Thursday, July 26, 2001

chris farley and phil hartman...

Another day where I can pound out 2 entries in one day. I'm still waiting for the QA report, my boss left to go see Bon Jovi in concert (a 38 year old woman. She should be ashamed of herself. Bon Fucking Jovi? I mean really). I tried not to laugh in her face.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Phil Hartman and Chris Farley. While Doug and Jessie were away, E! Network ran their "True Hollywood Story" segments on both of them, back to back. I've never cried harder.

Chris Farley just breaks my heart. His face, his voice, his laugh... how he took everything way too far. And his brother's eulogy at the end of the show totally killed me. He took "the Clown's Prayer," which I guess someone wrote a long time ago for clowns, and turned it so that every sentence was about Chris

A Clown's Prayer

As I stumble through this life,
help me to create more laughter than tears,
dispense more happiness than gloom,
spread more cheer than despair.

Never let me become so indifferent,
that I fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a child,
or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.

Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people,
make them happy,
and to forget,
at least momentarily,
all the unhappiness in their lives.

And in my final moment, may I hear You whisper,
"When you made my people smile,
You made me smile."
--Author Unknown

This is so appropriate for him. I sure do hope that God welcomed him into heaven even though he had issues. He struggled so hard with his problems, and tried so hard through his deeds and community service to make up for his sins. Sigh.

And Phil Hartman. What the fuck. I hate his stupid wife. I am so sad for their children.

I love Phil's voice and every single time I watch the Simpsons (which is twice a day at least) and he's on, I tear up. My husband started watching "News Radio" recently, and I just don't know why I never got into it the first time through on NBC, but not when I watch the show it is so bittersweet for me, and I can't help but love it. I'm glad there are little bits of Phil around.

I love when I'm listening to radio commercials and someone is doing their best Phil Hartman. Without any sense of Irony, Sarcasm... it's just damn funny.

I love the picture up in the corner, because Hartman played the the welldressed, smarmy white-class elitist, and Farley the lout, bungler, poorly dressed buffoon so well... that this picture just sort of has them both in their element. I loved Matt Foley sketches, where Farley would rant about the Van Down By The RIVER! and break stuff falling around.

A lot of people contend there is a curse on the SNL cast, what with Belushi, Radner, Farley, and Hartman all being dead in 20 years... but I think that celebrity just leads to certain events. Gilda Radner got cancer, which happens, and so did Julia Sweeney but she survived simply by the benefit of having it 10 years after Radner did when treatment was more advanced. Drug addictions and the problems around them kill a lot of people, not just celebrities, and what happened to the Hartman family is just a complete tragedy and should never have happened. I don't think there's any sort of curse... unless you count Chevy Chase's continued existence as part of it.

I don't watch too much SNL anymore. I love Will Farrell and some of the stuff he does. He's got the greatest faces and is just so funny. But I don't know if his career would ever move to leading man status, the way Mike Meyers and Adam Sandler have of late. I think Adam Sandler is so funny too. But all of them put together can never be as funny in my book as Farley and Hartman. And even though it has been a few years since we lost both of them, they actually cross my mind on an almost daily basis. And I never even knew these guys.

But they sure made me laugh.

Wednesday, July 25, 2001

the Tao of Steve

Last night's rental was a surprise. I thought Doug would go to the store and rent "Gladiator," seeing as he did want to see it and I did screw up and rent that horrid Malcolm McDowell gardening flick... instead, he brought home:

"The Tao of Steve," starring Donal Logue of "Grounded for Life" fame.

What a funny, cute and painfully sweet movie this is. Dex (D. Logue) used to be a stud muffin in college, now he is a part time kindergarten teacher who hits the bong, drinks beer and plays frisbee golf and poker in his free time with his buddies. By applying three principles of the "tao" of "Steve," (1. do not desire, 2. do something excellent in her presence, 3. retreat, because we chase that which retreats from us) he can get any woman he wants.

Or can he?

'The Tao of Steve' won Mr. Logue a jury prize for outstanding performance at the Sundance Film Festival last year... he's been a busy guy, starring in a bunch of movies in this past year alone ('The Patriot,' 'Million Dollar Hotel,' and 'Steal this Movie') and it looks like he'll have an interesting career.

