The Politics of Linking; plus Post Thieves and Blogging Doubt

"I told you they didn't like you!"

Woke up at two fifteen and couldn't fall back asleep.

From naked and sweating at night, for months now, I was surprised of the sudden need for a nightgown, a sweater, three pairs of socks, and a blanket. Sat on the couch, and ate a bowl of Life.

Ventured to my office. Thought it'd be fun to check in on fellow film bloggers, and people I haven't read in a while. All cozied up, I started clicking, but instead of the warm fuzzies, my heart got nothing but hurt:

One of my all time favorite film bloggers has removed me from their sidebar list of Favorite Film Blogs.

You know, it's one thing for someone to never link to you. But to link to you, then remove it?

What did I do wrong??!

I don't know. I guess in this person's eyes, my blog has turned into such a mess, it's no longer a favorite, or worthy of a link.

I'll always link a blog that doesn't link to me, if I like it, and think it's great, original, and/or worth mentioning. Sharing. Want other people to partake in it. And enjoy it!

But if someone links here, and then says, "Nope, sorry, Ginger. You're just not good enough anymore," and removes it. That's tough.

I feel like garbage.

I delete their link, and that's it.

...

So what are your politics on linking?

I'll occasionally come across a blog that links here, and if I don't like it, I don't link back. But I may follow it, just in case I start liking it.

And I always follow a blog for a while, before adding its link to my sidebar.

So following is one thing, but putting a constant link to someone else's work onto your blog: it's a privilege for them, right? You shouldn't link EVERY blog.

I'm not running a chop shop here. I'm not asking for any money, from anyone or any thing. I don't deserve it! It's just a blog for Christ's sake. But why share my space with lesser bloggers, and advertise for hacks, if I'm gonna work hard on this? Though my posting is sporadic, I DO work hard when I'm here. Other times, I'm quiet because of you-know-what, and what ails me: what's wrong with that?

I don't expect a get out of jail free card in every aspect of life, due to illness, but I've always hoped friends -- even online friends who don't know me completely -- will be understanding and forgiving when it comes to my long stints of silence.

...

I'm in a cave, and no one likes me. Wouldn't it be funny if I had a real problem to deal with. ;)

My house is on fire.
The world is caving in!

I'm just thankful my daughter is healthy right now. I was so scared she'd get sick again, and we'd miss this past weekend's carnival.

We did. But only on account of a much-needed rain.

...

Hackenfish.

Some spam site stole my last film review, and did this to it:

One-liner accessories?? A force in the South?! It's like they translated my piece into a foreign language, condensed it, translated it back into English, then posted it to their crummy site.

There's no fairness online, anymore.

People steal stuff from you.

They disregard you.

...

Tonight, despite my sadness, I pressed on with the reading of film blogs, but after a while, felt a nagging doubt creep into my brain and kick its way down to my heart:

"I don't know what I'm doing."

I'm not as good as everyone else. What kind of authority am I on classic film? Who needs to know my opinions?? I didn't go to film school. I've never studied film. I didn't even finish my first semester of college. I hated it!

If I did go back to college, I still wouldn't study film. I'd study geology. Go dig up rocks, and tell you how old they are. What they're made of. How they got that way. Sit in the dirt, and be quiet, like a kid with her shovel on the beach. Lonely, watching all the other kids build castles. Build a tower around me, out of rocks.

-- Give me something I can hang onto!

We'll sign our names in the sand, and it doesn't matter what we use to write them, or if we stand there watching. Audience or not:

It's gonna wash away.

___________________________

Shirtless! (and wet!) Buster Keaton

In a sad mood, and it's only getting worse. Like embarking on a drive through a ten mile tunnel, when all you want to do is stay in the sun! But sometimes, you have to drive through the tunnel, to get where you want to go.

I suppose. ;)

Endure the darkness.

"I don't even want to start this!"

A long, lonely drive...

...

And to cheer myself up, I officially declare this, Ginger's Shirtless Saturday!

The First Entry.

I hope you enjoy. :)

...

Tonight, the Kid and I are going to the carnival.

