Oh, man. The second episode of Lost is just as intriguing and weird and wonderful as the first. YAY, oh yay. Me happy. Could this be? Could I possibly be as in love with Lost as I was with American Gothic?
I think I could be.
I like how they do the reveals veeerrryyy slowly, how everyone is suspect in some way (who's on the up-and-up, who's that and why are they so freaking strange?). Love it!
My favorite characters so far are Curly (I'm partial to large men who say "dude"), Doctor Jack (hot,hot,hot), and the brunette prisoner chick, Kate. She's lovely with all those adorable freckles of hers, her moxie. I wonder what she did that made her a wanted woman, though. Odd how a supposed "criminal" isn't familiar with guns...She sure knew how to disarm blondie (handsome mean guy who shot that...thing), which leads me to speculate she may have been involved in white collar crime, or perhaps an accomplice. Of course, she may have been playing stupid regarding the gun -- she certainly knew how to hold it and point in a commanding way.
The Asian couple are fascinating. I'm thinking that they're father and daughter, hence his over-protectiveness, her over-the-top obeisance. I would think, in this day and age, a modern Korean wife wouldn't take shit like that from her husband.
The British rock star guy gets on my nerves, though. Stereotypical, dumb, not pleasant to look at. I dunno. I just hate him.
Maybe the giant robot (I like to think it's a robot created by extraterrestrial beings) in the jungle will kill him next week. One can only hope. It'd be good if the whiny blonde was taken out along with him. Another character I dislike immensely. Easy gig for that chick -- the only lines she has to memorize are: Wahhhhh! and No! (said with defiant little chin tilted upward) and Aiiiiiiiiii, aiiiiiii, aiiiiiii! (is her scream the most annoying thing you've ever heard in your life?).
Can't wait to see if creepy orange peel man will make another appearance. I like him way too much.
A'ight. Good enough for now. Stay tuned for Ms. Lori's Lost thoughts next Thursday.
Quick Mr. Butlerism: "Mommy, I buy you more patience! C'mon, we go to the store now!"
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Who Says There Are No More Heroes?
I found one.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
September 29, 2004
OP-ED COLUMNIST
Sentenced to Be Raped
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
MEERWALA, Pakistan — I'm still trying to help out President Bush by tracking down Osama bin Laden. After poking through remote parts of Pakistan, asking for a tall Arab with a beard, I can't say I've earned that $25 million reward.
But I did come across someone even more extraordinary than Osama.
Usually we journalists write about rogues, but Mukhtaran Bibi could not be more altruistic or brave, as the men who gang-raped her discovered. I firmly believe that the central moral challenge of this century, equivalent to the struggles against slavery in the 19th century or against totalitarianism in the 20th, will be to address sex inequality in the third world - and it's the stories of women like Ms. Mukhtaran that convince me this is so.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Read this incredible story about a beautiful and brave soul who should forever be held as inspiration to all women everywhere
here.
Log in and be inspired...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
September 29, 2004
OP-ED COLUMNIST
Sentenced to Be Raped
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF
MEERWALA, Pakistan — I'm still trying to help out President Bush by tracking down Osama bin Laden. After poking through remote parts of Pakistan, asking for a tall Arab with a beard, I can't say I've earned that $25 million reward.
But I did come across someone even more extraordinary than Osama.
Usually we journalists write about rogues, but Mukhtaran Bibi could not be more altruistic or brave, as the men who gang-raped her discovered. I firmly believe that the central moral challenge of this century, equivalent to the struggles against slavery in the 19th century or against totalitarianism in the 20th, will be to address sex inequality in the third world - and it's the stories of women like Ms. Mukhtaran that convince me this is so.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Read this incredible story about a beautiful and brave soul who should forever be held as inspiration to all women everywhere
here.
Log in and be inspired...
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
It's Meme Time!
What country intrigues you the most and why?
Australia. My God, they have kangaroos! And I want to watch water go down the drain clockwise.-- I would probably spend many, many hours in the bathroom while I pet my joey and drink Fosters.
Which celebrity are you ashamed of being attracted to?
Leonard Nimoy, Howard Stern
What names do you call your pets that you wouldn’t want others to hear you utter?
Fat-ass, catty-cat, bitch, purry-pants
Are there words or commonly used phrases that you’re positive you invented?
La-la land, unibrow, warm and fuzzy
Which person of the same sex would you not hesitate to jump in the sack with?
Charlize Theron
Which animal frightens you the most?
Earwigs, hyenas
What foods do you eat mass quantities of when feeling down?
Chocolate, pastina (lots of butter and egg in there, baby), Cheetos (must be Crunchy Cheetos , not the powder-covered air type), Ricotta cheese on Italian bread, mushroom soup topped with those little oyster crackers
The last time you were so embarrassed you thought you would die -- details, please.
