Crazy Virgo

So I'm judgmental.

I'm what you'd call a Snap Judgement Maker. I call it as I see it.

Immediately.

When I meet people for the first time, I know instantly if I'm going to be friends with them or not.

Their handshake, facial expression, tone of voice. I judge it all, and know the extent of our relationship within seconds. The way I see it, I'm 31 - nearly 32 - and have no time for uninteresting, less than genuine, un-funny people in my life. 99.95% of the time, my snap judgement is right on the money. This is probably why I have only a handful of friends. But really, what would I do with more than that?

One time only have I made a snap judgment on a person, then retracted it. I made nice with this person for a while. Then what happened? It bit me right in the ass. My snap judgement had been right on the money. After that, I never doubted my natural gift of instinctive prejudice.

A few times in the past month my judgmentalness has slapped in me in the face. Not a left-hook or anything. More like a bitch slap. 

I saw Star Trek in the first few weeks it came out. I went as a favor to a friend that had a bad day and just wanted to "see the freaking movie and eat ice cream." Seemed like an 11 year-old's birthday party, but I humored him. His day had been shitty. Of course Gentleman Husband was dying to go. Me? Eh. I wasn't so much in to the original, much less this big budget remake that, I was positive, was going to be a flah-op. I was so positive it was going to be the next Pearl Harbor that I made sure everyone was aware of my opinion well before the movie started. I think I mentioned something to the affect that if this movie was actually good, I'd put my foot in my mouth and suck on it. Turns out, Star Trek is good. Really freaking good. Damn that JJ Abrams. He knows how to create a fictionalized situation and put it on screen, and completely suck me in with in the first five minutes, thus transporting me to wherever it is that he's fabricated for my enjoyment. I spent 30 minutes after the movie eating my foot and my words.

This past weekend I saw The Hangover. When the previews for this movie were initially on TV, Gentleman Husband pronounced it "freaking hilarious" and a "must-see." I pronounced it an "unfortunate choice for Ed Helms" and "frat-tastic humor." I vaguely remember saying to GH something like "have fun seeing this with your boyfriends after 18 holes of golf and 10 rounds of Texas Hold 'Em. I'll be doing something more fun and worthwhile, like reading, or going to the bathroom." Unfortunately, this weekend it was hot, I was bored, and GH sensed the conditions were right for coercing me into seeing The Hangover. I laughed for 1 hr and 48 minutes. This movie could have been done poorly. Much like the continuing saga of National Lampoon's. However, Todd Phillips - director of Old School - knows how to make me laugh. The formula goes something like this: Take well educated-smart actors with good timing that have resumes that include The Daily Show, Funny Or Die, movies with Will Farrell (i.e. Ed Helms, Zack Galifianikis, oddly Bradley Cooper, Rob Riggle) add a normal situation, subtract logic, multiply humor with hyperbole, add funny Asian man and good soundtrack, and you've got the perfect storm for a comedy. With my head hung in shame, I give you the funniest movie of the summer:

 

Ok, so maybe my Snap Judgement Maker ® is a little off. It's a hot summer. For the most part, I'm on it. And I'm not apologizing for being judgmental, either. It's a smarter, more efficient way to live.

It just saves time.

I've become quite good at it (save these two movie incidents that I honestly blame on poor previews). So much so, that I ponder writing a book about my instinctive judgmental talent called "Snap: How to judge and alienate people in seconds".     

An Open Letter to Sharon Stone

Dear Sharon, 

A male friend pointed out to me this week that is a universally truth widely know that women hate you. This is a male friend that's a big fan of yours, by the way.

My first thought was, no they don't.

I don't.

Then I thought about it.

You're hot. You're sexy. You're smart. And, you've got legs that go on for miles.

If I had a friend like that, I'd hate them. 

And, even though we're not friends  (sidenote: if you're taking applications for friends, I could totally get over all this petty hatred), Yes, I do hate you.

Wait, no I don't. That's silly.

Ya. Ya, I do.

After a lot of thought, several cocktails, a long therapeutic examination of myself, then a convo my neighbor, Normal Lesbian Psychic, (I think you'd like her) I know exactly why I, and a league of women, hate you. 

We want to be you.

Since women were intimately introduced to you, your severe good looks and your anatomy in Basic Instinct, there has been a sneer and snide comment that accompany any mention of your name. Here's why. Women everywhere are insanely jealous of your fearlessness. And your legs. 