So at least there's fun out there, and sexiness here.

Now if only I could improve my mind.

________________________________

The Autumnal Equinox 2010, or, The Moon is the Battlefield Where I First Said, "I Love You."

Frank Stanford is rolling in his grave. Or smiling. You never know about Ol' Frank.

It's almost the first day of Fall.

The Autumnal Equinox always does screwy things to me.

I feel like being a minimalist tonight, so I will be.

"You don't know me.

-- I do what I want."

...

Misquote great poet. Quote cartoon star!

I'm sitting at my desk, with a child's-size Breathe-Right Strip across the bridge of my nose. I've been sick since Sunday night.

Caught it from the child. She was sick Friday through Monday. Went to school Tuesday (now yesterday). The school nurse called at one o'clock, waking me from my re-heated lasagna and Sudafed induced slumber, to say, "Your child is in the office, throwing up in our trash can."

Why wouldn't she be?

Because God loves me SO much, he gave his only begotten Son, to come to Earth, to be a door to door salesman. A book salesman! For five dollars extra, you can get his autograph in red ink.

...

I am tired.

...

I have become quite infatuated with Man v. Food host Adam Richman. Due to my own created-through-spontaneous-writing fantasy. Now I don't chastise him for overeating...watched three episodes last night, and imagined myself at his table-side, handing him napkins, cheering him on. "Eat, you Yankee, son of a bitch!"

I was a sailor in a former life.

...

The Moon is the Battlefield...

I've been accidentally mangling the title of Frank Stanford's epic poem. I don't know how long I've been doing this. Doesn't matter. But the other night, while checking emails, I was inspired to entitle my next train-of-thought blog piece, 'Gmail is the Battlefield Where I First Said I Love You'.

But it's not 'The Moon is the Battlefield Where I First Said I Love You'...stupid Ginger. The title is: 'The Battlefield Where the Moon Says I Love You'.

So the Moon is not the battlefield. The Moon is ON the battlefield. And now the Moon can speak. It says I love you, to whom? I don't know. The Sun, I suppose.

...

The Autumnal Equinox vs. My Internet Anxiety!

The Summer Solstice is the day with the most light.

The Winter Solstice is the day with the most night.

The Vernal Equinox (March) and the Autumnal Equinox (September) are the days where dark and light are almost equal?

Well, it's at least where the center of the sun tries to bore a hole through the center of the equator, which is wrapped dead center 'round the center of the Earth.

Hmm? Balance.

Libra-type holiday. Always searching for balance, and tomorrow I'll have it.

But to be Libra, bipolar, AND alive on the Autumnal Equinox: it's almost a holy trifecta of insanity! I feel wired.

Always a strange day. The death of Summer. The First day of Fall -- Sorry Foreign People: "The First day of Autumn." Plus, the first day of Libra season. Where you can openly hunt Libras! Get a permit. An orange vest. Fill a thermos. Wear camouflage. You're not nervous, are you? Tell the Libra something romantic, and they'll go into daydreamer's mode -- like headlights in a deer's eyes. Now all you gotta do is pull the trigger.

On the battlefield. I like the Moon AS the battlefield. It's the end of time, and we're all living on the Moon, and pretty soon, the Moon will implode, due to both armies having plenty of explosives. "I love you."

"You never told me."

Boom!

And then it's over.

...

Enjoy your last day of Summer.

___________________________

Photo credit: Ginny Stanford. 1973. Of poet Frank Stanford, shooting a short-film entitled IT WASN'T A DREAM, IT WAS A FLOOD, in a certain state where a discontented Libra needs sleep.

___________________________

The Lines I Love: Errol's Good-bye to Olivia...

"Walking through life with you, mam, has been a very gracious thing."

-- Errol Flynn to Olivia de Havilland, as they said good-bye with their boots on, in THEY DIED WITH THEIR BOOTS ON (1941). Their eighth and final film. Their final scene. Their final lines.

_______________________

Review: FRED: THE MOVIE (2010)

Starring: Lucas Cruikshank, Jennette McCurdy, Pixie Lott, John Cena, Siobhan Fallon Hogan, and Jake Weary as Kevin.

