15 Trivial Things That Drove Me Crazy Watching Love Actually This Year

It's absolutely no secret that "Love Actually" is not only my favorite holiday movie, but one of my favorite movies of all time. I watch it every single year, often twice, especially since last year I discovered it's the only movie I own with a German dub. But, as we all know by now, my love for something does not mean it won't drive me crazy over dumb trivial things:

1) "Love actually is all around." Okay, I'll ignore the all lower-case as a stylistic choice, but where are the commas??? Aren't The Brits are supposed to care about grammar? I think you mean, "Love, actually, is all around." And the film should be titled "Love, Actually." Aaaaaaagh.

2) Maybe you're alone again because you're a moody hipster with a stupid typewriter who doesn't make copies instead of just getting a laptop like a normal person and constantly backing up like any decent author.

3) Mark isn't holding his head due to the emotional agony that his best friend's wife just found out he's in love with her, he's holding his head because he's walked outside in the thick of London winter in only a shirt and flimsy sweater and his brain is literally freezing to death. Layers, Andrew Lincoln, LAYERS!!!

4) Originally, Rowan Atkinson was supposed to be an angel who disappears at the end of the film after helping out Hans Gruber and Future Jojen Who Is Still Referred To As Love Actually Kid And Holy Crap Still Looks Like A Kid. I'm convinced Mia is his polar opposite: a hell demon trying to earn her horns. It's the only explanation for how she can be so utterly, unequivocally, unbelievably evil!

5) President Poophead and Mia deserve each other. I can't believe the movie didn't have them get together. It's so obvious. He should have had a torrid affair and left his wife after falling in love with her, only to lose her when she earns her horns and returns to the depths of Hell. Justice served!

6) James Bond, yes! Harry Potter, YES! David Beckham, HELL YES! Wait...what about Lord of the Rings? HOW could you forget LOTR??? I don't know if I still have a man-crush on you, Hugh Grant...oh, who am I kidding? Of course, I do!

7) Jimminy Cricket, look at those scrawny little chicken legs. Your arms are bigger. Don't skip leg day, Karl!

8) Professor Snape's greatest sin isn't cheating on Professor Trelawney, it's letting her do all the gift shopping for their family while he puts in zero effort or care. What a deadbeat dad.

9) If the fan base I saw at the 2011 Rose Bowl is a fair representation of the Wisconsin college student population, there aren't this many attractive girls ever gathered together in a single bar, much less the entire state. This is probably the most unrealistic thing in the whole movie. 

P.S. Remember how we kicked your ass, Wisconsin? Rah rah TCU!

10) You can't learn a language or an instrument in two weeks! Especially not enough to be conversational or perform in a concert. If it was, every jackass high school boy would have been the douche with a guitar trying to impress girls, as well as the douche attempting to seduce the pants off the hot foreign exchange students by speaking their native tongue.

11) Why is Jamie's brother at the family Christmas? If you shag your brother's girlfriend, it should be standard policy that you don't get invited! Jamie doesn't need the lure of love as motivation to piss off from his crummy family.

12) I can't decide what I like more: the bodyguard's surprisingly amazing voice or the kids dancing to an undanceable Christmas carol. I just can't decide and it's driving me mad because I'm American and someone has to be declared the winner.

13) This kid has ruined all future Christmas pageants because I will forever be extremely disappointed that there isn't a kid made up as Spiderman for no good reason.

14) He barely put his wife in the grave five weeks ago and he's already crushing on someone new. I don't think the Dementors have to do much to make Brits feel as if all has gone cold. They clearly already are ice queens.

15) Is that a Pixar lamp? Oh...no...oh my god...the insanely archaic G4 iMac is "the new iMac" in this movie. That's how old it is. I cannot unsee it and I can't pay attention to anything else in this epilogue.

3 Terrible Implications Of The Santa Clause Universe

The Santa Clause and The Santa Clause 2 are both mainstays in my Christmas movie rotation. They're cheesy as all heck, but I love 'em. The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause, however, much like the Star Wars prequels, Indy 4, Die Hard 5, Spiderman 3, Superman 3 and 4, Blues Brothers 2000, Exorcist II, and The Matrix sequels, is an abomination and does not exist as far as I'm concerned.

But hey, two out of three ain't bad at all; even Messi and LeBron don't score 66% of the shots they take! Despite their cheery mirth and glowy warmth, the universe that's set up in The Santa Clause movies (you know, just the TWO of them) has some dark and terrible implications:

1) The Elves Are Slave Labor That Never Get A Day Off

When Scott Calvin comes to the North Poll for the first time, having been freshly donned the new Santa Claus, the elves are ALREADY hard at work on next year's toys...on Christmas...right as children are barely waking up and getting THIS year's toys. The elves apparently never stop working. Ever.

To really drive the point home, the head elf, Bernard, acts really put-out by Scott's questions, even though they're all perfectly valid and understandable considering he's just been appointed the new magical Santa for life after accidentally causing the death of the old one. Bernard—though hella charming because he's played by the super awesome and underrated David Krumholtz—is curt, full of eyes rolls, and super impatient because there's tons of work to do and Scott is slowing him down and he clearly fears that things might spiral out of control on day one if he can't get back to work cracking the candy-bead whip. Can't this new Santa jerk just get it through his thick skull already? The elves are under so much pressure that even their leader feels like he doesn't have time to meet and greet the new boss.