I liked this movie for a lot of reasons... I liked how it made fun of the womanizing philosophy major type who could talk his way into the pants of any girl (I was never one of those girls but I sure knew a couple in college). I liked the "wannabe" Steve friend that he gives advice to, who wants to be as cool, if not cooler, than Dex. And I liked the perspective of how shitty and lonely his life really is, 10 years out of college and still behaving like he has to act this way to get anywhere with women.

And I liked his "excellent" behavior with the kids in the kindergarten, because it seemed that even when no one but the movie viewer was watching, that was when he was most honest and beautiful. I found him to be sweet and kind and wonderful, and I am sad that most men can't really be that kind of honest when someone is watching them.

I worry about recommending this movie to any of my single male friends though. I am afraid they will misconstrue that I am saying they are like this Dex guy. Most of my single friends, male or female, are single because they had a good long relationship that just kind of went bad, or there were committment issues... or some other distraction got in the way like drugs or something. Perhaps a little of Dex is in everyone who makes it to their early to mid 30s and is still running around scoopin' up bed partners, but there is hope.

So if you are one of my single male friends, even if you have a girlfriend, you can see this movie with my recommendation and my honest assessment that no, you aren't really like Dex. You are like you. Whatever the hell that means.

Gotta get to work. I've spent about 2 hours goofing off, waiting for an email report from the QA group on the new portal design that we are supposed to be rolling out. I have some editing work on the other project which I can work on while I wait for Mike's report. Sigh. I wish I could spend all my time researching movies and surfing the web, and writing about it.

I love the IMDB (Internet Movie Database). You can get lost in there. You can play your own Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon by playing in there. I wonder how long it takes to connect Donal Logue to Kevin Bacon? Hmmmmmm..... I think that's a project for my buddy clayton. You'd have to go through Mel Gibson (the Patriot), and from there something has to lead to Tombstone!

Tuesday, July 24, 2001

make it a blockbuster night...

We enrolled in the Blockbuster Video 30 movies in 30 days for 30 bucks program. Doug figures with the summer free, he can watch 30 movies. So far, so good. We have rented, with my Roger Ebertesque comments:

1. 102 Dalmatians: Unwatchable. My kids asked to fast forward over some of the parts of the film that were SO stupid and boring that they felt their brains were going to rot out of their heads. Once I realized one of my all time favorite people, Eric Idle, had been reduced to being the voice of the retarded, stupid, annoying parrot who thinks he's a dog, I gave up watching. Oh, how the funny have fallen.

2. The Cell: Doug watched it, I didn't... I fell asleep. He said about 20 minutes of it were some of the best cinematography he'd ever seen. Jennifer Lopez keeps her clothing on... but there's a nice shot of her ass as she's bending into the fridge to get a snack. Those were the highlights for him. I am sure he has a more intellectual angle and synopsis of the film, but didn't offer it to me.

3. Legend of the Drunken Master: I like Jackie Chan flicks. I think he's funny, and always has a lot of good action... even when the plot is ridiculous. Well, here's a ridiculous plot, and a ridiculous cast, and Jackie in the middle of them all. The movie goes a long way to establish the family relationships, and show what Drunken Boxing is... Jackie gets in a shitload of trouble from his dad for doing the forbidden martial art, but in the end, it is his forbidden martial art that saves the day! Hurrah! The first 20 minutes are boring as all get out. The film doesn't pick up much more from there, but there are two amazing fight scenes... one where he and the master are fighting "the Axe Gang," which is a hoard of 200 axe-wielding maniacs out to kill them. Of course, Jackie wins, but the master ends up getting shot by the head of the bad guys who hired the axe gang. And then he fights the two lead bad guys... eventually winning, but it's some good choreography and fighting. Jackie saves the day! I wouldn't recommend this movie to anyone per se, but if it was all you had, you'd want to watch it more than 102 Dalmatians.