Directed by: Clay Weiner

Genre: Comedy; Kids

Color

First Time I Saw It: Last night; September 18th, 2010.

Synopsis: Teenage geek vies for the affection of a hot girl, and is finally accepted by his peers, after throwing a party, and posting a video of it online.

Trivia: This is not a made for TV movie. Nickelodeon bought the rights to air it.

It will be released on DVD, October 5th.

Based on the original characters and web-series, created by Fred himself, Lucas Cruikshank, one of the most popular and watched YouTube stars ever.

Like a lot of parents, all I heard for a straight month was, "Mommy, I can't wait for FRED: THE MOVIE!!"

My daughter loves Fred Figglehorn. Thanks to iCarly, her favorite TV show, we were first introduced to Fred, the fictional character, and his real-life alter-ego, seventeen year old web-star, Lucas Cruikshank, by way of his guest appearance.

I thought, "Is this an actual web-show? Or is it fiction, created for iCarly?"

Searched it on YouTube, and sure enough, the Fred videos were real, with millions upon millions of views, on each entry in the series.

Fred Figglehorn, a six year old kid, with an alcoholic mother, an absent father, a creepy stalker's crush on a girl named Judy, a massive hatred for a boy named Kevin, and a friendship with an equally-dysfunctional girl named Bertha.

Now, the movie is different from the web-show, because we actually get to see these characters.

The biggest change? Fred is not six years old anymore. He's fifteen. Plus, he's lost his trademark 'Fred' t-shirt in favor of strips and suspenders, and his infamous shrill voice is now at a slightly lower (though slightly more obnoxious) pitch, due to Fred's increase in age.

I was most interested to finally meet Fred's crush, Judy, as an actual person, played by a gorgeous young singer from England: Pixie Lott.

Her accent sounded Australian to me, but Fred kept referring to it as a Southern accent. Of course Fred's not too bright. And thanks to his delusional sense of reality, there are several scenes in the film not actually taking place. We are merely witnessing Fred's fantasy world, where Judy is interested, Fred's father is present -- and is big and buff! played by John Cena -- and Fred is cool, sings, etc.

He even invents his own mentor -- also played by Cruikshank -- the imaginary 'Derf'.

Derf is Fred spelled backwards. ~ What Fred can't have in reality, he creates in his mind.

Think FERRIS BUELLER'S DAY OFF meets NAPOLEON DYNAMITE -- if Ferris were a dork, and Napoleon hyper and attractive.

Cruikshank narrates his story, and if you're not accustomed to Fred's voice, I imagine you'll want to throw rocks at your TV, and immediately sit your kids down with a copy of a 1930s Marx Bros. film, just so they'll know true comedy, and not be disillusioned by the questionable antics of a popular web-star.

I understand. ;)

But it is funny. Not a classic, of course. But I love the first two seasons of the web-show, so I enjoyed it.

And my daughter? She laughed almost constantly!

Despite its G rating for TV -- my DVR rates it as "Iffy for 10+" -- FRED: THE MOVIE does contain the occasional risque joke, and splash of off-color humor. For instance, Fred is running, screaming, and stops suddenly atop a dam, and says, "Dam." Not damn. But it's funny to hear him say it, regardless; this sweet momma's boy, whose standard range of profanity is limited to the homemade cusswords of hackin' and gammit.

Another example: Fred is outside, fixing to jump on a trampoline, in an effort to visit hot girl-next-door, Judy, and says:

"I've never even seen Judy's backdoor. But I bet it's really nice."

-- Sure, Fred; the backdoor of her house.

There's also some implied drinking, and weed-smoking, in the final party scene, but it's subtle, because the characters are only pretending to drink and smoke weed, to make the video of the staged party more impressive.

Before the party, Fred even says, "[...] and we're gonna do a lot of illegal stuff. Kids our age can't do it, but we're gonna do it, anyway."

Fred's mother in the film, does drink openly.

-- On the web-show, she also 'works the corners', and his father's on death row.