Scott is obligated to be Santa, does not at all have a choice, and will not get paid. If Santa, the big boss man, the head honcho, the taco supreme, is bound by a contract he was never allowed to read first and is not being compensated, then there's no doubt the elves are bound by an even worse contract. They are clearly slaves. 

2) Parents Ignore Free Presents They Didn't Buy Their Kids

The films establish that kids are in touch with and still believe in magic, which is why they believe Santa is real, but adults have lost that belief in magic and therefore don't believe in Santa. But, Santa does exist in this world, for realsie reals, and every kid in the world either gets presents or coal directly from him, made by the elves, with no involvement of their parents. This means that every parent in the world doesn't believe Santa is real, yet turns a blind eye to the free presents that show up for their kids on Christmas morning. 

No parents are ever shown having a confused conversation with each other over where that damn kayak came from. This means they're all willfully ignoring the creepy appearance of stuff they didn't buy into their locked home by an unknown party, or in subconscious denial. Either way, it's a pretty serious and messed up psychological issue affecting every single parent in the entire world.

3) Santa Magically Knows All Your Secrets

No letters need to be written to Santa to get what you want in this universe. He already knows what you want, thanks to magic. Not only that, he also knows if you've been, on the whole, naughty or nice this year. While that's typical for the Santa Claus myth, these films take the "he knows when you are sleeping" trope to the creepiest extreme.

See, he doesn't just know if you've been good or bad, he knows exactly what sins or good deeds you've committed. Each and every one. He knows your name and where you live without ever having to ask. And most blood-curdling of all, he knows not just what Christmas presents you want, but all your deepest, darkest, innermost desires. That's precisely how he seduces his future Mrs. Claus; he knows exactly what to say and do to please her, and boy does he play every card he can.

Forget big brother government because in this universe, Santa is the privacy-invading creepster supreme. He alone holds the power to expose every person in the world. He can blackmail anyone at anytime. He can manipulate anyone he wishes, bend them to his will and make them dance like a string puppet because he knows all the right buttons to push.

And it's not like he's a magically benevolent being who would never even think of wielding power selfishly. Santa was once a regular person complete with psychological issues, relationships, and personal grudges. If you ever upset him, he can destroy your life without breaking a sweat. No man should ever have such power...

Over-tightening Tire Lug Nuts Should Be Illegal

I was peacefully gliding down the Angeles Crest Highway, listening to tranquil music, enjoying the beautiful serene scenery, and not even having touch the gas pedal as pure momentum carried me calmly down the mountain. All was well. And then, just up ahead, big rocks on the road. 

"No problem, I'll slow down and drift into the other lane to avoid them. Oh crap, cars coming the other way. Well, that limits how much I can maneuver out of the way. Bam. I hit one. That doesn't sound good at all. That sounds like it did damage." That was what went through my head in a matter of seconds, and I was right. A few miles later, it was obvious I had a flat. 

Thankfully, turnouts are plentiful on the Angeles Crest, but I still had to bide my time waiting for one that was sizeable and safely level, which is fairly nerve-wracking when you're driving down a one-lane mountain highway with no room for error. Eventually, I did and was able to harmlessly pull over into a huge turnout with plenty of room to change out to the spare tire. 

Changing a tire in the mountains was definitely daunting, but hey, it wasn't my first rodeo. I'd changed a few tires in my day, so it shouldn't be a problem. Boy, was I wrong. I put the torque wrench on a lug nut and casually tried to pull. No budge. Huh, okay, I'll come back to that one. Try another one. No budge. Another. Same. The other two, nope. What the hell? 

Turns out, the lug nuts were so drastically over-tightened, it took me an hour to get them all off. I had to take breaks because the effort was so draining, not to mention I was afraid I was going to pull or break my back. And although I'm certainly not super duper strong, I'm no weakling either. I've now put in fifteen hard months of serious weightlifting. I won't bore you and brag about numbers, but let's just say that with what I can deadlift, I should have no problem loosening a little itty bitty lug nut with the law of physics aid of leverage via torque wrench. So the fact that it took me an hour, tells you just how insanely over-tightened they were. I don't know how I got it done, but somehow, with brute strength and sheer force of will, I eventually got them all loose. 

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing from there, but the vaguely illustrated diagram and instructions in the car manual for where to place the jack for the rear wheels were so bad, I had spent an hour and a half to change a tire when all was said and done. Quite humbling. But that's neither here nor there. We're here to talk about needlessly over-tightened lug nuts.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out how and why they were overtightened. You don't even need to google it; it's pretty obvious. They were over-tightened because whichever shop last rotated/serviced my tires use a pneumatic wrench to tighten them, and pneumatic power can reach some serious RPMs. That means lots of power, more than enough to satisfy Tim The Toolman Taylor. Why would anyone do that? Simple: it's faster and easier. Efficiency to service more customers and make more money, and laziness to make their job easier. Understandable. 