Many years ago I bought a wig due to the fact that I had a court date (stupid criminal mischief thing), and I thought it best to hide my Mohawk. First impressions and all that. So my mother picks me up from the courthouse, my little brothers in tow, and we stop at a convenience store on the way home. While my brothers and I wait in the car, I notice a van full of preppie hotties checking me out.. I flirt, play coy and all that, which must’ve excited one of the guys to no end because he decides it would be nice to come on over and introduce himself. As he was walking over, one of my brothers screams, “Ms. Lori! There’s a bug in your wig!” And he proceeds to pull the bug out of my wig, taking the wig along with it. Out pops my springy, pink foot-high Mohawk.
How to explain the look of horror that came across the hottie’s once handsome face? I can’t. Suffice to say, hottie ran back to the van shaking and weeping with fear as I slid to the floorboards and cringed at the sound of a van full of laughing -- screaming-laughing -- boys. I think I did die just a little that day.
Who is Satan?
Ann Coulter
Which song makes you teary-eyed every time?
Fast Car by Tracy Chapman, Love Hurts by Nazareth, Vincent by Don McLean, Mercy Street by Peter Gabriel
If you were being forced at gunpoint to eat either an entire raw chicken or cooked pig’s head, which would you chow?
Easy -- Pig’s head. Salmonella ain’t pretty.
Cruel nicknames bestowed upon you during your school years?
Four-eyes; How, Ms. Lori! (my maiden name is Howe); Casper; freak; that weird girl
Current favorite guilty pleasure?
Victoria Gotti‘s Growing Up Gotti. She’s fabulous.
Australia. My God, they have kangaroos! And I want to watch water go down the drain clockwise.-- I would probably spend many, many hours in the bathroom while I pet my joey and drink Fosters.
Which celebrity are you ashamed of being attracted to?
Leonard Nimoy, Howard Stern
What names do you call your pets that you wouldn’t want others to hear you utter?
Fat-ass, catty-cat, bitch, purry-pants
Are there words or commonly used phrases that you’re positive you invented?
La-la land, unibrow, warm and fuzzy
Which person of the same sex would you not hesitate to jump in the sack with?
Charlize Theron
Which animal frightens you the most?
Earwigs, hyenas
What foods do you eat mass quantities of when feeling down?
Chocolate, pastina (lots of butter and egg in there, baby), Cheetos (must be Crunchy Cheetos , not the powder-covered air type), Ricotta cheese on Italian bread, mushroom soup topped with those little oyster crackers
The last time you were so embarrassed you thought you would die -- details, please.
Many years ago I bought a wig due to the fact that I had a court date (stupid criminal mischief thing), and I thought it best to hide my Mohawk. First impressions and all that. So my mother picks me up from the courthouse, my little brothers in tow, and we stop at a convenience store on the way home. While my brothers and I wait in the car, I notice a van full of preppie hotties checking me out.. I flirt, play coy and all that, which must’ve excited one of the guys to no end because he decides it would be nice to come on over and introduce himself. As he was walking over, one of my brothers screams, “Ms. Lori! There’s a bug in your wig!” And he proceeds to pull the bug out of my wig, taking the wig along with it. Out pops my springy, pink foot-high Mohawk.
How to explain the look of horror that came across the hottie’s once handsome face? I can’t. Suffice to say, hottie ran back to the van shaking and weeping with fear as I slid to the floorboards and cringed at the sound of a van full of laughing -- screaming-laughing -- boys. I think I did die just a little that day.
Who is Satan?
Ann Coulter
Which song makes you teary-eyed every time?
Fast Car by Tracy Chapman, Love Hurts by Nazareth, Vincent by Don McLean, Mercy Street by Peter Gabriel
If you were being forced at gunpoint to eat either an entire raw chicken or cooked pig’s head, which would you chow?
Easy -- Pig’s head. Salmonella ain’t pretty.
Cruel nicknames bestowed upon you during your school years?
Four-eyes; How, Ms. Lori! (my maiden name is Howe); Casper; freak; that weird girl
Current favorite guilty pleasure?
Victoria Gotti‘s Growing Up Gotti. She’s fabulous.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Perhaps I'm Not So Bagladyish After All...
Received a lovely note from the reviewer mentioned in yesterday's blog -- confirmed my suspicions that my story is woefully injured without those last lines (despite all of the warm and caring well-wishers who wrote to tell me otherwise). Mr. Horsley stated in part: "Had I had the original lines intact...I am certain my overall impression of the published story would've been more favorable...The 'melodrama' I initially perceived is ameliorated significantly by the comprehension those lines provide."