Stuff the kids won't catch, or understand, is always fun, but I could have done without the gross-out scenes, and potty humor. Even my daughter admitted, "The Fred movie was pretty good. I just didn't like all the fake vomit."

Ha. When a first grader declares a film has too much fake vomit, you KNOW it has too much fake vomit.

And there was too much nastiness in general. I literally had to turn my head as Fred ate a fly, stuffed himself full of sardines, threw-up on Judy, etc. Without the immature flourishes, FRED: THE MOVIE could have been a lot better.

In one of my favorite scenes, Fred imagines himself at Judy's house, and she's sitting on the floor with a handheld vacuum cleaner, crying. A modern Cinderella, greeted by her Prince not-so-charming, who comes bearing the gift of a pet 'squirrel' (a Pomeranian) and the two sit fireside, singing.

The other female lead in the cast is Bertha, played by Jennette McCurdy ('Sam', of iCarly fame). She's kinda weird in this one. A perfect match, though, for Fred, so I figured it would go the way of SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL. Instead, they opted for the PRETTY IN PINK ending.

Again, my daughter nailed it. "I think Fred should have picked Bertha. They make a better couple."

Yep. But I'm sure original Fred, the six year old, would be delighted to know, nine years later, he finally wins the heart of his beloved Judy.

To gain her love, and impress all his schoolmates, Fred hands out party invitations to over a hundred people, all reading, 'You are NOT invited'. He and Bertha then stage a party, video-tape it, and upload the video online to the fictional YouTube equivalent, BlueTube.

-- In the movie, Fred calls the site, BlueTube, but you can clearly see, at the top of his computer screen, most of the YouTube logo.

I enjoyed the montage where they're making the video, more than the video itself.

Both are fun, especially the music, and if you watch 'em in slow motion.

I did notice, during my second viewing of the party video, as I paused it to take pictures: there's a bit of an upskirting of Jennette McCurdy! She's wearing a short party dress, and spins around RIGHT in front of the camera.

Yep. Pretty G-rated stuff, huh, Nickelodeon? Flashing a teenage girl's butt.

There's also a scene where Fred is in a laundromat, stripped down to his skimpy underwear. Which I thought strange, considering the boy is HOT, yes, but still underage.

Cruikshank was only sixteen at the time of filming.

A good time to mention the mothers in this film! I'm pretty sure arch-nemesis Kevin's mother was played by the chick from the Progressive Auto-Insurance commercials.

-- Yep, just looked it up. Stephanie Courtney.

And Fred's mother looked so familiar to me. I kept thinking, "She's either from an 80s movie, or a former cast-member of Saturday Night Live."

Turns out it was the latter. Siobhan Fallon Hogan. Plus, she played Elaine's roommate on Seinfeld. Remember? The one Kramer frolicked with, then hurt themselves on the glass-top coffee table.

-- Two of my past obsessions: SNL (1970s through '90s) and Seinfeld.

So if you're familiar with the original Fred videos, I think you'll be more amused than those who've never watched the web-series.

And if you're already a big fan of Fred, then great! Enjoy his starring effort. Because who knows: in a few years, Cruikshank may go the way of most young actors, drift into obscurity, and grace nothing more than your fond, occasional memories of his videos on YouTube.

Or, he'll be a multi-millionaire, and you can see him in FRED: THE SEQUEL.

...

Cute, but not always pleasant.

**1/2(stars)

__________________________

And When You Least Expect It

BOOM!

I'm an ass. I'm a jerk. I make a fool of myself.

...

I've been telling everyone, "I feel like I just stepped out of a cave."

Born again. My depression gave birth to me.

Some mothers eat their young.

...

From the movie, the writing, the sunrise, I felt giddy and playful and alive. I decided to go into the sunlight, to keep the feeling going, and not weep in the dark, on the couch, watching old movies. I figured it'd be good for me, to stay in a good mood.

So after I woke up my child, I had to listen to her cry about not wanting to go to school; about how her throat hurt, and she didn't feel well -- I assumed she just didn't want to go, since they had two test today. Took her temperature. No fever.

