my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

I have yet to see There Will Be Blood (2007), but the buzz surrounding a certain line Daniel Day-Lewis's character, Daniel Plainview, utters has reached my ears. Actually, I should clarify something first: I have never heard DDL say, "I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." Not even in character. What I mean to say is that I've learned that this might be the next big cinematic catchphrase. 'Tis a shame, really, because it is so much better than "I see dead people" or "I wish I knew how to quit you!" I know this to be true despite the fact that my one reliable source about the film (read: Stephanie) has seen it but she can't even remember when Plainview says it, to whom he says it, and under what kind of conditions he says it. Oh, but that is neither here nor there.

Josh Ozersky's blog entry/rant/editorial/whatever on New York Magazine's website was pretty funny. It really inspired me to come up with a reason why we should repeat the line. Again, with what circumstances is quoting the film not just logical but also appropriate? Well, I think I stumbled upon the answer a few minutes ago.

First, a little background: I was just chatting through Gmail with Stephanie. She's been feeling under the weather for over a week now, so she was telling me about the latest developments with regards to her health and well-being. Anyway, turns out that she needs help applying some ointment and bandages to her first degree burn. (Don't ask, it's too embarrassing.) Lucky for her I will be arriving in L.A. in two days. Then again, she was lucky before, too, because I was already scheduled to help her clean her apartment.

You're wondering where this is headed? I'm getting there.

When she told me I'd be needed to fulfill this second favor, I said, "So I'm the cleaning lady and the cabana boy."

Stephanie then proceeded to, I think, do some variation of a line by Catherine O'Hara in Beetlejuice (1988): "You like it." (I presume this was her intention. Not only does she know I like to repeat the line "He likes it," I think she might also like to say it, too. Again, it's hard to tell because getting inflections across through typing is only ever moderately successful. Depends on the context of the situation.)

Here's the big deal: in response, I said, "You're right. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up." What I meant by this phrase is that Stephanie's treatment of me (making me her cleaning lady and her cabana boy) is, for lack of a better word, exciting. I bask in her glow. I make a toast to honor her dominance over me. Oh, this is not sounding like I want it to.

OK. So if we step back a bit, what I mean to show is that to drink someone's milkshake is to surrender something to them, to concede a point, if you will. For example, it could happen if there is a bet between two people. Person No. 1 says, "How much you wanna bet I can dunk this ball in that bin 100 feet away?" Person No. 2 then doubts No. 1 can achieve such a feat. But what do you know? Person No. 1 is successful. Now is the right time for Person No. 2 to use the phrase. "OK. OK. You did it. I drink your milkshake. I drink it up."

See, "milkshake" signifies essence, talent, idea, whatever. But it's got to belong to someone. It's a good thing when someone drinks your milkshake. I realize it can sound selfish, like someone's literally grabbing your strawberry milkshake out of your hand. Or it can sound menacing, as if the person who says it means to humiliate you even more, rubbing it in your face how bad you are at fill-in-the-blank.

No, no. This phrase must be positive, not even self-deflating or humbling. I doubt it is positive in the film, so let us rewrite the line and transform the film as its consumers. I drink your milkshake, There Will Be Blood. I drink it up.

is drag always queer?

I'm currently looking up books to add to the bibliography for my thesis. I typed in the keyword "drag" and the results are a combination of three things: what I am looking for (stuff about drag queens and kings), drag racing, and anything else that has "drag" or "dragged" in the title, such as "Look What the Cat Dragged In!"

Ironic, no? Drag queens and drag racing.

just a tiny little prick

Unbelievable. I was just washing up. And I stabbed myself. With my own thumbnail. Twice. Once on the very tip of my left middle finger. And then on the top side of my left index finger. As they are bleeding profusely right now, I am typing this one-handed.

By the way, I didn't realize I had stabbed myself until I saw the blood on the paper towels I was using to dry the glasses I had washed. Oh, no, I felt each stab as it happened, but I didn't think it was that serious.

I'm thinking I should invest in an emery board.

p.s. if you've got the time

Watch cute comedian Demetri Martin act out "Selfish Jean," the new single from Travis. For me, the strangest thing about watching this video was that I once imagined a word-for-word interpretation of "Flowers in the Window" before I saw the band's actual video, the one of them stranded in a town populated only by heavily pregnant women. Yeah, I liked my idea better, too, but it's too difficult to describe. It's more difficult to describe than the band being "stranded in a town populated only by heavily pregnant women."

cannibalism for the stars: coming soon to your tv!

In the celebrity news on IMDb, I just read "Affleck Feeds the Poor." A little disappointed it wasn't about how they chopped him up (in a wood chipper, maybe?) and featured him in a three-course meal. I would have loved to say Lindsay Lohan was the main course, but she's a bit bony. Like little chicken wings. She'd be a starter, for sure.

Who would be dessert? Someone sweet, but if someone is sweet, we really shouldn't eat them. Not because we're worried about cavities. But because we want to keep them around.