However, it should absolutely, positively, no questions asked be illegal. People can hurt themselves trying to loosen over-tightened lug nuts. People can be put into danger on the side of the road if the time it takes to change a tire is lengthened. People can get screwed and stranded if they can't loosen them. I'm pretty sure that a year ago, without the strength I now have, I wouldn't have been able to get them loose, leaving me stuck in the mountains with no cell signal. Although I'm confident I would have been able to flag down help from strangers, highway patrol, or the forest service, I shouldn't ever be put in that situation when it's completely unnecessary. No one should.

Any automotive repair service business is responsible for ensuring your vehicle is safe to drive. Part of that safety means ensuring that lugnuts are not over-tightened to the point where anyone, of any size or strength, can't loosen them by hand with a torque wrench. People have to be able to change a tire themselves. When businesses overtighten pneumatically and take that ability away from customers, they screw them over and put them in potentially dangerous situations. It's unnecessary, it's immoral, and it's unacceptable. It has to stop. 

I propose that pneumatically tightening lug nuts should be illegal. Businesses should have to do the final tigthening by hand with a torque wrench, thereby ensuring they aren't over-tigthened and can be loosened by hand. No excuses. I can't believe this isn't already law. Fellow drivers, it's time to stand up and revolt!

I'm Grateful To Not Die In a Car Wreck Every Time It Rains In LA

It's Thanksgiving week, which means it's time to reflect and consider what we're grateful for. Well, every day is an opportunity for that and it's incredibly healthy to do so, but Thanksgiving, in particular, is a time for deeper than usual reflection. I've done my meditative pondering and soul searching, and come to realize what I am truly and deeply grateful for this Thanksgiving: that I don't die in a horrible car wreck every single time it rains in LA.

Anytime it rains in LA, the roads become a massive death trap. I'm not making this up, either. It rained this past weekend and the number of freeway accidents shot up 570% compared to the previous week. For some reason, even though it rains consistently every year in LA (if seldom), a lot of people still don't know how to drive in the rain. Instead, it exacerbates their normal, and often horrible, style of driving. 

Aggressive drivers get extra aggravated by the rain slowing other drivers down or causing wrecks that bring everything to halt, and consequently drive even more aggressively. They drive even faster, cut in and out at even closer and more dangerous distances, and wait even longer to break, seemingly unaware that hydroplaning exists and is a thing that most definitely always happens in the rain. They seem to believe the rain has no effects on driving and that it must be a liberal conspiracy, and because everyone else foolishly believes it, they must compensate by being even bigger threats.

On the other side of the rainbow, timid drivers get scared so much more than usual, to the point of sheer terror and panic attacks, and therefore drive doubly, triply, or sweet biscuity timidly. Normally, they'd drive 5 or 10 MPH under the speed limit, but now they'll literally go half the speed limit, as if going any faster means the water will hurl them at light speed into the nearest deadly object. To make matters worse, the ones that are both scared and have designated themselves the safety officers of the road, will not respectfully keep to the far right lane. Oh no, they'll take it upon themselves to control everyone else and stick to the fast lanes, communicating with each other over some secret network so that they can coordinate to spread themselves out evenly throughout the lanes, resulting in total slowpoke domination of the entire road. They just go full-tilt You-Shall-Not-Pass Gandalf on us all!

The real kicker is the road conditions also mean the effects of their driving on each other are amplified to the max. The fraidy cat drivers piss off the aggressive drivers even more than usual, so the aggressive drivers then drive progressively worse and worse. The increased aggression scares the fraidy cats even more, so they, in turn, drive even slower. It creates a vicious feedback loop that just keeps intensifying exponentially until it all comes to a head...or sideswipe, or rear end...you get the idea.

Meanwhile, us competent, calm, safe drivers smartly adjust to the conditions and compensate for hydroplaning. We know we need more time to break and give ourselves more room. We know we can't change lanes or turn too suddenly or we'll lose traction, so we slow down but only as much as necessary. We know the angry and the timid are both a huge danger, so we keep our distance and give them as much breathing room as possible.

However, we are also susceptible to their negative influence. We can become so frustrated, fatigued, or furious with their crappy driving that we can be pushed to either side of the horrible driver spectrum, lashing out in righteous anger or shrinking back in utter fear into our own turtle shell. The rain has the power to claim even the best of us. We have to maintain constant vigilance in the fight for our soul.

Rain in LA means only one thing on the road: total Mad Max style chaos. It's a dangerous, hostile, unpredictable hellhole. Anytime you have to go out and drive in the LA rain, it's a miracle to make it back alive and in one piece. I'm lucky to have experienced many miracles, every single time. That's what I'm grateful for this Thanksgiving. Now, let's all eat some turkey and way too many carbs!

2 Minor Plot Issues In Goblet Of Fire That Drove Me Majorly Crazy

It's no secret that I love the Harry Potter series. No amount of criticism or pointing out of plot holes, no matter how valid, could ever make me stop loving it. But, as great a story as it is and as great a writer as J.K. Rowling is, I still have fun poking holes in it.

