Number Forty Seven Knows The Deadly Secret Behind Tic Tacs

For Christmas my dad gave me two great books: Not Since Carrie: 40 Years Of Broadway Musical Flops by Ken Mandelbaum, which I read a month or two ago, and Patrick McGoohan: Danger Man Or Prisoner? by Roger Langley, which I am reading now (well, not right this second, clearly, but it's the book I've been reading this week).
There's three chapters in the book devoted to The Prisoner and one of those chapters includes an interesting quote from Patrick McGoohan, from the 1967 press screening of The Prisoner:
"It's about a top scientist who has vital space secrets in his head and decides he wants to resign."
You know what that means?
Number Six is not John Drake!!! Take that, everybody who thinks they're the same guy!
I'm not sure why I'm so adamantly againtst that theory; I was against it even before I'd ever watched Danger Man. And when I finally did see Danger Man, I was even more against the theory. John Drake is way too affable to be the same character as the man in The Prisoner.
Also, the Simpsons episode The Computer Wore Menace Shoes supports the theory that Number Six was a scientist, rather than a secret agent, when he says the line "I invented the bottomless peanut bag." Sounds like something a scientist would do.
I will only accept the theory that John Drake is Number Six if it goes on to claim that Number Six is Doctor John Rafferty.
Actually, the story of how Number Six escaped his infinite loop and the watchful eye of The Village and escaped to California where he became a grouchy doctor might be a pretty interesting one. Why don't they make a movie of that?
...Wait. No. Don't. Forget I said anything. If they tried to make it, they'd fuck it up. I saw what they did with that godawful Prisoner remake.
I said it before and I'll say it again: Patrick McGoohan only died so he'd have a grave to roll over in when that remake aired.

Be seeing you.
-Sally

In Which Sally Gets Nostalgic About Mr. Bungle

Okay, lately I’ve been listening to a lot of mid-to-late 1990s music and I don’t really know why. I feel like something must have triggered something in my mind that is making me revert to a certain era in my life in terms of taste in music.
And I believe it’s come to a head today with my first-time-in-years listen to California by Mr. Bungle.
I know exactly what triggered it: my infatuation with Trevor Dunn and reading the Q&A archives on his website where, funnily enough, he avoids most questions pertaining to Mr. Bungle and flat out says repeatedly he’s glad the band is defunct. Which, honestly, I understand. I was not a member of that band, I don’t know what all went on between them but I do know I wouldn’t want to be in a band I formed in high school when I’m 39.
So it’s kind of funny that talk about why it’s good that a band is no longer together would inspire me to go back and really listen to them. But that’s how it goes, I guess.
Mr. Bungle was a huge fucking deal to me in high school. I made my own shirts because I couldn’t afford to buy “real” ones. I missed my one opportunity to see them live because the only person willing to drive me there would only take me if I agreed to take acid with her before the show. I carried the cassette of Mr. Bungle’s first album with me everywhere, even when I knew I wasn’t going to listen to it at all that day.
That tape actually may have had something to do with it, too. I’ve been sort of going through an emotional and physical housecleaning lately and I got rid of a bunch of stuff, including almost all my old cassettes (sadly I don’t have a tape deck anymore). And I put that Mr. Bungle tape in the Goodwill bag. It was there for about an hour but it never made it to Goodwill. Well, the bag made it to Goodwill but that Bungle tape wasn’t in there. It’s been in my purse since that day.
That tape was my totem, my good luck token. If there is any proof to the concept of radiating energies, that tape is it. Whenever I was upset about something the mere act of holding it calmed me and helped me feel a little better (which was good for when I was at school because my natural instinct is to suck my thumb and I got picked on enough for eating paper). Mr. Bungle was my favorite band for a long time and while their first album isn’t my favorite of theirs, that cassette of their first album is as important and sentimental to me as my baby blanket and the Pound Puppy my uncle gave me when I was, like, three so I’d take my medicine so I could get well and be the flower girl at his wedding.
So what is my point? What was I talking about?
Mr. Bungle. Right.
I relistened to California today for the first time in years. I’ve listened to Disco Volante a few times recently and I’m working on a top thirteen favorite albums list for a friend of mine and I was really torn between Mr. Bungle’s last two albums to include on the list. I figured since Disco Volante had gotten a few recent listens I should give California another spin so they’d both be fresh in my mind and I could make a more honest decision.
And about two bars into Retrovertigo I completely broke down. I think based on that song alone, California’s going to have to be the one on the list. Retrovertigo is one of those songs that I put on every mixtape I made for anybody for at least two years. I don’t necessarily know what the lyrics are “supposed” to mean but I know what they mean to me and that song was so incredibly important and moving to me. It got me through tough stuff just as much as thumbsucking and cassette fondling did.
I miss Mr. Bungle. I wish could have seen them live. They are still one of my absolute favorite bands and lately I feel like their music is completely new to me again.