Jesus. Your legs. They're miles long. Women dream of taking them off your body and fusing them on theirs. At least I do. Look at what you can do with them. Anyway, back to the subject...apologies, was totally distracted by your legs. You really nailed it with Catherine Trammel, the bi-sexual psychologist/novelist/alleged murderess. 

"What are you gonna do? Arrest me for smoking?"

"What was your relationship with (whatever the guy's name is)?"

"I had sex with him for about a year and a half."

WOW. 

I know you didn't write that, Sharon, but jeeeesus. Way to execute bluntness. It made me hate you. 

In fact this entire scene did.

 
Basic Instinct - The Interrogation Scene - Click here for more blooper videos

I've figured out why. 

I want to do that. I want to talk like that.

I want to wear a white dress, completely dismantle a room of men with my eyes, and vindicate 

myself with nothing more than my sly smile. 

I freaking want to uncross and re-cross my legs like that. But damnit, Sharon, I'm not

as brave as you. You must know there are support groups devoted to empowering 

women to  become comfortable with and actually look at their vaginas. Oh yes.

There are. It takes some women years to even say the word "vagina", yet, you just 

put yours out there for everyone to see. And not just out there. On a 30 ft. x 70 ft. 

screen for the viewing masses. 

Basically your vagina was the size of a small Yugo. I've gotta hand it to you, 

Shar, you've got balls. And a rather nice vagina. 

Your supreme confidence as Catherine Trammel is not so far 

from your own. Am I right, Shar? There's a certain male energy about you that 

women want. You can hang with the men. Look at you in Casino. Ginger was

a hustler. She was entitled to her furs. She knew how to wheel, deal, screw, 

and climb her way to the top. While also wearing killer outfit after killer outfit. 

You're a hustler too, Sharon. You've been married three times. To three pretty 

significant men. It wasn't what you wanted, so, you moved on. You're 50 and

you're killing it, Shar. You're hot. You're crazy smart. Men still want to fuck you.

Congratulations.

I hate you.

Fondly,

CrazyVirgo

Sometimes amazing happens.

Gentleman Husband and I went to visit two of our favorite couples this weekend, the manOrrs and the Beaverhausens. They live in Kansas City, MO -very near the birthplace of CrazyVirgo. For whatever reason, we have never visited without something memorable (or illegal or embarrassing) happening. In the past I have tried to jump into the arms of my 6"5' husband, like a Romanian gymnast, totally missing him and landing with my head smacked against asphalt. No one was hurt. On one particular visit, we created the Greatest Music Video of All Time. Period. Once I mentally scarred one half of Beaverhausen so much that he bolted out of manOrr like lightening and high-stepped it the 10 blocks home.

But, nothing, and I do mean nothing, will top our most recent visit. Inspired by an almost intolerable love for GoodFellas, the Mayor of manOrr required that all 6 people involved with the first night of our visit channel Jersey 1976 for our dinner at an Italian joint in Kansas City, KC (side note: KCK is Jersey to Kansas City, Missouri's NYC, so it made sense.) Gentleman Lover and I waited at the Kansas City airport, dressed in our costumes as were instructed to, and then a 1987 maroon Ford wagon with wood panels showed up to chauffeur us around for the evening. It was, in a word, the tits. 

Then, this happened:

In all honesty friends, we didn't even pose this. We didn't even know this was going to happen. We got lost on this dead-end street, realized there was an incredible view of Kansas City, MO, got out of the car to take a picture, fell into character, and took the best picture of our lives.

Take a minute. Soak it in. But don't look too long. You might be blinded. 

Soon, people everywhere will see this picture, because it will probably be put in the Kansas City Kansas Museum of History, and want to re-enact this exact same night. But they won't be able to. It's was a once in a lifetime event. Immortalized on June 12, 2009.

Sometimes amazing happens. And it feels good.

For serious

Now, this Virgo doesn't sit down and get serious very often. Today I am. I'm sitting with good posture in my grown up chair, with my grown up clothes on, and writing a real grown up blog post. 'Cause I have something very grown up to talk about.

MUSIC.

Unbelievably gorgeous, ethereal, mind-blowing, music that will make you shiver. My lovely and talented friend, Amanda, has been writing and singing for a looooong time. She's finally at a place where her music is recorded and ready for the world to celebrate. And, I want everyone to know and listen and share her ridiculously gorgeous songs.