I just finished Goblet of Fire in my latest re-read and this time, I noticed two tiny, minor, totally insignificant plot issues that nonetheless drove me majorly, utterly, completely, "I can't handle these cursed blast-ended skrewts anymore" bonkers. I'm calling them plot issues and not plot holes because they don't quite fit the traditional definition, and are so minor they don't derail the story.

That's not to say there aren't actual, major plot holes in the book or series. Let's face it, Barty Crouch Jr. becoming a master Oscar/Tony-worthy character actor with no formal training and able to fool people that knew Moody incredibly well, including Dumbledore, as well as becoming a world-class Auror-level wizard after not having been able to use magic since age 19, and accomplishing both in just a month, is definitely a Grawp-sized plot hole and an Umbridge-esque stretch of reason. But that's not what we're here for today. We're here to make a big deal over the small stuff, to make a Hogwarts out of a Hagrid hut:

!!!SPOILERS FOR ENTIRE BOOK SERIES BELOW!!!

1) Harry Is A Selfish Jerk And Doesn't Lend Hedwig To Fred and George

Throughout the entire book, Harry has to keep using different owls to communicate with Sirius, in order to avoid suspicion or detection. Cause, ya know, wouldn't be super awesome if he was caught talking to the Number One Most Wanted, accused serial murderer and Death Eater (even if we all know and Dumbledore knows that's totes not the truth). Harry wouldn't be dancin' like a hippogriff if that happened.

Naturally, Hedwig is not only bored and driven stir crazy by this, but more importantly, she feels pretty hurt and offended and is constantly letting Harry know by altering between aggressive biting and the passive aggressive cold shoulder (literally, it's freezing up in the owlery in winter!). Harry, being mostly a decent person, feels guilty about this and warmly compassionate for her. And unlike Malfoy, Harry takes his magical creature attacks like a man, not complaining or falling to the ground wailing in gross exaggeration like an Italian soccer player who just felt the slightest contact.

So, it's absolutely astounding that when presented with an opportunity to give Hedwig a job to do, he doesn't take it. Fred and George ask Ron if they can borrow Pigwidgeon for some secret business (gettin' their payout from Bagman, who does live up to his name by being a toolbag), but Pig is already out to Sirius. This exchange happens right in front of Harry, who has a golden chance to help three people he cares about. He could lend them Hedwig and not only would they be happy, Hedwig would be over the Lupin moon.

But he doesn't, because he's a selfish jerk...or just distracted by severe anxiety over the Triwizard Tournament, desperate to just not die or embarrass himself. Still, this was a super easy fix that was handed to him on a silver platter (that wouldn't later strangle him, even!). All he had to do was say, "Oy mates, borrow Hedwig." We've all experienced extreme stress or anxiety, and we all most likely would still have enough sense to lend out Hedwig. 

So why the heck didn't you, Harry? I've never been more disappointed in you. And even if you did make up for it with Fred and George by giving them your giant sack of Triwizard gold, you never made it up to Hedwig. And after building up #HedwigHysteria for half a book, why didn't you see this obvious solution, J.K. Rowling?

2) No Way The Ministry Hosts World Cup and Triwizard Tournament In The Same Year

In a series that contains invisibility cloaks, magical teleportation, dragons, giants, unicorns that aren't lame, potions that let you turn into another person, spells that let you completely control another person, and objects that grant immortality, the thing I found most unbelievable is an inefficient bureaucratic government hosting two major tournaments in the same year, just months apart.

The Quidditch World Cup is the equivalent of our real-life World Cup. It's a huge logistical nightmare on an unbelievably grand scale that requires decades of organizing. Countries earn hosting rights over a decade in advance and spend all that time preparing for it. Thousands of people work on it and countless man-hours are spent building and planning. Even in the Muggle world, where resources and manpower are in much greater supply than the Wizarding world, no government in their right mind would even consider hosting another major sporting or entertainment event in the same year, much less within a few years.

And yet, somehow, the Ministry of Magic decides to do just that. Despite having 500 people working an entire year just to set up the site for the Quidditch World Cup, despite the top brass being up to their eyeballs in organizing and hosting responsibilities, despite the stress over not just putting on the World cup but also keeping it hidden from Muggles, and despite the fact that the Triwizard Tournament hasn't happened in over a hundred years and there's absolutely no rush to do it, they say, "Why the heck not host the Triwizard Tournament just a few months later?"

Granted, the Ministry does have a penchant for stupidity, but no government is stupid enough to voluntarily burden themselves with a massive undertaking when it's already severely overburdened and underpaid. Granted, the three schools participating help out a lot in the planning and hosting duties, but it's still a huge planning and legal nightmare for the Ministry involving dragon transportation and care, Merpeople negotiations, underwater endangerment of non-participants, and of course, a giant maze full of dangerous magical creatures. 

The Ministry of Magic does a lot of stupid stuff, but even with people as dumb as Bertha Jorkins working for them, there's no Cornelius Fudgeing way they would have put on the Triwizard Tournament just months after the Quidditch World Cup. Realistically, they would have put up an "Out To Lunch" sign immediately after the final and not returned to work for months, in full on Barty Crouch and American Congress style.

