Butterfly Cauldron

Apparently, I'm a pretty easy-to-please movie goer. Because I've been reading reviews that Pirates 3 was crap and hard to follow, and yet I found it funny and insanely easy to follow. Hrm.

So...Pirates! I've got a group of friends I go to movies and lunch with every few weeks. it's fun. So, Saturday it was Pirates day. I really liked this movie. I didn't find it hard to follow at all. I didn't find all that the 'backstabs' unexpected or the intro too long. The special effects were awesome and the dialogue was really funny.

And Elizabeth seriously kicked ass. Finally. Unlike the last two movies, I don't think she had a single moment of "female" wimpiness in the whole flick. There was none of this "I have to save Elizabeth' crap this time around. Because everyone finally figured out she could take care of herself. Yay.

Oh, also -- don't piss off a Goddess! Idiots. Why is there a giant whirlpool suddenly appearing? Because you pissed off a Goddess. Why is there suddenly rain? See: Goddess, pissed off.

There were some awesome scenes. The return of the Dutchman with her new captain. The end of the poor, poor Endeavor. The series of scenes of them getting into Davy Jones Locker. Awesome.

And yes, it's a long movie, but I didn't really notice how long it was. So, that's good. Unlike Spiderman 3, when I noticed it was long. It doesn't feel long, because there's constant action. You get an explanation for how Barbosa is back from the dead. Everything seems to get resolved, but there's still open the possiblity of another movie. For part of the crew, anyway. Although, I don't think there needs to be another one. It's a nice enough ending as it is.

So, go see it. It's a good popcorn movie, although it won't make you think or change the world. But what do you want? It's got Johnny Deep. And Orlando Bloom actually looks like an adult with dark hair. Plus -- Elizabeth kicks ass. Seriously.

Labels: fun, movie

One thing I'm able to do, as I wait out this flare-up to go away, is watch t.v. Which is fine, because I am a television junkie. It's true. Zan is not a person who can go without a funcational television. No. So, anyway, one of my addictions is Heroes. I loves it. Madly. And they just ran the season finale. So I'm gonna write about it. If you haven't seen it, stop reading. Or not. But I'm gonna spoil you big time. You've been warned.

Overall, I loved it. I predicted how it would end long ago, but I still loved it. But a few things annoyed me.

The good:

Niki - finally, she goes from being whiny, homocidal brat to together, active woman. Whoohoo. It's about fricking time. Finally, it seems, Jessica is gone. I never understood why people assumed having another personality was Niki's superpower. Duh, that's just her mental illness. Her power is the fact that she's ungodly strong. (Think Rogue, without the life sucking touch.) Being motivated by love of her son and husband is a bit cliche -- of course, she was! She's a woman, right? Arg. But I did like her wacking the bad guy with a parking meter.

Mohinder -- I confess, he's my favorite. That big, sexy brain! I loves me a man with the smarts. Plus, I like the fact that he's just normal. Not a superpower. And he still kicks ass. Plus, he's snarky. (Bennett: You know, if Thompson's men find out he's dead, we'll be in trouble. Mohinder: Really? Well maybe you should have thought about that before you put a bullet in his head." Said while dumping Thompson's body in a trash bin. Funny.) Plus, he's all protective of Molly, his new pseudo-daughter. I loves me a man who can be fatherly too. Must be my damned biological clock again. Shut up clock.

Claire -- the only other female hero. (An oversight that's supposed to be cleared up in the next season, so say the producers.) She's not as active as I'd like her to be. I give her a bit of a pass, however, since she's only 16. Plus, she shows signs of toughening up. (Last episode, she was talking about going on patrol, jumping in front of bullets, pulling babies out of burning buildings, etc.) In the finale, she's the one who gets through to Nathan. (And she should, with her being his daughter and all.) Her explict rejection of him ("I already have a family.") because of his willingness to let Peter explode and kill millions of people, combined with her willingness to put herself in the line of fire, literally, shakes him up enough to get him to keep Peter from going BOOM in the middle of NYC. Now, granted, I'd like for her to have been hands-on active in the resolution, but I'm willing to let this go. For now.

Thompson and Linderman -- dead, dead, dead. Ha! Take that, you evil plotters of doom! And how easily they died. I rather liked it, given that bad guys on so many shows seem to be immune to death. But not these guys. A phased fist into your skull and a pair of bullets at close range -- not coming back from that, sorry. Unless you're Claire. Which they're not.