Now if only I could send the lost lines to every single reviewer who has reviewed or will be reviewing the book. Love it or hate it, at least it would be a fair assessment.
Oh, sure, I hear some you saying, "Shut the hell up already, Ms. Lori!"
But imagine if it happened to you.
Now if only I could send the lost lines to every single reviewer who has reviewed or will be reviewing the book. Love it or hate it, at least it would be a fair assessment.
Oh, sure, I hear some you saying, "Shut the hell up already, Ms. Lori!"
But imagine if it happened to you.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Ms. Lori -- Baglady of Horror
My heavens. Interesting review of "From the Borderlands" here
Snippet from review of "Annabell": "...Not written for the ease of readership...
I felt there was something here, something that could have merit, so I gave the author fair value and read through this twice, every word."
The reviewer then goes on to compare my narrator to a baglady. Which made me chuckle, actually.
You know someone's good when they can make you smile even as they flay the skin off your back.
Hey, he hated Stephen King's story as well. I'm in good company.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've a six pack and some tequila sunrises to mainline...
Snippet from review of "Annabell": "...Not written for the ease of readership...
I felt there was something here, something that could have merit, so I gave the author fair value and read through this twice, every word."
The reviewer then goes on to compare my narrator to a baglady. Which made me chuckle, actually.
You know someone's good when they can make you smile even as they flay the skin off your back.
Hey, he hated Stephen King's story as well. I'm in good company.
Now if you'll excuse me, I've a six pack and some tequila sunrises to mainline...
Friday, September 24, 2004
Wonder How He'll Look Stretched Across My Boobs...
I feel like punching someone -- anyone -- in the face today. No reason, really.
Well, yeah, there is reason, but I'll keep it all to my pointy-headed little self.
To lift my spirits, I just bought myself the cutest baby doll T-shirt:
Saint Clinton
I'm a lapsed Catholic, so this is especially luscious.
Hmmm. Still in a bad mood despite this recent find, so I shall refrain from writing one more word.
Well, yeah, there is reason, but I'll keep it all to my pointy-headed little self.
To lift my spirits, I just bought myself the cutest baby doll T-shirt:
Saint Clinton
I'm a lapsed Catholic, so this is especially luscious.
Hmmm. Still in a bad mood despite this recent find, so I shall refrain from writing one more word.
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Fourteen
You take my breath away, and I reach out to touch
that shining new aura of yours
Brilliant, powerful, imperfect --
I need to straighten everything up
You know, like mothers always do
But you wave me away as if I were trying to steal that platinum prize
all women covet
Beware of soul-thieves
Fourteen
I am taken by the years
The first tiny drops of
Fourteen
You pout your lips, pearly pink
Like abalone shell, exasperating
Eyes shadowed in black
What I wished to be, me
in my thick glasses
What I dreamed of, me
in my clunky Earth Shoes
And over-size smocks
Hiding, always hiding
Behind books and frowns and teenage self-doubt
You were my fantasy
Fourteen
I am shaken by the years
The mist of
Fourteen
You roll your eyes, embarrassed
When you notice my appreciation
When I gaze too long and
Blink away memory
Pull from myself the very thing I
struggle to keep
I want to brush your hair
Fourteen
I am angry at the years
The flood of
Fourteen
You are impatient, bobbing your knee
Snapping your gum
But I refuse to acknowledge the time
I will keep you here as long as I can
As long as you will allow
Don’t leave me
Fourteen
I am proud of the years
Of treading
Fourteen
Happy birthday, my beautiful Veronica.
Love until the end of time,
Mom
that shining new aura of yours
Brilliant, powerful, imperfect --
I need to straighten everything up
You know, like mothers always do
But you wave me away as if I were trying to steal that platinum prize
all women covet
Beware of soul-thieves
Fourteen
I am taken by the years
The first tiny drops of
Fourteen
You pout your lips, pearly pink
Like abalone shell, exasperating
Eyes shadowed in black
What I wished to be, me
in my thick glasses
What I dreamed of, me
in my clunky Earth Shoes
And over-size smocks
Hiding, always hiding
Behind books and frowns and teenage self-doubt
You were my fantasy
Fourteen
I am shaken by the years
The mist of
Fourteen
You roll your eyes, embarrassed
When you notice my appreciation
When I gaze too long and
Blink away memory
Pull from myself the very thing I
struggle to keep
I want to brush your hair
Fourteen
I am angry at the years
The flood of
Fourteen
You are impatient, bobbing your knee
Snapping your gum
But I refuse to acknowledge the time
I will keep you here as long as I can
As long as you will allow
Don’t leave me
Fourteen
I am proud of the years
Of treading
Fourteen
Happy birthday, my beautiful Veronica.
Love until the end of time,
Mom
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