Disarm With Love, Compassion, and Understanding

Emotions are intense for all Americans right now. Whatever side you stand on, whether you're happy or upset, we're all having some pretty strong feelings. Whatever you're feeling, you have a right to feel that way. It's okay, and don't let anyone tell you that shouldn't feel like that. 

That being said, I beg us all to take a deep breath, remain calm, take a step back and get some perspective. Whatever side you're on, things are about to get messy. Vitriol between sides and within ranks is inevitable at this point, because we're human, and being human means being messy. We're fallible and eager to blame others for all our problems. And sadly, there's going to be a lot of blaming going on.

A lot of poor, negative behavior is about to happen on both sides as we all give into our negative emotions: anger, fear, and sadness. As a result, both sides will subject each other to hate, bigotry, prejudice, assumption, stereotyping, and blame. Because it's the easy thing to do. It's the human thing to do.

But if want a better world, we have to fight back real hard against own terrible desires. Meeting hate with hate, anger with anger, blame with blame, or assumption with assumption only begets more hate, anger, blame, and assumption. If we want to make things better, we have to meet negative emotions and behavior with positive emotions and behavior: love, compassion, and understanding. That is the only way to disarm negativity, heal our wounds, and bridge the divide.

And this isn't just some hippie-dippie, kumbaya, unrealistic and naive nonsense; it's a valid strategy and principle of psychological science. It's called non-complimentary behavior. Complimentary behavior is what usually happens. If someone is kind to us, we're kind in return. If someone is hostile to us, we're hostile in return. We typically mirror the behavior and actions of others when we react, not necessarily exactly but in the general categories of positivity and negativity. We do it because it's easy. That's why violence usually leads to more violence, and hate leads to more hate. It's just how we're wired. It's the path of least resistance within ourselves.

However, there is a way out, though it's not easy: non-complimentary behavior. This is what Martin Luther King Jr. advocated for. When met with negativity, respond with positivity instead. Meet hate with love, anger with compassion, and assumption, prejudice, or stereotyping with a genuine quest for understanding. Responding with non-complimentary behavior has the power to disarm and break the cycle of negativity. It's not guaranteed to always work, but more often than not, it surprisingly does work. At the very least, it stops people in their tracks and gives them food for thought. After that, it's up to them. We can't control others or force them to change. But we can respond in the way that encourages positivity and sets up the stage with the best circumstances for that to happen.

It's not going to immediately bring everyone to a love-fest of peace and unity, but it'll help pave the way. If we can resist the urge to respond to negativity with more negativity, we stand a chance of opening up a dialogue. And if we enter that dialogue genuinely giving out love, compassion, and understanding, we just might get it back in return. 

It's not going to be easy. Far from it, and I'm going to struggle with it as much as anybody else. But it is possible, and it has been done before. Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, Nelson Mandella, and many others have proven that wonderful things can and will happen if we resist our natural urges to respond back in unkind, and instead respond with kindness. Love, compassion, and understanding are critical. Please, let's all give it our best shot. We will falter along the way. Nobody's perfect, after all. But we can pick ourselves back up and try again. And again. And again. For as long as it takes.

Thanks for listening. I love you all.

The Protagonists of The Mummy Are Sociopaths

In celebration of Halloween, I didn't watch scary movies on the day, because I'm a coward and had already scared myself real good for the next few months by watching The Witch the night before. Instead, I went for the fun angle and watched The Mummy and The Mummy Returns. Whilst enjoying the campy, silly, non-terrifying antics of Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz, I nonetheless endured Halloween horror as I realized their characters are actually cold, callous sociopaths.

In the first film, shit hits the fan when Rachel Weisz's character, Evy, against all better judgment and multiple warnings, opens and reads from the Book of the Dead, thereby resurrecting an immortal and powerful Imhotep, who brings with him the apocalypse thanks to an ancient curse. As a result, hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people are killed by the various horrors of the ten plagues as well as Imhotep's undead legions.

U FUCKING WUT M8???

Brendan Fraser's character and Evy's soon-to-be-beau, Rick O'Connell, had wisely warned Evy not to fuck with the Book of the Dead. But when she does it anyway and unleashes the apocalypse, all he does is lightly admonish her as if she'd dropped and cracked her new iPhone. 

"OMG, dude, I told you not to! Ugh, now we have to like track this crazy guy down and fight him, and get into all sorts of wacky hijinks while we crack jokes. Such a pain. I just wanted to spend the rest of the film drinking." - Me, paraphrasing Rick O'Connell.

Not once is there a scene of guilt or remorse about being responsible for thousands of innocent deaths, not to mention the destruction of an ancient, iconic city. Evy does acknowledge her royal fuck-up, but she does not express any deep emotion, not even the slightest empathy for the death and destruction she caused. Nope, her apology basically boils down to just:

"Whoopsie. I unleashed an immortal, magical mummy. I'm so quirky!"

No, dude, you really shouldn't be.

That is not a license for douchebaggery.