"You're going to school."

Dropped her off, came home, did my chores, and got dolled-up. Went to town. Had a decent time, except I was lonely. Started feeling like something was missing. That I had forgot something. Started missing everyone! Started thinking my house would burn down. Started worrying.

All the sexy thoughts and fun I had, were drained like a pool at the end of summer. "They're not gonna re-fill you either," says the step-ladder. "That's right," says the diving board. "They're gonna throw a tarp over you, instead."

In the darkness again. I have a strange pain in the side of my head, and feel like I'm gonna pass out.

At my last stop, shopping for groceries for the weekend, I'm walking outside with my buggy filled with food, and there are two men sitting at tables, with crosses, jars for money, and bowls of lollipops. "For just twenty bucks," one man says, "you can feed a mother and her child for a week."

The guilt inside me. I just spent over a hundred dollars, on stuff to make lasagna, bake banana muffins; nice, fancy, name brand food, and I remember getting welfare and government-approved groceries. Why not? Here, take five dollars. Make it six. Yes, I'd like a lollipop. You have a nice day, too.

Walk through the crosswalk. Can't even begin to think about karma: a truck nearly runs me over! I stand there, staring at an old lady who wasn't looking where she was going, and all I can think to do is say, "Excuse me."

I walk to my car. Mood ruined. Every thing's black. The hatch won't open. I'm fiddling with the key, pressing the button. It won't budge! I need to load my groceries and get home. School's out in half an hour, and I'm half an hour AWAY from the school!

In a gray dress, black leggings, and high-heels, suddenly the heat gets to me. In this concrete parking lot, on a hundred degree day, and somewhere, despite the near-state-wide burn ban, SOMEONE is burning, and the smoke is visible, unbearable. I can hardly breathe, and this stupid thing won't open, and a woman is trying to squeeze between me, my car, my buggy, and the next car. "Excuse me," I say, and nearly start crying.

The woman says, "No, I'm the one who nearly hit you while ago." And she apologizes.

I forgive her. "We all have bad days."

I tell her not to feel guilty, and how nice it was, for her to want to find me and apologize. For all she knew, I could have been a crazy person. And not in the bipolar sense. In the raving, angry lunatic sense. I could have told her to go to Hell, and be more careful. No one's perfect, though. I mess up, too.

...

With the groceries in the backseat of the car, instead of in the stubborn/locked trunk, I make it just in time to pick my daughter up from school. Drive home. Put away cold food. Take baths. Cook supper. I'm tired! I leave her to watch iCarly, and draw on her new stack of paper while I go to bed, just for a quick nap, I promise, Honey.

"Come wake me up when your show is over."

I can't seem to get out of bed. "But mommy, there's a bad show on," she says. And I finally make it to the living room. Change the channel. Notice her face is red, and she looks so tired. Kiss her forehead. She's burning with fever!

God damn it.

...

All summer, I avoided this place for two reasons.

Reason one: my friend with cancer? She was in the hospital, and she wanted me to come see her. And I wanted to. I did. But I was so scared to go. Decided to be brave, and unselfish, and go the next day. That night, my daughter got sick, and I was at HER bedside. The kid was sick for several days, and then my friend died.

In April. Just a few days after that last post -- the one that sat at the top for five months, while I was away.

Went to the funeral, and skipped the burial. The next day, I got sick. Came back around (online), only to email one of my favorite blogger friends. And offer to make her a video, of a special night on TCM. Because she's always been so kind to me, and so supportive of my writing. And I wanted to be a good friend.

I had such a void in my soul from not visiting my other friend in the hospital. I never told her what she meant to me, or anything. I'm a coward! I'm a selfish, horrible coward. And now it's over, and what?

I had learned my lesson. Decided to be a good friend -- a better friend! 'Cause God knows I'm always the inattentive jackass when it comes to my friends -- and wanted to show everyone I care about, and everyone who cares about me, how much I'm glad they're in my life, and alive in general.

We'll all be gone someday, and it scares me.