In any case, wouldn't this ridiculous and in no way serious story have been more newsworthy (and less cringeworthy) than Affleck's volunteering at a Boston food bank? Yay, you.

long-term memento

Today, in my boredom and procrastination from writing practice essays for my exam tomorrow ('The Idea of Europe'), I prepared some things for packing. I also weeded out things that I am not going to take. One of the things I am contemplating keeping/giving away is a combination lock. I know what you're thinking: keep it! But here's why I considered throwing it away:

When I went in early April to Manchester and stayed overnight, I brought the lock because I wanted to keep my things reasonably secure in that 10-bed hostel room. I had bought the lock when I went round the UK and to Paris with Stephanie over the winter holiday and never wrote the combination down. Yes, so that means when I got to Manchester, I couldn't open the lock. I thought I had remembered it, but I didn't. It was useless to me then, but isn't so much now.

When I picked it up today, I immediately entered "7-26-34." And it popped open. So, I suppose this means my long-term memory works best the longer the term. I might have a functional lock now, but it weighs a ton. Oh what the hell, I'll bring it home.

serial killer

I play the Hangman widget a lot. Should I feel guilty that I didn't feel guilty when the word was "homicidal"? And I couldn't help but notice the connection when the word was "decapitate." Only the head is the last--not the first--body part to go in the game.

no need to wait for red nose day to come together

I'm feeling dirty. I've embedded myself into some rather incestuous British comedy. When I should be revising like mad my four essays due this upcoming week, I've been streaming video online, watching the second series of "The Office" (2001-2003) and the whole of "Spaced" (1999-2001). I have yet to write in my film journal about them, so don't expect a dissertation right now. Instead, I want to address what I mean by "incestuous comedy."

British comedy stars pop up everywhere, in their friends' own efforts. See that Ricky Gervais from "The Office"? He'll do a cameo in "Spaced" and even one in your movie Hot Fuzz (2007) if you're Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright. Oh, and so will "Office" co-creator Stephen Merchant. Pegg will do "I'm Alan Partridge" (1997-2002), and "Spaced" co-star Julia Deakin will appear in an episode, too. You know who else will pop up in "Spaced"? David Walliams, one half of "Little Britain" (2003-present). Speaking of "Little Britain," Rob Brydon's been a script editor on that show. Bill Bailey's in Hot Fuzz, "Spaced," and "Black Books" (2000-2004). And co-star Dylan Moran's been in Shaun of the Dead (2004) and Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story (2005) with Steve Coogan (who's in Hot Fuzz, too) and Brydon.

I felt inspired to write on this topic while I was watching the very first episode of "Black Books" just now. I burst out laughing when I saw Martin Freeman of "The Office," Hot Fuzz, and Shaun of the Dead. When will it end? I asked myself. (Reminds me: I have such a crush on Martin.)

Surely never. Kevin Eldon from Hot Fuzz, "Spaced," and "I'm Alan Partridge" (he was that Mike guy whose laughter really annoyed Alan) just appeared. It's a small world, innit?

a breath of fresh air?

Last night, I spat into my own eye. It was quite a feat, let me tell you. There was something in my left eye, and whenever something like this happens, I usually blow upwards into my eye to get the stuff out. (If this fails, then I reluctantly take off my glasses and rub it out.) This time, however, my air was accompanied by a little bit of spit. I laughed at the ridiculousness of this at the time. Now I'm just embarrassed to have told you about it.

happy pancake day

Today is not really Pancake Day. That was Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Last Tuesday. Apparently the Brits celebrate by making pancakes. I was speaking with two of them on that night, and I said that Pancake Day is Mardi Gras. Then the guy (who has never said anything remotely intelligent or observant) said, "Oh, that's the Brazilian thing." Then I pointed out that that "Brazilian thing" is Carnival and is celebrated all round the world. Venice is known for its Carnival, too.

In any case, I had bought about two weeks ago the pancake batter where all you need to do is add water, or in my case, milk. This morning, finally having enough milk, I got to work on making some pancakes. It was a disaster.

I didn't have oil for the pan, so I borrowed some. Too much. So my first pancake was too watery since I had tried to wash the pan, to free it from so much oil. Each pancake after that never really improved. I was so frustrated on top of this because before I left my room, my mouse/trackpad was frozen. I couldn't even use the keyboard. Plus, the one guy who lives on my floor that I really can't stand was in the kitchen, probably amused at how horrible a pancake-maker/flipper I am.

There's about a third or maybe even a half of the batter left. I got so tired and fed up I just quit. The pancakes aren't even that good. They're not thick and fluffy like IHOP's. They're more like spongy crepes. I put the rest of the batter in the refrigerator with the label "TAKE ME, I'M YOURS. BUT TAKE ME SOON 3/3/07."

It's only 11 am and I'm already having a shitty day.

private eyes... they see my every move

I am under investigation.

Got something in the mail today saying that the TV Licensing Enforcement Division is investigating whether or not I am receiving TV programming since I do not have a TV license (a £131 value, I might add, for the whole year). To watch terrestrial TV (i.e. the BBC) without a license is against the law, punishable with a fine of up to £1000. Well, I really shouldn't be too worried. After all, I do not have a TV.

