vince vaughn -- is it just me?
Boys and Girls should be avoided by boys, and girls, and moms, and dads, and even small dogs who like movies.
One year ago: I see The General's Daughter, a movie which has annoyed me more and more since I saw it. I can't believe I wasn't outraged then.
Two years ago: We hunt for the Hollywood sign.
Three years ago: What ancient man ate. Yuck.
Four years ago: The first insomnia entry.
Today's news question:Not particularly surprisingly, Tiger Woods has won the 100th US Open. What was so unusual about his win?
(Don't send me your answers. This is just a little way to expand your horizons. Honest.)
Wednesday night -- that would be the night of the last time I posted an entry -- I had insomnia. I was up until 3. I should have used the time more wisely than I did, as I only owe a lot of e-mail and I have to write a couple of essays and I'm always wondering just when I'm going to have time for me, me, me. And there I was, with tons of time for me, me, me and I couldn't do anything about it.
I've been a wreck ever since.
Thursday was good. Thursday I went to yoga class and then out to Art's Deli with a couple of the other mothers for cold drinks. Thursday night Fernando came over and we went to dinner at Pinot Bistro. Pookie was a trouper up until the end, at which point Darin and I took turns walking her outside.
Friday night Carole's cousin and her husband came over and we all went to dinner at Picanha, a Brazilian barbecue restaurant in Burbank. The way it works is, you sit at your table and servers come around with various cuts of meats -- top sirloin, chicken wrapped in bacon, lamb -- and ask you if you want some. There are various warm and cold salads over on the salad bar. We've gone there before: Fernando took us there about two months ago. We thought Carole and her friends would enjoy it a lot, and then did.
Pookie lost it toward the end of the evening there as well. I think we are coming to the end of the time during which we can take Sophia out for dinner. I don't really relish either Darin or I spending time at a restaurant trying to calm her down. Maybe if this nanny thing works out.
Carole left yesterday, but not until we'd printed out a few pictures of Sophia on our new photo printer. (Yes, we have bought every picture-related gadget known to mankind since the baby was born.) She also didn't leave until I'd doublechecked that Sophia was not stowed away in her luggage.
A week with my mother-in-law's help with Sophia has left me exhausted.
No, Sophia does not as yet sleep through the night, and there's nothing yet I'm going to do about it. I've heard about baby training and feeding her cereal and this, that, and the other, but I'm not going to do any of them. I'll just take more naps or something. I would rather help her work out her sleep schedule than force one on her.
She wakes up around 3 (I fed her right before falling asleep myself Wednesday night) and then around 5:30 or 6. Then she dozes until 6:30, at which point she becomes the Baby Dynamo: "Wake up, you stupid parents! i want to play!" She takes a wee nap at 9, and then a longer nap at 11. In the afternoon she takes a nap -- sometimes 3 hours, sometimes 30 minutes. All of these times are very, very approximate. She doesn't have a set schedule as of yet.
I just wish my friends would stop saying, "Oh just wait until she hits 10 pounds/12 pounds/15 pounds and then she'll sleep through the night." I have the feeling it'll be a little trickier than that.
For some reason, TiVo decided to tape Clay Pigeons for us. It taped it for us a few weeks ago too, which is when I watched it. Clay Pigeons is a very annoying movie about a guy who keeps running into people who kill other people and blaming it on him. It's tough to watch a movie about a dumb guy, especially when the dumb guy is played by the remarkably uncharismatic Joaquin Phoenix.
The other problem with Clay Pigeons is the serial killer played by Vince Vaughn. This is mostly because Vince Vaughn is in my opinion the creepiest guy on film today. Not the character he was playing, but Vince Vaughn himself. I don't want to meet him in a dark alley, or in broad daylight with witnesses. He strikes me as insincere, self-involved, and smug. I'm not supposed to be wondering why the appealing serial killer --
(Cliche alert! Serial killers are not appealing, fun guys, okay? I really wish Hollywood would drop this image. Serial killers are badly adjusted, seriously ill individuals who think killing is fun.)
-- is a seriously disturbing guy who oozes smarm. But then I thought, maybe that's just what I supposed to get from the movie.
I turned to Darin and said, "Vince Vaughn really creeps me out," and he said, "After I watched Swingers, I said that is one movie star I don't want to meet."
Are we the only ones?
And now, for Father's Day, your Moment of Pookie Zen:
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Copyright 2000 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@nobody-knows-anything.com