So yeah. I haven't ridden a bike in literally decades. Like, so long, that I can't even really remember the last time I rode one.
But when two 12-year-old girlfriends said, "Let's go ride bikes around the neighborhood, Joy!", what's a girl to do? So we rode bikes into town...where we promptly got chastised for lack of helmets. Oops. (No worries, we got helmets for the kids.)
And when the one 12-year-old said, "Joy! Jump off the diving board with me!"
Of course, I couldn't say no. I mean, it was a herculean feat to actually get me to a pool...much less a town one, at that. So, there I went, diving off the boards, without regard to actual diving form - which, believe it or not, I used to have. (Didn't say it was good.)
Now anyone who knows me, even just a little bit, knows I'd rather be sitting in front of the tv or computer, rather bike-riding or swimming. Still, it was a superterrifically fun day, pretending I was 12 again, with both the 12-year-old and her mom, gossiping about boys and secret obsessions.
And, since it was a day spent in Jersey, I figured this magnet ending with Ol' Blue Eyes was perfect for the odd duck occasion.
The last time I was in Germany, there were two of them. That's right. That's how old I am.
Eventually I must go back...to see the other side of the non-Iron Curtain, specifically Berlin and Dresden for their architecture, plus a couple of other towns.
As high schoolers running rampant, we certainly had a blast in West Germany, learning how to eat schnitzel (which I loved) and learning how to say shit in Germany, (scheiße, which I also loved saying, much to the boy's utter dismay), and learning about how one shouldn't just plug in hair appliances into wrong electrical sockets...or one doesn't get to do one's hair due to melting appliances (which I did not love).
Oops.
I haven't figured out how my friend living in Singapore got me a magnet from Germany, but really, who cares - what a cool magnet from Germany! Thanks!
Come the fall, I've a feeling no one's going to see me - I overscheduled myself, so that I'd keep busy doing fun things in NY, including this architecture survey course starting in October. Should be great fun, and I totally can't wait.
It's a class that speaks to how we experience architecture, and it covers all the great masters. I was a little worried about being out of my depth, but at the very least, I recognized all but one or two architects listed on the description, so I think I'm good.
Of course, now that I'll have some sort of actual knowledge, I might be a little dangerous on the blogging about architecture front.
This Degas signature is the first in a set of about 33 artists signature magnets. I know. Wait til you see tomorrow's 63 magnets set.
Anyway, I picked this for today because I finally finished watching the BBC'sDesperate Romantics, all about the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood of Millais, Hunt and Rossetti, and a few others, artists who banded together back in 1840s England. I could bore you with all the details of what they painted, and what they stood for, but that would defeat the purpose of watching this six-part miniseries.
The six-part miniseries that I thought DCSis had watched and liked, and therefore I felt like I had to sit through all six hours. Only to find out she barely made it through the first episode. Sigh. By the time I realized I didn't want to watch the rest of it...I was about five hours in. Goodness.
I definitely had to watch it, because I thought it'd be like the other BBC miniseries, The Impressionists, explaining the stories behind their famous works of art. Instead, I got Entourage, for artists...which is how they billed it. I don't mind Entourage at all, but honestly, I couldn't get into the backstabiness of these artists - true or not.
The best part of the movie was the one painting backstory that I really loved, that of Millais' Ophelia. In a magnificently cast role, the woman who posed for Ophelia, basically their Yoko (or Sloan) inadvertently causing strife between the boys, was superb and eerily a carbon copy for the real painting. If the series is to be believed, then while she was posing in a cold bathtub of water, she nearly drowned because of hypothermia and passing out in the water. Crazy.
The saddest part of the movie? Is watching how hard (or not hard) this band of brothers worked to make themselves known to the art world.
And in the end? Not a one was included in my magnet set of 35 artists.
Another Lovely Day Designs magnet...that I totally bought in anticipation of Winnie the Pooh.
Although it seems to me that if any of Pooh's friends had just given him some huney when he asked for it at the beginning of the (really less than) 63-minute movie, there would have been no need for the movie at all.
The poor guy - all he had was a rumbly in his tummy, and off he and his pals went on a very important adventure. A supercute, felt longer than 63 minutes, adventure.
While I hated the deliberate misspellings running rampant, I was most charmed by the interaction of all the characters and the actual book text. Watching Pooh and Eeyore and the rest of the bunch wrapping themselves around letters, or jumping on top of them, or pulling whole paragraphs across the page? Love. I haven't a clue if they do that in the book, though.
I know, I know. I should be shot for never actually having read Winnie the Pooh.
I mean, who knew there were lyrics to the Smurf song? As near as I can tell, they didn't have one until the movie, but maybe I'm wrong.
The Smurfs was the third movie of my marathon yesterday - I couldn't wait, after months and months of waiting. And if you know me, you know that I'm not even kidding. I was totally looking forward to it.
With a cast of Neil Patrick Harris and Hank Azaria, plus the Smurfy voices of a million famous folks like Jonathan Winters, Katy Perry, Alan Cumming, Anton Yelchin, you can't go wrong. Right?
I think it's half right. The storyline was ok, of the Smurfs and Gargamel getting smurfed all the way to NYC, how they made a small, but smurfy impact on marketing executive Neil Patrick Harris, and how they smurfed all around town. (Except for the ****SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT!**** pigeons. My goodness, I wanted to run out of the theatre during that part.)
I really liked how they meta'd the Smurfs and Peyo, coming right out and explaining who they were. That was totally clever. But I was slightly uncomfortable with the new Smurfs, especially when they had big roles...what? I like my certain set of smurfs, and some of them should have had larger roles, instead of being left behind in the village. And psbtw, I missed Baby Smurf. I mean, I know he was like the Cousin Oliver of the Smurfs, but c'mon. Where?
Oh! And I also totally forgot about Smurfette's origin story. Yes, she has one. Go look it up.
The pacing was a little uneven, some parts dragged and some parts flew by, and some should have flown by. You could tell where things were dragging by the rustling of hundreds of little kids starting to get louder...which usually happened when only humans were on the screen. Yep. Everyone loves those smurfs.
The funny part is that the audience was really made up of all the parents who grew up on the Smurfs introducing a whole new generation to the little blue puffs of Smurfiness.
Wonder what they'll do for the sequel. Maybe NPH could show up in the new Smurf village. Hmmm. An animated NPH!
DJ Skribble's Smurf song remix, click at your own risk:
Magnet #1262 - Ensemble Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, autumn/winter 2002–3