But then that night, at the end of April, when I was taping the movies off TCM, tornadoes ripped through the state, one after another. Satellite lost signal. Of course that's a blip on the radar, in comparison: several people were killed. And I was scared. I felt guilty. I wept.

I never wrote my friend to tell her what happened, why the movies didn't tape. Of course she would understand, and it would have been nothing but a blip...but in my mindset (my dark, basement-dwelling mindset) it only exacerbated my guilt for being a horrible friend to everyone. Especially my late friend.

So May dawned, and my daughter got sick one more time before finally graduating kindergarten. She sat on stage, in a little red chair, wearing a gold robe and hat; the same stage I sat on, exactly twenty years prior. And in the same classroom as my kindergarten reception, my sister gave my daughter a bouquet of flowers, to which she declared:

"This is the best day of my life."

...

Reason number two: my daughter didn't get sick all summer. Not once. Not a single fever. Not a single cold. Nothing! Just a happy, healthy kid. And I was happy for her!

I have a strange phobia -- or a superstition, I guess you'd call it -- concerning my daughter, and blogging. It seems every time I stay away for a while, with no legitimate reason to stay away, other than laziness, or interest in something other than classic film, AS SOON as I come back, and start blogging again, and get all giddy, and silly, and having fun with it, and catching up, BOOM, my daughter gets sick again, and I'm busy at her bedside. Which is fine. I know blogging is a one, and motherhood is a ten on the whole 'Scale of what's Important in Life', but it just seems to be a rule, now. A jinx! The second I let my guard down, she gets sick again.

But like I said, not a single ailment all summer. Then she goes back to school at the end of August. The second week there, she comes down with strep throat and runs the worst fever of her life! And I thought, "Okay, she hasn't been sick in a long time. I can handle this. I can do this! I'm just grateful we made it through the summer..."

Five days of high fever. Ten days of penicillin. Finally she's better, and back to school (after missing an entire week), so I thought, "Okay, Ginger, relax. Back to blogging now. Surely you're in the clear, for a while, at least..."

Never wanting to blog in the summer, for knowing I couldn't be good to anyone, and knowing I would only jinx my self and my daughter, and make her sick.

Ha. That's how I think. I know it doesn't make sense, but at the time -- or always, really -- due to my depression, I'm incapable of knowing when I make sense, or when I THINK I make sense.

Now she's sick again, and I don't think I can handle it. Like going swimming when you haven't slept. I'm too tired. Afraid of drowning. Afraid of tying bricks to my own feet, and diving in, and saying, "Well, okay, that's it."

__________________

I came out of the cave, and into the sunlight, and it burns. Hot concrete on one hundred degree days, and smoke in my lungs, and a sick child crying 'cause she doesn't want to be sick.

"I know, sweetheart," I said at bedtime, as I tucked her in. But then I started crying, too. And I couldn't STOP crying.

I come out of the cave, and I let my guard down. With a bored soul, I want to create! I want to have fun! I want to connect with people. I make an ass of myself.

Then it starts to rain. Acid rain, and me unsheltered. If I just stay in my cave, I don't feel as bad when something 'scary' happens; I'm already depressed; try all you like -- rain all you like! -- you can't make water any wetter.

I need to stay in my cave. Come out in the sun (in the mental sense) and there goes the sun and here comes the acid rain, and I feel horrible now. My chest hurts, and I'm nervous, and I can't stop shaking.

The one thing I've failed to mention about my absence, other than the movies I watched and the obsessions I lost (sorry, Kids), is in June, I had to have an EKG. My chest hurt. My arm went numb. The entire side of my left body was in horrible pain. From my jaw and neck, all the way down to my back and ribcage.

Same old thing. Heart is fine. It's nerves. It's stress. It's depression. It's lack of sleep. It's the doctor asking me a million questions. "Are you suicidal? -- Homicidal?!"

Ha. I'd like to cry every time a butterfly hits my windshield!

As if I'd ever hurt anyone on purpose.

...

I went outside tonight, to take out the trash, and feed the cats. I looked up, and saw the Moon; a yellow moon, with a halo of haze about it, as it were giving off heat.

