything technical from setting up the new wii to removing spyware from my laptop. like d., j.c. is a master. so, with a. being married to someone who can load my dad’s ipod and m.k. marrying d. who can fix absolutely anything, my mom told me that i should be careful to marry someone useful as well, like a lawyer or doctor or insurance salesman.

i need a husband who will come over as soon as my parents beckon him and perform tasks that my parents have become either too old, too lazy, or too important to do and pay someone else to do for them, like the bi-weekly house cleaners. my brothers each married smart women who aren’t expected to come replace pipes, but are expected to produce decent grandkids (s.e. has five while s.m. is working on first one). since i don’t want kids, it has become ever more apparent that i must marry someone useful. shawn is good looking and very smart, but he can’t fix a computer or tivo or repair a running toilet or burping garbage disposal. ah, but he can argue with reason and quote socrates… that’s useful right? who knows when my parents may need help with a logic problem or whatever? hmmm.

well, i still love him so maybe putting up with me for nearly four years is his special skill.  haha. pretty impressive.