4. Billy Elliot: Aside from the fact that watching any English movie is like watching a Shakespearean play where it takes about 20 minutes to get used to the accent and figure out what the hell they're talking about, this was a damn fine little movie. Happy ending, sad plot... more domestic violence than I've ever seen in a movie since "Mommie Dearest." The lead character has one of the best lines: "Just because I like the Bally (ballet) doesn't mean I'm a Poof." I enjoyed it greatly.

5. Snatch: Damn fine fucking movie. Again, the whole british accent thing is a tad troublesome, and the ones I can barely understand can't understand the gypsies (pikers), the chief character of which is Brad Pitt, who does a nice job of being one sneaky bastard. I enjoyed how the plot just twisted around itself, and things collided and got messy... Guy Ritchie directed/wrote this, as also he did "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrells," and I am really liking this guy's work. The stuff he does with the camera (card scene in "Lock, Stock" and the diamond vault invasion scene, boxing scenes in "Snatch") are so cool. He's a talented writer and director. Can't wait to see what he does next. Highly recommend this movie.

6. Garden of Evil: (aka: the Evil Gardener). This was an accident. I wanted Gladiator, and so I reached for the box behind the sample picture box and pulled a video out without checking to see what it was... it wasn't Gladiator. I had gone to bed, feeling wiped from the day, so Doug popped the flick in, and was shocked. He said it was one of the worst movies ever. Malcolm McDowell is chasing people around trying to kill them and plant them in his garden. And there is a police chief who is like the chief on "McBain" on the Simpsons, only he isn't the least bit ironic... which made him horribly funny. Doug fast forwarded over a lot of the film and was grumpy with me for not checking to see which film I was picking up. But hey, I made a one dollar mistake... not a $4000 mistake! Ha! Get over it. I'll rent Gladiator for him tonight.

baby shower

This weekend, my friend Bonnie's family threw a baby shower for her. She's expecting her first baby in about 3 weeks. It was a surprise, and Bonnie was truly surprised... her mom and sisters and other family folk put out a tasty spread of finger foods and secret recipe meatballs (frozen meatballs, 1 jar of grape jelly, 1 jar of heinz chili sauce... heat up. serve) and she opened presents.

Now, I love presents. I love watching people open presents. I love the expressions on their faces when they get something so wonderful that it breaks their heart into pieces. I love the expressions when they get something that is a little out of whack with their personal sensibilities. Bonnie didn't get anything that offended her personal inner style and outward expressions of such that will be represented on her baby. Nope. She got heaps of amazingly wonderful and useful stuff, including sensitive skin baby wash items from family members in the know (she and Duncan both have very sensitive skin... hence baby will most likely be similarly afflicted).

I went shopping the day before the shower. I wanted to go to this really nice outlet store called Mia Bambini in Lawrence, but Lo and Behold, they were closed for vacation. That's okay. When the baby is born and we know if it is a boy or girl, THAT'S when I'll go back there and get something really pretty/handsome and special. So I went to Gap Kids, and in the way back of the store they have a baby section, and 80% of the baby items are always marked down... so I got four ensembles/rompers, and 3 toys, and the toys matched the clothes. And I looked like I knew how to fucking SHOP baby! Yeah!

The clothes were so cute, that while I was shopping I actually stood there and like cried... I had to wipe tears away a couple times just so I could see what size the clothes were. Tiny baby clothes always make me schmoopy. And I wasn't the only one... there was another woman there shopping who kept doing the same thing. The sisterhood of schmoopy layette shoppers.

I'm psyched to see this baby in the cool clothes he/she got. Bonnie's brother in law's mom (got that? her sister's mother in law) knitted a beautiful sweater/bonnet set for the baby. This is a nice, tight family. Good people. Wonderful taste. Lovely friends.

I had a blast and stayed about an hour longer than I had anticipated. One of the funny things I like about being around Bonnie is she instantly gets me goofy. She gave me a tour of her parent's house, which they've been redoing (understatement) and we went upstairs to the bathroom, and were making fun of her mom's shower cap. So we started modelling it, and acting ridiculous, giggling wickedly and being... like 10 year olds. It was fun. I made her get in the bathtub, all hugely preggo, and put the shower cap on and model for me. I can't wait to post THAT picture on the internet! ha ha ha.