Usually the Moon looks so cold, and white. Blue. Lonely insomniac, waiting for dawn. And now it's trying to warm up the sky?

I'm confused.

"Don't make an ass of yourself, Moon."

To move the oceans, in quiet, is probably the best thing for you...

And here I am, on the verge of writing poetry; not blogging about classic film, but back to my yammering. My depressing train-of-thought. I should be in bed, trying to sleep, but it's so quiet there. So lonely.

Can you see I'm bipolar??

The Moon is blue/the Moon is yellow.

It's visible.

...

I'm tired of feeling ashamed.

________________________

Sex in a Tool Shed

Years ago, I saw a movie I liked. Late at night. I was possibly drunk at the time. And recently, while making a list of my favorite movies from every decade, I wanted to add this film to it, remembering, at least, what decade it hailed from -- my beloved 1980s -- and a pretty blonde having sex in a tool shed with an older man, then pushing a baby carriage across a green field. I couldn't recall the title. I probably never knew it.

...

Last night, I couldn't sleep. I tried. I ended-up channel surfing. From nine PM 'til three AM, I watched several shows, including Man Vs. Food. Because watching a semi-attractive man -- or at least a man who has a boyish smile, pretty eyes, and an overall good personality -- gorge himself on hamburgers bigger than my head (though possibly the same size of his own head) is entertainment?

I don't think so, Fred Astaire.

It's NOT entertainment; it's killing him. People are watching this man, and paying this man, and cheering him on, just so he'll overeat, make himself uncomfortable, make himself sick, gain more weight, and look like a total pig. Does he WANT to be obese?

A LETTER TO ADAM RICHMAN

Dear Mr. Richman,

Please stop killing yourself for money. If you want to eat something until you can eat it no longer, I'd be willing to frame your picture and hang it on my bedroom wall.

Sincerely yours,
Ginger Ingenue

Man vs. Woman -- Man vs. My Thighs!

During one episode, last night, in the midst of eating out, he said he was glad the crowd was nice enough to fan him. I thought, "If he's hot, why doesn't he just take his jacket off?" And then I realized, he doesn't want to take off his jacket, because at this point, his smile is the only thing boyish about him: the man needs a bra!

Maybe I'll lend him one, should he decide to come over, and accept my challenge. Yes, I'm gonna bake for him lots of apple pies, and see if he can eat them.

What'd you think I meant? ;)

...

I am a lonely girl. And I can't sleep.

...

Tried to sleep. The child is whining. I get out of bed, and wander to the kitchen in nothing but white cotton panties. Eat Pringles straight from the can on the baker's rack. This is three AM. I go back to bed. Too lazy to make a sandwich. Too lazy to stay awake; to go to my office, and write something! "You go back to blogging like Frankenstein to his monster. Let it lay here cold and dead for five months, then suddenly, on a whim, shout (or did I whisper?), 'It's alive!'"

I tried to sleep. Heard cats screaming. Flung open the door, and twenty feet up my persimmon tree (or hell, maybe it's a plum tree), climbs a fat raccoon. "Damn you, Adam Richman, get the hell out of my tree!"

In the yard, grazing, a buck deer ignores me. I stand near-naked on the steps, shining a flashlight, cussing at the raccoon, cussing at the cats, and cussing at the world in general! Because everyone's asleep (in my mind) and I'm not.

...

Finally slept for a couple of hours, to wake up Thursday, and have a miserable day. Watched BOY SLAVES: the only highlight. Did chores. Turned off the lights, wept, and pretended I live in a cave.

Went to pick up my daughter from school, and two trucks nearly hit me. Another ran a stop sign, and then had the audacity to wave at me!

...

Tonight. The kid is in bed. I go to bed. I actually fell asleep! Before ten o'clock, then I had a nightmare, and woke up a little before two AM. Been awake ever since. Wandered to the kitchen in a blue flannel nightgown. Cooked waffles. Orange juice. Snuggled in bed with the one cat lucky enough to live in the house.