Sylar -- not dead. Yeah, I know, he's was the Big Bad Serial Killer. But he's sexy. And I kinda feel for him. Sorta. In that, he's cracked and it wasn't really his fault which doesn't excuse him for the murders but. . .way. Plus, he just wants to be the Good Guy. The Important One. ("Looks like you're the bad guy, Peter. Turns out, I'm the hero.") He's just got a warped way of getting there. But Sylar, stabbed and bleeding, crawling away down the sewer. Fitting.

Hiro -- taking Ando back to Japan. Hiro loves his best friend and he wanted him to survive, even if no one else did. So teleporting him waaaay out of the way was his way of doing that. And Ando understood.


The bad:

Love is all it takes to save the world? Gah. Cheese! Yes, yes, we know. We get it already. But really, what it takes to save the world is Nathan flying Peter's ass up, up and away. Which I've been saying for weeks now! (Really, how frigging hard was THAT to figure out? Let's see....Peter's ready to go nuclear in the middle of NYC. Nathan can fly. Hey! How about this: why doesn't Nathan just fly Peter somewhere there aren't any people? So if he goes BOOM, he doesn't take anyone out with him? Huh? How about that? Yeah? So, if I can figure this out -- and I'm merely a not-so-special mortal -- why the hell didn't anyone else suggest it? I mean, come on.)

Too many men dominating the storyline. It's a major problem with the show, actually. Which has been brought to the attention of the producers and they've promised to fix it next year. We'll see. But, see, Claire is indestructable. She can't die! Nothing Sylar can do to her should be able to kill her. Hell, he shouldn't be able to take her brain because hey! she'll just heal it up. She's one bad ass girl. So why wasn't she the one saving the world? (I mean, she WAS the cheerleader that had to be saved to save the world, right?) I get that she was necessary so that Peter could absorb her ability and she could push Nathan into sacrificing himself. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I want her to be active! No more passive female heroes, got it? Good.

So, I'd watch it Friday night on SciFi, if I were you. In fact, I'll be watching it again myself. Because it's THAT good.

Also, next season? I want it to start already. We've been promised that the show will be more global -- more Heroes from other countries, not so Americentric. Which I'm all for. Think of it, truely strong women of color? Brown men presented as heroes, not terrorists? Proof of a world beyond our shores? Really? I'm impressed.

Labels: fun, television

I haven't been feeling very well the last week or so, hence the lack of posting. Lupus is a bitch in the summer, let me tell you. It's already topping 90 degrees here and it's still May. Gah. My electric bill is over $100 this month, because I'm keeping my air on all the time. But ya know, I don't care. I'm gonna pay it to keep cool!

Anyway. . .boys. Very strange. The Boy has apparently decided he's no longer into me. Which is fine, just that he has decided to demonstrate his done-ness by simply not talking to me anymore. It's all very strange. One day, we're seeing how long we can stay naked, the next he's all not speaking to me. Very odd. About two weeks ago, he asked me to play hooky from work and spend the day in bed with him. So, I'm all for that. Took the day off, waited for him and when did he get to my house? 2 p.m.! And then did we get naked? Uh. No. He was all laying on the couch, watching my t.v. and that was okay, I was thinking. We had the rest of the night. Except, he decided he had to go biking. Uh huh. He asked me to take the day off work, to spend it in bed with him, and what does he do? Arg. Anyway, I was already starting to feel bad then and well, I got a bit annoyed. ( I was running a fever.) And so, I basically told him not to ask me to take the day off if he wasn't going to spend it with me. So, he seemed to be okay with it and everything seemed fine and now...he's not talking to me. Oh well. He was sweet, but well...21. Anyway, I just wanted more sex! Dammit. See, when you break a celibacy spell and your body remembers things and then it's denied again? GAH! So, now I'm horny all the damned time and there's no Boy to help me take the edge off. Bastard.

So, that Boy is done. But! There's another Boy on the horizon. This one seems much more serious. He's 40, to start out with. And he's got a daughter. We've been talking for awhile and we're both giant SciFi geeks, so this has possibliities. And if he doesn't work out, there's another guy in Lafayette. Also of-age (36), so maybe I won't get the immature Boy go-round. Here's hoping.

Anyway, I'm still feeling pretty run down, so posting will prolly stay light. But I'm reading and I'm not dead. Yay!

China heard a vicious rumor that I was saying she does nothing adorable for the camera. After applying her claws liberally to my poor, bare skin, she deigned to pose for me. And so, behold the Bitch Queen of Everything:


Gaze upon me, mere humans, and whimper with jealousy that you are not as glorious as I.


Puny human. How dare you assume I would be amused by your feathers!


Come, feather, let me bite you. Hmm. You taste like lizard.