How would I describe her?

If Tori Amos digressed and became less obsessed with fairies, and Fiona Apple was less wacked out, less affected, and had a killer body and the soul of a human angel, then they would be Amanda Skylar.

(This is her very clever songstress name.)

Here is her stunning video for her breathtakin song, "Handfed" (Seriously, can I use any more adjectives?)

 

Handfed - Above the Sea from Dan on Vimeo.

Watch it. Then, watch it again. She's unreal. And talented. And beautiful. I think that's what you call a triple threat. If you're a music producer and reading this blog, please email me and I'll put you in touch with Amanda so you can listen to her music, become entranced by it and immediately  ink a million dollar recording deal with her, put her on the cover of Vanity Fair or Interview or W and allow her to live her dream. Or, if you're reading this blog and know someone in the biz.... or if you know someone who might know someone. You get the point.

It's hard out there for a pimp. So help a lady out.

Standard

Dear Denver, 

What a difference 24 hours makes.

happy now?

It's one day of rain! Deal with it.

Dear Denver/Boulder, 

You ARE NOT Seattle. So stop f*cking crying. It's been raining for one day, and every Denver Metro area resident seems to think they live in Seattle now. It was freaking sunny yesterday. That doesn't happen in Seattle. There are two seasons - rain and sun.

"Man, I didn't know I lived in Seattle. What is this weather?!"

"If I had known I was living in Seattle, I would have worn my rain boots."

"Rain again [for the second time in a week]? Is this the Pacific Northwest?"

NO. IT'S F*CKING NOT. The Pacific Northwest looks like this for 9 months:

Notice the tops of the buildings are missing? That's because the cloud ceiling is about 100 feet above the average human being's head. This cloud ceiling rolls in around late September and stays put, somedays almost touching the top of your head, until late June. Seattle goes from cloudy to partly cloudy to scattered clouds to broken clouds to heavy clouds to rain to scattered showers to mixed rain and showers to heavy rain to light sprinkles.  Anything else is just a passing storm. I know. I lived this for 5 wonderful years. I know what rain is, and what we're all experiencing today is not it. Rain is the constant stream of moisture needling your face when you're walking to the bus. Rain is what causes you to throw away your umbrella because it's too annoying to just open and close it every time you walk outside and instead opt for a jacket with a hood. Rain comes sideways, from all directions, soaking you to the bone while walking from your car to the office. Rain causes you to gain 20 lbs from hibernating and drinking too much red wine. Rain gives you a cynical, biting sense of humor (one that Coloradoans don't seem to understand.) Rain makes you angry and angst-y. Rain makes you hide in your basement and write songs like "Blackhole Sun" and "Lithium" and "Smells Like Teen Spirit." 

That's Rain, muthaf*ckers. And THAT is Seattle, Denver.

See here how it looks like it's 5 p.m.

It looks like that all day long. The sky goes from light gray to dark gray, without as much as a tease of sun. That's Seattle. Denver, this has never happened here.

Cmon Colorado. You know yesterday it looked like this:

And tomorrow it will look like this again. So we have one day of rain that actually makes our lawns green instead of the dirt yards that they will inevitably become in a month with the scorching sun. Should we really complain that we might not be in a drought this summer? I know it feels weird to use your windshield wipers to do something other than clear bugs off the windshield, and God knows, you've probably gone to buy a Gore-Tex rain jacket and galoshes by  now. But, fear not, Colorado. We won't start loading in animals two-by-two quite yet.

I hate to break it to you, Colorado, but there is a name for this rain today. Spring. It's a common weather pattern that happens every year. Summer - and the officially blazing, sultry, desert, scorching heat - doesn't start until June 20th. Until then, the weather has every right to be unpredictable, raining, sunny, chilly, hot, and pleasant. And, let's hope it is. 

Colorado, you are a bunch of pussies. For real. Toughen up. It's a freaking day of rain. Ok, it's two days of rain in a week. HOLYFUCK. Maybe use it as an excuse to sit on your couch and watch re-runs of "Law & Order" instead of training for your triathlon. A day of rest and laziness. What a novel idea! 

Don't worry, Colorado. It will be like the surface of the sun here soon enough. See... here's the weather for the rest of the week (and you know Thursday's thunderstorm is a 15 minute episode, so don't give me any guff about three days of straight rain):

There now. All better.