Seriously, I enjoy the time I get to spend with her, and regret a lot that we don't get together as often. But I am glad to know she's there... glad to know her family. Just glad. Makes me all squishy inside.

Like looking at baby clothes.

Thursday, July 19, 2001

In God's Country

In God's Country

"Desert Sky, dream beneath a desert sky
The rivers run but soon run dry
we need new dreams tonight
Desert rose, dreamed I saw a desert rose
Dress torn in ribbons and in bows
Like a siren she calls to me
Sleep comes like a drug in God's country
Sad eyes, crooked crosses in God's country"

The entire time I was riding in the car in the southwest I was kicking myself for not having a copy of "The Joshua Tree" in the car with us. I remember when the album came out, it instantly made me want to visit the southwest, songs like Red Hill Mining Town, In God's Country, Bullet in the Blue Sky... all of them had this ethereal quality that only U2 could bring to life in the southwest... as seen by Irish men in a bus on tour.

I love the pictures in the album art of them standing around the lone sad scragglyassed Joshua Tree... The one that has all four of them in the forefront always makes me smile. I have the cd at my desk, and the album insert is open to that centerfold picture. I wanted horribly to recreate the shot with my family. I know how incredibly silly that sounds, but I was there... why the hell not. Doug wouldn't stop the car as we drove from Kingman to Phoenix (after our almost running out of gas in one of the most desolate stretches of highway, I can understand his desire to just get to where we were going). So I don't have that picture to show you for real. Here's what one can do though, with photoshop and a sick imagination. It isn't perfect, I just whipped it out.

One of the funniest things that happened on the trip was when Geoffrey was talking to Amy in the kitchen just prior to when we were leaving to go to the Grand Canyon. She asked him where he was going on his trip that day. He replied "To the DESERT!!!" with great enthusiasm. Amy answered "honey, you are already IN the desert!" So he corrected her... "No, we're going to the SUPER desert!" Amy laughed and said, "well I don't know where that is, but you have a good time." (we were in Scottsdale, so, yes, we were in the desert... but to Geoff it wasn't the SUPER desert. It was just a town. He was looking for "Tactus" and desolation... not Super Target stores and Applebees. Boy after my own heart).

The Super Desert, as we began to call it, started for us north of Phoenix... The Sprinkled with National and State Parks, soaring rock monuments... it is the super desert. Scottsdale's just the regular "normal" desert where cactus is lawn ornamentation for the masses. We spent a lot of time hiking in the Super Desert... the Canyons (Grand and Bryce) and Capitol Reef were simply some of the most astounding places I've ever laid my eyes on. One night in Kodachrome state park in Utah I sat and cried a bit looking at the moon on the rock walls of our little basin.

Capitol Reef area looks like it is God's sandbox. Seems to me that millions of years ago, he took a pail, made some sand castles, and then got called away to work on or worry over something else, leaving these castles alone, where slowly they've deteriorated, sand separating softly from the sides of the peaks, slithering down to the base leaving dramatic angles, ledges, peaks and slopes for us to see.

Sounds like a sappy inspirational poem. Funny thing is, as I'm imagining this being God's sandbox, just south and west of the Capitol Reef area is a place called the Devil's Rock Garden, which is rugged, scary and the land looks almost violent from what I saw in pictures (we missed the turn off, so I don't know if it is as demonic as the early settlers make it out to be). So good and evil, God and the devil, sit side by side even in geology.

I went out to get something from the car the first night we were in Torrey, Utah, and there was an older woman sitting on her deck chair outside her room. I said hi to her and she called me over to look at the moon with her. So, I went over, being the abnormally friendly person I am. I leaned against the post beside her and we both looked at the moon quietly. After what seemed to be a minute, perhaps less, I'm not sure, she turned her head and smiled at me, "have you ever seen a moon like that?"

There wasn't anything spectacular about the moon itself. I've seen some amazing moons. Red, orange, glowing moons. Moons coming up over the horizon in fall in New England are sometimes freakishly huge, and they look as if they are going to envelope the land. Those moons have been astounding.

