Emergency!
Friday, July 08, 2005
  I really doubt it.
Stunning developements on the homefront:

Edgebert has exercised his biological privilege of being a hermaphrodite. Confusingly, I was looking into my grandfather's fishtank and noticed a micro-plague invasion of tiny snails. Understandable, maybe, because Edgebert has been in there since the untimely demise of Copernicus.

However...enter the twist: Edgebert has been in Leo's tank for about five weeks now. Five weeks ago, I also dumped Copernicus' deathwater into the sink and refilled the tank with tap water. After I notice the baby mollusks in Leo's tank, I snort and glance over into the other tank, and nearly choke on my diet cranberry soda as I watch itty bitty snails, smaller then the ones in Leo's tank, use the root system of the rhodenderon as a playground, in tap water. The possibilities here, are endless, and sort of boggling.

The way I figure it, is that obviously Edgebert needed an optimal temperature for this all to happen, and given that this pad is stifling hot, he got it, and deposited some eggs right before the death of Copernicus, somewhere in the root system, whether he bored and deposited, or just had a gelatinous mass, like the red riders that I used to have. So...those eggs sat, and needed another optimal temperature before they hatched--but in the meantime, in the new tank, he probably layed more at the tail end of the first good temperature, and they hatched right at the beginning of the second heat...making them roughly older..and oh my fucking god I don't know.

I do know that they'll probably keep multiplying though, and it will be the snails taking over the tanks, in a big incestuous family way, devouring everything in their paths like little grit-toothed hoovers.

Oh my god...what if edgebert laid eggs in the tank and Copernicus ingested them? They would have eaten him inside out...and maybe that's what killed him. Ahh...that's just crazy talk.

The science to this is awful-- there is no need to comment on the fact. Bio major? Shut it. Unless you're one of my favorite nerds.

In other news, Bento's boy and I got to do our first aid course at work, and spent the day staunching each other's imaginary amputations and rapid blood loss, and giggling at the stupid boys in our class, because they're total lunkheads. It was stupid but funny actually, because everyone was trying to be so cool, that they never did any of the demos properly (except for, I suppose, the ones that have actually witnessed a gory first-aid scene and recognised the seriousness of it), and it kind of made me fearful. Even more fearful-- our instructor basically spoonfed the answers to the test to us. If we got some wrong, "as long as you correct them, you pass." Fucking lame. I mean, what's the point of testing us on common sense then? But we got nifty books, and pull-out posters for CPR, so I suppose it wasn't a total bust. Bento's boy and I also went to lunch at Taco Time, this ancient one that has been in SA for as long as I can remember.

It's absolutely stupid, but whenever I go in there, I always feel like a con who's just crossed the border and is just waiting for the immigration police to bust down the door and shoot my ass up over my Mexi-Fries. Ok, that's not very funny, but it's the atmosphere of the place. All it needs is a layer of dust, some dead flies, and a lazily turning ceiling fan. When I was little, I remember it being really dark and cave-like in there, a perfect hideout for banditos.

So there's this other thing I've been mulling over lately. Now-- I realize that we never stop growing, experiencing, learning and generally learning day by day how to not get our asses killed, but this weird incidence has snuck up on me for some reason: I am an experienced adult. I'm not very naive. In fact, as each day passes, I'm more in touch with reality then I was the day before, which is funny, because I suppose you'd think this would turn me into a negative nancy, or go all existential crisis, but I'm actually rather appreciative of it. Lately, I keep looking at people, and seeing right through them. Seeing what's inside, and what exactly the motives behind the things they do or say are. Now, maybe that just sounds like I'm at peace with being judgemental or something, but it's not. It's more like that. I haven't said much, but all of a sudden I'm making all these inner calls on people, and I'm being proven right.

Another thing relating to this, is the weird thing that occurs when you meet someone and think you're so "behind" them, and then all of a sudden surpass them in their "growth" as it were, and end up looking back at them...and I hate to say it, but smiling that knowing smirk. Never to their face though.

Everything has just seemed really clear lately. And it's sort of hilarious, because the proverbial shit sort of hit the fan on Sunday, and I seriously thought I was fucking doomed (a symptom of shock I've since learned), but by the end of Monday I had it figured out and knew exactly what alternative course of action to take next.

Suck on that Ma. I think I'm onto the next phase.

Warning: War of the Worlds Spoiler (see how considerate I can be?)

A little blip about "War of the Worlds": This movie...reeked of badly planned jump shots (not scary!), poorly (ie-unfrightening) designed aliens (is that true to the story? Someone tell me), but, I gotta say, I liked the special effects, they were pretty cool, if you could get past that little blond girl screaming and crying for the whole movie.

"Oh Dakota Fanning, you're such a talented actress! However did you muster up the chutzpah for such a challenging role?"

The only thing was, is that like every other disaster flick out there, the plot played heavily on these cliched human behaviors under pressure. You see "the survivor, forted down in his basement- "Nyah! I'm going to live through this and kill every fucker who tries to stop me!"- or the panicky white couples (Betty and Bif, you know?) who get blasted out of their socks constantly, maybe just for their constantly fear-rolled eyes. Of course, there are a couple of given mob scenes where people tear down people, kill other people because of desperate singlemindedness. Enter blind boy youths, staunchly driven to protect and save their country who walk off into slaughter. The list goes on. Hollywood rot. If I closed my eyes in select spots, it actually reminded me of every zombie movie I've seen in the last two years.

Additionally, there were some attempts at "dramatic cinematography" that were quite awful. You know what I mean, the long shots of "powerful and disturbing scenes of complete silence meant to stir awe or tears." Yeah...it didn't work! WestJet and I hooted in laughter when all the bodies floated down the river in front of Daytona Fanning. Like, it was fucking hilarious to see that kid trying to take a pee and instead, get scarred for life. And people started laughing at us, because we were laughing. Another "hitting the propeller" moment, served up by yours truly. The one that deserves mentioning the most however, is the shot of the clothing fluttering out of the sky in the dark fog-lit forest. Oooh....the clothes of the dead masses are falling from the sky... This would have worked in so many other ways, but it didn't, because it just looked like some Italian grandma accidently spilled her laundry basket over the balcony.

Final flaw that should be obvious by now: The aliens were exterminating the humans with big death rays that essentially incinerated them--however-- the clothes were always left behind. What the fuck?

I have to admit though, I liked the Tripod robots. Nothing else was creepy, but they were. And the human blood = fertilizer part was gold. And the end, the end was good, but it was weird that his ex-wife and her parents stepped out the door like they'd just finished their afternoon tea while everyone else around them is beaten to shit, including their neighborhood. There was no closure, other then, "oh wow dad, we love you now."

I've been phoning strangers about places all day. So far it's going well, and we have our first viewing on Saturday. I have to admit though, I have this sick dread in my stomach that we might not find anything, even though it's completely unfounded. But so help me god, if I end up living with relations again, I'm outta here. I'll quite school and take off for good.

"Mary Moore, she's fucking irrational..."
 
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