Melancholia

I'm not going to bash Lars Van Trier. I loved his movie Dogville. He has his own sensibility. I understand he suffers from depression, which is nothing to joke about. His latest film, Melancholia, runs about 2 hours and 15 minutes. Kirsten Dunst wants to die in all 2 hours plus. This is not the Spiderman Dunst. This is a young woman who is supposed to be married that day and wanders around in her wedding dress in a fog. She is ill and her sister, that French actress whose name escapes me, is frightened the world will end after it is hit by another rogue planet, which was hiding behind the sun all this time. Lars isn't strong on logic.
Keifer Sutherland plays Dunst's brother-in-law, who is impatient with her stalling. He does what he does best, which is heavy breathing to connote consternation. None of the characters are likeable, except the little son of the sister. The horses are beautiful, as is the estate they reside in. But his typical jumpy camera and the lack of music until the very end create an eerie viewing experience. I saw it at a library and several patrons walked out half way through. I stayed, knowing there was a possibility I'd get a ticket for going over two hours.
Charlotte Rampling plays the mother. I thought she was dead. Well, spoiler alert, the world does end, but on the up side, I didn't get a ticket. Maybe that French actress was Jane Birkin's daughter. If you don't recognize that name it just means you're young and not French.

Hummus Lust

I discovered hummus yesterday. Oh, I had dabbled in it at various events, not really analyzing the experience. I mean, I already had peanut butter as a staple. I experimented with almond butter, and, of course, there was actual butter. Who needed another spread or dip?
Well I did. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I have led a life devoid of dip. I can't explain it. Dip was never a goal or need for me. I suppose it's like those who never eat grapes. I consume tons of grapes. I can't imagine my life without grapes.
Anyway, I was at this outdoor event in NY and they were giving away free cups of hummus, along with a small bag of pretzels. I won't mention the brand because I don't plug things except for Pringles. I sat down on a bench and let me tell you I went through that hummus like Rommel blasting through Africa. I quickly ran out of pretzels and began using my index finger to dig out every bit. I was a hummus whore. A worker came over and asked me to do a survey about the product. I waxed eloquent, believe me. I was rewarded with a $10 Amazon gift card. So I discovered a food staple, which I will now pursue at every market visit, as well as getting ten bucks.
I just wonder if you rub the hummus over certain body parts whether the same sensual experience is duplicated. I probably should move past that.

Coffee's On Me

That phrase is all it takes to get me there. Actually, with some friends, we have a great system--alternate paying. We trust each other, compare bills. We share conversation, sip and munch on desert and in those precious minutes, the world isn't so bad.
Coffee itself makes it impossible for me to create arguments. I find myself nodding in agreement to just about everything. Water and soda don't do that. Chocolate pudding is another mood enhancer. Strangely, rice pudding gets me in a feisty mood.
There is something empowering about paying the check. But I do not feel emasculated if the woman pays. I am evolved, so damn evolved.
Now, relationships where the guy does all the paying all the time are tricky. If it's just a friendship, that situation needs to be re-examined. No expectations, to me, means you split the bill if it's over $6. I think $6 just feels right. At some point one has to distance oneself from friends who never pay. Unless they're homeless and destitute. Then you get them refills and do lots of listening and sympathetic nodding. That's my concept of friendship.

Tech Support

I am afraid of tech support. As soon as they introduce themselves and I don't catch their name I tense up. If they speak softly and I can't hear them, I pretend to understand every word and quickly get lost. If they have an accent, I get more nervous. If it's a woman, I relax a bit until I realize she is just as disdainful as the men.
Oh, you can sense it in their tone, the careful way they pronounce your name, very formal, like a butler who knows too much about you.
I try not to sob during these painful events. I lower my voice to sound manly, but when whatever they try doesn't work my voice gets higher, I talk faster, conveying serious desperation. I clench my fists and take deep breaths as we try to connect to the Internet. What will happen to my readers if I can't blog? Am I responsible for their depression and subsequent actions?
Now my carrier has auto support. The woman's voice is very calm and patient and polite, but it is not a real person. She and I both know she's only there because of budget cuts, leaving young tech support people collecting carriages for Pathmark.
Why don't I possess computer savvy or even the confidence I can troubleshoot my own problems? I certainly troubleshoot my medical events. I know when a body part isn't functioning correctly and I take appropriate action. No, not Viagra. I'm talking about body parts I still use.