It's not that they both lack a conscience; they do know right from wrong. They know unleashing Imhotep was wrong and awful. Moreover, they both express great concern over the danger of other speaking characters when it's right in front of their faces, and do their best to help or rescue. They just don't give a flying fuck about any of the offscreen, background, and nonspeaking characters Evy killed with her idiocy.

All's well that ends well...for us.

At the end of the film, after Imhotep has been defeated, they don't reflect on the harm they were responsible for. Nope, they just kiss and ride off into the sunset, blissfully rich in ancient treasure. All is well because they'll just pretend that thousands of people didn't die that they're responsible for. Hell, even Ardeth, the guy in charge of the secret warrior army whose duty was to stop anyone from unleashing Imhotep, essentially gives them a high-five and a smiling, casual "smell ya later." 

I kinda hate you guys, and I should kill you,
but you're just so gosh darn cute and charming!

No consequences, no emotional ramifications, no reckoning. To make their case even worse, they actually fucking joke about it early in the second film. In The Mummy Returns, Evy once again finds a dangerous ancient Egyptian artifact and wants to open it up with no regard for the consequences. Rick playfully reminds her of the last time that happened and lightly warns her not to fuck shit up again.

Notice I used the adverbs "playfully" and "lightly." He should have been urgently, desperately, and harrowingly yelling at her, and if that didn't work, physically preventing her. But nope, just another callous, casual joke:

"Oh honey, don't do that. Last time, you unleashed the apocalypse and it was like, such a major bummer. I mean, it was hella fun and we got flilthy stinking rich, but duuuuuuuuuuuude, kind of a pain in the ass. Let's just enjoy being outrageously rich and get naked together."

Naturally, they spend the rest of the second film once again cracking jokes, making light of death and destruction, and only expressing care and concern for their son's life, because who cares about anybody else, right? Rick and Evy are nothing short of sociopaths. They both have a conscience. They both know better. They just don't give a damn. Man, fuck those guys!

What? Us? No way, Jose!
Also, we're super rich Jose, so you're our servant now.

Why Aren't There Different Shirt Length Options For Each Size???

Come on! I wanna show off Hodor, not my belly.

By now, you've probably read enough of my humble little blog to know that I'm not afraid to ask the important questions, really dig down deep to explore the world and our humanity, and if necessary, overturn big heavy rocks of convention, tradition, or assumption. Today, I make another big, bold, boisterous step and ask one of the most important questions I've ever asked: why the hell aren't there different shirt length options for each shirt size?

Just because someone is buying a small t-shirt doesn't mean they're a minuscule midget, or a gargantuan giant if buying extra large, yet these are the asinine assumptions most shirt manufacturers make (except for you, my beloved Express Men, you make glorious form-fitting smalls at a reasonable, no-belly-exposing length!). Do they not know that it's not only possible, but common to be tall and skinny, short and large, or any combination in between? People come not just in all widths, but all heights too, so why do shirts assume a height based on width?

An inch increase for each size. Seriously? 

Width is not the only measurement of an object's size. Mathematically, you have to have the height/length and depth too, or you're not measuring three-dimensional size, you're just measuring a single one-dimensional property. And last time I checked, people are three dimensional. Therefore, shirt sizes should accommodate the varying three-dimensional occurrences of human size.

And heck, manufacturers only need to worry about two measurements anyway since, for almost every single human on the planet, depth and width correlate pretty well. When you get wider, you usually get proportionally deeper too and vice-versa, though the beer-belly can be a bastard and throw the formula out of whack. But since shirts are basically measured by the circumference of an oval, and made out of material that flexibly adapts to differing oval shapes of width and depth, shirt size accounts reasonably well for that measurement. It's just the height measurement that's missing. Turn that oval into a tube, which is rudimentarily what we are.

Oh my god, I've really gotten in the weeds with math. What the hell? Okay, let's get back to the human issue here. Not that math isn't important or relevant. You kinda have to talk about the math to illustrate the problem and anyway, where would we be without math? We would never have gone to the moon, we wouldn't have computers or smartphones, we wouldn't be able to auto-tune shitty singers, we wouldn't have dopamine-inducing videogames, we wouldn't have a perfectly fine-tuned Reese's Peanut Butter Cup recipe that guarantees the same tasty delight each and every time...there's an almost endless list of things we wouldn't have or have achieved without math. We owe math big time, I mean—oh crap, I'm back in the weeds again. Sorry.

The greatest mathematical equation of all time.

Anyway, I get that manufacturers can't have a bazillion options for each shirt on the racks, and that bodies come in such variety it's nearly impossible to have perfect options for everyone, but there's no reason there shouldn't AT LEAST be two different length options for each size. A regular small and a tall small, a regular large and a tall large. That would go a long way to accommodating people's differences in width and height. Tall skinny people can raise their arms without exposing their bellies, and short large people can wear t-shirts that aren't dresses on them. Why the hell isn't this a thing already? Why isn't this standard operating procedure? WHY???

3 Brilliant Tiny Seeds J.K. Rowling Planted In Book One

Badass new e-book cover!