This moon was indeed pretty. Bright, clear, unblocked by clouds, smog or any other celestial obstacle. Its brightness flooded out the light from all the nearby stars. And it shed light down onto huge red cliffs and wide stretches of green between them. I told her the moon was nice, but what it shined on was what made it look spectacular, extra special than it was by itself. She agreed, the whole package, not just the moon, was worth writing home about.

I told her that I'd seen some beautiful landscapes that week, seen my children soak up views they'd never seen, hiked until my legs crampped, and this moon was my reward. I told her I thought that God lived here and she smiled a great bright smile. I marveled about how small humans are when they talk about the Presence of God, how sometimes it is so painfully obvious to see Him, but othertimes He doesn't show himself to us unless we look really hard. Her eyes were kind of filled with tears, and I don't know if she was Mormon, or something else, but she told me she so strongly agreed, and even though she lives in Utah she often times misses noticing what He is showing her.

"I sound like a religious freak but I'm not," she said. "I needed to hear you say that."

"Thanks for asking me to look at the moon with you," I patted her on the shoulder and went back to my family in my hotel room and watched Monty Python on BBC America.

What I just wrote will seem trite and sappy to some, even to me. I'm not a religious zealot. I believe, and I am not afraid to share belief with others. I worry about offending people, but hey, it was a good moment. One that as a reader you can take or leave. My experience is what it was. And it was one of the nicest exchanges I've had with a stranger in a long time.

I'll remember her when I see the next big fat full heavy moon slipping across the sky. I was in God's country for a while. I'm glad He took the time to let me know He knew I was there.

Wednesday, July 18, 2001

Arizona wrap up

Things is been bizzy. Obviously we survived the trip to Arizona, and I could honestly write thousands of pages on that experience. Perhaps I will. I wanted to take a minute and just write down a couple of highlights from the past (almost) month.

Southwest airlines didn't give us the option to take a bump at all, so we won't be flying free anywhere anytime soon. Damn.

My son is a wild man. He was a total pain in the ass on the plane unless I was reading Shel Silverstein to him. Benadryl. Works wonders. I felt so guilty drugging him, but hey. It was a long assed flight.

My friend Amy and her husband Bob live in Scottsdale. Their house totally kicks ass. Great little yard. Super patio with these cool misty things that blow mist on you while you sit in the desert heat. They have white carpeting, which frightened me when I walked in the door. See, you can't have white anything around the Boy. But the carpet survived... We tested Bob's patience... I felt bad. Very bad.

I have issues with Scottsdale/Phoenix overall. No offense intended to Bob and Amy, who rule. I grew up somewhere that had a downtown. I live somewhere that has a downtown. I love towns that actually have center. Scottsdale and Phoenix and all the towns right around there have strip malls... and everything is just growing without stopping and expanding and sprawling further and further out from what probably used to be the center... Phoenix. I counted FOUR Target stores when we were driving around. I got confused because I was trying to find my way around and thought I was looking for one mini-mall (the Arcadia Mall) when it was actually called the Arcadia CENTER or something. Oh God. And what used to be the center of things is now rotten and decrepid, and falling apart... where the poor people now live. Once things sprawl to where they can't sprawl anymore, someone will turn to the middle and rebuild it, thus "gentrifying" it and putting out the poor... It is amazing.

I liked Flagstaff. If I had to live somewhere in Arizona, I'd live in Flagstaff. It had a really nice feel. Good town. Downtown still lives in Flagstaff.

As nice as Arizona was, Utah was unfuckingbelievable. I was overwhelmed with the size, scope, color and beauty of the place. I've got an entry just on that topic alone.

The canyons were gorgeous, we didn't go to Moab or Monument Valley, but we did go to Vegas, baby. We skipped Zion, just caught the back end of it at Kolob Canyon... It was my favorite color combination... dark dark green and rich deep reddish brown. Amazing.

My kids are troopers. Especially the boy. We hiked in some of the hottest conditions I've ever put myself in, and my son just stuck with it, never wilting. He was in his element.

