Journal, December 28, 2003: My ex-husband’s mail-order bride

2004 is upon us

And so I begin my 2004 journal early, with an entry on December 28.

I’ve done a lot of soul searching about myself these last few days and I mean that in the strictest sense of the words.

My ex-husband’s聽mail order Russian Bride

I received a gift and a Christmas card from the Russian wife of my worst ex-husband.

My exes are rated by amount of turmoil they managed to keep in my life post divorce … this one tells me I’m stuck with him eight more years – I insist I want a full and final divorce now. And I mean it. We’ve been divorced legally since 1992. My kids can have him, and he can have a relationship with them. But my preference is to never see him or speak to him again.

No animosity, no bitterness, I’ve just had enough these last 15 years and it doesn’t get better with time.聽We’re stuck in the same stupid relationship we always had, except that now I don’t sleep with him.

He’s always had a relationship with me and someone else, it is just that now she and her children are part of our lives instead of a secret. With that history, let me tell you why I search my soul.

Christmas Chocolates

She, on Christmas night, when I dropped my children off at their house, ran to my car with a gift (chocolates) and a Christmas card signed for her, him and her two children. My kids ate the chocolates, I stewed over the card.

Now in my heart of hearts, I bear them no ill will. I wish him happiness and if he has found it with her, I really hope it lasts forever. We had been divorced more than 10 years when he brought her to this country last year. She hasn’t taken anything from me.

(more…)

Is Johnny Cusack broke??

Is there any other reason (read that excuse) for his new flick, “Hot Tub Time Machine”?

hfautographed_high_fidelity_large_gifI am a Johnny Cusack fan; in fact, “his biggest fan”.

I have that in his own handwriting, on a copy of the DVD High Fidelity that I bought off E-bay in a charity auction.

Evidently when you pay ridiculous amounts of money for a flick you already own (and don’t even like) Cusack is willing to anoint you “his biggest fan”. 聽Look closely, there it is on the left . . . in his own hand. “To Trace, My Biggest Fan”

I’m certain to lose my crown if he reads this piece. 馃檪

There may be some die-hard Cusack Fans who remember the Cusack Cult Website I had when I was really infatuated with all things Cusack . . . I had every Cusack movie up to 1408.聽聽I lived on e-bay and amazon to make sure that I had all his vids.

I reviewed each and every one. 聽Lots of them were stinkers, but I really liked some of them: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, and聽Grosse Point Blank, which he co-wrote and co-produced.

And, I really liked America’s Sweethearts, for which many of his fans derided him as a sell out.

As proof of my ‘cultism’ I’ve written two screenplays for Cusack (The Neptune Man and NightWindWoman); I tried to talk his publicist 聽into an interview for the website for at least a year, complete with a fax of every review I wrote about him, and other seemingly encouraging words to get that damn interview. 聽(Long story, maybe later); I even bought a copy of聽The Davinci Code for him, and shipped it off to his production office with instructions that he had to do the film.

(Oh yeah, one can find ways to become incredibly annoying to other people.)

And, of course, he didn’t, Tom Hanks did, and then went on to do the sequel (crappy, by the way) Angels and Demons.

Really, Johnny, my聽advice聽is good . . . Tom Hanks, duh, is not doing stinkers like Hot Tub.

Somewhere along this point in the timeline Cusack got an injunction against a stalker, and I had friends who told me they literally were afraid to click the links to the articles because they were sure I’d finally pissed the guy off! 聽I聽disappointed聽them . . . she was not me.

Not even close. 聽I’d read some press he’d done about people on the internet (trust me it wasn’t complimentary) and I was more than a little agitated about the run around I got from the publicist who referred me to someone else, to schedule my interview, and they blew me off.

Why the hell didn’t the publicist blow me off?

I was bummed, irritated at the run around, and lost interest in the site, not to mention Cusack.

I did get one of his more recent flicks,聽Martian Child, which died when it was released, but it was a really, really sweet movie. Based on a true story (I’ve read) the only truth that Cusack wasn’t willing to emulate in the flick was the author’s homosexuality. NOT going to do the Gay thing, 聽(Too close to the truth, Johnny?) he had the script re-written for a straight guy who wanted to adopt a child. 聽Honestly, it would have been more believable if he’d left it alone. 聽I’ve never met a straight guy who would have gone to so much trouble with a troubled kid, and been so good at it.

And, Dammit, that was the real story.

Watch it. 聽Rent it. 聽Netflix it, or buy it at Amazon. 聽It is really good, it has Amanda Peet, who I love, and it is a good, sweet movie.

But this, Hot Tub Time Machine? Are you f~~n kidding me??

I am reminded of a friend from long ago, Buddy Maxwell, whom I met after he left the Marines just after Viet Nam. 聽He was/is a bubbly fun guy with an engaging, entertaining personality. 聽Off the wall, sometimes, and this would be that. 聽But he had an expression that comes to mind about this movie.

Dog Shit.

Not that I would use that phrase, mind you, but I will borrow it for this review, because there is no other way to describe how bad this movie is.

Surely the man is completely out of money.

And, likely to stay that way.

聽POSTSCRIPT 4.25.12 The Raven

I’m planning on seeing the Raven as soon as it hits town, perhaps Johnny will have redeemed himself with it.

Download this post, or listen to it here.

Atlanta, My Town

Atlanta-GeorgiaI wish I could claim the authorship here, but I didn’t write it. It is funny, and every word is true. I know, I live here! 聽 So, eat a peach, and enjoy!