Was flipping through channels again, wanting to watch a movie. Saw the title, WISH YOU WERE HERE. Thought, "That's a good title for a movie..." Read the info, and what do you know: it was my long lost 'sex in a tool shed' movie! Gorgeous young blonde rebellious teen who lost her mother, and replaced her need for mourning and comfort with a need for sex, and plenty of it.

She ends up with an older man, which I always like on film: where the man is older, but not wiser. Though possibly better in bed.

I wish I would've had the guts to sleep with an older man, while I was young and hot. Instead, I wasted it! Now I'm some old cat lady, at only twenty-six, fixing-to-be twenty seven. Yelling at raccoons, and jackasses who run stop signs. There's got to be more to nighttime, than watching TV shows, and drinking orange juice. I want wine, dancing, and something special to happen!

Perhaps if I didn't live in the woods. If I lived in a big city...I could meet a man who wears suspenders and a fedora. Who daydreams, and watches old movies.

A Fred for a Ginger.

...

My soul is bored.

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Fun with Keywords! (vol. 4) Where was I??

Oh yes, answering questions. ;)

After five months in an emotional slumber, I guess I'll pick-up right where I left off.

"Did Cornel Wilde use a toupee?"

I don't think so; not in his heyday, anyway.

"World doll 19" Ginger Rogers value"

Good/Used condition: twenty to thirty bucks. NRFB: thirty to fifty bucks.

"1949 brunette woman"

Um, ME, if I lived in 1949? ;)

"Harpo Marx"

Played the harp.

"State Fair with Jeanne Crain and Dana Andrews"

1945. Fox. Technicolor. Four out of Five Stars. A sort of MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS without the MGM gloss.

"Actor Humphrey Bogart doll"

Made by Effanbee in the 1980s. Wish I had one!

"Cornel Wilde Naked."

Wish I had that, too!

"East Side Kids Bowery Boys"

Who??

"Scarlett O'Hara Barbie dolls"

There are plenty of 'em.

"Naked Scarlett O'Hara doll"

Just take its clothes off, chump.

"Ginger Fox Naked"

Who is this Ginger Fox?! You can see ME naked...just give me a million dollars and a Humphrey Bogart doll. ;)

"Casino spiel Humphrey Bogart"

Um, by 'Casino', I'm gonna assume you meant 'bar', as in Rick's, and by 'spiel', I'm gonna assume you're looking for the famous lines from CASABLANCA?

"I bet they're asleep in New York. I bet they're asleep all over America. [Slams fist] Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world! She walks into mine."

"Would like to see the bowery boys on TCM one whole day"

Well, then I hope you were watching July 23rd (or was it the 21st?) of this year. They showed 'em from five am 'til prime time. If you missed it, TCM is still airing the entire Bowery Boys series, one entry every Saturday.

"Movies with Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews"

From best to worst, their five films include:

LAURA
WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS
THE IRON CURTAIN
TOBACCO ROAD
BELLE STARR

"Are all the Dead End Kids deceased?"

Yes.

Bobby Jordan died in 1965, at the age of 42.
Leo Gorcey died in 1968, age 51.
Billy Halop died in 1976, age 56.
Gabe Dell died in 1988, age 68.
Huntz Hall died in 1999, age 79.
And Dr. Bernard Punsly died in 2004, age 80.

"Bowery Boys DVD box set"

There isn't one, yet.

"The last days of Humphrey Bogart"

He wandered off into the ocean, and went for a swim. Thus meeting Leslie Howard. The two old friends swam to the bottom of the sea floor, and opened a door, and were never heard from again.

Ha. I have no idea. What am I, psychic?

I think he was in a horrible state of pain from throat cancer. He wanted wife Lauren Bacall to snuggle up with him in the bed. He died the next morning. The world lost one of the best actors ever, a woman lost her husband, and worst of all, two kids lost their father.

Now don't you like my little silly version better? ;)

...

Oh, I'm sorry I went away for five months. I was in a bad state of sobriety-fueled depression. Now my little girl's back in school (first grade), so I have more free time during the day, and my insomnia is acting up (for the millionth time in my life!), so I have more free time at night; figured it was a good time to return.

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