I am jealous that I didn't get to see the whole country, that Doug and Jessica got to experience it, but that's okay... some other time. I'll plan on it.

And, my mom has a great sense of humor for putting up with my shit.

After we got back, we went to the wedding of the century. Our friend Christopher J. Kelly, whose prose I have extoled here elsewhere, married the lovely and talented ChrisAnn Terruso. The ceremony was fully head-on Catholic (ie, long) and both of them had a lot to deal with right up to the festivities because Chrissy's mom died unexpectedly right prior to the wedding. But they pulled it all off, celebrating Jeanne Terruso and their own lives, and I can't say I've ever been more surprised or happy for anyone than I am for Christopher.

See, Chris once bemoaned the invisible bubble that kept him a prisoner in the Beaver Valley. He would complain that Doug had escaped and was on the outside of the bubble, and he and the millions of lost souls left behind were working at Sunoco or Gabriels and rotting from within in personal hells from which no saviour could ever provide rescue. Well, he surprised us one day by enrolling in college in the Scranton (PA) area, and graduating as the star pupil and hero of the writing program. He won awards. Awards he deserved because he applied his clever rapier wit to academia and kicked its pretentious collective ass. He got a good job... he wrote witty and insightful columns. He won more awards.

Chris is a celebrity in Scranton. And while some people may laugh at him being in Scranton, hell... King in Scranton beats the shit out of being zombie in Beaver. And I am so honored to know him.

We stopped at a drugstore on the way to the wedding and bought wrapping paper for their gift. The clerk at the drugstore noted the wrapping paper style and said "Ah, a wedding. Is it today?"

"Yes it is sir, a wedding I'm happy to attend" I quipped.

"Is it in the church up the hill here?" he asked pointing up towards the Catholic church at the top of the lane... "Who's wedding is it?"

"ChrisAnn Terruso and Chris Kelly..." I said.

"Ah! I read his article this morning!" the clerk beamed... "Great stuff! Too bad about the circumstances though. I read Chris' column every week. He's a good kid. I wish him the best."

I didn't understand the comment about the circumstances though, and I found out shortly upon arrival about Chrissy's mom. But it was weird to know that the citizens of the Scranton Area knew more about my friend's wedding than I did. He is celebrity though... strangers wishing him the best. I love it.

I have to run. Dinner with the inlaws awaits. For as much action as we've seen away from home, we now have a string of guests at our home. So I'm outta here. More on the Southwest later.

Tuesday, July 10, 2001

my headaches are like...

I get migranes.

Not often, but when I get them I am completely screwed for a good 12 hours. I never got them before I had children... hmmmmmm, I wonder if there is a connection. Actually there is, but it has nothing to do with the fact Geoff takes all his clothing off and smears wispride spreadable cheese all over himself, or Jessica likes to give me lip. It's hormonal. It's part of life. My brain just doesn't like to accept what's happened to my body, my hormones, my existence.

I got one last night. It was over and done with by about 2 am. I got some well needed sleep, and my husband watched the kids. I feel much better now ("I'm not dead yet...")

But I'm not here to talk about my health. There are enough journals or blogs out there outlining someone's feelings about the fact they are "a woman" today and their hormones are racing. There is enough written about how it feels to be a victim of pain...

No. I'm here to talk about medication marketing. Today, that's my topic for musing.

There are some funny commercials out there these days that always give me a chuckle. We saw one last night for an osteoperosis medication... the very athletic female narrator is adamant that time isn't going to steal 25% of HER bone mass. "I have an ally who prescribed blah blah blah medicine for me..." your ally is otherwise known as your DOCTOR or OSTEOPATH. Ally my ass. Like you are engaged in a hand to hand jungle combat with an evil communist overlord and you need an "ally" by your side to help you out. It's a doctor. Who writes this shit? So I'm already laughing my ass off, and they show this woman doing yoga somewhere that looks like Sedona in foggy camera lens, with cool music, and then she and two other women are hugging... so they're bonding over yoga, being skinny, and osteoperosis defeat! Yay! Lesbians declaring victory over the desert and bone density problems! It almost brought me to tears... dying laughing.