I assume this is just a general tactic, sent to anyone who doesn't have a license regardless of whether or not they have a TV. It's also a way of advertising. I imagine it's tempting for some people who have previously written off buying the TV license for whatever reason. But buying one is completely out of the question for me. It's not like I have the money to buy the TV, too.

How do people deal with this? I understand *why* TV licensing exists--it's a sort of membership fee or a tax for public broadcasting. I respect this. The BBC is world-renowned for fantastic public programming. PBS in the States is floundering all the time and some of its financial support comes voluntarily from the public. Still, there's something about me, a socialist, that inhibits me from this cultural practice: why should I pay for TV?

floundering laundry

Laundry. Always exciting. I write this as my wash starts its second hour of drying. But this is not the story I want to tell.

I went back down to the laundry a few minutes before the wash was finished. I thought it would only be three or four minutes, but it had seven minutes left when I got there. So, to keep myself busy, sane, I cleaned up a bit. I scraped off the lint from the lint collector/screen (what is it called?) in all of the dryers. I even collected the lint balls off the floor.

Then two girls came in. They were saying to one another how it looks so much cleaner since the last time they came in. They said all this without even looking at me, bending over to pick shit off the doors of all the dryers. It was as if they had no idea how it came to be like that. They just collected their clothes from two of the washers in their Sainsbury's shopping bags. They didn't even use the dryers. I don't understand. They had a lot of clothes. Are they just going to hang it all up to dry? Do they have a clothes line?

Later, I came back to collect my drying. Didn't think it would be ready, so I came prepared with more money. To make a long story short, after slipping in 10 more pence to get me six more minutes (what a difference!) I accidentally put in a pound, which got me an additional 60 minutes. I could have sworn it was the other 10p I had in my pocket. I laughed at my stupidity, but it really isn't that big a deal. After all, when I originally arrived to start my wash, I used the one available washer, which only needed 50p to start. (A wash costs at least £1.50, so someone must have made a mistake or was feeling generous.) So I didn't end up saving money today because I was foolish not to look at which coin I was putting in the machine.

Sorry to have bored you with this, but I am trying not to think about how I lost over $10,000 in a departmental scholarship. Bummer. Today sucks.

it's not irony that divides us

I've been wanting to post about some strange differences I've observed between the species homo sapien americanus and homo sapien britannicus. Here is a rough sketch of some instances:

1. The Americans know nothing of Britain, and the British think they know everything about the U.S. that they don't ask, they just assume they "know." For instance, the Americans over here know nothing about British pop culture beyond Top Gear. Apparently I am the only American in this corridor (there are quite a few) that knows Robbie Williams was formerly of Take That. And I have come across two Brits that admitted they do not know exactly where California is. One thought it was in the southeast, i.e. Florida.

2. You may think when visiting here that the hottest fashion accessory is the thick acrylic scarf, but you're fooled. The hottest fashion accessory is in fact the plastic shopping bag from places as wide ranging as Tesco and Selfridges. Almost all the girls carry one in addition to their bookbag and/or handbag. They carry library books in these bags, among other things such as that thick and heavy scarf. One girl I talked to even made a fashion statement with her bag, which I assume she must have chosen from the heap of all others in her collection simply because it is from a boutique shop in Edinburgh. By the way, they use a new plastic bag everyday. Couldn't be seen with the same one two days in a row. It's either that or it ripped.

3. Before coming here, I had no idea that in British English, one simply "takes" decisions. You do not "make" them.

4. The English are very hard to get to know, especially when you do not like spending every waking hour in the pub. They value their privacy, too, but sometimes there are blatant contradictions, such as the frequent male streaking that occurs outside in the courtyard. (I always miss the front, but I've seen many a pale ass.) And today, someone from my Spanish film class last term asked if the grade I received on my paper was OK. A bit confused by this question because it is not polite to ask/discuss grades with fellow students where I am from, I said, "Yeah, it's OK." I moved along, and thinking that it would be polite to show an interest in her, I went back and asked, "And you?" "Yeah." Glad that's sorted.

5. The English queue all day long. They queue at cash machines and at Greggs, and I hate watching them eat whatever meat breakfast sandwich they picked out as they walk around. It's so unflattering.

I think that is all for now. Feel free to ask me any questions about this fantastic species, homo sapien britannicus, as I have studied it well over four months now.

but where?

In between classes today, I read a bit from Neither Here Nor There (1991) by humorist/travel writer Bill Bryson. He's basically going round Europe 20 years after having gone through it with a friend when he was 20. I had started reading it before I left for England, back in September because the exchange program director/coordinator I dealt with recommended it to me. I liked what I read before I left but must have gotten too busy to continue. Plus, I read like three to five books at a time. Still haven't finished Pride and Prejudice, but that's neither here nor there...

Anyway, reading it again, I laughed considerably fewer times. Only when he discussed inflatable rubber girlfriends in Amsterdam and all the different ethnic varieties did I laugh. In general, I think I regard his humor as cruel and immature. He's like a hyper-hormonal teenager, ready to make fun of things he doesn't understand. Thank god he at least once admits that he may be wrong.

I just don't think I'm going to finish it. I'm sure there are much more thought-provoking books out there just waiting for me to spend some time with them. I'm lookin' at you, Female Masculinity (1998).