Philadelphia

I planned to go to Philadelphia today. Every April I go for a day. Last year it rained and I stayed home. Today it's cloudy and they predict rain. Since I'll be outdoors for this event I will get wet. It's also kind of chilly.
You see where I'm going with this. I'm looking for excuses not to go to Philly. It's not about Philly, it's about me.
I find I don't want to leave the area anymore. It's too much trouble. A drive to Weehawken, parking in the supermarket lot because the streets are only for their residents. A bus to NY, a walk to Penn Station, buying a ticket that gets more expensive every year. Then it's the 80 minute train ride, the walk from the station to the event, waiting in line for a ticket, which also gets more expensive each year, and finally the event itself. I know I'll be checking the clock outside, counting the minutes until I can return home.
Even at plays and movies, I keep checking my watch. It's not like I have a family at home. Sure, I write and paint and read, but I can always find time for that. I guess as I get older I increasingly crave more time alone with my thoughts. Or perhaps my imagination. I have grown to accept my inner monologue. In fact, I'm finding my inner world more entertaining than what is out there. And much cheaper. I have to decide in the next few minutes whether I'm going to Philly. Looks like a cloudy, chilly day. Maybe I'll just take a nap. Philly will be there next year.

Correct Behavior

As a man among women in my book discussion group I have learned the correct behavior expected of me over time. Here is my advice.
Let the woman finish her sentence no matter how off target her perspective is.
Never speak in a loud, threatening tone. Never gesticulate and put the women sitting next to you in danger.
If they fly off topic and begin discussing menstrual stuff or the new top bought in some boutique, let them continue until there is a pause. Let someone else suggest they return to the book.
Do not make eye contact for more than three seconds with any hot women. Act like you're befuddled by the book, even though you have a thorough understanding of the themes. It gives them an opportunity to nurture you to a deeper understanding. Women love caring for confused men.
Compliment the coffee, no matter how bland it it. Same with the cookies. Say something nice about a different woman each session. You'll have them anticipating a compliment. If you have strong forearms, flaunt them. Conversely, if you possess toothpick arms keep them covered. Bathe beforehand, use deodorant and moisturizer, brush your teeth, employ mouthwash. Wear clean clothes, do not pass wind. If one of the ladies passes wind, do not crack a joke. Clear your throat and move on. Do not argue with anyone over anything.
Do not doze off. If one of the women hits on you, you're on your own. If you and a woman are competing over the same parking space, let her have it. She'll take your side in case you're stupid enough to get into a dispute with the ladies. Never sit opposite a woman who can give the fish eye.

Pringles

The following is a list of actual Pringles flavors and what famous person might choose as their favorite.
Original-Mitt Romney. Lite-Ryan Seacrest. Low Salt-Sarah Palin. Fat Free-Kate Moss. Seaweed-James Cameron.Paprica- Jennifer Lopez. Hot & Spicy-Sofia Vergara. Roasted garlic-James Gandolfini. Jalapeno Chedder-George Lopez. Onion Blossom-Dick Chaney. Cheesy Fries-Rosie O'Donnell. Pizza-Rex Ryan. Honey Mustard-Chelsey Handler. Ragin' Cagin'-Harry Connick Jr. Sweet Chili-Carlos Santana. Barbecue-George Bush. Grilled Shrimp-Danny Devito. Super Stack-Donald Trump. Onion Blossom-Angelina Jolie.
Extreme-Johnny Depp. Bangkok Grilled Chicken-Jackie Chan. Italian-Danny Aiello. Baked Potato-Whoopie Goldberg. Ranch-Tom Selleck. Taco Night-Josef Stalin.
As you can see, I have a lot of time on my hands. Isn't it amazing how every Pringles chip is exactly the same size? As you get to the bottom of the tube and try to reach in, there is a real possibility of getting your hand caught. There is no graceful way to explain this predicament without the word gluttony coming up.