A Gaggy Kind of Day.
Things that have made me want to throw up a little in my mouth in the last 24 hours:
1) Eating tripe for the first time. (Granted, it was in multitudinous chunk form in a bowl of otherwise delicious menudo, but still... the honeycomb pattern and general texture is something I just can't get past. Sorry, Ricky Martin.)
2) Watching the movie A History of Violence, which was so very terrible and utterly without nuance (and the music!? and the ridiculously trite plot!? and the fact that Viggo Mortenson's chasmic chin dimple has more subtlety and acting ability than he did in this role?! GAH!) that it made me wonder if perhaps every critic on earth who'd raved buckets about this movie might perhaps have received a special Critics' Bonus Pack Edition with a nickel bag of crack stapled to the back of their ticket stubs. Canada had such high hopes for you, David Cronenberg. For shame.
3) Watching the Hub feed the dog the leftover menudo tripe and quivering gelatinous pig's foot, which he ate with mucho gusto after S. insisted on snagging what "mean mommy would never let him eat" on his behalf.
4) Waking up to a feeling of half-ironic-glee and half-revulsion upon hearing that the dog had promptly vomited up said leftover tripe, pig bone bits and onions all over the carpet first thing this morning. Yuck.
(I promise, dear ElJay, that before the week is out I WILL post something that isn't crude and nauseating.)
1) Eating tripe for the first time. (Granted, it was in multitudinous chunk form in a bowl of otherwise delicious menudo, but still... the honeycomb pattern and general texture is something I just can't get past. Sorry, Ricky Martin.)
2) Watching the movie A History of Violence, which was so very terrible and utterly without nuance (and the music!? and the ridiculously trite plot!? and the fact that Viggo Mortenson's chasmic chin dimple has more subtlety and acting ability than he did in this role?! GAH!) that it made me wonder if perhaps every critic on earth who'd raved buckets about this movie might perhaps have received a special Critics' Bonus Pack Edition with a nickel bag of crack stapled to the back of their ticket stubs. Canada had such high hopes for you, David Cronenberg. For shame.
3) Watching the Hub feed the dog the leftover menudo tripe and quivering gelatinous pig's foot, which he ate with mucho gusto after S. insisted on snagging what "mean mommy would never let him eat" on his behalf.
4) Waking up to a feeling of half-ironic-glee and half-revulsion upon hearing that the dog had promptly vomited up said leftover tripe, pig bone bits and onions all over the carpet first thing this morning. Yuck.
(I promise, dear ElJay, that before the week is out I WILL post something that isn't crude and nauseating.)