Proof That I Need My Upcoming Vacation

Um, tourists? You can't hide. I saw the brim of your pastel visor from a mile away. I also saw the bag in your hand advertising "Authentic" Western Wear, with your flamingo pink cowboy hat inside.

Seriously, where do you even get a pink cowboy hat? I don't know any place in town that would sell them, but I'm guessing it must be somewhere nearby or you would have stashed the bag in your car, am I right? Or maybe not; you don't seem too bright.

I can't decide if the majority of tourists are tacky by nature, or if the act of touring brings out the tack they never knew they had. All I know is that middle-aged men should never wear polo shirts in colors with names like "mango dream" or "fresh mint swirl" - and under no circumstance should their wives coordinate their eye makeup to said shirts. (Okay, fine, the shirt colors probably have much more masculine names - "citrus rage," perhaps, or "herbal death freeze" - but you can bet I was right on with the eyeshadow names.)

And no, we don't sell newspapers. And while I am perfectly happy to direct you to the nearest newspaper stand, I will not apologize for the inconvenience of you having to walk an entire extra block.

Anyhow, Herbal Death Freeze does you no favors. Your body's need for exercise is clear.

I really don't understand why you're harping on about this, Good Sir Death Freeze. "You should really have newspapers. It'd be a good business venture." Yeah, and you know this how? There are three coffee shops within three blocks of our store, and all of them have newspaper stands. There's also a newspaper stand down by the barber shop. There is no need for us to sell newspapers. In other words, there is not enough demand to necessitate supply.

You're looking for the Wall Street Journal, yet you can't grasp that concept?

Of course, there was also the guy who asked me to explain our credit policy, and then stopped me midway through my spiel, saying, "well, I have a better idea."

Oh do you now?

"I have a bookstore in Nebraska" (uh-huh) "and I think you should do a straight trade. We can give you our books and then you can give us some of your classics, since they don't sell."
"Actually, our classics do sell. That's why we have so few of them."
"We don't sell many classics at our store."
"That's unfortunate. But I can't change the policy for one person."
"You mean you don't have the authority."
"No, I mean I'm not going to change the policy just for you."

I know I'm pushing my luck when I say things like that, but come on. Just shut up.

And look: I understand that you want someone who will discuss the merits of Jodi Picoult with you. But that someone? Is not me. Because I. Hate. Jodi. Picoult. I hate her clunky phrasing. I hate her Lifetime movie dialogue. And I freaking. LOATHE. her cop-out endings.

I think the merits of Jodi Picoult can be best summed up by observing that none of her fans know how to pronounce her name.

So yeah. My vacation starts this Sunday, ends next Sunday, and necessitates the use of planes, which had better not screw me over. Because if I get stalked by a crazy drunk woman at the Radisson and have to eat at their restaurant (called - I shit you not - "Enigma") again, I will cry. And if that crazy drunk woman stands outside the door to my room and tells me to "make sure I lock the door tight," well...that would be messed up.

A Rant

I am so sick of people trying to argue that the book is always better than the movie. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes the book sucks, and the movie manages to extract the good parts, add interest, make the characters more believable, use a freaking awesome soundtrack, and just generally improve a hopelessly sub-par book.

And sometimes the movie does suck - it smacks the characters with terrible dialogue until they become 2-d, paper-thin with generically attractive faces; or it turns the story into an incoherent mess of garbled words and unclear motivations. But sometimes the book was garbled and vague to begin with - sometimes the movie is just being faithful to the story, the characters, the dialogue; sometimes the movie's suckitude is just mirroring the book's, and I don't understand why people are so surprised.

And can we please get over this bullshit notion that film is somehow an inferior medium? Because it isn't. Don't blame Micheal Bay on the art form he's chosen to eviscerate. Micheal Bay is a terrible director with a barely rudimentary understanding of dialogue, and that's all he is. He doesn't stand for anything but his own gaping plot holes, yeah?

Oh, and also? I don't get Hugh Grant. I thinks he's a competent actor, but far from exceptional, and I find him incredibly unattractive. While some people have posited that I only hate Hugh Grant because "he never called me in the morning," I call BS. Hugh Grant is icky, and his accent makes him sound so snobbish I've often wondered if it's fake - maybe he's just a pampered kid from Jersey who went to Syracuse and smokes clove cigarettes, who listens obsessively to the New Pornographers, not because their music is catchy but because it's oh-my-god-indie.

In fact, I was talking to someone the other day who claimed to do a fantastically fake British accent, and when I finally convinced him to prove it, I immediately said, wow, dude. You sound like Hugh Grant. Because he did. Hugh Grant is a walking satire, and his apparent ignorance of the fact is something I find highly amusing.

Plus he cheated on Elizabeth Hurley with a prostitute. I don't care one way or another about Elizabeth Hurley - I'm not even sure what she does, exactly, which probably means she's a model - but damn. That's low.

So, in sum: people should stop constantly whining about movie adaptations ruining the books they are based on, Micheal Bay is a talentless asshat, Hugh Grant is an oblivious walking satire whose appeal I will never understand, it must really suck to have your husband cheat on you with a prostitute, and I could use a good night's sleep.

Yeppers.