I am once again re-reading good ol' Harry Potter, this time on my Kindle that magically remembers where I left off when I fall asleep mid-page! As HP fans, we all know that you notice new things upon each re-read. J.K. Rowling was a master seed planter, and boy did she ever plant a lot of seeds in the early books. They each grew into a tree later on and together form one huge, thick, complete-with-unicorns-and-centaurs plot forest by the end of the series. It's absolutely bonkers how clearly she knew where she was going with everything, and set up a lot of it straight away.

Naturally, there's a lot of the obvious, major stuff about Horcruxes, the prophecy, and Voldemort and Harry's relationship. But the more I re-read the series, the more I notice some of the smaller details, the smaller seeds that nonetheless grew into great big whomping willows. Here are the three brilliant, tiny seeds she planted just in Book One that I've caught this time:

!!!OBLIGATORY SPOILER ALERT IN CASE YOU'RE AS THICK AS CRABBE AND GOYLE AND DIDN'T REALIZE IT ALREADY!!!

1) Voldemort Never Dared Attack Hogwarts, So It's Totes Safe

"One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway." - Hagrid.

In chapter four, upon first meeting Harry to inform him he's a wizard and gets to go to Hogwarts, Hagrid tells Harry the truth about the death of his parents. Obviously scared (and scarred, bazinga!) by this You-Know-Who guy, Hagrid assures Harry that he'll be safe at Hogwarts because Voldemort feared Dumbledore and never ever triple-dog-dared to attack it. 

And just to make sure the bowling pins have been properly set up for a thunderous strike, Hagrid and Hermione both reassure Harry after various brush-ins with Quirremort that he's safe as long as Dumbledore is around. Well, what happens in Books Six and Seven? Dumbledore dies and Voldemort gets brave and desperate enough to attack Hogwarts. It was planted right from the get-go. Damn it, Hermione and Hagrid, why did you have to jinx it!

2) Only A Dumbass Would Try To Rob Gringotts

"Yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – ’cept maybe Hogwarts." - Hagrid, again.

Only one chapter later, Hagrid is dropping more old-fashioned J.K. timebombs. Introducing Harry to Diagon Alley and his inherited wealth at Gringotts, Hagrid insists it's the most secure, impenetrable place in the wizarding world, aside from Hogwarts. Even if you do manage to somehow find and break into the right vault, there's so many traps and safeguards you'll never figure out how to leave and will be trapped there until you starve to death. Oh, and by the way, there are supposedly dragons guarding it. So don't be a dumbass and get any ideas, Harry. Well, I think we all know where this is going...
 

3) Dumbledore Will Still Be Around To Shoot The Breeze After Death

"After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure." - Dumbledore, aka not Hagrid.

At the end of the book, Dumbledore comforts Harry about Nicolas Flamel's impending death with this little nugget. But he's also talking about himself, albeit to us and not Harry. Surely, Dumbledore knows he'll be Flooflix and chillin' in a headmaster portrait whenever he finally kicks the bucket. But it's also a hint from J.K. that not only is Dumbledore going to die, but that there's something beyond death and Dumbledore will be there for Harry. 

Granted, it's left ambiguous whether their post-death chat was real—in some other plane of existence—or just in Harry's fevered, freshly de-Horcruxed head. But if you ask me, this is her plain-as-day clue it's real and, seeing as how Dumbledore is the most well-organized mind in the wizarding world, it's also her hint he's gonna bite the bullet but still exist in another form. She smart AF.

Literal Leap of Faith

On Tuesday, I was about to go on my favorite hike: up Mt Wilson and back from Chantry Flat. But when I came to the road gate at the edge of civilization, I found it locked with a note that the area was closed due to a bear attack the day before. Well...damn, that was unheard of. I had no choice but to either go home or find a different hike. So I drove for another hour, sitting in rush hour traffic, and then winding the mountain roads up the Angeles Crest Highway to the top of Mt. Wilson. There, I was able to park at the Observatory and start from the top, instead going down the northern back side and then back up.

The north side of Mt. Wilson is seldom used, in stark contrast to the south side where tons of people every day hike from Chantry Flat. It's therefore pretty rugged at times, not to mention eerily narrow and steep at the top. In particular, there is one mile-long stretch at the bottom that is so rugged, overgrown, and terrorized by fallen trees, I lost count how many times I paused, unsure where the trail continued or if I was even still on the trail. I had to take walks and, sometimes, literal leaps of faith (those damn trees!).

Trees did make for a nice lunch spot, though.

I had no option but to repeatedly make a choice based off my best guess and leap into the unknown, with no way of knowing if I was going the right way or not until I was already further down the path. It was bonkers, but also a fun adventure. Don't worry, my hiking instincts are now well-honed and I never got lost. Somehow, I figured out the right path every time, and usually at first try. Even the times I didn't go the right way initially, I pretty quickly figured it out, backtracked, and then immediately knew which way was the right way.

While on this adventure, it occurred to me what a truthful metaphor for life this is. None of us really knows what we're doing, and we constantly have to take leaps of faith into the unknown, unsure if we're going in the right direction, unsure if we're heading towards our destination of happiness or taking a detour where we'll get lost. But we can't sit still and do nothing, even though sometimes we feel paralyzed by anxiety, fear, or confusion. We have to move forward. We have to make choices, even when we don't know what the right choice is and we desperately fear we might make the wrong one. We have to put one foot in front of the other anyway, and keep going.