Another great commercial is for headache medicine, I forget the brand but I want to slap the woman. She's on her comfy couch and she states "MY headaches are like..." then she kind of looks around for a quick second, searching, searching for that PERFECT little analogy of what headaches are like, and she squinches her nose a tad and says "a little thief..." who steals her time away.

A little thief?

More like a BIG thief named Rex or Slayer who escaped from the nearest mental institution and busts open your door, pins you down and pulls your eyes out of their sockets, or rapes you with a metal pipe. Or even reaches into your nostrils and pulls your brain out through your sinus cavity. Yeah. That's more what my little thief is like. Rex.

So she has her little headache medicine that takes things on and kicks ass. Then she lives happily ever after on her perky couch with her red hair and spunky nose. Drop dead lady.

There is a migrane medicine on the market that shows all these women standing around, looking like they just don't take ANYbody's shit, no matter what. The music makes them look even tougher. Yeah, come mess with us. We'll fuck your shit right up. Yeah, they kick migrane's ASS when the little thief darkens their cranial doorstep. You go girls! I'm with you so I'm running out and buying your medicine, if I can only remember what the name brand is.

All these headache commercials feature women, too. I guess that either women get the most headaches, or perhaps they buy the most medicine. Men just suck it up and suffer. Whatever the reason, I am sure that someone out there has done lots of medical and marketing research to back up the justification for having so many women in ads for headache medicine.

Recently there have been another totally different string of commercials for prescription medicines that I have no idea what they cure or combat. These mystery medicines show people enjoying life while happy music playse in the background. For the longest damn time I had no idea that Claratin or Allegra were allergy medicines. I thought they were to combat depression... the people looked so damn happy skipping through life, enjoying themselves... I really thought that the advertised pills were a new kind of Zoloft something.

And I love the string of disclaimers voiced over at the end of commercials. Picture man playing with his Golden Retriever in a field of beautiful green grass, and the woman says "side effects include dry mouth, irritible bowels, sexual dysfunction and comas. Women who are pregnant or nursing a baby should not take [name of drug], consult your doctor if you are considering having a baby. Patients with high blood pressure or internal bleeding should contact their family doctor should blurry vision occur, because this may be a sign of a very serious side effect."

Uh, which very serious side effect? Comas? Death? Sexual dysfunction? Why do they have to tell me in the commercial... why doesn't my DOCTOR, or ally as the case may be. Perhaps he isn't my ally after all! Perhaps he is out to get me and will hide the insidiously wicked truth about some medication from me just to do me in! Oh no! Thank you marketing agency! You saved me from taking a pill that may kill me!

My doctor, cough, my ALLY, perscribed something for my malady of migranes called Zomig. I've only had to take it about 4 times in the last year. He gave me a bunch of sample boxes, which got me through for a while without having to go get the prescription filled and the crap works pretty good. I finally got the prescription filled and have some here at the office, and the rest at home.

Last night, in the midst of the beginning of my migrane when I knew the regular Ibuprofen (however it is spelled...) I'd taken about 1/2 hour before just wasn't going to pass muster, I went into the bathroom to take some of the Zomig. I pushed the tiny little pill through the obscenely huge package and vacuum sealed foil wrap, and the stupid little thing shot through the air and across the room.

What the hell! Where'd it go! How did they get that much power into a little foil air pouch?

So i started crawling around looking for it. The floor is white. The pill, white. And minuscule. And I'm starting to feel like I'm going to vomit.

Screw it, I say. Get another pill.

So this time, I'm more careful... and what happens?

Again, the little round pill becomes a little round rocket, blasting from the mandibles of my personal Cape Kennedy out into orbit somewhere between constellation known as Sink and Planet Window.

Again, I'm on the floor crawling, looking. I'm not subscribing to the "third time is a charm" theory since there are only 12 of these in a friggin box. Lose one, shame on them; lose two, shame on me. I found it and took it and slinked off to bed.

I still have a headache. Not enough caffeine, not enough water? Too much Geoffrey, too many crazy hormones in my system. Whatever the cause... nudge me if I pass out, and should I not respond, please call 911.