These feathers, they amuse me.

Labels: cats, China, fun

I had a conversation not so long ago with some co-workers about 'young people today' and what they define as sex. None of us could understand how it's possible to not consider oral or anal sex to be, well, sex. Which lead to a discussion about what constitutes sex. (Yeah, this is the sort of thing I do at work when we're on break. Fun, ain't it?)

So anyway, they all found my definition funny. They agreed with it, but, it's funny. See, I think anything that involves any degree of nakedness and someone having a Big O is sex. And actually, the nakedness is optional, since you can do a hell of a lot while fully clothed. You might not be getting off, but if the person you're with is, you're having sex. Maybe not good sex, but still. . .

There are degrees, of course. (I tend to class them as "things that will send me running to the clinic and things that won't", but your mileage may vary.) Maybe I just have an expansive view of sex. Maybe it's because I'm bi and don't think the penis is the end-all-be-all of sexual experience. Maybe it's because I'm into BDSM. I don't know, but I think a lot of things qualify as sex.

I have ego enough to believe my view of sex is healthier than the view that says penis+vagina only. It's not the view I was raised with, so I have an interest in owning it, as it were. Once I got over the whole PIV is THE real thing, I started being much more comfortable with myself and my desires and the things that make me Oh So Happy. The whole body becomes a buffet to be enjoyed, without the goal being fitting Tab A into Slot B.

So, let's here it. How do you define sex?

Labels: desire, sex

This picture, painted by Rhon Drinkwater, was banned from an art show because it was deemed 'not family friendly'. The show contained other nudes, but this one was the only one deemed unacceptable. Why? Well, that's the question isn't it? The full story is here.

I'm sorry, but what's not 'family friendly' about this painting? When other nudes are being allowed?

Labels: art, outrage, stupid people

Finally, found a pic close to the tat I've always wanted. I tried to steal the pic, but it won't let me! Anyway, it's here.

I want it put just above my ankle on the front of my right leg. Now, I just need to screw up the courage. Gah.

Labels: tattoo

Bear with me, I'm feeling introspective.

I started this year off with a request. I asked the Universe to help me become more at ease with my body and the pleasure it can bring me. I've spent the last six or seven years getting acquainted with the pain my body can bring me. I wanted this year to be different. So, I requested that the Universe send me people who would help me do that, help me get in touch with the joy my body can bring me and to help me accept it, regardless of what shape that help too. I'm generally pretty damned picky, wanting partners to be 'just so', dismissing people out of hand. Oh, I can't go out with him, he's too XXX or she's too YYY. I tend to think myself out of things and in doing that, I deny myself a great many experiences. So, this year, it's going to be different.

And, low and behold, the Universe listened. She sent me The Boy and made him very insistant, even when I tried to pull my usual number and ignore what I was being sent. So, I finally give in and just go with it. And it's been lovely. It reallly has, although I'm not seeing a longterm relationship here. But then again, who knows? I've been wrong before.

So, what's my problem? Even when he's touching me, there's this little voice in the back of my head wondering how he can stand it. How can he stand looking at my naked body? It's not beautiful. It's not even close to 'normal'. It's fat and ugly. At least, that's the voice in my head. I don't really believe that, I think. At least, I don't most of the time. Most of the time, I'm certain I'm adorable and desirable and deserving of love and pleasure. And yet, when I'm naked . . . In my head, I keep asking the question. How can you stand this? Don't you think you could do better?

And I want to cry, because I can't stand that I think of myself that way. And I know it's in my head, that it's all me. None of the men I've ever been with has so much as suggested that I needed to lose weight. Even when I'd gained a good 50 lbs., my Ex couldn't stop touching me. He never stopped telling me he thought I was beautiful and it was clear he thought I was desirable. And The Boy? He's so sweet. He seems shocked that I want him. And I don't understand that. Because. . .I don't know why he wants me.

See, I can understand why someone would love me. That's not the issue. I just don't know why anyone would desire me. How awful is that? Confident in my ability to inspire love, but not lust. *sigh* Which is stupid, because clearly, I've been inspiring at least one man of late. (Not that this stupidity is stopping me from enjoying him. Hell no. I'm messed up, but I'm not stupid.)

And then, I wonder, do all women feel that way, regardless of their size? Are we all struck dumb when someone expresses desire for us? Or is it easy for others? Because, if you ask me about anything else, I'm totally sure of myself. But in this one area? I just. . .I know I deserve to be loved and wanted and desired. I just can't understand why anyone would want that. And so, my brain, it hurts.

Labels: fat, sadness, sex