Ron and I will have some great cross-cultural discussions at times. One was around punctuality (I feel like I’ve blogged this already – that or I’ve told it to so many people that I’ve composed it in my head already).
I hate lateness. My whole family hates lateness. We consider it a disrespect of someone’s time. I never understood the whole fashionably late thing. I thought it was rude. Who are we all kidding? If you really don’t want folks at your house until 10 then for God’s sake say show up at 10 – don’t do this oh party is at 8 but no one will show up until 10. Don’t play these passive-aggressive guessing games. At my house you show up on time or you don’t get to eat.
Ron’s theory – and he says this is cultural – is that the reason Filipinos (and again, this is from his experience as an immigrant – not first-generation, American-born) are always late to parties is that to show up on time is to appear greedy – that you want to get all the food for yourself. I picture cars parked outside my house with everyone staring at the front door wondering who will go in first.
In my family, you don’t show up late – to show up late is to slander our hard work in meal prep (especially mom and you don’t want to slander ma mere). A lot of times, folks come early and actually help us cook (Ron said that ‘that’s what you have maids for…’ – his grandmother had an entire staff when he was growing up).
This also extends into never taking the last bit of a meal or appetizer – it appears gluttonous. I notice that Ron and Gilbert always let me eat the last gyoza at Ecce. Nevermind that these are the same fatties that down 2 bowls of rice each. The staff at Ecce doesn’t even ask anymore – they bring them each two bowls of rice whenever we go there. I have to roll them home.
The saddest part now is that in a week, not one of these pro-life extremists will be there to comfort the parents in their time of grief – a grief delayed for over a decade. They will have moved on to the next opportunistic circus and the (hardly) Christian Coalition will be foaming at the mouth of somebody else – probably gays and Mexicans.
Also: Has anyone seen Jesse Jackson commenting on Johnnie Cochran? I was hoping for a (Michael) Jackson-Schiavo-Cochran trifecta.
Does anyone think that the entrance of disabilities advocates into this argument incredibly ridiculous? She wasn’t disabled. She was braindead. I have seen folks on gurneys with respirators getting Master’s Degrees.
If you can tell me what the hell this movie is about, more power to you. What a snoozefest. What a way to flush Judi Dench’s time down the toilet. The movie seems like it has 2 separate storylines that limp along like a drunk slug. Effects and design are great and features hotter-than-hot Thandie Newton. Miss-able in the third degree. Wait till it hits TBS.
In our quest to find gay films that might possible be arousing and entertaining (without being too pornographic), Ron and I stumbled on Locked Up, a German prison film (originally titled Gefangen).
What the hell kinds of prisons to they have in Germany? These guys have wine and chairs and furniture and magazines and pickles and chocolates in their cells… though they remain relegated to drinking Sanka.
A young guy is thrown in the slammer for credit card fraud and must spend 2 years in Cell Block C with a host of other over-horny, same-gender loving guys. All of whom just happen to be over-tanned and freshly waxed. Young guy falls for a man in Cell Block E – a guy with the temerity to have a Nike swoosh tattooed on his chest.
A mild 3 minutes total of actual arousing content. And it wouldn’t have had to be pornographic – just something that was entertaining. I though Crash was much more erotic than this. This was no German Oz like the box said.
The best line ever was when Kevin, the punk that is involved in a strange bukakke-with-spit sequence, tells Herr Tormann that prison assault isn’t that bad:
You are not your ass.
I immediately covered my mouth to withold laughing, waiting for Ron’s commentary. Which came soon after:
You know, honey, you are not your ass, okay? Your ass is like – over here – and you are over there. Okay? You are not your ass. Yeah.
We cackled madly.
He still sleeping as I write this – I can tell he is sleeping deeply because when I ask him what time he wants to get up he answers in Tagalog.
I told Ron we should start producing movies. We could so do a much better job than this. All I need is a DV cam and a couple more hard drives, right?
Where the hell are you at?
Take the Dante’s Divine Comedy Inferno Test
The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
This is just appalling.
Conservative pharmacists are refusing birth control and emergency contraceptives to women with prescriptions from their doctors. If you can’t recommend and see a full range of options for a patient, YOU SHOULDN’T BE IN THE MEDICAL PROFESSION.
Does federal and state law require that objecting pharmacists be accommodated?