This came from a lovely girl named NessaRox.

Atlanta is composed mostly of one-way streets. The only way to get out of downtown Atlanta is to turn around and start over when you reach Greenville, South Carolina.

All directions start with, “Go down Peachtree….” and include the phrase, “When you see the Waffle House….” (except in Cobb County, all directions begin with, “Go to the Big Chicken…”) (You’d have to be here to understand this one!)

Outside of the Perimeter, “Sir” and “Ma’am” are used by the person speaking to you if there’s a remote possibility that you’re at least 30 minutes older than they are.

Ponce de Leon Avenue can only be pronounced by a native, so do not attempt the Spanish pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you. (The Atlanta pronunciation is “pahnss duh LEE-on”.)

The falling of one rain drop causes all drivers to immediately forget all traffic rules; so will daylight savings time, a girl applying eye shadow in the next car, or a flat tire three lanes over.

If a single snowflake falls, the city is paralyzed for three days and it’s on all the channels as a news flash every 15 minutes for a month. All the grocery stores will be sold out of milk, bread, bottled water, toilet paper, and beer if there is a remote chance of snow, and if it does snow, people will be on the corner selling “I survived the blizzard” T-shirts.

It is always Smog Alert Day.

Construction on Peachtree Street is a way of life, and a permanent form of entertainment, especially when a water line is tapped and Atlanta’s version of Old Faithful erupts. Construction crews aren’t doing their job properly unless they close down all lanes except one during rush hour.

The 8am rush hour is from 6:30am – 10:30am. The 5pm rush hour is from 3:30pm to 7:30pm. Friday’s rush hour begins on Thursday morning and lasts through 2:00am Saturday.

Reversible lanes are not understood by anybody… especially those of us who live here. Stay out of them unless you’re looking for a head-on collision.

Atlantans are very proud of our race track, known as Road Atlanta. It winds throughout the city on the Interstates, hence its name. Actually, I-285, the loop that encircles Atlanta and has a posted speed limit of 55 MPH (but you have to maintain 80 MPH just to keep from getting run over), is known to truckers as “The Watermelon 500.”

Georgia 400 is the southern equivalent of the Autobahn. You will rarely see a semi-truck on GA400, because even the truck drivers are intimidated by the oversized-SUV-wielding housewives racing from home after a grueling day at the salon or ALTA match to meet their children at the school bus coming home from the college prep preschool.

The pollen count is off the national scale for unhealthy, which starts at 120. Atlanta is usually in the 2,000 to 4,000 range. All roads, vehicles, houses, etc. are yellow from March 28th to July 15th. If you have any allergies, you will die.

The last thing you want to do is give another driver the finger, unless your car is armored, your trigger finger is itchy, and your AK-47 has a full clip.

Atlantans do not believe in turn signals. You will never see a native signal at a stop light, to change lanes, or to merge. Never. Ever.

Atlanta is home of Coca-Cola. That’s all we drink here, so don’t ask for any other soft drink. Unless it’s made by Coca-Cola. And even then, it’s still called “Coke”.

Atlantans only know their way to work and their way home. If you ask anyone for directions, they will always send you down Peachtree.

Gate 1 at the airport is 32 miles away from the Main Concourse, so wear sneakers and pack a lunch. The doors on the trains in the airport do not reopen like an elevator if you stick your hand out to stop them. And they hurt.

It’s impossible to go around the block and wind up on the street you started on. The Chamber of Commerce calls it a “scenic drive” and has posted signs to that effect so that out-of-towners don’t feel lost…they’re just on a “scenic drive”.

Denzel Washington and my Abercrombie & Fitch Kid

 


Originally published Friday, February 4, 2000

Considering my reasons for going to the trouble of publishing this site, let me tell you the lastest and I hope, final irony in working toward My Life Goal.

Atlanta Cast, 1999, Titans

My 18 year old son (the Abercrombie and Fitch kid in my life) strolled in one day with a new t-shirt that said: “Remember the Titans, A Jerry Bruckheimer Production, Atlanta Cast 1999, Titans”

When I asked (shrieked) where did that shirt come from?, his answer was, Uh, they gave ’em to us for, like, being in this movie they were shooting at school. I got you one.”

Uh, child, do you recall, my, like, goal to be published? To have, like, somebody read my stuff?

“Uh, No.”

Did you see – uh, producers, writers, actors – did you see anybody like that?

Denzel Washington

Denzel Washington

“Well, Mom, the only person I saw that I knew was DENZEL WASHINGTON, and I, uh, really didn’t think of running up and going, uh, you need to talk to my mom… she’s a writer.”

Did you think about calling me so I could come over there?

“Yeah, Mom, I did.聽I thought, Boy, the last thing I want in my life right now is for my Mom to be running around this football field asking everyone she doesn’t know if they’re important enough to read her screenplay. . .”

Oh.

If you’re read Harvey Mackay’s networking book, Dig Your Well Before You’re Thirsty you’ll know that his theory is – everyone you want to know is only six people away – you know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows someone until the someone you want to know is in the list . . .

My son, Abercrombie and Fitch kid, . . . Denzel Washington !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 聽 聽And, EVERYBODY who filmed “Remember the Titans” . . .

Ah, life goes on and on and on.

My kid is in a movie with Denzel Washington, and,

wait for it,

 

I got the T-Shirt.

 

 

%d bloggers like this: