This article is the beginning of my television reviewing career. After much deliberating over whether I am going to write this article - lots of info crammed into one episode - my desire to write it has won over.
I have rarely been disappointed with an episode of Bones which airs on Tuesdays on Fox and Global. The fall finale was no exception. Aside from ending the season a little early (writers' strike?), the Christmas themed final show had all the usual witty banter, interesting plot and funny flirtations we've come to expect and love. The Booth Bones kiss arrives albeit disguised as blackmail; and Bones finally gets to spend Christmas with her father and brother however crisis provoking.
The episode opens with a dead santa found by department store elves and the rest of the show has the Jeffersonian team trying to solve the crime of who killed Santa and speculating whether the dead body is the real Santa, because in true Bones spirit, all the evidence leads the squints to believe that he might be the real Santa: Jack finds touches of clay residue (Santa smokes a clay pipe), Cam discovers his legal name to be Christopher Kringle.
Bones and Booth discuss the Santa myth in both anthropological and sentimental ways while following their leads which lead them first to a toy store which has Booth very excited and squealing with delight; the scene is very festive and counterbalances their cynicism which has cut into Booth's usual belief in Christmas (Rebecca, his ex-wife, has Parker for the holiday), and
Bones's father and brother are in jail - she usually goes somewhere with lots of new skeletons, this year it's supposed to be Peru to examine a new pyramid.
Meanwhile, Tempe's dad wants them all to spend Christmas together which provokes a bit of a crisis for Bones and a challenge. But a solution is found: ask Caroline if she can arrange a conjugal visit trailor for them. She will on one condition: Bones and Booth have to kiss under the mistletoe. Why? Bones asks. Because it will amuse me, Caroline replies. Because I am feeling puckish, she continues. It was amusing. We've been waiting for this kiss and the writers came up with a way to make them kiss without killing the romantic suspence just yet - we still have questions whether these two are going to get together - although it is clear they care for each other. Naturally, they act awkward after the smooch - all, I've got this to do, I've got that to do.
The evidence leads them to a Santa temp agency where they must dust the Santas' bells and sniff their butts which leads Booth to declare that it is officially the worst Christmas ever. A bad Santa is apprehended and is surrounded by a gang of jolly men ominously singing Santa Claus is Coming To Town.
Parker finds his way to the FBI and Booth gets to spend Christmas with him and Bones spends it with her family in the trailor. Parker and Booth light up a tree for her outside the trailor.
It ends with them smiling at each other.
Tis the season!
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
aromatwitch
I didn't sleep very well after my vandal sandal episode. I woke several times with inexplicable twitching. My thumb seem to take the brunt of it.
I descended to find a group of people in our living room. We never had people, unless it was family over the holidays.
"Who are these people," I asked my mother in the kitchen while she was preparing coffee.
"They're neighbors and were meeting to discuss the rat problem."
" Are we expecting Joe Pesci?" I always expected I might find myself in a kind of sting situation. In fact, my eyes were stinging and burning all night.
"Whose Joe Pesci?"
"Never mind"
"We're organizing a petition to bring to the mayor about the rats at the corner bus stop," she said.
"What happened to my mother? Bring her back," I said.
"Can you vacuum when we leave; we're off canvassing after our meeting," she said stoked.
An hour later they left. I pulled out the vacuum. The crutchess was on her way over. After about a minute of vacuuming, it was like shop and awe all over again. Paranoia led me to layer myself: first with a scarf, then a winter hat, then a ski mask, and finally gloves. I continued vacuuming.
The doorbell rang. It was the Crutchess.
"Were they out of burqas at the mall? she asked.
I pulled off the mask.
"What's with the marks on your face; you look like a linebacker," she added.
I hadn't noticed them. But then I took a look in the mirror.
I could be playing for the Grey Cup.
I told the Crutchess all about shop and awe.
I descended to find a group of people in our living room. We never had people, unless it was family over the holidays.
"Who are these people," I asked my mother in the kitchen while she was preparing coffee.
"They're neighbors and were meeting to discuss the rat problem."
" Are we expecting Joe Pesci?" I always expected I might find myself in a kind of sting situation. In fact, my eyes were stinging and burning all night.
"Whose Joe Pesci?"
"Never mind"
"We're organizing a petition to bring to the mayor about the rats at the corner bus stop," she said.
"What happened to my mother? Bring her back," I said.
"Can you vacuum when we leave; we're off canvassing after our meeting," she said stoked.
An hour later they left. I pulled out the vacuum. The crutchess was on her way over. After about a minute of vacuuming, it was like shop and awe all over again. Paranoia led me to layer myself: first with a scarf, then a winter hat, then a ski mask, and finally gloves. I continued vacuuming.
The doorbell rang. It was the Crutchess.
"Were they out of burqas at the mall? she asked.
I pulled off the mask.
"What's with the marks on your face; you look like a linebacker," she added.
I hadn't noticed them. But then I took a look in the mirror.
I could be playing for the Grey Cup.
I told the Crutchess all about shop and awe.
It triggers me
These are the things that trigger me. PMS. That is a monthly trigger manifesting itself in human carnage. I once threw a phone - well almost threw a phone. I only hope there is no one around with a taser when I get triggered. Menopause also triggers me - well hearing about it triggers me. Find another topic. American thanksgiving triggers me - not for the reasons you might assume - it triggers me because I should be celebrating it. We have our own, in October, but it doesn't really count. It's my holiday too Americans! Don't you forget that! Computers that freeze trigger me, especially when you're on a roll and getting ready to publish something! Line ups trigger me. People who ask questions during movies or TV trigger me. That triggers a lot of people (like Woody Allen); but not my mother, since she is usually the one asking the questions... and on and on...it triggers me.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Do the tight thing
Letter to management:
Why are there only white people on your bag? A brown person invented the garment you are selling. Why are there only white women modelling your tights in your brochure? Haven't you seen Do The Right Thing? Don't you watch CNN?
Do the tight thing! Do the tight thing!
100% Pinkgrapefruit
Why are there only white people on your bag? A brown person invented the garment you are selling. Why are there only white women modelling your tights in your brochure? Haven't you seen Do The Right Thing? Don't you watch CNN?
Do the tight thing! Do the tight thing!
100% Pinkgrapefruit
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Sandalism - Part deux
The sales clerk, whose name was Eloise, wanted me to write for her in exchange for shoes. Her boss had asked her to write up a new shipment for the web and she told her she could; if she didn't her boss would find someone else for the job. And she really needed this job seeing as she was new in town and didn't have too many options. She failed to mention to her boss that she was dyslexic. I was happy to oblige but i told her I was no Tolstoy.
I wanted my loot so she let me first try on several pair of shoes including a pair of faux hush puppies that i absolutely loved. But they didn't have my size, as usual. I wore a whopping size 11. "Tabarnouche" i said. "I can't squeeze into these tens".
"Is that blood on your toe?" she asked.
"Darn, what a gaffe. " I was prone to blisters and using French words these days.
She ignored it and looked away. Great i thought, i kept trying on shoes and sandals.
When i was done she took me to the back room and showed me a stack, handed me a laptop and then left the room. I started opening the boxes, but evertime i opened one, a not so pleasant odour emanated. The odour kept getting stronger. I opened more of them to see if they were all like that. Indeed, further into the stack, fireworks were lighting up the room. My eyes could only see red and green for a few seconds after about the ninth pair. This was probably why she was dyslexic.
I went out to grab Eloise. She was chatting with someone.
"Have you opened any of those boxes, it's like shop and awe back there" i said.
She looked at me inquisitively.
I looked down at her hand, she was holding a cocktail. "Is that a cosmopolitan?" I asked.
"Yes, tabarnouche", she said and burped.
" I can't finish the job," I said.
"You have to if you want the shoes".
"I don't want them", i lied.
"You have to pay for them because they have blood on them", she said.
Damn blisters. I really should carry band-aids with me. I went back and finished the job.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
I wanted my loot so she let me first try on several pair of shoes including a pair of faux hush puppies that i absolutely loved. But they didn't have my size, as usual. I wore a whopping size 11. "Tabarnouche" i said. "I can't squeeze into these tens".
"Is that blood on your toe?" she asked.
"Darn, what a gaffe. " I was prone to blisters and using French words these days.
She ignored it and looked away. Great i thought, i kept trying on shoes and sandals.
When i was done she took me to the back room and showed me a stack, handed me a laptop and then left the room. I started opening the boxes, but evertime i opened one, a not so pleasant odour emanated. The odour kept getting stronger. I opened more of them to see if they were all like that. Indeed, further into the stack, fireworks were lighting up the room. My eyes could only see red and green for a few seconds after about the ninth pair. This was probably why she was dyslexic.
I went out to grab Eloise. She was chatting with someone.
"Have you opened any of those boxes, it's like shop and awe back there" i said.
She looked at me inquisitively.
I looked down at her hand, she was holding a cocktail. "Is that a cosmopolitan?" I asked.
"Yes, tabarnouche", she said and burped.
" I can't finish the job," I said.
"You have to if you want the shoes".
"I don't want them", i lied.
"You have to pay for them because they have blood on them", she said.
Damn blisters. I really should carry band-aids with me. I went back and finished the job.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Lemon-aid
Lemon - aid: turning poison into medicine. Trying to benefit off our gaffes.
Being reminded that we have messed up time and time again is never a bowl of cherries. It's more like coming home and finding your mother has set out a dinner mat with a lemon printed on it. Or the friend you've failed handing you a glass of lemonade everytime you go over and visit with her. Or the bartender who knows everything about your gaffes (what bartender doesn't?) and keeps asking if you want your drinks with a twist of lemon or the party you attend only to have one of the guests keep pointing to the lemon pie or the other guest who talks about the lemon of a used car he just bought. It's like living in a scene from Desperate Housewives. Simply replace menopause and deviled eggs with gaffes and lemons and a whole new scene is born.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
Being reminded that we have messed up time and time again is never a bowl of cherries. It's more like coming home and finding your mother has set out a dinner mat with a lemon printed on it. Or the friend you've failed handing you a glass of lemonade everytime you go over and visit with her. Or the bartender who knows everything about your gaffes (what bartender doesn't?) and keeps asking if you want your drinks with a twist of lemon or the party you attend only to have one of the guests keep pointing to the lemon pie or the other guest who talks about the lemon of a used car he just bought. It's like living in a scene from Desperate Housewives. Simply replace menopause and deviled eggs with gaffes and lemons and a whole new scene is born.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
The train has left the station
We so often hear the expression the train has left the station. I so often think of the expression the train has left the station as I did this morning trying to catch the train for a job interview. It had indeed left without me on it making me late for the interview. Maybe that would explain why I didn't get the job or i kept hearing the receptionist outside the office where i was being interviewed hiss under her breath " Sid Vicious".
Or, Maybe it was because I kept calling it a company after she told me "it's a cooperative, not a company. "
It might have been because i kept calling her a manager after she told me she was a partner.
Whatever it was, the train had left the station.
Catching the train is not always so easy.
And when you do finally catch it, make sure you're going in the right direction as i did not do when I hopped on the wrong metro. Must get out at next station and get back on the one going in the other direction to make job interview no 2.
My favorite question in a job interview is always 1) How do you deal with stress? and 2) How do you feel working for 10 $ or 8$ an hour or however much they are offering.
No 1) the answer is simple: valium - I never actually say this
no 2) I don't like it much but what can you do? (I never say this either) I usually then start to act out like a 6 year old.
There are things we often don't say to each other's faces. In my case, it is the train has left the station.
Job interview no 3 involved a questionnaire. It needed an overhaul.
I'm still looking for a job.
The train has left the station.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
Or, Maybe it was because I kept calling it a company after she told me "it's a cooperative, not a company. "
It might have been because i kept calling her a manager after she told me she was a partner.
Whatever it was, the train had left the station.
Catching the train is not always so easy.
And when you do finally catch it, make sure you're going in the right direction as i did not do when I hopped on the wrong metro. Must get out at next station and get back on the one going in the other direction to make job interview no 2.
My favorite question in a job interview is always 1) How do you deal with stress? and 2) How do you feel working for 10 $ or 8$ an hour or however much they are offering.
No 1) the answer is simple: valium - I never actually say this
no 2) I don't like it much but what can you do? (I never say this either) I usually then start to act out like a 6 year old.
There are things we often don't say to each other's faces. In my case, it is the train has left the station.
Job interview no 3 involved a questionnaire. It needed an overhaul.
I'm still looking for a job.
The train has left the station.
Pinkgrapefruit
100% funscientious
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