Be seeing you.
-Sally

Self-Claustrophobia (AKA Sally Gets Existential)

I thought of this sentence and almost posted it as a status on Facebook:
"I can run away forever but I'll still always be me."
It sounded way too much like the opening line of a poem by a whiny fifteen year old. So I didn't post it but that genuinely is how I feel.
It's a claustrophobic feeling; the world is huge but I'm trapped in myself; I can't escape this body or (to take it to an even smaller space) my own brain. I'll never get to see everything because I'll always be stuck in my own head.
And you'll always be stuck in your own head.
We're all trapped forever in tiny people-shaped capsules.
Why doesn't that constantly freak out everybody?!? I'm already claustrophobic; being stuck in the small space that is my body does not help.
Hell, even if I could go see the world, I'd still only see it from my point of view. I can't go off and visit, like, Scotland and then decide to take someone else's trip to Scotland, too.
Even if I travel to every country in the world, I'd only do the things it would occur to me to do. Other people visiting foreign countries would have different ideas and different experiences that are just as awesome as whatever I decided to do.
Even if I went with people, we all interpret things our own way. I could go to Scotland with a friend, we could spend the whole trip together and do all the same things, and we'd still each come away with a different experience.
The mere act of existing guarantees you're going to miss out on most of what the world has to offer. That really bothers me.

Be seeing you.
-Sally

Occupying My Time 'Til I Have To Pick Jim Up From The Airport

You know those nasty conversation hearts that people give each other on Valentine's Day because nobody wants to admit that they're not disgusting? ("These candies are chalky and unpleasant!") Well, they've started making a chocolate version. I can't imagine they'll last long because, frankly, speaking as someone who loves chocolate, that's disgusting. I did, however, buy a box, mainly to glue the empty box in a scrapbook to prove to future generations that they did exist.
And, because I have nothing else to do, I am going to list what each heart in the box says before I (most likely) throw them all out without eating a single one. Here goes:

Ask Me
Baby Doll
Cutie Pie
Dream Big
Dream Big
Hey Babe
High Five
High Five
High Five
Hug Me
Let's Kiss
LOML (what the friggedy fuck does that mean?!?)
Love Bug
Love Her
Love Her
Love Him
Love Him
Love Him
Love Me
Love Me
Marry Me (wait, aren't these candies for, like, elementary school kids?)
Miss You
Say Yes
Smile
Soul Mate
Text Me
Text Me
U R A Star