Very helpful sign. Thanks.

It hit me rather hard. For the past year and a half, I have been metaphorically standing still in the forest, unable to make a choice and go forward. Last May, after years of misery and doubt, I reached my breaking point and finally plucked up the courage to quit my old career as an editor in the film and tv industry. It too was a leap of faith. I had no idea or even the faintest clue what I would do with my life. I just knew I had to make that leap into the unknown, and so I did. 

Then, I took a long hard look at myself and figured out what transferable skills I have, revamped the resume/LinkedIn, and began the job search, not really knowing what the heck I should do with my life now, but at least armed with knowledge of what I'm capable of and the value I can provide. However, over the last year and a half, aside from some occasional temp work here and there, I've remained unemployed. I look for jobs every weekday, send out custom-tailored resumes and cover letters, but I remained wracked by indecision. I've come to realize that, this whole time, I've been paralyzed by fear and anxiety. 

Uh...how do I get through THAT?

I spent a decade pursuing a career that made me miserable. "What if the next job makes me miserable all over again? I can't choose wrong and waste any more time, because I'm well into my thirties and single amongst happily married friends and some are starting families, so oh god I have to find a good new career so I have something to cling to or I'll just be a miserable, lonely loser!" That's just a small sample of the rampaging, irrational, and ridiculous thoughts and emotions clouding my heart and mind, rooting me to the ground in fear.

But the leap of faith hike reminds me: I can't just stay put. I have to put one foot in front of the other. Even if it's not the right path and turns out to be a detour, I can just change course and take another path. Eventually, I'll find the right path, but I have to start somewhere. I have to make a choice without knowing if it's the right one or not. I've taken the literal leap of faith. Now I need to take the metaphorical leap of faith.

Everyone's A Little Bit Hipster

On Sunday, I sat down for a double feature of Seven Samurai, one of my favorite films of all time, and the original The Magnificent Seven, which I had never seen. Mostly, it was because it had been awhile since I'd seen 7S and it's an itch I occasionally need to scratch, and I was really curious about M7. 

But, it was also because the trailer for the new one looked terrible, and screw Hollywood for remaking a classic instead of coming up with something original. And because the original M7 was already a filthy American remake of the clearly superior Japanese film, even though I hadn't seen the original M7 yet. And because I already adored and had seen 7S loads of times before Chris Pratt thought it was cool!

This meme...such dankness! 

And then it hit me, the dark truth I didn't want to admit to myself and had long been in denial of: holy...fucking...shit...I'm a little bit hipster. Despite all my ranting and railing against hipsters, I'm a little bit hipster too. And then it hit me even harder: I've spent so many years feeling smug about how hipsters are inferior to the rest us, THAT doubly makes me a hipster. God damn't. And thus, a mini emotional crisis briefly raged.

Thankfully, just as quickly as it struck, it faded away as I came to the comforting realization that it's not just me. Everyone's a little bit hipster sometimes. We all have hobbies, thoughts, and possessions we feel a little smug about. We all have things that make us think we're better than the masses. We all think to ourselves we were into something before it was cool or get bitter and frustrated over something we aren't into being so damn popular. We all want to rebel against popularity and conformity. Let's face it: we're all a little bit hipster.

Now, that doesn't mean we shouldn't still mock hipsters. We absofuckinglutely should. They're smug, snotty bastards that have designed their entire lives around being unique non-conformists, despite the fact they all wear the same god damn uniform, are into the same god damn things, and follow the same god damn trends. They ironically think they're setting trends and discovering cool things, despite the fact that everything they're into is retro stuff their parents and grandparents were into before they thought it was cool. They're just as conformist and unoriginal as the rest of us, just extra obnoxious and oblivious about it. 

Of course, they'll ask, "why should you care?" Simple: because they're dicks about it, thinking and acting as if they're cooler, more enlightened, or superior to other people. That sentiment might be mild or extreme, they might be so self-unaware and deluded they can't see it, but it's sure as shit always there. It might seem harmless, but it really isn't. It's a nasty sentiment that rubs people the wrong way, making them feel bad about themselves, and in one's self, it fosters destructive, narcissistic, and close-minded thinking. It needs to be stamped out of people. Continuing to mock hipsters reinforces the shame and disapproval we feel of ourselves when we realize we're a little bit hipster. That's a good thing. We all need the hipster knocked out of us.

So continue the good fight against hipsters. Keep making fun of them for being obnoxious pieces of shit. But remember, sometimes, so are you. You're a little bit hipster too, so continue the good fight against yourself. 

And seriously, watch Seven Samurai. Heck, watch the original The Magnificent Seven too, though it's not as subtle and poignant as Seven Samurai. And I'm totally not just saying that because it was first and I saw it first, it just really is true. M7 is watered down and 7S is clearly better...oh god damn't, I'm doing it again. Get out of me, you damned dirty hipster! The power of Christ compels you!!!