Just ate one. Yep, they're nasty.
And yet, I'm now eating another one. Not because I wanted to but because I'm trying really hard to find a chocolate flavor in there. Other than being beige colored, there's nothing about them that really implicates that they're made of chocolate.
I was planning on watching a movie tonight but I have to pick my friend up from the airport at eleven so I don't think that's going to happen.
It's looking like tomorrow my sister in law's going to shave my head when she gets home from work tomorrow. I'm pretty excited. I bought some wigs in case I hate how it looks. I'm mainly doing it out of curiosity; if I don't ever shave my head I'll always wonder what I'd look like with a shaved head. So I may as well give it a try. Especially now, while I'm still technically in my twenties.
A friend of mine turned thirty on Sunday. I'll be turning thirty in July. I kind of want to throw myself a party but I've never had a party so I don't really know how to throw myself a party. Sigh.
I need to rearrange my room because I'm planning on buying a used elliptical this weekend and I need room to put it. I might have to get rid of my comfy chair. Which would be a total bummer. I love this chair. So hopefully I can figure this all out and keep all my chairs and beds and bookcases and still make room for my new exercise machine.
I actually really love ellipticals. They're fun. I figure if I have one in my room I can do it while I'm watching movies and that way my fat ass'll get some exercise while I'm being a couch potato.
I'm watching volume four of Animaniacs and the episode that's on right now, One Flew Over The Cuckoo Clock, is pretty freaking depressing. It'd better have a happy ending (or, you know, any humor at all) or I'm going to be really mad.
While I am thrilled that they finally released the final volume on Animaniacs, I'd really like to know why they didn't include the one hour finale episode, Star Warners.
I wish it wasn't an awkward time of night to be rearranging one's room. If nobody else lived in this wing of the house, I'd do it anyway but, like I said, I have to leave soon and I also have young nieces sleeping in the room next door. The sound of moving furniture around might bother them.
What is with me lately? I've been, like, little miss fresh start. I'm trying to change my eating habits, I'm going to buy a piece of heavy duty exercise equipment, I want to shave my head... Maybe the fact that I'm going to turn thirty this year is freaking me out more than I ever thought it would. I always figured getting older wasn't a big deal but maybe on a subconscious level it's messing with my head. If you had asked me ten years ago, I would probably have claimed I'd never I own anything like an elliptical 'cause ... I don't know. 'Cause some reason I would have made up.
By the way, that Animaniacs episode did have a happy ending. And now I'm watching an episode where Dot just went into an angrish rant filled with bleeps. Animaniacs is fucking awesome.
Oh yeah, is anybody else completely stoked that Whose Line Is It Anyway? is coming back?
Okay, this has got to be boring to read. So I'm gonna go. Bye.


Be seeing you.
-Sally

Why I Am Not Looking Forward To The Evil Dead Remake

The Evil Dead is one of my favorite movies and I am very much of the opinion that imperfect movies can be remade ‘til the cows come home but movies of a certain calibre or ones that are just well respected enough should be left to stand on their own. (I do like the Rob Zombie Halloween remake but my life would be just as full without it.)
So needless to say I was skeptical of an Evil Dead remake to begin with. The idea of making the lead a female is, to me, stupid (oooh, a slasher movie with a female protagonist, that’s never been done) and apparently she’s an alcoholic who went out to the woods to sober up or something? I don’t know, it’s not sitting well with me.
Worse than that, it was written (or co-written, I guess) by Diablo Cody. (very large, calming breath so I don’t scream) I hate Diablo Cody. I am basing that solely on Juno, since it’s the only one of her movies I’ve ever seen, but that was enough to make me despise her for life. That movie’s entire script was one long, whiny, desperate plea for people to think she’s cool (“Look, I name dropped the Melvins! I’ve heard of mildly obscure bands! Please like me!”); it may as well have been written by a fourteen year old girl who pretends to listen to punk music because the dude she has a crush on owns a Ramones shirt.
I loathe this woman and she’s been put in charge of a large aspect of the remake of a movie that I felt should not have been remade in the first place. So it started with points against it before it was even cast.
I kept telling myself I’d give it a chance but I have something a lot of other people have, which I’ve always described as “reactiveness” because I don’t know what else to call it. Basically, the more hype or promotion or even word-of-mouth-good-things I hear about a thing, the less I want to hear or see or know anything about that thing. I think humans just have a natural desire to discover stuff for themselves. (The problem is, then they want to share and that causes the people around them to get reactive and not want to be shared with.)
If I had stumbled upon a trailer for the Evil Dead remake on my own, on accident, it might be a different story. But I heard about it well before it started filming and now people all over the internet are posting and talking about the trailer (and making little GIFs of gory special effects shots; where are they even getting those?) and every time I run across one of these things it just makes me more and more angry and skeptical.
Yeah, I admit the makeup they did on New Cheryl looks pretty badass but that’s not enough. My grasp on “I’ll give it a fair chance” was already tenuous thanks to their choice in screenwriter and it slips away more and more each time I run across another post about the movie.
Also, based on the trailer, the only things they really kept from the original are the tree rape (which I’ve read Sam Raimi wishes, in retrospect, that he did not include) and Linda’s “we’re gonna get you” chant (which always annoyed me more than anything else). Things are not looking up.
I sincerely hope I can go into that theater with an open mind and a willingness to accept the Evil Dead remake for what it is. Too bad most things I hope for never actually happen.

Be seeing you.
-Sally

I Have A New Favorite Picture

And here it is:

Mike Patton and Trevor Dunn are not wearing shirts.
Thanks, Tomahawk's Facebook page!!

Be seeing you.
Sally